I’ve calmed down now. I think that looking at this picture helped. I want to climb into this picture. Isn’t this the greatest picture ever? I have always loved libraries: their smell, their possibilities. . . the very atmosphere of a huge repository of books hypnotizes me. I could live quite happily in a big library.

I loved it when libraries were QUIET. Remember how those librarians would shush you if you so much as said one word that wasn’t a whisper? I wish it was still like that. I loved the silence of a library, with just whispers. People whispering, and the pages whispering as they turned. People even walked quietly in a library. And if anyone made noise, out they went. Oh, for the days of library silence, which was, in fact, simply respect for the dignity and power and general cool of books. And books, of course, represented knowledge and wisdom and fun and escape.

At home, I must have my music blasting almost every minute, but in the library, I love the symbolism of the silence.

Our local library has turned into a big daycare, full of running, screaming little kids who have no intention of doing anything with a book except throw it or tear it up. I haven’t been there in years. It’s not a library any more. People even bring food in there now, even though the signs tell them not to.

I guess they can’t read the signs. In which case, why are they in a library, which would connote a desire to read a book? Oh, silly me. They are there to socialize, and to let the kids run wild. Please, check out your videos and go home.

Shhhhhhh. . . . .

Please?