Visiting the Library

I love the library. I was able to have my own library card when I was 4 years old. The only requirement was that I write my name. I could and I did. That long ago Carnegie library with its white marble steps and porch with columns in Buckhead is now replaced with a high-rise. But, it remains in my memory in every library I visit.

First, I sit to look through the new magazines. I read my horoscope in “Town & Country.” I glance through “Southern Living” and “Architectural Digest.” Then, I proceed to the books and tapes.”

At the elevator, a lady and a little girl wait to go upstairs. “We’re going to ride the elevator,” the lady tells the little girl.

“Ride an elephant?” the little girl looks up at the lady, asking for clarification. Patiently, the lady slowly repeats in a clear voice, “an elevator.” I’m completely drawn to this conversation. I try to think of child-scale words which demonstrate an elevator. Elevate and lift don’t seem related in English.

“No, Hailey, not an elephant. We’ll ride an elevator. You say it. Elevator,” the lady pronounces the strange word again. “We’ll ride an alligator,” Hailey attempts, selecting a like-sounding word she knows.

Some time later, after they have gone up and down in the (to Hailey) “ele-gator,” they have their books scanned at the checkout counter.

To complete the lesson of the day, the lady directs Hailey, “Tell Mrs. Stanley what we rode.”

With great hesitation that must have conjured up associations of trunks, tusks, sharp teeth and long tails in this little girl’s mind, Hailey carefully says in syllables, “We rode the el-e-va-tor.”

“That’s right, Hailey,” Mrs. Stanley triumphants. The lady smiles a smile that says, “Mission accomplished.” She takes Hailey’s hand and they leave the library and its elevator.

I turn back to my magazine, charmed by a child’s grasp of our shared world.