THE LIBRARY 9/27/06

When I was a kid, one of my greatest pleasures was to go to the library on Saturdays. The library was a solid couple of miles away from my house. Although the option of taking a bus existed, I preferred to walk. Sometimes a friend would come with me and we would get into tiny misadventures along the way.

My younger friend Richard and I walked to the library one Saturday. We had bought ice cream cones-- the kind that sat in the freezer with bright wrapping on them, vanilla icecream with a hard chocolate topping-- for a quarter a-piece, and we became engaged in throwing them off the bridge on Bloomfield Avenue overlooking Branch Brook Park. My aim was true and my cone flew into the open window of a car below. We ran away in our excitement conjuring up one very shaken driver and police patrols out looking for who did that despicable crime.

I was content with my own company also. Often on the way home from the library, I would buy a bag of fresh cherries from the fruitman. I enjoyed the sweetness of the cherries, the blazing New Jersey sun, the whirl of traffic heading towards downtown Newark, other occasional walkers passing by.

The library itself was two floors. Downstairs was the childrens' section. I read pretty near every book on its' shelves. I usually came home with the maximum number of books allowed-- I think it was four at a time. Eagerly, I waited for the time when I would be old enough to go upstairs to the adult room. Years flew by as I devoured words. On the proper birthday, I did go upstairs only to find disappointment. There was no excitement to be had. I never was able to talk my way into the stacks which I knew held the more interesting "restricted" books.
I returned to the childrens' room downstairs, telling the librarian that the adult section was "boring."

It is years later and I can still see the library in my mind's eye. I weave my way through the shelves locating favorites and bringing them to the long desk for check-out. I pass the water fountain on the way out the door and stop at the fruitman's stand for cherries. I walk up Bloomfield Avenue, past the bridge where Richard and I dropped our 25 cent ice cream cones, past the sidestreet leading to Ting-a-Ling's pizza, past the church, the football station, and Celentano's.

The neighborhood has changed but the skeleton layout remains. Bookstores have replaced my youthful fascination with the library. My love of words remains with me even now and I hope forever.

~sapphoq on life