In the truth of hindsight, it was probably my way out of myself and into a world of saving imagination. We would line up and walk down various halls to that magic place, where I usually had the reference area to myself. I would pour over maps and art and history and every encyclopedia set I could get my hands on. I would spend time with a huge globe and solar system model and read about space and ships and oceans full of fascinating creatures. I read about sharks and graphic accounts of shark attacks long before they became the horror plot for a movie. Somehow, that resonated with me to the world outside, where the war was on our black and white TV
every night. You know, the war in Viet Nam, and the war in the streets and working class neighborhood of the city where I grew up in the racially divisive 60's.

Sorry...I'm feeling quite meloncholy these days." Lives changed for the better" is a subjective statement at best. It is an enormous force for good, and By God I am thankful for it. ..But out there...in the ethos...where chickens come home to roost, a child has grown older far quicker than he has grown to understand the "jigsaw puzzle falling apart."

My story is mine alone, I'm well aware of this. Still, I can remember like it was yesterday that I became aware of things that I simply could not process... like feelings of humiliation and fear and useless self worth and incredible hatred and bigotry. And I'm a certified caucasian for crying out loud! The world...that's where I learned to die.
Fortunately, the library is where I first learned to live, and that much of what I was learning out there in the world was a lie.
 Doesn't matter now for me I suppose. I've been blessed with a sense of emotional engineering, helping from the inside out to cope and relate with some sense of dignity that which will tear a child...and a tree, apart, limb from limb.

I have no great achievement in this world to point to, and time goes by oh so fast. Vicariously, the library of my youth kept open the possibilities for connections that otherwise were being ripped apart. It is no different for kids today, or for me either for that matter...It made a difference that I cannot measure.

/confusing ramble