(Klinenberg, 2018)
It was during Michael Stephens’ lecture this semester on New Models for libraries that I had a flashback to the library of my youth. Seeing those kids in Copenhagen playing around atop bookshelves, I thought to myself, “They would not have allowed that in my day (198o whenever).” And then I thought, wait, yes “they” did.
Back in the long-ago days of being shushed and reprimanded for venturing into the “adult” section of the library, sat a small, brick library in Sacramento County.
There, the Rancho Cordova library staff made available in the “children’s” section, a small little house made of fabric. I can still see the cloth, brick facade and painted windows framed in yellow. My family lived in a tiny house with three girls of varying size and two tired parents. When my father would drive us to the library and let us loose, that little brick house (that wasn’t pretend to me, by the way) was my first stop. Well, maybe my second stop after grabbing a book about baseball. I bounded in, hoping with all of my little heart that it was unoccupied. It was my little sanctuary. Our “real” house was lovingly cluttered and cramped and LOUD. To have a little time to myself to stretch my short, scabbed-up legs out and read about Hank Aaron meant the world to me. Just me and and the home-run king. Those were the days before I was told by fifth grade teacher to redo my “Dream Job” assignment, because it would be impossible for me to grow up to be a San Francisco Giants baseball player. Those were the days before my adolescent fears kept me from being “too sporty.” Those were the days when I still dreamed.
That little fabric house was my palace of dreams (and a place all my own). Eric Klinenberg explained his inspiration for studying and revisiting New York City libraries came partly from the thoughts of Andrew Carnegie who, he said, “thought libraries should be palaces for the people; places where people would go and make their lives a little more exalted for as long as they could be there” (Peet, 2018). Libraries were essentially designed to be, and for many still are, a place to escape one’s cramped quarters and a “space to create, to think, and to fulfill some dreams” describes Pam Smith in a Ted Talk about the future of 21st century libraries (2013).
When my daughters and I lived in a 900 square-foot apartment years ago (this time just two girls of varying size and one tired parent), we would go to the Vally-Hi North Laguna Branch library for a little escape. I had to drag those girls out of the library’s towering cylindrical room with paper butterflies hanging at different levels from the high ceiling, darting between the sun’s rays streaming in from the wall of windows. Talk about feeling exalted! Circled with comfy seating in bright blues and greens, the room is just off the area of the library housing books for young readers. Who knows what my girls with scabby knees were dreaming about?
I dearly hope no one ever told them their dreams were impossible.
https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=4GT0lsKRQLw&feature=shared
References:
Peet, L. (2018, October 3). Libraries and Social Infrastructure. Library Journal. https://www.libraryjournal.com/story/181003-Eric-Klinenberg-QA
Smith, P.S. (2013, December 16). What to expect from libraries in the 21st century. [Video]. YouTube.
@emmizo This is lovely:
” I dearly hope no one ever told them their dreams were impossible.”
Thanks for this vivid recollection of you dreaming at the public library.
Thank you. I cried through this entire post. I am crying while writing this reply. I cried every time I proofread my post. This post really took me places I had forgotten. No one should tell you not to dream of the impossible. Thank you for reading it and replying.