March 5, 2009
My first experience with books that I can recall was at the main branch of the library located, at the time, on the corner of McLean and Peabody in Midtown.
A low brick-and-concrete building, it had zero curb appeal, especially when contrasted against the backdrop of wide, tree-lined streets and a neighborhood of stately Victorians, bungalows and four-square homes. You had to know what magic the utilitarian structure contained to want to step inside.
We lived on Central Avenue, and my mother would walk my sister and me there to pass the time. It must have been where I first fell in love with books ... (read more)
