![]() ![]() ![]() Together, we waited as the librarian pulled out each date card and, with a loud chunk-chunk, stamped a crooked due date on it, below a score of previous crooked due dates that belonged to other people, other times. Then, after a while, my mother and I reunited at the checkout counter with our finds. Even when I was maybe four or five years old, I was allowed to go off on my own. The library might have been the first place that I was ever given independence. We walked in together, but, as soon as we passed through the door, we split up, each heading to our favorite section. Throughout my childhood, starting when I was very young, my mother drove me there a couple of times a week. My family lived in the suburbs of Cleveland, about a mile from the brick-faced Bertram Woods Branch of the Shaker Heights Public Library system. I grew up in libraries, or at least it feels that way. ![]()
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