Libraries Are a Family Affair

Mrs. (Louise) Eddy was the sweetest woman on this planet after Mom. Children’s librarian at the Pontiac Public Library, she read to my sisters, helped us find books, retired from the library, and lived to be 92. She was our introduction to one of humanity’s finest inventions—the public library and the world of books.

Let’s take another field trip from the Heights. In this case, to the first Pontiac Public Library I remember, (built in 1894) where only adults were allowed upstairs with the books. My brothers and I didn’t mind. We spent our time looking through the mounted stereoscope at 3D pictures. (View-Masters were a second best after that.)

When I was nine, Pontiac constructed a more modern building, at least, to us, complete with basement bomb shelter, (a more innocent, if uninformed time) and a large, sunny children’s room with paper mache dinosaurs that I dreamed of owning, and enough books to keep all ages happy. Oh, the joy of signing your name in cursive for your own library card (approved by parents), and watching your books stamped before you carried them home.

Those were the days of card catalogues and the Dewey Decimal System, so we learned to find any book, fiction or non-fiction, by the location and author or number. The children’s room had it’s own set of card drawers, which trained us for the real thing in the adult section.

I checked out “Goomer” (Dorothy Waldman ©1952 about a Siamese cat) so many times, I was given the book years later. Another favorite was “Plow Boy” about a draft horse who could win races when his rider whispered, “Oats, Plow Boy, oats.” Unfortunately, no matter how much research I’ve done, I can’t even find a mention of this book. Why was it so fascinating, anyway? Because for her day at the county fair, the hero packed a sandwich and a clean pair of socks in her pocket. Socks? Made no sense to me then or now.

Libraries. Magical places. We went as a family every Saturday, browsed, and stocked up enough books to get us through the week. I remember my first ventures into the adult sections after I discovered Agatha Christie.

I carried that love of libraries into adulthood. When Auburn Hills set up the public library in the Seymour house (husband of John Dodge’s oldest daughter, house built in 1920, renovated in 1939, moved and renovated again in 1990), my sister and I spent happy hours in the lovely rooms, taking picnics to the grounds, and enjoying the view from the (at that time) wooden dock overlooking the pond and woods.

Moved to Florida and sought the local county libraries. As Albert Einstein said, “The only thing that you absolutely have to know, is the location of the library.”

Instead of combining counties, in Florida each county is a standalone, although you can order a book from anywhere in the State online. And I do. What writer is not a voracious reader?

Did you visit libraries? With your family? From the schools? Any library was a second home to me, including Avondale High School’s.

And now?

I’ve memorized my thirteen-digit library card number, and am recognized by name at my Ridge Manor branch.

My parents would be so proud.