Drops of Knowledge

by Bethel Glumac

I'm staring up at the ceiling, listening to rain pound on my roof- and I'm thinking about books. How many times have I heard this same sound somewhere else? More times than I can imagine the patter of the raindrops reminds me of my library, and the many delights I experienced there during my teenage years.

Eleven years ago, a fortnight before my seventh birthday, my father took me to the Helen Hall Library. I loved the library. With its magnificent shrubbery, majestic pillars, and circular entranceway, it had always somehow reminded me of Miss Havisham's haunted mansion from Dicken's masterpiece, Great Expectations. Because I’d always read books too complex for my age anyway, I of course had grown up with these library visits; but this time it was different- I was applying for a library card. I walked with my father to the desk and he proudly told the sweet, older lady that I would like a card, even though I wasn't seven, the age limit for receiving one.

The librarian's eyes crinkled around the edges as she looked down and smiled at me, "Anxious, are we?" I was too shy to do anything other than nod and bury my head in my father's shirt, but thankfully she understood.
Since then, my library card has become my passport to a whole new kingdom.  The friendly librarians became a medium to find out how this kingdom was run. And the books- well, the books were magic. I jumped valiantly into the tempestuous sea of classical authors- Bronte, Poe, and Melville-, and the lilting waters of modern writers- Hemingway, Adams, and Golding. I loved every bit of them and I loved that it was free; so naturally, I loved the library.

As the wonders of the library unfolded for me, I became bolder and more involved. As soon as I turned twelve, I joined the Junior Volunteers Program, following in the footsteps of the older siblings. A year later, I co-founded the Teen Advisory Board, an organization that helped teenagers help the library. Another year and I was in Tutoring and Reading Buddies, helping younger children learn more out of school. Their bashfulness reminded me of my younger self, hiding behind my father, and I empathized with them.

As a final show of commitment to the library that had served me so much, I applied for a position as a page. At my interview, I was nervous, almost like my seven-year old self; but this time it was different, I cared about the library and I was determined to show it.

This month marks approximately the day a year and a half ago when I was hired. I never knew so much work went into making a library run; but more importantly, I have found out something about how I run: the library is an environment I need. Amidst the towering shelves of reading material, I feel strangely comforted listening to the incessant fall of rain from above. The line of books stand up straight for me and the patrons ask me questions I already know. I’ve found out more about myself- about how I love to help people, how I love to get the books shelved on time, and how I love my library.

Somewhere else surrounded by more books, audio-visual, and technology materials than I could ever utilize in my lifetime.  I’ve heard it more times than I can remember in a place I called in my second home- a convenient getaway in my sleepy town.