The Library Vault

By Ramona B.

For most of the past thirty-five years, I’ve worked in public libraries. It all started at age 14, when I got a special work permit so I could become a Page, i.e. book-shelver, in my hometown library in coastal Maine. I had spent untold hours at the library as a child, first browsing the I Can Read books, then the chapter books, and then finally graduating to the “regular” stacks. My children’s librarian, Susan, always made sure I had just the right books to keep me company at home. There were times when those books were a lifeline for me. Ruth, the elderly (to me, at least) desk clerk, was unfailingly warm and welcoming, with a wide smile and a voice like velvet. Hugh and Truxton knew everything there was to know about the history of our town, and they taught me the phrase “a place for everything, and everything in its place” – very important to remember when I was at last hired on to shelve books.

It may sound odd, but I even remember the air in my hometown library. I remember its smell and its weight, and exactly how sounds echoed off the walls: the clunk of the date-due stamp at the checkout desk, the whisper-tap of feet on the cork floor in the main reading room, and the chiming of the antique wall clock. As a Page, one of my duties was to climb up on an old, rickety wooden chair and wind that clock daily after school (don’t tell OSHA). I can still remember the cool metal of the winding key in my hand, and how the rays of the afternoon sun illuminated and warmed the spines of the books. My library card (number 3123!) was salmon-pink and made of cardboard, my childish signature on the back a vestige of the days when third-graders still learned cursive writing. How I wish I’d kept that card.

I am, of course, just one of countless millions in possession of vivid library memories. No longer a Page, I now have the honor of serving as the director of our Russell Library here in Middletown, the city I’ve also called home for 27 years. By this point, I’ve been to hundreds of community events, and without fail, each time someone sees I’m affiliated with the Russell Library, I am regaled with their stories about coming to Russell as a child, and then bringing their own children here, and then perhaps even their grandchildren . . . and the cycle continues. I hear memories of Miss Virginia Hatch presiding over the Hubbard Room when it was the children’s library; or the excitement when the Bookmobile visited neighborhoods throughout town in the 1970s; or – perhaps my favorite – memory after memory of Russell staff providing transformative and even life-saving services. These are stories about the wonder of youth, the bloom of adolescence, the challenges of adulthood and the rewards of golden years – all with our public library as a steady partner.

I say this often and without reservation: every library in which I’ve worked has been loved by its community, but none, by far, is as beloved as the Russell Library.

We are now celebrating 150 years of library service to Middletown – a century and a half since we opened our doors to all. Just imagine how many memories have been made within these brownstone walls since that historic day.

Actually, don’t just imagine: please join us in reminiscing about the Russell Library. To celebrate our sesquicentennial, we would love for you to share your memories, documents, photos, or even short videos. You can upload them here: https://russelllibrary.wufoo.com/forms/xlwf4jv148gus5/. We’ll also have a non-digital (i.e. paper) way for you to participate at the library. You can even write your story in cursive if you want.

I can’t wait to hear it.