The Libraries of My Youth

Grab Bag: Oostburg Christian School library and Cedar Grove Public Library bring back memories

Last weekend I had the good fortune of traveling to southeast Wisconsin with my dad and two of my brothers. I made sure this visit to our old stomping grounds included touring the libraries of my youth. 

We met my dad's closest friend from our time in Cedar Grove. Mr. Ritsman treated us to sodas and delicious cinna-nut lattes. We merrily talked family and careers while I basked in the charm of the local coffee shop, which in our day was the bakery. After a few minutes it was time for the brothers to cruise down memory lane.

We left the gentlemen at the coffee shop and followed the drug of nostalgia on the old bus route to Oostburg, WI. In the heart of the 2500 citizen town is our old grade school, Oostburg Christian. The principal, my old sixth-grade teacher who coached my older brother and me in junior high basketball and soccer, was the only person in the building.

"Feel free to revel in the past," Mr. Adams said. If only he knew how much I do that already.

Headed to the junior high hallway, I stopped my brothers at the library. "Has it changed much?" my older brother asked. "Not a lot," I said, pointing out the subtle differences. "The librarian's desk was this way. But the book shelves are exactly the same," I said with professional confidence.

I actually don't have many positive associations with my grade school library. Failed AR reading tests and months-long fines instead come to mind. The real reading magic came--and even then I resisted it--in the classroom during open reading time, when the students were free to select a book from the shelf. Still, the library was a central presence of literature at OCS, where the "beaners" (our affectionate term for kindergarteners) and big kids alike checked out books to take home.

Filled with memories of the past, my brothers and I drove back to Cedar Grove to get pizza with dad. We were told our pizza would be ready in 20-25 minutes. I knew exactly where I wanted to spend the next half hour. “Let’s take a walk,” I suggested, “and sort of go up the hill.”

We made it to the library in several short minutes and immediately began reminiscing about our many afternoons playing roller hockey in the parking lot. “Did you play with us?” Josh, my older brother asked. “Yeah,” I said, my eyes sparkling with memory, “I played defense.”

I stepped into the library and immediately began marking my mental check-list. Play area, check. Community room, check. Give-a-puzzle-take-a-puzzle corner, double-check.

I scanned the adult fiction titles, and when nothing caught my eye I found myself saying, “I’m ready when you guys are.” It’s not that the library was boring or a let-down. But I had to admit the real trove of nostalgia was in a building across town. What once had been the Cedar Grove Public Library changed to a Variety Store, then to another business altogether. I’d looked at the one-story building longingly as we drove into town, knowing it was a shell of the majestic establishment it once was.

With a passion for literature as fierce as my own, it’s easy to put too much stock in libraries. Although they are a sign of literary health in a community, it’s sometimes, but not always where the real reading magic begins. It can never beat the feeling of hearing your favorite bedtime story on grandma’s knee. Or of learning your letters from Kermit the Frog. Nor can it match the thrill of pulling your not yet discovered favorite book from the shelf during reading time at school. However, libraries raise our awareness toward creativity and the magic of the world around us, and for the libraries of my youth, I am thankful.

Support of Local Literature: storytime still very much alive

"Livi thinks baths are so boring! Everything is more fun than baths! Will she ever end up in   the tub?"

There's a wee bit more of academic summer left, so there's still time to get kids' heads in a book. This morning Barnes and Noble hosted a weekly storytime, reading On My Way to the Bath by Sarah Maizes.

Story telling is a wonderful exercise on so many levels. I remember with fondness my second grade teacher reading classics like The Very Hungry Caterpillar while we snuggled onto the carpet. Even the books I didn't like--such as that nasty Ramona Quimby--were made enjoyable by Mrs. Hendrick's warmth and enthusiasm.

Through story time I became the big man for the day in our classroom. The book I brought from home for Mrs. Hendrick's to read for the class was Body Battles by Rita Golden Gelman, which features the illness-fighting heros in our body. The class giggled the whole time at the personifications of earwax, mucus and white blood cells fighting bravely against the foes of disease. I rushed with enthusiasm as a classmate smiled and said afterward, "I like that book."

And so I stand behind storytime, not only because it gives something for the kids to do on the long days of summer, but because they genuinely  enjoy it. I know I did.

Unfortunately, my local library doesn't have any more storytelling days line up before school begins. But who's to say that won't stop me from volunteering to read at a local elementary school during the school year? I'm looking forward to sharing my enthusiasm, allowing a child to say, "I like that book."

Support of Local Lit (SOLL): local writer starstruck by new director of Chattanooga's Public Library System

After reading our new company’s write-up in The Pulse, a local alternative news guide, I looked at the cover and did a double-take. From where did I know the lady who the paper said was “rebooting the system” of the Chattanooga Library?

At first I assumed I recognized her from my old job where I whipped up lattes and smoothies for professionals in suits every day. Immediately I felt a pit in my stomach as I wondered if I’d been snarky to her as she innocently wondered what exactly was a “froozie.”

Kicking myself for treating our new library director rudely, instead of like royalty, I eventually realized she was a client at our brand new fitness studio! The pit in my stomach blossomed into a fresh batch of butterflies.

Later that day, a Friday, she checked in at the front desk for a workout session with one of our fantastic trainers. I remained at my station at the cafe register, researching chalkboard menus to befit our cafe with local coffee shop swag.

"Ms. Library?" I whispered in her general direction. "...smoothie?"

She walked down the hall to meet her trainer when I suddenly stopped seeing stars and berated myself for not boldy greeting her before she reached the front desk, introducing myself as Chattanooga's Next Top Writer and literary aficianado. With my passion/skills we could, together, really put Chattanooga on the map as a literary Mecca.

But when she returned from her workout, sweaty like any normal human with pores would be, I was still without a reasonable introduction.

"Oh Corinne," I thought as she left with her husband to rescue our public library system from historically abysmal underfunding, "...lead us bravely into the digital age."

Current Events: 50 Shades

My coworker and I had just clocked out. I drowsily accepted her offer for a ride, and we headed for the downtown library.

"Oh, great!" she said in the car. "I can look for a couple books I've really been wanting to read."

I instantly felt reenergized. Book talk time!

"What's the book called?" I asked.

"Well I've read the first book in the series, Fifty Shades of Grey. The next ones are called Fifty Shades Darker, and Fifty Shades Freed. Some people might consider them porn, because they're sexually explicit."

Smelling a censorship issue, I eagerly listened.

"My mom actually signed a petition on Facebook, promising to be a woman who doesn't read this book."

The first title rang a bell. Perhaps I'd ignored a headline or seen the book at a book store.

"Well thank God we're going to the library!" I said a bit too excitedly.

"My friend tried to check it out from her library but was told it would be four to six weeks before she could read it."

Ah, holds. I'd had success with them in college--you put a hold on a book you want, and the loser who keeps rechecking out the same book is forced to return it.

But who wants to wait over a month for even a hot title? I was itching to see what the wait was at the downtown library in Chattanooga.

We sat at the catalogue computers and typed in, "Fifty Shades of Grey."

Eleven copies; all checked out.

We typed in Fifty Shades Darker. All four copies checked out. And for Fifty Shades Freed, all five gone.

My friend looked bored and for a moment, I felt like I'd wasted their time.

"They said you can request for the library to get more copies. That's how they know how serious people are about getting the book."

"Let's do it!" I may have fist-pumped.

My friend left me to go home and water her garden, but I had a passion to feed.

I put myself on the waiting list for the second and third books; I was eighth and fifteenth respectively. Then I civically I filled a petition for the library to get more copies of the second and third titles.

Since my coworker was already reading the first book, I hadn't put myself on the waiting list of Fifty Shades of Grey.

At home I logged into my library account and put myself on the list, and now I'm the fifty-second person in line for Fifty Shades of Gray at the Chattanooga library.

Why would I even bother to be on that list? Will I even care about the book four years from now?

Maybe not, but everyone loves a controversy even more than reading explicit, unmasterful fiction.