In Syracuse my local library was an old building with creaky wooden floors and looked like a 1920’s warehouse where immigrant workers sewed in toil at 5¢ a week. The first time I went there I trekked through a foot or so of snow. The first floor had 4 computers, books, CDs, audio books, etc.; while the upstairs was blocked off. So I signed up for a new library card and asked if I could walk around and see the upstairs. The circulation assistant was quite perplexed and I told her I was a library student at Syracuse University, hoping it would encourage her to give me the go ahead. Well, she still looked perplexed but gave me the go ahead any way. There wasn’t anything spectacular up there but an old theatre. However here’s a recent picture next to a 1920’s photo:
Now I find myself in Sacramento, and while my local library still has creaky wooden floors it isn’t in slave warehouse:
Yup, it’s in a house! I love the way this library sounds, smells, and feels. Tomorrow I get to pick up Upton Sinclair’s “Oil!”. A snappy library and a classic work, all within walking distance.