For the Love of Books

I've always been a book person. My love of books has grown over the years, a love that has been largely encouraged by my husband, who's appetite for tomes exceeds my own. This is evidenced by the many, many books that clutter just about every room in our home. 

There is a fond memory I have of going to the downtown Cleveland library with my sister. She was a college student at the time, so while she went about gathering books for a project she was doing, I would plunk down in the stacks, inhale, and pull books out at random. I spent many happy hours in the Arts section, learning about the Italian Renaissance. I also read a lot about early movies. Mabel Normand. W.C. Fields. Harold Lloyd. The downtown library is huge, and thankfully, they have managed to maintain its aura of mystery and possibilities. The giant marble staircases lead you on a journey to anywhere you want to go. I love to just open an old book and inhale. Aahhh. You may call me old school, but I do love books. And when I can manage to get downtown, the Cleveland library is still one of my favorite haunts.The addition of the Stokes building has done nothing to diminish my love for the place.

The suburban libraries are okay, too, although they lack the sheer volume (pun intended) of the downtown library. We make the rounds of many of them. Westlake has a very good selection. Lakewood is good. We used to enjoy going to the Cuyahoga Library, but they seem to be more interested in attracting people who haven't opened a book in years and have no intention of doing so anytime soon. A lot of space has been given over to new computers, so folks can come in and check their email and play games and watch YouTube. Meanwhile, the stacks are withering. If you wander through the non-fiction section, where once there were dozens of books on a major topic like World War Two, there are now just a handful. I know I am part of a dying breed, but I do not understand why the library has to get rid of the books. There are still shelves, they are just empty now. Very sad.

My husband used to take our son to the library when he was small. The elder Mr. G. would sit and read while the younger Mr. G. (aged 4 or so) would sit and pour over train magazines and make up stories about the "choo-choos." Play areas at the library are nice, but how many parents are actually reading with their kids?

Sigh. I wonder if someday I will be like the Burgess Meredith character in the Twilight Zone episode, who is declared obsolete and sentenced to die because he will not renounce his books. What will I be reading while the time bomb ticks away?  Maybe Jane Austen. Oscar Wilde. Dorothy Parker. John Steinbeck John Irving. So many possibilities.