I must confess, I am old school when it comes to reading. I prefer the bound paper version over an e-book, though I do acknowledge the ease and simplicity of accessing books on a tablet. I can pack fifty books on my tablet when leaving home and free ups space for more socks and underwear in my suitcase. And then there’s the audiobook. I don’t often listen to audiobooks, though they are a surefire antidote to sleeplessness, and they help pass the time on long driving excursions. I don’t listen to audiobooks while I walk because I like to see where my brain will take me when it is free to roam, and I must have my wits about me in case I wander into oncoming traffic. That’s a joke; there is no oncoming traffic where I walk.
I love a library. It is my most favourite place to visit. When I need a change of scenery or a brain refresh or an escape from the real world, I drive to any library nearby or even into Halifax, to sit amongst the books and there I am restored. I pack my writing scribbler and my best pens and a couple of pencils as if I might move into the library on a permanent basis. One never knows. I feign writing, because mostly I take in the idea of all those books that surround me and all those writers who sat in quiet corners, in solitary spaces, who shut out the rest of the world while they created their own. I think of Charles Dickens and Harper Lee and even Chaucer, though not for very long in his case because I’m not even sure what Chaucer was saying, but still. I think of all the Indigenous writers who have had the courage to tell their stories and are being heard. I think of all those who had the courage to tell the hard truth. I think of the young writers who first pick up a pen and older writers who finally have time to let their stories come forth. I think of those who write for those who can’t.
A library is sanctuary for those who read, for those who write, for those who dream, for those who worry, for those who are looking for solutions, and for all those who fall somewhere in between. A library rises to the top when we consider some can join a gym and some can’t; some can travel the world and some can’t; some can go out for dinner and some can’t; some can join in with big family dinners and some can’t. A library is where we can safely sit alone and feel a part of a larger group, where we can exchange smiles and words and learn we are not alone, where we can join in with the many activities a library hosts, where we can find a chair and feel like we belong.
A library is one of society’s wisest choices, a space where all are welcome be they visitor or resident, be they rich or poor, be they carriers of the benefit of an education or be they without such opportunity and choice, be they child or adult, be they of any gender and any sexual affiliation, be their skin of any colour. A library has no bias.
A library is an open window from which we can draw breath, through which we can see the world, through which we can imagine and build a better version of ourselves. A library preserves our history, it holds the documents and the truth of where we faltered and went wrong, where we rose to the challenge and got it right, where we stretched in our creative wonder and where we turned away in fear. A library card gives us all wings, each one of us, wings without boundaries and limitations. As we wander the shelves, our fingers and eyes tracing the titles and the spines of the limitless possibilities stacked neatly in a predetermined order, we might just find ourselves there if we look closely enough.
wendistewart@live.ca
