September Celebrates Literacy & Libraries
September carries two quiet holidays that mean the world to me: Literacy Day and Sign-Up for a Library Card Day. I want to spend this month honoring them, because of the indelible mark left on my life by being able to walk into a library as a child — and still, as an adult — and because of the promise literacy holds for anyone reaching toward a better life.
I
grew
up
in
Cleveland,
Ohio,
and
our
summers
belonged
to
our
bikes.
Every
week,
we
pedaled
to
our
local
library.
My
mom
worked,
and
for
most
of
those
long,
golden
months,
our
whole
world
turned
on
three
things:
chores,
bowls
of
ramen
for
lunch,
and
the
library.
I
can
still
trace
the
route
by
heart
—
down
Granton
Road,
which
felt,
to
my
small
legs,
like
the
longest
street
in
the
world.
We
stuck
to
the
back
roads
on
purpose,
weaving
carefully,
books
cradled
in
our
arms
instead
of
bags,
because
we
couldn't
risk
tumbling
into
traffic
with
our
treasures
spilling
across
the
pavement.
In
some
ways,
it
felt
like
riding
off
on
a
little
vacation.
The
moment
we
stepped
through
those
doors
into
the
cool,
hushed
air,
the
smell
of
books
would
wash
over
me
—
that
papery,
dusty,
inky
perfume
that
seemed
to
live
nowhere
else
on
earth.
Then
came
the
sound:
the
steady,
rhythmic
ring
of
the
cataloguing
machine,
ticking
away
like
a
heartbeat,
and
instantly,
I
felt
calm
settle
over
me.
I
was
in
heaven.
My
siblings
and
I
would
lose
entire
afternoons
there
—
waiting
our
turn
to
deliver
our
book
reports
to
Ms.
Trisco,
wandering
the
stacks
for
whatever
new
story
might
be
waiting,
pressing
our
noses
to
the
glass
cases
where
the
dollhouses
sat
frozen
in
their
perfect
little
worlds,
and
curling
into
a
soft
chair
just
to
read,
and
read,
and
read.
The
simplicity
of
it
was
pure
bliss.
And
I
was
utterly
enamored
with
Ms.
Trisco.
I
could
never
understand
how
she
knew
every
single
book
I
reported
on
—
it
felt
like
magic.
Every
time,
without
fail,
she
knew
the
plot,
the
characters,
the
small
details
I
thought
only
I
had
noticed.
When
she
nodded
along
and
told
me
I'd
done
well,
I
felt
ten
feet
tall.
She
had
black-rimmed
glasses
and
short
hair,
marbled
black
and
white,
and
a
gentleness
about
her
that
made
the
library
feel
like
it
belonged
to
us.
I
was
so
fortunate
—
for
that
library,
for
Ms.
Trisco,
and
for
the
chance
to
grow
my
love
of
reading
in
a
place
that
was
safe,
warm,
and
free.
A
grateful
shout-out,
always,
to
West
Park.
I
carry
so
much
gratitude
for
libraries
everywhere
that
still
hold
that
same
door
open
for
kids
like
I
once
was.
My
family
wasn't
wealthy,
but
with
a
library
card
in
hand,
we
felt
like
the
richest
kids
around.
Today
I
have
the
privilege
of
working
with
the
East
Cleveland
Public
Library
and
their
incredible
team.
Thank
you
to
all
librarians
and
libraries.
#gratitude
#libraries
#literacy