Has the Virus stolen my library from me? No! I find that I can go in by appointment, thanks to those dear librarians. So what is it about the library that excites me? Walking in, masked and sanitized, I feel as though I’m in the Longhorn with a 3-dessert sampler in front of me, my spoon poised in anticipation. All these books! I’m ravenous for words, hungry for stories, my voyeuristic urges eager to peer into other peoples’ lives, real or imaginary. It’s been too long.
It’s all there waiting for me. Truth in fiction, treasures in fantasy. Human folly revealed, stripped bare of pretensions. Information in bold, pre-electronic print, to hold in my hands. Real pages waiting to be turned.
The librarian warms to my inquiries about G.K. Chesterton as she picks up on my excitement. She can’t resist it. Her librarian soul has been awakened! She emerges from behind her fortresslike desk and trots eagerly off in the direction of the book I am seeking. “Come here – I’ll show you just where to find it!”
I love her for the orderly quiet she imposes on this place. I love her for her hissings of “Ssh!” when those two teenagers at that table over there start to giggle. I love the way she reminds me, “You realize that the fine for late DVD’s is a dollar a day”. I’m more than glad to obey the rules.
I wander through the quietness, savoring the dusty smell of old books. How long has it been since anyone checked some of them out? Henry MacGregor, town father and library patron, would know. He looks down in august splendor from his portrait over the 120 year old stone fireplace. Gathering an armload of possibilities, I leave contented. In the beginning was the Word. Virus or no virus, all is well.
