Public Library
With all the complaining I do, a person could easily get the impression that I’m an irredeemable misanthrope totally fed up with all people and all that people do.
Not hardly.
In fact, I think there’s plenty that human beings have gotten just about right: the bicycle, of course, but also—though not exclusively—dark-roast coffee, music (not counting country-rock), parental love, the indoor swimming pool, wooden picnic tables, national parks, 100% agave tequila, the grilled-cheese sandwich, and the Simpsons.
And, perhaps rightest of all, the public library.
I was reminded of what a great invention your circulating free library is when I visited downtown Bend's version of same last evening. It’s a modern, several-block long, two-story, brick, steel, and glass structure that strikes me as quite handsome. Inside, it’s spacious, well-lit, and chock-full of books and computers; it’s even got free wi-fi, of which I’m taking advantage even as I type.
For five bucks, I was able to get a temporary card, which enabled me to check out a stack of reading materials that would have cost me—in their hardback form—twenty times that, at least.
Tom Wolfe, in The Right Stuff, wrote that when the initial group of refugee German scientists came to Los Alamos during World War II to work on the atomic bomb, they and their families all had library cards within two days of their arrival. Take that, eggheads! I got mine the same day I got here.
I committed my first (and only?) justified act of counterfeiting to get a new library card in fifth grade. Carnegie library required proof of residency; a stamped letter sent to your home address would do. I went to my Dad’s office, typed up an envelope, peeled a cancelled stamp off some correspondence on his desk, glued it to mine, and convinced the librarian that it was legit to get my new card.
I woulda done that last night, but my driver’s license sufficed.
Not hardly.
In fact, I think there’s plenty that human beings have gotten just about right: the bicycle, of course, but also—though not exclusively—dark-roast coffee, music (not counting country-rock), parental love, the indoor swimming pool, wooden picnic tables, national parks, 100% agave tequila, the grilled-cheese sandwich, and the Simpsons.
And, perhaps rightest of all, the public library.
I was reminded of what a great invention your circulating free library is when I visited downtown Bend's version of same last evening. It’s a modern, several-block long, two-story, brick, steel, and glass structure that strikes me as quite handsome. Inside, it’s spacious, well-lit, and chock-full of books and computers; it’s even got free wi-fi, of which I’m taking advantage even as I type.
For five bucks, I was able to get a temporary card, which enabled me to check out a stack of reading materials that would have cost me—in their hardback form—twenty times that, at least.
Tom Wolfe, in The Right Stuff, wrote that when the initial group of refugee German scientists came to Los Alamos during World War II to work on the atomic bomb, they and their families all had library cards within two days of their arrival. Take that, eggheads! I got mine the same day I got here.
I committed my first (and only?) justified act of counterfeiting to get a new library card in fifth grade. Carnegie library required proof of residency; a stamped letter sent to your home address would do. I went to my Dad’s office, typed up an envelope, peeled a cancelled stamp off some correspondence on his desk, glued it to mine, and convinced the librarian that it was legit to get my new card.
I woulda done that last night, but my driver’s license sufficed.
posted by Professor Dave at 10:41 AM
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