This is a story about me and my relationship with libraries.

I suppose you could say that I inherited my love of libraries. My grandmother was a librarian, both in Poland and in the United States.

My grandmother got her magistra bibliotekoznawstwa (Masters in Library Studies) in Wrocław Poland, in 1972. 

Back in the days before search engines, a librarian had to be a search engine. As part of my grandmothers masters program, she had to demonstrate a general knowledge on a wide variety of topics and have a working knowledge of at least five languages —Polish, French, German, Russian, and Latin. 

My grandmother was a librarian in Poland for over a decade. When she came to the United States in the 1980s, she got a job as an academic librarian at the University of Reno, where she worked for almost two decades.

I remember the smart clothes she used to wear to work — high heels, nylons, a pencil skirt, a cotton blouse, purse, and a blazer or cardigan. She looked very chic. Very European.

I got to go to work with her one day when I was about eight years old. I remember she gave me a book of fairy tales to look at while she was working. I don’t remember the library, specifically, but I do remember looking at a beautiful black-and-white illustration of a mermaid, next to its companion fairy tale.

In children’s books, the drawings have always been my favorite part.

Public Libraries in my Childhood

The first public library I had a distinctive relationship with was the one in Staunton, Virginia, where my family lived for a brief time. My father had a business in town, and I remember sneaking out the back yard and through a hole in the fence and wandering to the public library, which was a place I was allowed to go unsupervised.

In my memory, the library was enormous, with white Roman columns: a castle on a hill. It had a brick pathway leading up to the front door which had the donor’s names engraved in each brick. I remember entering the library and being awed by the lighting, the skylights, the marble floor. I remember being impressed that this library had three whole floors, the bottom of which was dedicated to children’s books.

It was here I found Bruce Coville’s Unicorn Chronicles, which I loved so much I actually stayed up all night reading it one summer. I used to rent the Shelly DuVall’s Fairy Tale Theater VHS tapes, which I thought were so funny. It was also here that I started reading young adult and adult literature — Flowers in the Attic, the Vampire Diaries, The Clan of the Cave Bear, The Mysts of Avalon. My self-identity as a reader was formed in the Staunton, Virginia public library.

I carried this identity with me, when my family moved back to Chico, California. In Chico, I formed deep bonds with many of the libraries there.

At the Chico public library, there was a librarian who remembered me by name as the girl who read every book on unicorns that they had. I also went through a dragon phase, and a mermaid phase. When I was in high school, I volunteered to be one of the people who shelved books. I was probably terrible at it because I kept finding books I wanted to read. At this library, I remember falling in love with Peter Watt’s Starfish, and Arthur C. Clarke’s 2001: Space Odyssey, and The Chocolate War.

As I grew older, I would often go to the Chico Public Library as a refuge against the heat. I’d rent audiobooks of the classics so that I could listen to them as I knit or sewed. I listened to all of Jane Austen, Ray Bradbury, and the 19th century classics Dracula, Frankenstein, The Phantom of the Opera, and The Count of Monte Christo as I sewed summer dresses and knit sweaters out of season.

School Libraries

I don’t know how I would’ve survived junior high if it hadn’t been for our school library. I used to hide there during lunch hour. I would take my bag sandwich and hide behind a shelf, so that the librarians couldn’t see me eating and reading. (I’m sure they totally knew I was there.) I would sit on the hard carpeted floor, shelves digging into my back, with a book propped up on my knees.

At this library, I discovered books about the Salem witch trials, Patricia C. Wrede’s Enchanted Forest chronicles, Douglas Adams’ Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Larry Niven’s Ringworld, Orson Scott Card’s Ender’s Game series, and Anne McCaffrey’s dragon books, and Piers Anthony’s Incarnations of Immortality series, and more V. C. Andrews books.

Even when the school library was closed, I would sit outside it during lunch, my back against its locked doors — anything not to be in the yard with the rest of the kids.

In high school, I became more social and gained more confidence once I started fencing. But I still loved hanging out in the school library to do homework. The Chico High School Library was this neat, octagonal building at the heart of the campus. I would often hand out at the library before and after school, doing homework where it was warm and dry. I remember reading Catch-22, The Terrorists of Irustani by Louis Marley, and books on genetics and feminism.

Once I got to college, my reliance on libraries only grew. The Meriam Library at Chico State was one of my all-time favorite libraries. It was four stories built around an open central atrium. It had nice big windows, private study rooms, and nice chairs for reading (or napping). It also had open stacks, so that I could experience the first-hand joy of finding what I wanted with the Dewey Decibel system—and then finding an even better book on the shelf above or below. I love open stacks!

Their women’s bathrooms were also incredible. They had large vanity mirrors and counters for make-up, or changing diapers. They had private couches for nursing or… I don’t know… swooning? Best of all, they had these toilets where the flusher was a foot pedal built into the floor. Genius! Why isn’t every bathroom plumbed this way?

And the computer lab was open 24-hours. I wrote many papers there, and rented many movies.

When I think of some of my favorite moments from college, studying in the Meriam library is definitely on the list. I would even go and read there during the summers, where it was air conditioned and quiet.

After College

For about a year, my husband and I lived in Alpine County, New Jersey, where there was no public library. I remember feeling that this was horribly uncivilized. 

When I wanted to visit a library, I had to drive to a neighboring county, and I was charged a fee to get a library card. When I asked them why Alpine didn’t have a public library, they said that the residents of Alpine County were mostly were so rich would just buy a book if they needed it. (I was not wealthy, by the way.) None of the wealthy residents wanted to pay for a common good service like a library when they had their own private collections in their high-walled McMansions.

I was shocked at this. This was my first experience of the fact that not everyone values libraries. It seems morally depraved to me that the wealthy wouldn’t want to use their wealth toward their community’s well-being or towards a common-good service like a library. I’ll never understand people who have the means to help better the world, but choose not to.

Back in California, I’ve gotten to enjoy many libraries in the San Francisco Bay Area. I’ve attended classes, community, events, and club meetings at the libraries here. It is such a gift to live in a place where libraries are truly valued as central hubs of the cultue. I’ve come to see my libraries as — not just a place to get books — but as a place to get to know my neighbors and the people in my community. 

There are weekly family events — such as visiting animals, clowns, children’s story times. There are book sales, and classes, and art exhibitions. There are gardening clubs, book clubs, knitting clubs, and family movie nights, and math tutoring, and Dungeons and Dragons meet-ups, and fencing exhibitions. It seems like there is something special happening almost every night.

I had never realized how wonderful it was to have a place in the community that could serve as a central hub for that community. The library is a place that gets people of different ages together — the old and the young — to the benefit of all. It really matters that this is free. Our community taxes have been pooled together to create this place that benefits everyone. We all have a place here. All are welcome.

Libraries and Parenthood

My usage of the library has only increased now that I’m a mother. When my son was little, I’d put him in the stroller and walk the loop down to the library and back — filling the bottom basket of his stroller with books. My son loved playing in the little children’s room they set up, with wooden blocks and stuffed animals. We’d spend many hours playing with toys, and reading children’s books.

When the pandemic started, we decided to homeschool our son because the whole Zoom-school thing was just not going to work. I got all my school texts from the library. I’d reserve bags and bags of history books and science books for us to sit together and read on the couch.

One of my proudest moments ever was when the librarian said, “You are our second highest patron.”

“Really? Who is the first?”

“I can’t tell you that, but you’ll never catch up.” LOL. It’s part of the librarians code to protect the privacy of their patrons and their searches, but I still wonder who the highest patron might’ve been. Was it a school? Or a family of twelve?

I still visit the library every week or two, and I try to attend a community event at least once a month. Since the pandemic, the majority of my interactions with my library are through their online reservation system, and through Libby — the library book and audiobook app. Ever since I started listening and reading to books with the app, my reading has expanded exponentially.

There are many additional library services that I’m not even using, such as the ability to rent movies on the Kanopy app. Some libraries also offer language learning apps.

As it becomes easier to check out digital material, I wonder if the physical library systems will shift focus more towards being community centers.

I think there will always need to be physical children’s books at the library. A three year old just won’t get the same thing out of an iPad book as a board book.

Gratitude

As I reflect on the countless ways libraries have enriched my life, I am filled with gratitude. Libraries have been sanctuaries of knowledge, creativity, and connection—places where I’ve discovered new worlds, found inspiration, and felt part of a larger community.

They are so much more than buildings filled with books; they are gateways to possibility, curiosity, and belonging.

I hope that my story has encouraged you to reflect on the role libraries have played in your life.

Whether they’ve been a quiet haven during a busy day, a source of inspiration for your dreams, or a place to spark joy in the next generation, libraries are treasures worth cherishing.

If this post has sparked a fond memory or a renewed appreciation for libraries, I invite you to show your support.

Visit your local library, check out a book, attend an event, or simply spend time exploring all it has to offer. You might also consider helping sustain your library by volunteering, donating, or spreading the word about its importance.

Libraries thrive because of the communities that love and support them. Together, we can ensure these magical spaces continue to inspire and serve for generations to come. Thank you, libraries, for everything you’ve given us—and thank you, dear reader, for taking this journey with me.

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