I have loved the library since I was a small child. I can't remember a time when I didn't know what the library was. My most clear childhood memories of the library
involve checking out the baby names books while the librarian looked at me sideways (I used to write name books and I still collect names), looking up the addresses to send away for my favorite stars autographs, shelving books (yes, I was a bit of a strange child), and just spending time with the books. Every Wednesday for awhile, I would take the bus after school to the public library across from the office where my mom worked one day a week. I had a bit over two hours to spend there and the time would fly by. I remember that place vividly, and I get giddy when I see it while in town on holiday. I also remember all the libraries in each school I went to. I can thank my Aunt Helen for my love of books. And I can thank taking a good look at my lifestyle and trying to make environmentally sounds choices for getting me back to the library. That and having a baby, whom I want to expose to the library on a regular basis. So far, so good. The Banff Public Library is a place we go at least once a week. We can walk there, hang out with the books, check some out, and go to the town park and sprawl in the grass with our new stories (well, not in the winter...). Our daughter already has a voracious appetite for books, both in French and English. And our library can keep her stocked in both. Recently, I even submitted my resume to the library. Nothing would make me happier than to be surrounded by books, to help people find and check out books, and to shelve books (yes, I continue to be a bit strange, I like to think it makes me unique...). Even my husband, who doesn't read for pleasure, sings the praises of the library. While moving into our new home he cursed my boxes upon boxes of books, but I think he realised that if it weren't for our return to the hallowed walls of the library, his back and my book collection would eventually becoming a growing concern.
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