i’ve always loved books. my folks would find me the next morning with a book on my face. i actually couldn’t put the book down. (i am not-so-silently protesting the over- and incorrect use of the word  “literally” although it really would be better in that sentence than “actually”.)

it didn’t even have to be books. just words.back of the milk carton at breakfast, dad’s paper (pops often went elsewhere to read, think it was his excuse to get some alone time) after he was done. watergate and all that. and ads for cars. not a lotta words that but something to keep my brain busy.

i won a 14 karat gold jade pendant awarded to me by my third grade teacher, Mrs. Uzzo, for reading over 50 books. (not sure why she gets capitals.) (and an underline.)

one time while getting ready for a family vacation, my mom asked me what i was going to do with all the books i was bringing. i said read them. reading ain’t big in my family except dad and the paper. and me.

i knew every aisle in my hometown library. the biographies were just a bit further down from history.there were some books that worked like landmarks when i was looking for something. there was one with a yellow jacket that signaled the end of the 817’s  – “american humor & satire in english”. i loved pulling out those long drawers from the card catalogue. some cards were typed and often had some cross outs; some were hand-written, usually swirly cursive script.some cards even in pencil. there was a whole system of organization on that 5×7 card – i mean lots besides last name  of the author then their first name and middle initial. the second line was year of publication. ok, well actually, the book’s title would be in there, too. i don’t remember the set up so just understand there was a set up.

it was really exciting when i graduated from the children’s library to adults’. my pink kids library card was coming apart. it was a special kind of cardboard-ish paper. happy to trade it in for the adult green library card. i had bad memories of the kids library. like when one of the  fat tough italian girls surrounded by her gumbah gum-chewing girlfriends made fun of me for picking my nose. (guess i got very into whatever book i was reading and forgot i was in public. i was 9.)

i went to the library today to forget about life for a while.i did.

but now i’m back.

i don’t mean to be elitist by reading so much. writing, too. always got lost doing that as well.i just like it. it doesn’t mean i think i’m better than you. then again, maybe it does. unconsciously.

now i gotta sleep.don’t wanna wake up with a laptop on my head.