In elementary school, my favorite day was Thursday,
because it was Library Day.
I could hardly wait to enter the small library at the end of the upstairs
hallway, past the water fountain, next to the double doors.
It didn't matter that the librarian, Mrs. R., had a nasty temper.
Oh, I noticed her saggy scowl deepen as we filed into her domain,
but I knew her anger wouldn't lash in my direction.
Mrs. R. took no notice of the nerdy girl with too-large glasses
engrossed in selecting her next Nancy Drew adventure.
The lumpish mole between her eyebrows quivered and protruded
as she pounded tables and flung periodicals at naughty boys—
Mrs. R. did dislike those grade-school boys.
So while she tossed plastic chairs and whoever sat in them,
I opened books and trained Big Red with Danny or wandered the dump
with the Boxcar Children, searching for barely-chipped china plates.
drowned out the rantings of that long-ago, rural-Kentucky librarian.
with the squirrel?
Not much ...
I wonder if you remember your earliest librarian.
Did she teach you to love reading or
did you learn to love reading in spite of her?
Which books were your favorite childhood escapes?
I'd love to know.