When I was a kid I was terrified of the library. I loved to read, but I hated the angst of going to the long, narrow filing cabinets, pulling out cards, and trying to find the corresponding Dewey Decimal number if I could trust that I had found the right section. I would never have considered asking the librarian for help, I was afraid she would laugh. The library caused me a lot of childhood worry, and since my mother is not a reader and couldn’t help me through the panic stages of finding books I’d like to read, I just stuck with the several books I got for presents, and the occasional library book that happened to catch my eye as I walked down the aisles, lightly touching book spines, willing them to tell me what was inside.

When I “grew up” I still rarely used the library, opting instead to buy any books I was marginally interested in. Hova, being an English major, had amassed thousands of books. Once we paid to move them across country, our need to own every book we’d ever seen started dwindling. As we began to embrace a less consuming way of life in general, and tried to define and cherish what really is important to us, getting rid of books that weren’t likely to be read became easier. But it’s because of Georgia and story times that we started regularly using our library.

I was nervous at first, but the Children’s section was easy to negotiate, and the librarians who ran the story times were delightful and never made kids feel bad about laughing out loud. I got a card to get books for Georgia, and then discovered the wonders of having the library’s entire catalog online. I can search for any book, put it on hold, and have it waiting for me at the library, even if my branch doesn’t have a copy. The librarians are great, too. They look things up for me, walk me straight to the book, and gently suggest I renew books that are getting close to their due date.

I am a complete library convert. I love my library. I love paying taxes to support it. I love letting Georgia stumble upon beautifully illustrated great stories like The Bake Shop Ghost, The Year I Didn’t Go to School or even Fairy Dust and the Quest for the Egg. And now we don’t feel the need to buy so many books. It’s partly that we are simplifying our lives, and partly that we are working to live within our means, and we don’t worry that if we don’t have it on our own shelves we’ll never find it. I do worry about how bookstores will stay afloat and how authors will make money if book lovers like me stop buying books, but we’ll never stop completely. There are some authors that we will always need to own, like Louise Erdrich, Lynda Barry, Lane Smith. We’ll probably get a nice set of second hand hardbound Harry Potter books some day. But we are just more discerning now when we actually buy a book at any of our fabulous local bookstores. I quietly marvel that this entirely socialist entity, a free library of books and materials for everyone, came into being in the first place.

Georgia loves the library too. She has a large collection of her own books, but nowadays she reads a picture book once or twice, and then is done with it. She wants long, enticing stories, with danger and orphans. The library offers unlimited possibilities for her imagination, and if she’s unenthusiastic about a book, we can just take it back. She understands about borrowing and sharing, and the responsibility of a book that belongs to everyone. She has no fear of the library, and will be a library user all her life. The last time we were there she demanded, with wrinkled brow, “WHEN can I get my OWN library card?” I glanced at the librarian, sure she would say Georgia was too young, but who said, “You can get one now!” I love my library.

Photo credit: a trying youth