Isn’t a library a sort of heaven?
The library is my church: a place of peaceful reflection, sanctuary and retreat, a quiet pull of possible worlds.
The best libraries have natural light and nooks where you can comfortably tuck into your thoughts. There is a hush of concentration and discovery, with a quietude that carries tender clarity.
When I am urged to “think of your happy place” I do not imagine a tropical beach. It’s always a library I see.
On this Thankful Thursday I am grateful for the public library. Let us hail these places of refuge and discovery! And now, as censorship is at an all time high, public libraries are working harder than ever to provide equity, diversity, and inclusion in their communities.
The pandemic hit hard and low-income families and people of color struggled more than most. Across the nation, libraries stepped up to meet the need. My local library, for example, has a dedicated bilingual outreach librarian who has spent the last two years going door-to-door, park-to-park, giving free books to children. She’s encouraging youngsters to read and thrive.
During the early days of the pandemic — when we all stayed home — I began borrowing digital books, thanks to the free service offered by my library.
This free service, along with online book holds, allows me to access library books at a distance and at absolutely no cost. It still amazes me that we have this enduring system across the nation: free books!
I’m especially thankful for my library because I have been away for over two years. In my world, the pandemic is not over. Covid cases are ticking up once again, and for the elderly and those with chronic health conditions, these numbers demonstrate that vigilance is still required. This week I visited the library and when I saw librarians wearing masks, I sighed with relief.
This may sound silly to you. Most have moved on, tossed the mask, and forgotten about the old and sick among us. Still, nearly 9 out of 10 deaths are now in people 65 or older, the highest rate since the pandemic began, according to the Washington Post and other sources.
It’s true we now have better tools to address the virus, such as vaccines and medicine. And while most covid cases are now more mild, long-covid still racks many and for the medically fragile catching covid introduces a swarm of complications.
When I was just five and learning to read, I spent six months in the hospital for the treatment of severe asthma. Unable to run or spend much time outdoors, I found my life in letters and books.
When I was 25 and a tumor took my lung, I recovered in the company of books.
It’s been years since I’ve suffered a severe asthma attack. While I still have days of wheezing and tightness, with a steady regime of twice daily medications I’m able to bike and ski and live a ‘normal’ life. But I’m always aware of a sniffle or stumble that can upset the balance.
I share this (or perhaps overshare) not for sympathy but for understanding. There are scores of people in similar situations; they are healthy and vigorous individuals who are held in place with medicine, science and trust. These last few years have left many of us feeling battered and left behind.
We can’t live isolated forever, I know. Like you, I want to attend parties and eat in crowded restaurants. I want to fly without fear. But I remain cautious. And maybe this is why I find profound comfort in libraries and books. In a story, I am transported. I am here and not here. I am not alone.
PRAISE SONG
Praise the light of late November,
the thin sunlight that goes deep in the bones.
Praise the crows chattering in the oak trees;
though they are clothed in night, they do not
despair. Praise what little there's left:
the small boats of milkweed pods, husks, hulls,
shells, the architecture of trees. Praise the meadow
of dried weeds: yarrow, goldenrod, chicory,
the remains of summer. Praise the blue sky
that hasn't cracked yet. Praise the sun slipping down
behind the beechnuts, praise the quilt of leaves
that covers the grass: Scarlet Oak, Sweet Gum,
Sugar Maple. Though darkness gathers, praise our crazy
fallen world; it's all we have, and it's never enough.
— Barbara Crooker
Please join me for Thankful Thursday, a weekly pause to express appreciation for things small and large, from the puny to the profound. Joy expands and contracts in direct relation to our sense of gratitude. What are you thankful for today?