Something I learned in kindergarten — the ABCs — I use daily in my job at Boone County Public Library. Who knew how much I would rely on this simple lesson so many years later? My kindergarten class was in the basement of a public library in Cambridge City, Indiana. That was 73 years ago. Since then, libraries have been an invaluable resource for me at every stage of my life.
When my plans for college were cancelled by an unplanned pregnancy, making me a stay-at-home teenage mom, I decided to pass the time by reading the classics. I borrowed books from Lane Public Library in Hamilton, Ohio. They were all there — Hemingway, Steinbeck, Jane Austen. I kept a fat dictionary at my elbow to look up words I didn’t know.
A few years later, I moved to Cincinnati and went looking for a job. In an interview for a secretarial position, I was asked if I took shorthand. I fibbed and said “yes.” When I was offered the job, I ran to the library for a book on Gregg shorthand and spent the weekend cramming. I took dictation on my first day at work, and my new boss was none the wiser. Saved by Cincinnati Public Library!
A couple of years later, I joined a small advertising agency as a bookkeeper/receptionist and soon learned I had a knack for writing advertising copy — print ads, radio spots, billboards. This led to jobs at larger ad agencies and eventually to my becoming an independent writer. For the next 27 years, I wrote all manner of materials for corporate and not-for-profit clients nationwide — using a fat thesaurus at my elbow and the nearest library for research.
In the mid-1980s, I married a wannabe cowboy, and we bought a farm near Warsaw, Kentucky. While there, I volunteered with the Literacy Program sponsored by Gallatin County Public Library. As a tutor, I helped a young father improve his reading so he could help his son with schoolwork. A group of local women and I also organized a fundraising event, enabling the library to buy books for the program.
At age 58, I adopted my infant grandson. As soon as he learned to walk, we made frequent visits to the library. In addition to books, we borrowed CDs so he could fall asleep listening to narrated stories or classical music. He was five years old when I retired and we moved to St. Petersburg, Florida. Less than two miles from our house was St. Petersburg College Library. It sat next to a small lake and had a nice playground for kids. My grandson and I rode our bikes there at least once a week to gather books, swing on the swings, and watch the cormorants dry their wings by the lake. That library is one of our fondest memories from our time in St. Pete.
When we returned to Northern Kentucky, Kenton County Public Library served our needs for education and entertainment — books for his school projects, movies on DVD, nonfiction books and memoirs for me.
Now, at the last stop on my career path — sorting and shelving materials as a page at the Hebron Branch, yes, with ABCs running through my head — I’m reminded of all the ways libraries have enriched and continue to enrich my life. I’m grateful to have a paying job at my age and pleased by the sense of purpose it provides. Patrons with little kids bring back memories of frequent trips to the library with my grandson (now age 20). Many of the books I read to him as a small child are still circulating — Eric Carle, Mary Pope Osborne, and of course Dr. Seuss. Again, the classics.
Viewing all this now from the inside, I have an even greater appreciation for the vast resources a public library offers people of all ages and from all walks of life. It’s encouraging to see tutors huddled with their students, teenagers gathered around our tables, and elders perusing large-print books. For education, entertainment, enlightenment, social engagement, or just quiet respite, there’s no way to fully measure the value of a library — or fully express what a library means to me.
