There is no point to this post. I just have to sing my praise for libraries. Bored? Stop reading now.
I spent a lot of time growing up at the library. I can picture in my mind exactly where the Baby-sitters Club series was located at the Riverside Public Library. I remember where the romance paperbacks were, too: basement, in the back, black wire racks. I never read one, but the cover art of orgasming half-undressed Victorian-era characters may have perhaps been my first exposure to sex.
The bibliothèque in Lyon was a place where I could feel at home. Part-Dieu it was called. It was good to find a place to feel at home in a scary foreign country. It wasn't particularly welcoming. In fact the library was quite ugly. But the music section always had something good playing. I spent a lot of time flipping through the racks, trying to select which four albums I would take for that day, with maybe The Velvet Underground as my soundtrack.
The Lemont library sucks. I am not talking about it.
The Chicago library gave me Harry Potter. Spend $35 I don't have on Deathly Hallows? I think not. The main branch ordered 100 copies, no holds allowed. The morning the book was released, Amy and I went to the library and checked out one copy each. I remember she was incredibly bitchy on the way home because I got caught up talking to the reference librarian about the amazing things you can do with research these days.
This appreciation for libraries brought to you after some time spent at Daniel Boone Regional Library. Books, CDs, DVDs… yummmm. No late fees? Yes. Lakota coffee in the library. Hold placed on entire series of Planet Earth. Hope it gets here before Thanksgiving. Oh Thanksgiving. Love, you man.