On Friday March 13th I sat with my colleagues sorting out how we would move our work online and home as it seemed inevitable that we would soon be called to do so. Rumours began trickling in about other businesses and services that might also close.
"I need to get to the liquor store," my colleague said, just as I said, in the same panicked tone, "I need to get to the library." He gave me a look that made me understand our quarantine experiences would be very different.
The next day I had planned to take my kids to our library branch, but I came down with a brief and ferocious cold. Given that we were entering a pandemic state, I didn't think it wise to take my dribbly face out of the house, so my husband took our daughters to the library. They came back with two very full bags, beaming. "We took out 40 books!" my eldest told me proudly. "Excellent," I replied, although I wondered how long those would last.
True to form, a week later all the library books had been read. Thankfully we were able to set the girls up with Overdrive from the library, and their school provided them with Epic accounts, so the reading could continue. I also ordered online from a spectacular used book store in Elora that offered porch pick up.
Flash forward to mid-June when I was chatting with my good friend and work-wife Lauren, and she casually mentioned that she'd heard the library would begin offering curb side pick up. All other discussions immediately stalled as I confirmed on the library website that my friend was not cruelly pranking me; library books were returning! I began putting titles on hold as Lauren tried desperately to return the conversation to its original intention. I wasn't much of a conversationalist after hearing the news I'm afraid (to be fair, she should have known. I believe she is one of my 7 blog readers).
Finally, the day arrived when I received my first (in a long time) email notification that a book I'd put on hold was ready for pick up. I arrived at the library and was greeted by a friendly librarian who walked me through the safety procedures before I entered. I gushed about how exciting the day was, overful with joy.
I entered that wonderful building and waited for my turn to present my card and receive my book. I had expected to feel elated to be back in the library after 3 months, and I was, but an unexpected feeling began to creep in. As I looked around the space, usually bustling with people, I became melancholy in its stillness. There were only a handful of librarians hard at work, maintaining distance and wearing their protective gear. The beautiful atrium area, normally a place to sit down with a coffee and reading material, was of course empty. Don't get me wrong, I was (and am) thrilled to be able to get books again, but standing there I felt how much more the library is than just books. Even the books, as a collection, were unavailable, as when I'm feeling overwhelmed I like to just be among the books in the stacks, possibly the nerdiest thing about me. (That's not true, the nerdiest thing about me is the fact that I have my 14-digit library card number memorized for efficient hold management. Or maybe it's the fact that I have this blog.)
It's going to be a very different summer for us with the library only available for brief pop-ins to pick up our material. There won't be any stops in after a hot summer walk to cool down, maybe join in an activity, or just sit together and read. And, of course, it'll be much harder for people who depend on that space as a cooling centre in the stifling heat of July and August. I'm so thankful for all the librarians working hard to bring us back books. And I can't wait until we can return to the space for more than just books, for the community it provides.
"I need to get to the liquor store," my colleague said, just as I said, in the same panicked tone, "I need to get to the library." He gave me a look that made me understand our quarantine experiences would be very different.
The next day I had planned to take my kids to our library branch, but I came down with a brief and ferocious cold. Given that we were entering a pandemic state, I didn't think it wise to take my dribbly face out of the house, so my husband took our daughters to the library. They came back with two very full bags, beaming. "We took out 40 books!" my eldest told me proudly. "Excellent," I replied, although I wondered how long those would last.
True to form, a week later all the library books had been read. Thankfully we were able to set the girls up with Overdrive from the library, and their school provided them with Epic accounts, so the reading could continue. I also ordered online from a spectacular used book store in Elora that offered porch pick up.
 |
| The delightful Twice Loved Books, photo taken from their Facebook page |
Flash forward to mid-June when I was chatting with my good friend and work-wife Lauren, and she casually mentioned that she'd heard the library would begin offering curb side pick up. All other discussions immediately stalled as I confirmed on the library website that my friend was not cruelly pranking me; library books were returning! I began putting titles on hold as Lauren tried desperately to return the conversation to its original intention. I wasn't much of a conversationalist after hearing the news I'm afraid (to be fair, she should have known. I believe she is one of my 7 blog readers).
Finally, the day arrived when I received my first (in a long time) email notification that a book I'd put on hold was ready for pick up. I arrived at the library and was greeted by a friendly librarian who walked me through the safety procedures before I entered. I gushed about how exciting the day was, overful with joy.
 |
| All you have to do is follow a few very reasonable safety precautions, and they will give you books! BOOKS!!! |
I entered that wonderful building and waited for my turn to present my card and receive my book. I had expected to feel elated to be back in the library after 3 months, and I was, but an unexpected feeling began to creep in. As I looked around the space, usually bustling with people, I became melancholy in its stillness. There were only a handful of librarians hard at work, maintaining distance and wearing their protective gear. The beautiful atrium area, normally a place to sit down with a coffee and reading material, was of course empty. Don't get me wrong, I was (and am) thrilled to be able to get books again, but standing there I felt how much more the library is than just books. Even the books, as a collection, were unavailable, as when I'm feeling overwhelmed I like to just be among the books in the stacks, possibly the nerdiest thing about me. (That's not true, the nerdiest thing about me is the fact that I have my 14-digit library card number memorized for efficient hold management. Or maybe it's the fact that I have this blog.)
 |
| Not a gathering place for a while still. |
 |
| The shelves of books that I cannot run my hands across. |
It's going to be a very different summer for us with the library only available for brief pop-ins to pick up our material. There won't be any stops in after a hot summer walk to cool down, maybe join in an activity, or just sit together and read. And, of course, it'll be much harder for people who depend on that space as a cooling centre in the stifling heat of July and August. I'm so thankful for all the librarians working hard to bring us back books. And I can't wait until we can return to the space for more than just books, for the community it provides.
