Monday, November 10, 2008


My grandma called it. I rebelled against her predictions, but the whole time I was a child, riding the Greyhound bus down to Waco to visit her in the summer, she insisted that some day I would be a teacher or a librarian.

The teacher part I was okay with. I did end up going to college for an elementary education degree and loved every part of it. But the librarian part was almost insulting. Librarians were stuffy. And old. And not very fun. No child answered 'a librarian' when grown ups asked what they dreamed of being. It just couldn't compare to fire fighter or animal doctor.

So here I am, twenty years past that college graduation, thirty years past the grandma predictions, working in a library. And loving it.

I get to be around books all day. I get to see all the books my branch has to offer and all the books we trade back and forth with other libraries. I get to meet other people who love to read and understand my obsession with devouring words on a page any chance I get. Young and old, I see them come up to my desk with their new found treasures and I understand them.

I don't have a library science degree so I can't be officially called a librarian. To my kids and their friends, degrees don't matter. Any person working in a place full of books qualifies for the title.

And just this weekend I had my first hint that my new job may be rubbing off on my kids. All those stories I tell them around the dinner table, about books and library categories and check out procedures....someone has been listening.

It was in the middle of a movie I had checked out for him that my baby boy became irritated. He just didn't buy the story line. Exasperated, he threw up his hands, rolled his eyes, and announced to all in the room (me and the dog) "Now that is just pure fiction!"

Way to catch the terms my boy. Way to catch the terms. You too might make a mighty fine librarian some day. I will just be smart enough not to burden you with my insight.

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