Walk down memory lane with me. Or Prospect Avenue, in this case.
My grandma was a schoolteacher whose concentration was reading - teaching kids to read. When I was born, my parents asked her, "How can we make this little girl love reading?" She told them that they should read to me as much as humanly possible. And so they did, and - accordingly - I did pick up a love of reading.
However, what's a reader in the 80s without a library card? Of course, I could use my mom's (and regularly did - we must've funded their new wing by our late fees!), but the pride of having one's own library card was a goal. My mom told me that I had to be able to sign my own name on the back of the card before I would be allowed to get one, as well as my phone number and address; in other words, I had to be able to fill out the application. So once I started learning, I practiced and practiced until the day finally came and I got my own card.
These days, my library usage has gone mostly online, but my library card has been a constant companion. Perhaps I'll give it a name. Steve sounds like a good name for a library card, don't you think?
As always, a trip would be wasted without some time inside! This cache is placed with permission of the staff, in conjunction with the Big Reads program.