Why I Read- The Bookmobile- Part 5

Believe it or not, I wasn't always a writing addict, but I must confess, I was still an addict. Every summer I'd try to break my record for most books read in a summer. It was my own little contest and no one was in on it but me. I kept a secret list and everything. (yeah, my kids might be right about me being a nerdy-geek type.) But! I did always break the record, because less face it, us addicts, we do things obsessively-well. Hundreds of books in a summer, each year more challenging than the last.

I read for the same reasons I write. I enjoy the freedom, the escape of new worlds, and the thrill of getting inside another mind. In one word, I read for FUN.

The first books I read were comics and historical non-fiction books about Egypt. I was obsessed with all things Egyptian. I remember the first author whose work I enjoyed, and how I came across his books.  It was on the Bookmobile (READ ABOUT THIS MAGICAL BUS HERE). Now like all brilliant people, I always start looking for books on the bottom shelf. To me, that's where the gems should be. That's where I hide all my good books no one is allowed to read but me. Of course, back then I had no idea books were in alphabetical order by authors-- that's like the stupidest way to arrange books ever, but what do I know?

Regardless, this meant  my first taste of novels was Eric Wilson. Gosh. He was awesome. Very Canadian, very in touch with his young readers, and he weaves a mystery that would make Scooby-doo proud.I read everything he wrote, joined his fan club and carried around his official member card. Who didn't? Right?

That memory of me on my knees discovering Eric Wilson triggered another, much sadder memory;

the last time I visited the Bookmobile. 

I was a grown up. The driver (Read about rule breaking librarians HERE) still had on the same nutso shirt, I swear he shopped on vacation, or maybe his entire life was a holiday. He had his nose in a book when I showed up, but honestly, that was the first time I ever caught him reading. A sci-fi he quickly shoved aside.

I can't imagine his life story, driving from town to town in a bus of books. He told me it was his last visit, and I could just drop my books off at the library in the neighboring town. I thought he was joking and when he saw me choke up, he quickly apologized as if I might break out in tears on him again.

I wandered that aisle by myself and picked out a few detective murder stories. It felt like a nice way to see it off. Murder and all. We chatted about nothing and he watched me walk off, my door only a hundred feet or so from where he was parked.

I sat in my writing room and looked down at the big book bus while I wrote about a haunted schoolyard in a drought and a cold epidemic that killed everyone- don't ask, the story still doesn't make sense, it was a traumatizing day and I was distracted. Not by the flow of people invading the bus that day, no, it was the opposite. He sat there all day with the door open and no one went in. Well, one dude walked up to the bus and tossed a book at the driver. Weird.

 It felt like a morbid funeral.

So the Bookmobile is gone. My rascals never got to live the magic of it. Of course, the school library has a much better bilingual selection, and the town library has access to every single library in the province including French ones. My card (READ ABOUT HOW I ALMOST DIDN'T GET ONE HERE) is good in any library in Saskatchewan.
Yes it is!
I can download e-books on two week lending periods.
Yes I can!
I can afford to buy books, not all of them, but enough to get by in a crunch.
I have shelves and shelves of books in my home library all organized in the order they should be read with the ones no one needs to read but me on the bottom back shelf, and the ones you need to read in a basket on top, ready to hand out when you stop by. (I mean really, that only makes sense.)

With all these books at our fingertips. We probably don't need the Bookmobile, yet, would I be who I am today without it? Without the driver? The urge to read every single book on that bus?

 I miss the smells. The respect we all had in the bus. The banter of kids in a tight area discussing adventures that could never happen to us. The thrill of always finding just the book you wanted and sneaking it pass the nuns without their approval. I just miss the magic of a bus full of books pulling up a block from my place. And no, I didn't buy the house because of its proximity to the Bookmobile stop, but damn, it wasn't a bad thing, was it?

You ever lose a place that changed your life? What places inspired you to read, or even write? Do you remember the first book or author who made you sit back and think, now this is storytelling?

Rule Breaking Librarians! The Bookmobile- Part 3

The Driver 

The Bookmobile driver gets his own post. If you read the last post about my horrible memory about Bookmobiles, (LEARN ABOUT IT HERE) he's got a bad rep, and so I thought I'd make it up to him, because he's stuff of librarian legions.

It was the same driver for my entire Bookmobile experience. Same really cool wild hair, same smile I was petrified to disappoint, same eyes bearing into me like I was a Bookmobile villain. But! for the love of writing, I can't remember the guy's name. It was so simple, too. I tried looking him up, but Google didn't have him listed under my cool bookmobile driver. So if you're out there, please give me a shout! I haven't seen you in at least 15 years!!!!!

Well, regardless, he left an impact on my life. I can still see him sitting there, watching me hunt for books in his neato shirts. At first, I was really scared of him, and I think he was a little afraid to make me cry like that again, so we kept things very silent between us. But, I was very aware of the little extra things he did for me.

This is how I remember him (and as all memories go, might be a little distorted): 

• He let me on the bus before school, which was a big no-no, but really, he was already letting me get away with a card I shouldn't have, so what did he care?
• It never failed that he'd suddenly have a question for the nun if I needed to make a quick get away with a book she hadn't approved. I know, I was a real bad seed. 
• My favourite story was the time I asked him to drive to my "not in his jurisdiction" town for the summer. He gave me that doubtful look that told me I was pushing it but didn't say a word. Yet...OH MY GOSH! He did roll through! Funny guy said he was lost.
• I was granted a limited card that was pretty much unlimited. "Told you, it's three reference books, six novels." Next time, "It's a total of twelve books, any combination."  "I can just add these onto your brother's card, he didn't hit his limit today." Shhh, don't mess with power like that.

I still call him the driver, but he was the librarian of this library on wheels (LEARN ABOUT IT HERE).

He was very very good at his job. 

• He knew where every book was, and he always had the book(s) I needed, wanted, and would be sure to ask for. 
• He'd get us excited to read without even getting out of his seat. "Got a new Steven King, but doubt you want to brave that, I was saving it for the older grades..." Of course we would!!! 
• He'd ask us nonchalant questions about the sci-fi books we brought back. 
• He'd pay attention to us, watch where we went, what we pulled off the shelves, and how we talked about the books.

Truth be told, every librarian I know has been wonderful at their job! I just love walking into a library and the librarian has a stack of books ready that I might like. Or even better, when they ask me what to order!

But I really wanted to give him his dues since he came off a little shaky in an earlier post and he was a hero who touched my life in a very magical way. So thank you.

Is there a librarian in your life that makes your experience magical? Give them a shout out and tell us why.

Sorry Squirt, No Library Card for You- The Bookmobile- Part 2

Not All Books and Rainbows

My memories about the Bookmobile aren't all good ones. In fact my first memory is horrifying. Still gives me nightmares and I can't believe I'm even sharing this with you. Please, if you can't take horror stories, look away. I included a stormy  picture of a rainbow trying to survive for you above . Just stare at that and fantasize while the rest of us discuss the storm I survived.

So here it is, the event that scarred my childhood.

In grade one, we were allowed library cards. There I was, all innocent and excited, looking up at the driver as if he was the god of books-- in my mind, he looked a little like a god of books would (but I have an entire post just dedicated to him, so we won't go there yet)-- and he refused my card. My gosh! you read that right, and it is not a typo. He actually told me I could not take books from paradise.

HE REFUSED MY CARD

Can you imagine? Can you feel how traumatized I was? I thought it was a joke. It had to be. But nope. I was refused a card because I lived in the neighboring town and it fell in another library jurisdiction. I had no idea what that meant, I just broke into tears that no one knew how to stop. For days.

I asked Ma to move.Even packed my crap up and told her I was going to live with my cuz.

Next time he dared to show his bus in my town, I stayed in the classroom debating how to steal a bus full of books and get away with it, or maybe I just felt sorry for myself, I don't actually remember the details. I do remember being told that the school library had plenty of good books. Now that was a terrible lie. I don't want to get into it, but trust me, they had nothing on the books in that Bookmobile.

A friend slipped a book in my bag that I found when I got home. Really, that's the sign of a true friend eh? When they sneak you illegal books? hee hee.

Ma got involved at some point of my depression. I know that much but I don't know what she did to fix things.

The next time, I was told I could take one book and the teacher was taking responsibility for it, so I felt like I was sinning the entire time, and quickly grabbed a book and ran off without looking around.

It took my cousin to help me. God bless her. She talked to the driver, like the grown-up grade 2 student she was (truth be told, she was probably scared I might actually move in with her), and told him that I lived right by her, if she could get a card, so could I. Makes sense, but I was a little afraid he'd just take her card away. Still... if she was willing to risk it, I was game.


After my cuz straightened things out for me. The driver of this magical bus (LEARN ABOUT IT HERE) told me I could have a temporary card. This meant, I was allowed to take X amount of books. Yes, I had a limit. Which now that I think about it was probably a good thing because... well, that's a story for the next post.

Have you ever been refused a library card?

The Bookmobile- Part 1

The Bus Itself

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Funny how memories are. I was ready to write a post about a game I used to play with my brother and sister called, impromptu stories, and somehow, I ended up dreaming about the Bookmobile and writing 5 posts on the subject. geesh.

This bus came to our school once a month. It would pull up, park by the school, open the doors, and wait for us to invade it.

It looked like a normal school bus except it was blue. No creative words on it, just "BOOKMOBILE". No need to say more. There was nothing fancy about it, which is what led me to believe that all magical things come in disguise. So pay attention.

I actually found out in my research, that travelling libraries started in Saskatchewan in 1914. Nothing like the Bookmobile, just a bunch of crates, but cool just the same.

  

My paradise was a bus of books.

If you've never seen a bus of books, I can't even explain this to you properly. Just imagine paradise, well, my paradise, I really don't know what yours looks like.

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I searched for photos, but the recent ones are a little different, kinda modernized. The one I remember was one aisle with no pullouts. Just plain wooden shelves with books. More books than a child can dream of. There's just no way to capture the smells, the sounds of children squealing at their finds, the screaming stories, the urge to plop down in the middle of that single aisle and bask in the wonder of it. Books.

Did any of you have this wonderful bus come through your town?What did yours look like?