Recently I renewed a few inter-library loan books, expecting to see the usual–a two-week bump in reading time. Instead, it was like Christmas morning. My renewal gave me a whopping 7-week extension!
Knowing technology and its sketchy reputation, I figured it was a ghost in the machine, a mistake sure to be caught and corrected by the library authorities-that-be, but a look at my library’s web site told me otherwise. The library was temporarily closing for a month or MORE so it could move to its new digs, meaning that all due dates, late dues, and fines were off. Granted clemency. Freed.
That’s right: a total eclipse of the library! (At this point, if you’re jealous, consider it a good sign… sort of like “Ice Cream Parlor 2 Miles Ahead.”)
With this knowledge, the race was on. I had 10 days to collect books from the old library before it was occluded. At that point, any books in my possession would make themselves at home for a month and a half at the very least.
As poetry books bear rereading, this would be a real treat. This meant setting aside time to scour the home library’s shelves in a leisurely fashion. It also meant placing holds on inter-library books that had no waiting lists, ones that would wend their ways to me ipso fasto–soon enough to beat the “temporarily dead line.”
Me, I am a big supporter of libraries and think they should be larger, better financed, and worthy of more taxpayer funds. Alas, too many of our town dollars go to athletic fields and programs instead, as if our children’s bodies alone were worthy of support. What about their minds?
Judge a town or city by its library, I always say. How big, how well-stocked, and how many hours open to the public.
And if the rare eclipse comes your way, giving you a book-borrowing holiday of sorts, don your glasses and look that gift horse in its shiny mouth!
No Comments “A Rare Total Eclipse of the Library”
Here abouts our libraries are well edified both in bricks and mortar and with moldering bundles of pages. I recently misplaced a book and called to extend the dead line. I was informed that as long as I occasionally kept them aware that they were not being robbed I could extend the deadline indefinitely. What? Forever? After all they have piles of books for sale for a dollar or less and trunk loads of donations from disbanded home collections. The shelves were full and they needed more workspaces for monitors. I found and returned it almost a year later to a “ho-hum” and was refused my attempt to pay a fine. I felt I should be punished in some way for depriving another reader’s eyes, but no guilt or gold was accepted. This is a new age and soon the physical library will be only a visual memory while one is accessing knowledge via ethernet and robo-aps or perhaps a kiosk in some coffee stained corner. The future is an illusory vista. Disclaimer: Don’t try this yourself in your hometown though without a local librarian’s supervision.
You are blessed!