This afternoon, my daughter and I visited our local library. It’s a large, modern-looking library, made out of vast quantities of steel and glass.
It’s an impressive building. It has thousands of materials, including the latest best-sellers. It has state of the art technology. But, alas, Rawson Memorial District Library it is not. I don’t recall my first visit to Rawson, but I know it was very early in my life. After he got home from work, my dad, seeking to give my mother a break from caring for an infant all day, often took me with him to the library. Marge Feebish and Geneva Richards used to tell of his putting me in my car seat on the floor behind the circulation desk, where they would watch me until he was ready to check out. Eighteen years later, I found myself behind the desk again, this time as a member of the staff. I worked as a library page throughout my senior year and, with one brief hiatus, continued to work at Rawson until I moved to Las Vegas in 2014. It’s funny; when I first applied to work at the library, I was afraid it would be boring. After all, a library is just books, right? Boy, was I wrong. I soon discovered that the library serves as the social hub of the Cass City community. It’s a place where, at any given time, a retired educator may be found tutoring a child, while a volunteer is teaching an elderly man how to read. At the same time, gathered in the meeting room may be members of the local historical society or a book club or the Girl Scouts. While retirees peruse the newspapers, neighbors stand in front of the Stephen King novels, catching up on the latest happenings from their block. Sitting at a table by the window, one may see a grandmother with her granddaughter making contributions to the communal jigsaw puzzle before going home for lunch. Patrons and staff members work on finding directions to the airport, faxing documents to the unemployment office, and making photocopies of magazine clippings to be sent through the mail to friends. From time to time, the families of former residents stop by, looking for information on where so-and-so lived or where their great-grandfather is buried. And more often than not, the staff can help. “My goodness,” they say. “We had no idea this place was here. What a gem!” There are times when a bereaved widow or widower brings a box of their deceased spouse’s used books to be sold at the annual summer book sale. “They loved these books,” they say, “but cleaning out the house is therapeutic,” a trace of sadness in their smile. Then, there’s the happy news when a patron comes in just to say, “I got the job!” or “My daughter had her baby! Do you want to see pictures?” (Hint: The answer is always, Yes!) Not all libraries are created equal, that much I have discovered. And the longer I live away from Cass City, the more I realize that Rawson Library is no run-of-the-mill institution. It is, indeed, a gem, and one worth continued community investment. So, while my daughter and I searched the stacks for that one Curious George book she has not yet read, I assured her, “This is a nice place, but I’ll take you back to Rawson next summer.”
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AuthorTy Perry is a writer based in metro-Detroit. Archives
December 2023
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