I grew up in a family of readers. My parents invested heavily – with their own sweat equity – in my reading and education. I was reading by age three and no matter what word I was facing, they insisted that I knew how to read and refused to accept my asking what a word was or telling them I didn’t know it. I began to believe them. I approached everything with the attitude that I knew how to read and therefore I knew how to read all the words. What they obviously wanted me to do was try on my own, develop my own understanding of phonics, and extrapolate my learning independently. Because when I read Chevrolet starting with a ch- like in cheese and ending with a hard t sound, they corrected me quickly with a laugh. And they corrected my mispronunciation of Arkansas – I just stuck an ar- sound in front of the Kansas – with a tone that I understood to communicate that they were proud of me.
I was in kindergarten the first time I saw any library. Once a week we went to the school library as a class to select a book to read for the week. Mommy was very excited by this prospect and when she asked me about my experience it was with the energy of a little girl opening a present on Christmas morning. She couldn’t wait to hear about it and to see the book I selected and expected to be bathed in a euphoria of hope for her child. Unfortunately, she was very disappointed. I explained to her that we were assigned a table with about five children or so, that had a stack of five books or so in the middle to choose from. We could begin reading our books at the table and then we’d do it all again the following week. Mommy was not only disappointed in the book I chose but in the whole system. But she figured if I selected the biggest and hardest book on the table, we could still get to whatever it was she expected would result from my reading and going to the library. That following week, she was more disappointed to see what the hardest book on the table was and gave me a new directive. I was to ask the librarian if I could select my own books from the shelves and this met with a quick no from the librarian. I wonder if it’s important to note that the first time I saw the quote “Ignorance is bliss” was on a poster hanging on this librarian’s desk. Anyway, Mommy took matters into her own hands that very evening – we went to the nearest public library to get my first library card.
The very beginnings of my bibliomania started the first day I entered a public library. The library was not far from our house, but we headed there with haste because they would be closing soon. The goal was to get a library card and then to learn how to pick books to read. We’d return the following Saturday to actually pick books. I have audibly gasped entering two buildings in my life. The second was in 2018 at Basilique Du Sacré-Cœur de Monmartre in Paris, France. The first was the Whitehaven Public Library in Memphis, Tennessee in 1981.
I’ll be describing my experience from the perspective of that five-year-old girl in 1981 entering her first public library going forward. It’s important that I explain that because if you know the Whitehaven Public Library (or ever visit it – if it’s still there) you will be perplexed by my description.
When we flung open the doors to the library, I gasped in awe, and Mommy was so pleased. There were books EVERYWHERE! And there were people – and by people I mean children my age – looking at books and there were just so many! Who knew there were so many books in the world just for children? The sections for children’s books seemed larger than the entirety of my school library. I was about to explode. Mommy calmed me and we walked over to the desk to request our library card. I couldn’t look away from the world of books that was about to be all mine.
The second thing that happened that would change my life was Mommy asked that the library card be in my name. Oh that woman – actually both women, my Mommy and the librarian – became good fairies when they insisted I have my own library card. I never had anything in my own name before and surely this thing would give me immeasurable power. And then she took us on a tour to show me all the sections of books that were available to me. All three of us beamed that evening.
I got my card and I couldn’t resist taking a few books home so I filled my arms as quickly as I could until Mommy stopped me and we checked out. To my disbelief, I would have these books for what felt like an eternity. That these guardians of wonderful books trusted me to care for them, read them, and return them in that much time – I was dumbfounded. And a book enthusiast had found her happy place at just five years old.
Forget that little school library because it wasn’t for people like me. It was for people who weren’t as intimately involved with the written word as people like me and still needed to be gently introduced to the world of reading and of books. I’d also found my people and the best part about my fellow bibliophiles was that there was no age restriction in this group. For the first time in my life children were regarded with the same respect as adults and I felt empowered.
The last time I visited the Whitehaven Public Library was while in high school. I felt like there was barely room for three books and it looked quite small and sad. I stopped going inside because I didn’t want it to lose the grandeur I’d projected onto it as a five-year-old. And it will forever be sacred to me.
I am Regina Lynette. I am a book lover.
* I’ve curated a Bookshop storefront where you can shop titles from my shelves. Click the Bookshop link above or click HERE to see the books I’ve purchased and read for 2020. I am an affiliate of Bookshop.org and I will earn a commission if you click through and make a purchase.
I am Regina Lynette 