Libraries

When I was a lanky, awkward 8th grader, Lila P. Burgoyne thought I’d grow up to be something special. She was the Roosevelt Jr. High School librarian and I was her 1st period teacher’s aide. She introduced me to Dewey and his decimals, Dickinson and her sonnets, and a seagull named Johnathon Livingston who introduced me to metaphor.

She taught, without lecture or syllabus, that who you read is who you become. And the frightful day that I left Roosevelt to transfer to Mt. Jordan, she gave me a hug and a wrapped package with four paperbacks which I immediately loved as much as I loved her. Now that I’m grown, I'm not especially special, but the parts that are were made from Bronte, Bach, and Burgoyne.

I've spent plenty of time in libraries. The main Salt Lake City Library was like a toy land to me when I was a child. Mom loved to read and she taught my brothers and I that it was fun. Later I realized that it was not only fun, but it is essential sunlight for my soul. We went to the library at least once a week and rode the escalator up to the childrens' room. There were huge two-story paintings that hung on the wall by the escalator. When they decommissioned the library, they moved them to the Salt Lake City Airport and I get nostalgic for reading when I see them on my way in and out of the state.

It smelled rich--the ink in a newly printed book or the musk of the canvas-covered books--richness that you could smell but never explain the exact scent. We read Rabbit Hill, my Mom's favorite children's chapter book and Little Women which was probably the first adult book I read when I transitioned from the second floor books to the main floor books.

I could mark my height and maturity against the check-out counter. I remember reaching up to hand the librarian my card, then years later thinking that the counter seemed rather short. I vaguely remember a snake in a terrarium.

Twenty-five years later, I met my literacy student, Dave, at the library where I was teaching him to read. He couldn't grasp the meaning of an exclamation mark so I demonstrated it one day and hollered out, "Hello!" After that, every time he ran into an exclamation mark, he hollered too. That library has been converted to the Leonardo, a science center, and a new beautiful building houses the Main Salt Lake City Library now.

I felt at home at the Sprauge Library in Sugarhouse when we moved to that part of town. It is now surrounded with stores that incorporated the library into the Hidden Hollow shopping center. It is right next door to Barnes & Noble. That library had a book return slot in the side of the building instead of having a detached box.

I also frequented the Bookmobile. It came to our neighborhood every two weeks. Entering it was magical and the white bus with red letters: BOOKMOBILE had it's own enchantment. I love that books and buses can be said in the same phrase. And of course I have great memories of all the school libraries I've visited. Emerson Elementary had a library with wood floors and dark wood shelves. It was there that I read the Betsy, Tacy and Tib series and memorized the poem Eldorado.  I attended Hawthorne Elementary for only about two-weeks and the thing I remember the best is the library.

As an adult I'd go to the tiny Sandy Library that has since been replaced with a somewhat soulless building that I've had trouble warming up to. I took a writing class at the Whitmore branch when I was a new mother and later visited the Ogden Library to submit poems to the Literary Magazine.

I've been enamoured with the New York City Library since the first time I visited New York. Across the street from the library is a bakery that I love and whenever I went to the bakery I watched the building with the stone lions welcoming patrons. I've been inside and walked up the marble staircase, but I've never taken the time to peruse through its books. In fact, it's been a long time since I've had a library card. Now I buy books, but I should get back to checking them out.

I think I might like to visit every library in Utah.