4x6 Looking down, I could see the lines in the sidewalk that showed where each three foot long square had been laid down. I ran, trying to stretch my stride so that I hit each square with one step, hard to do for a short-legged, chubby twelve year old. I ran all the way from the elementary school to downtown. Up past the hardware store, past the drugstore, around the corner by the bank, chugged past the pool hall, and finally past the "Coney-Spot" diner, and then, hands on my knees, stood there in front of the brand new library. Well, it wasn't really brand new, it was in an old building that used to be a clothing store, but the 'idea' of a library was new to me. Several of my friends were there as well, skinny, fast smart-alecks they were, bet they got all the good books too........ All those books! Wow. I finally chose one, "Knute Rockne", it was a biography of the famous Notre Dame coach, my very first library book. I proudly wrote my name, IN CURSIVE, no less, on the card and gave it to the librarian for safe keeping. She stamped the book, July 12, meaning that's when the book was due back. My first library book. I loved that story, the life of Knute Rockne, and I think I must have re-checked that book out 10 more times in the next few years. My father was a voracious reader. He would sit down on the couch, put his glasses up on his forehead, and read for hours. I have a vague memory of climbing up beside him and of him trying to teach me the words as he went along. I believe he had me reading before I got in the first grade. He instilled in me the joy of reading and of learning about far-away places and people, a well-ingrained trait that has led me to places far away from that four room log cabin where I would read my books by the porch light that shone outside my window. My mother would send us to bed, and I would sneak a book in and clandestinely read along by the dim light pouring through my bedroom window. Of course, she could hear the pages turning, and would eventually call out for me to "put those books up, boy, you're going to ruin your eyes reading in the dark like that." The little library was too far away for me to enjoy in the summers, but during school, I would run up town to gather a book to take home with me and read about .....everything. Libraries became necessities later on. I remember poring over journals and books written in medicalese for hours at the North Carolina Baptist Medical Center and the Bowman-Gray School of Medicine, reading by dim, yellowed, fluorescent lights until they ran me out to close the building and the janitor would lock the door behind me. I would take the photocopies back to my little apartment and read in bed, with a can of Pepsi and a bologna sandwich as I had not taken time to eat. Many years passed and I found myself back in the libraries, large county and state libraries, going through microfilms and documents, some that had to be handled with white kid-gloves due to their antiquity, reading about my ancestors and the history of our People. Today, I was in a large bookstore, one with a coffee shop and a pastry shop within it's large confines. The bookstore has become the mecca for today's kids to meet up and for young adults to frequent, a genuine nouveau du jour for today's trendy set. Thousands of books line the shelves. Wow. It's one of those full-circle things, where you meet yourself coming the other way. I walked out of the store, with a new book, eager to get home and open the pages to discover new places, people.........things. On the way to the car, I balance the cappuccino in one hand, and my parcel of books in the other, looking down, I see the lines in the sidewalk and I begin to leap from one square to the other, trying to make one step in each square, while trying not to spill my drink. A young couple step aside for me, I must have had a wild look in my eyes, as they give way and smile at me, and then return to their trek to the door of the bookstore...... I leap off of the sidewalk and then walk to the waiting car, delerious with happiness, pull the glasses down from the top of my head, and read, by the dim dome light of the car. The old library back home is gone, they built a new one, but few frequent it's doors these days. But there was a day, when the old one was packed with kids of all ages, delerious with expectation, and wrote their names in cursive, on a 4x6 library card, and began their own journeys. My dad is still a voracious reader, makes it easy to satisfy him at Christmas time, reckon the Biography of Knute Rockne would be a good choice this year. |
"4x6" © Wauhilau as posted in
alt.discuss.clubs.public.culture.native-american.benable
on Sat, Feb 11, 2006, 2:53pm (EST-3)
"Words" by The BeeGees
bead bar courtesy of Greasy Grass