The Children's Room became my domain. This is where I first started reading about Beezus and Ramona, Mrs. Piggle Wiggle, Amelia Earhart, Emma Lazarus,The All-of-a-Kind Family, Charlotte, Nancy Drew, and the magic stories of Edward Eager.
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Library Lesson

I was an English lit major in college and on track to teach high school English.  But an aunt and a family friend were librarians and they both encouraged me to consider that field.

It sounded perfect for me,  and I applied to the graduate library programs at Simmons in Boston and at Columbia.  I’m a New Yorker and as an undergrad lived at home and commuted to NYU’s then uptown campus on University Heights  in the Bronx.   (See Ghostwriting in the Family and The Fortune Cookie Candidate)

And so I thought it was time for an out-of-town experience and living in Boston for a year was very appealing.  But eventually Columbia won out – it was reputed to have the best library program and I’d have an Ivy League degree to boot.  And although Morningside Heights in Manhattan was an easy commute from my parents’ Bronx house, they agreed I could live on campus.

So in September of 1964 I moved into Johnson Hall, a dorm housing female students from all of Columbia’s graduate programs, a wonderful cohort of bright, interesting women. The 60s political scene added to the energy on campus and the activists were gearing up for the protests and sit-ins that soon rocked the university.

But in a dozen classrooms on the 6th floor of Butler Library,  high above the reading rooms and the stacks,  things were still pretty sedate as we eager young grad students began our studies at the School of Library Service.

Of course I have many memories of that time, academic and otherwise.   Like everybody else, my classmates and I drank beer at the bars on upper-Broadway,  but every Friday afternoon after our last class,  we future-librarians would join the library school  Dean for conversation and sherry as is literary tradition.

In the decades since those pre-Internet days, the library field has changed drastically, and it may be hard for non-librarians to imagine what we studied and how demanding were our courses,  but believe me, we worked hard and had wonderful and inspiring teachers.  (See Frances Henne)

On the first day of classes I remember one professor who stood in front of the room with a large book held aloft in his hands.  Then,  as we all gasped in horror,  he ripped the book in two.

”Books are made of nothing but paper and paste,”. he said,  “it’s the ideas inside you must solemnly pledge to preserve.”

And along with my fellow library students,  I vowed that I would.

Despite the tech revolution that dramatically transformed the way libraries look and function today,  what hasn’t changed is our mission to bring knowledge,  information, and inspiration to our patrons.  I hope today’s librarians will take the same solemn pledge I did in that Columbia classroom over half a century ago.

– Dana Susan Lehrman

My relationship with libraries is deep and affectionate, and I feel a strong sense of offended justice when I see library books that people have defaced or underlined or otherwise mistreated. What’s even worse is people who check out books and never return them.
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West with the Night

Walking down a tree-lined block in the East 80s the other day I passed a brownstone with a pretty patio fronting the street.  There on a small table someone had  left an open library book.

Always curious about what others are reading,  I looked through the wrought iron gate to see the title – it was Beryl Markham’s 1942 memoir West with the Night.  You may know of Markham,  the British-born Kenyan aviator who in 1936 became the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic.

A free spirit,  Markham defied the conventions of her day that dictated what a woman could and could not do.   In West with the Night she tells her remarkable story against the backdrop of her beloved Africa, with its glorious landscapes and vibrant people,  and all its colonial failings.

Anne Tyler, another fine writer,  has said,  “We read so we can live more than one life in more than one time and place.”

So I’m sure whoever left that open book on that Manhattan patio is thousands of miles away by now, flying through the African sky with Beryl Markham.

Or perhaps he or she is back at the library,  ready to live another life in another time and place.

– Dana Susan Lehrman