A WORD FROM THE AUTHORMorgan Callan Rogers, author of Written on My HeartI was in my mid-twenties wh
A WORD FROM THE AUTHORMorgan Callan Rogers, author of Written on My HeartI was in my mid-twenties when I returned to my hometown of Bath, Maine, after six months of living with my brother, who was stationed at a military base located in Norfolk, England. While the poppy-laden, bunny-infested countryside was beautiful and I had many adventures, my penultimate dream of marrying a British rock star went unrealized. It was time to make another plan.In the local classifieds, I spied an ad for an assistant at the Patten Free Library and I applied. It sounded like a good fit. I loved books. I loved reading. I loved the library itself. Constructed of light brick, it featured a round castle-like tower at one end and overlooked the pretty city park. To my delight, I received a call for an interview, which was held in the dignified half-circular reading room, with its big comfortable chairs and a grandfather clock that ticked time away in a gracious, steadied manner. My interviewer was Barbara R. King, the library’s director.I had heard about Barbara. She was ‘that new librarian’. She had come from ‘away’ and had really ‘shaken up the place’ with her notions of how a library should be operated. Before Barbara, the atmosphere in the library could best be described as dull. Generations of dusty decorum had settled over the place. But when Barbara was hired, that changed. She enlisted the artist Dahlov Ipcar, who lived in nearby Five Islands, to drench the children’s room walls with prancing African animals, set against a bright orange background. Barbara initiated programs for all ages, encouraged ideas and conversation, and brought a new level of enthusiasm.She was one of those fierce, tiny women with the energy of a hummingbird in flight. She was here. She was there. She was everywhere. She changed many lives, including mine.I remember the interview as painful, but not because of Barbara. She sat across from me—all eyes and encouragement. Our exchange was painful because of my shyness. I don’t remember the questions but I do remember my monosyllabic responses to anything she asked me. Why she hired me, I don’t know. But she did. Her faith in me, a dreamer with a half-hearted grip on reality, created a sea change in my awareness of what might be possible in my life. What an honor it was to be part of her team! She was a mentor, a mother, and an admonisher, if need be. My coworkers and I adored her even as we maintained a healthy respect for her rare bursts of temper. I loved going into work every day, surrounded by energy, allies, and books. I read constantly, becoming reacquainted with old friends and new friends on the pages of novels, biographies and nonfiction, do-it-yourself—anything that passed through my hands. A book lover working in a library is a bit like a chocoholic living in a chocolate factory; one can never get enough while at the same time one is overwhelmed by the availability of one’s addiction. It was a wonderful period in my life.Barbara moved on after a while, to her own bookstore and then, out of Maine. I continued to work at the Patten Free Library, but the light had dimmed. I decided to move on, too. I applied to college with the intention of getting an English degree. Somehow, Barbara found out about my plan from far away and one day I received a note from her, along with a one hundred dollar check.“College is expensive. I hope this helps,” her letter read. “I know you can do it.” And I did, thanks, in great part, to her. -- source link
#library