Georgetown (Library)
Sadly, the librarians at this library appeared unapproachable, and never smiled. One had what I would call... "resting bitch face." Perhaps the latter couldn't be helped.
I had to use the bathroom, which was modestly clean, and inhabited by a few homeless men, whom I guess frequent this space daily.
One man said to me, "Don't put your backpack on the floor because one of us will steal it." I noticed a man brushing his teeth, and not with a regular tooth brush, but an electronic one. He looked at me and said, "You're thinking, why does he have an electronic tooth brush?" I said, "Not at all." He said, "I didn't steal it, but bought it with the money I stole." I appreciated his candor, finding it refreshing.
In true Paul style, I gave everyone a few dollars, but not before asking each one of them the grand question… Why are you homeless?
Two confirmed being drug addicts, one said it was just easier to be homeless, another said, “None of your fucking business!” And the other said, “I lost my spirit.” Needless to say, the latter broke my heart. (Dear reader… Don’t ask questions if you can’t manage the answers.) – paerki
Musings: My past journal entries as they relate to LIBRARIES and BOOKS…
GET LOST IN NOSTALGIA: As I continued my adventure I noticed my adrenalin kicking in even more because I was getting close to where I wanted to be – Canton/Highlandtown. My first stop was the historic Enoch Pratt Free Library branch. As a young boy I spent many hours there reading and doing my homework. I recall the librarian well, Miss. Long. She was tall, with long hair, stylish and had an endearing smile. She was magical because she had a way with children, eager to engage our interests and for those who came in often she knew what we liked to read and recommended book after book. There are so many adjectives to describe her, but my two favorites are nurturing and loyal. She inspired us to read and helped us find our voice. I’ll always be indebted to her, and I know with every book I’ve read and will read in the future I will think of her, thankful for passing her love of literature on to me and countless others.
My time at the library intensified when I met the current librarian, Gloria. I was happy to share my memories of childhood, and she listened – really listened. I immediately felt a connection because she shares my vision of reading and the power of a book. The touch, feel and smell of a book in hand, turning page after page and relishing in that, is the greatest gift of all. Knowledge through the written word is priceless and never to be taken for granted. (Thank you, Gloria for your time and the exchange of thoughts, feelings, and perceptions of the library. I’m glad to hear it’s thriving. You have that same spirit and power as Miss. Long, and I know you are cultivating young minds, too. I hope we meet again soon.) – paerki
ALLOW A BOOK TO HELP: In the early AM I sat in my garden of books, thinking about how they grew? This definitely was a labor of love beginning with childhood. I pulled a few children’s books from one of the mounds (The Grown-Up Day by Jack Kent, The Land of Lost Buttons by Alvin Tresselt, Arm in Arm by Remy Charlip and The December Dog by Jan M. Robinson) and began to read aloud. These are not very old stories, but ones that gave me confidence and a voice.
My journey continued as I read a few excerpts from James and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl and The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis (with The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe and The Magician’s Nephew being my favorites).
I continued to more adult fare, pulling book after book: The Pop-Up Book of Nightmares by Gary Greenberg, Vermeer (The Complete Paintings) by Norbert Schneider, Paintings in the Louvre by Lawrence Gowing, The Amiable Baltimoreans by Francis F. Beirne, Historic Baltimore by Priscilla L. Miles, Druid Hill Park (The Heart of Historic Baltimore) by Eden Unger Bowditch and Anne Draddy, and The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes by Arnold Rampessad. These reads helped to create the great escape I so desperately needed today.
There is always diversion and jubilation to be found when you connect your past to books. Each day I look at my library with warm, mirthful memories that flood my mind instantaneously. I am reminded of that which must never be taken for granted: a mother’s love of reading and passing that along to her children, my first book I learned to read by (A Pig in a Jig), escaping into a story when days were less than desirable (like today), receiving a book as a gift from a friend who loved the story so much they couldn’t wait to share and after reading brought the two of us closer together, and choosing books when traveling for vacation or business meetings. I could go on and on, but I digress.
Books in general remind me of happy and sad times, love, and loss, but more than anything they awaken the power of knowledge, the essence of everything I learned and hold dear. – paerki
