I grew up around books.
My dad was a college librarian before he retired. Mainly special collections, but he was also a library director for a number of years as well.
Suffice it to say, I was never not around books. I remember a summer, maybe when I was nine or ten, that I decided that I needed to arrange my books according to the Dewey Decimal System. I don’t remember how I was going to determine the Dewey Decimal numbers of cherished picture books, science books, Best of Trek volumes, and many, many more, but when you’re nine or ten, this is the of project that intrigues a person — the sensibly impractical project.
You would think that after two and a half decades spent in an around libraries, from the time I was born until the time I left college, that libraries would be in my blood.
You’d be wrong.
I’m sure there were libraries in Pennsylvania and North Carolina, but I never knew where they were.
There’s a branch of the Carroll County Public Library in Eldersburg that I drive past at least twice a month, but I’ve never stopped there.
There’s a branch of the Baltimore County Public Library on Liberty Road in Randallstown. I’ve been there once, about two years ago, but I didn’t go there to look at books.
There was a community meeting there because a developer wanted to build a development back the road that goes past my house. I went to the meeting. It was nothing significant. I’m not even sure if that development is still happening.
There you have it. The last time I was at the library, and it wasn’t even to look at books.
I really should rectify that…