If we didn't have libraries, many people thirsty for knowledge would dehydrate.
–Megan Jo Tetrick, age 12
Daleville, Indiana
I don’t much care for libraries nowadays. I go in and see rows of computers, each with a human attached. I mosey around and find these youngsters on FaceBook and playing games that require a truly admirable ambidextrous agility. I look across the room at the reference books and weep for the poor unloved dictionaries, almanacs, and atlases. I’m encouraged by the cheery young thing at the desk to “Please feel free to check the catalogue”. I look around, and feeling chagrined, ask where it is and I’m directed to a computer that links to the main branch’s collections.
Maybe it’s me and I’m a troglodyte disguised as the “savvy computer operator by day”. I Google. I do!!! But I “GIGO” – Get In, Get Out. Card catalogues are (were?) magic. Look for a topic, pull the cards. Oooh. Look at those other headings. They look like fun. Let’s go there! The cards themselves were part of the soul of the place – some typed on an old Remington with red pencil underlining (Who ever imagined two-colored ribbons?!), pencil notes, some crossed out, left by whom? And why? Was the side trip not what they expected? Maybe they found what they wanted in another drawer? They put in computers and took away my genies, my Aladdin’s carpet.
The first library I remember was the Brandywine Branch of the Wilmington Institute Free Library.
It was housed on the ground floor of the old Jackson Apartments at 29th and Market Sts. on the southwest corner. The space was originally a corner store according to the 1934 City Directory and by the time I was a proud cardholder, the apartments above were long vacant and being used by the library.
It was the habit that after dinner on Friday nights, my parents would bundle my brother and me into the car (a 1954 Chevy BelAir for those of you keeping track of these things) for the short jaunt down. Yes, loveys, libraries had neighborhood branches then and stayed open late on Friday evenings without cameras and magnetrons.
It was, as I said, a former corner store with the door set on the diagonal, a wide plank floor, the requisite Government Issue type wooden desk, two reading tables with four chairs each. And bookcases to the sky!!!! Okay, maybe it was just to the ceiling. I don’t remember a card catalogue. My guess is the librarian knew every book on the shelves. The concession to children was putting all their age appropriate books on lower shelves. Even though the space was small and we were usually the only ones there we spoke in whispers. I vaguely remember we were allowed two books each. The librarian would stamp the card, put it in the pocket, and we were sated for another week. (Years later I found my favorite library book from childhood from a local dealer, bought it, and discovered that (You guessed it!) it was from the Brandywine Branch inventory).
Our central library on Rodney Square has owls carved into the façade. Mr. Pierre was nothing if not subtle. I know this because I hate to lose a bet, so I drove in one evening, parked, crossed the street, and, squinting, looked up. One should always look up – artistic details of the past are forgotten and sometimes lost forever because people don’t look up. Sorry, that’s the preservation soapbox rant. In any case, my first trip up the steps into the main section was…intimidating. Dark alleys, high ceilings, green shaded reading lamps on the tables, a rustle of paper as men turned the pages of their newspapers from exotic places like Washington and New York.
My happiest times there recently have been work related to a degree – searching microfilms of newspapers from the 1930s for a particular crime story or, more exciting, looking for an account of a 100 year flood. The staffer brought out the portfolio for me and said “These go back to 1830.” “But I have no gloves!” “That’s okay. We think you know how to handle them.” Newspapers were much more interesting then. A curse on publishers who feel obligated to dumb down to the lowest common denominator!
I hate libraries that lock things away. I understand there are irreplaceable collections. I do.
At university I was assigned a research topic – local – just a title. Do with it what you will. I went to the Morris Library and was told the Delaware Collection was for the use of graduate students and faculty only. But…but…I made a call and was allowed access to the library at Hagley Museum – unlimited – as an undergrad. I found Sophie duPont’s diaries, had my primary source for the paper, and gained a whole different perspective on life at the mills. I am forever grateful.
By now you’re all saying “So, MB, what has this got to do with scent?” Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. If scent triggers memory of past events or places visited, how are we to discover new places, generate new ideas, or indeed discover the molecules needed for new and wonderful scents? Does oudh have the same character without knowledge of the region? Does rose speak to you the same way without Shakespeare? Yeah – I know – Google.
The book is better. Trust me.
“The book has already lived through its troubles.
The book has a calm cover, a straight spine.
…she will not be alone.
She will have a book to open
and open and open.
Her life starts here.” —
Naomi Shihab Nye
Editor's Note: I will never own a kindle, nor read from anything but a book, preferabaly hard cover (I am too impatient to wait for the paperback release). I feel cheated if a book has less than five hundred pages. My copy of Shogun by James Clavell (1,175 pages) still has the stain of the huge roach that crawled across my room my Freshman year in college and died an honorable death. "Toranagaaaaaa! Books are always better than the movie, because you cast the charactors, not Hollywood. With each book I read and reread I am reborn.
Our draw is from very dear fellow readers and friends in fragrance, Jan Hoyer and Tom Kast whose perfume shoppe in Munich is like visiting a lovely scented library. We all adore CB I hate perfume- experience in the library. We quote Perfumer Christopher Brosius: "I love books, particularly old ones. I cannot pass a second hand bookshop and rarely come away without at least one additional volume"
Draw closes Monday April 25, 2011 10:am EST
To be eligible dear reader, you must do both, which means READ. Please leave a comment on this site about Mary Beth Devine's article, AND your favorite perfume you see on www.suendhaft.com