Many of my recent posts have been about my love of books. That love began when I was a six-year-old little boy and my mom got me my first library card. Did I ever feel important! And that was in a different place and time as opposed to the era we now live in because by the time I was nine, I was actually allowed to go to town all by myself to go to the library, something we’d never allow our young son to do now even at the age of twelve due to the dangerous world we now live in. So I’d dig into my piggy bank and get out some of my hard-earned money (yes, even at nine, I was already working; another story for another time) for bus fare and I would walk the half mile to the local bus stop, get on, drop my 15 cent in and fly away to a world of knowledge at the library. My recent dwelling on books put me in mind of that time and awoke a memory I have of that time of a special lady and the deed she did that opened a whole new world to me.

By the time I was nine, I had read every book I wanted to in the children’s section of the library. I especially remember all the Landmark Books which fostered my love of history, as well as the ‘I Was With’ series that had such titles as I Was With Davy Crocket at the Alamo and I Was With Lewis and Clark on the Expedition, etc. Of course, those could be considered fantasy because in no way were young kids at such places, but as a young reader with imagination, anything was possible.

One day when I went to the library, I looked and looked and could find nothing I wanted to read so I wandered over to the adult section of the library. I thought I was in heaven! There were so many books about so many things and I could hardly make up my mind about just what I wanted to explore. I finally picked out two books. One was Guadalcanal Diary written by Richard Tregaskis, an International News Service correspondent who went ashore with the Marines at Guadalcanal . The other one I  was attracted to by the title: The Golden Apples of the Sun. It was a compilation of short stories by Ray Bradbury, one of them being “The Golden Apples of the Sun”,  a story about a rocket ship name Copa de Oro, cup of gold, and its mission was to fly to the sun and actually dip a cup down and capture a piece of the sun.

If you’ll pardon the pun, that fired my imagination. And all the other stories in that book introduced me to the joy of Ray Bradbury’s visionary world. Though he’s oft called one of the greatest science fiction writers of his time, his stories were more of a fantasy genre, using science as a basis for moral tales. But this was the first of the many Bradbury books I read over the following years. However, before I even read this first one, an adventure awaited me.

What is probably my 10th paperback copy of this book. I read the other ones ragged!

On taking the books to the checkout desk, when I put them down and presented my child card, the librarian informed me that I couldn’t check out from the adult section with that card and that I needed to go back to the children’s section because I was too young to be getting adult books. Needless to say, I was frustrated and tried to plead, then I tried to argue but she would brook no protest and basically told me to get lost. So I tucked my tail and ran back to the kid’s section, sat down at a table and buried my head in my arms. I wanted to cry but I’d always heard that big boys don’t cry and I considered myself a big 9-year-old boy. But the children’s librarian spied me and came over, asking me, “What’s the matter, Harry? Are you okay?”

Finally, a chance to vent and I started yakking away. A wry smile lit her face and she rolled her eyes, saying, “Just calm down. I know exactly who you’re talking about. She then held out her hand to me and said, “C’mon, follow me.” We went back to the adult circulation desk and she asked to see the books, which were still lying on the back shelf behind the desk. She turned and started back to the children’s section, beckoning me to follow. The adult section librarian started to protest prompting my librarian to turn around and forcefully say, “Not a word from you, please.” And that was that.

When we arrived back at the kid’s section she proceeded to check the books out on my child’s card, telling me to be sure when I returned them to bring them back to her. She also told me that from that point on, I could browse the adult section all I wanted and to just bring her the books I wanted so she could determine if they were suitable for me, and if so, she’d check them out there at the kid’s desk. Thus, my introduction to a world I’ve lived in ever since, reading what I at that time called ‘grown-up’ books. I never again checked out a book from the children’s section.

But that’s not the only favor that librarian, or Ray Bradbury, for that matter, did for me that day. They also introduced me to another great author simply due to the title of Bradbury’s book. On the front fly leaf of The Golden Apples of the Sun was a verse from a poem:

…And pluck till time and times are done

The silver apples of the moon,

The golden apples of the sun.

W. B. Yeats

From one line of that verse, Bradbury’s muse led him to write and name what became the signature story of the compilation that I fell in love with. And even at that young age, those words spoke to me, though at the time I didn’t exactly know what they were saying. So when I returned the books, I was full of questions for my librarian. I wanted to know just who the author was and what poem that verse had come from. The first thing she told me laughingly told me was that his name was pronounced ‘Yates’, not ‘Yeets’, full name William Butler Yeats, a famous Irish writer, and that the poem was “The Song of Wandering Aengus”. I told her I wanted to read the entire poem and know more about Yeats, whereupon she disappeared into the adult section, returning with a book of collected verse by Yeats which also included a brief biography of the man. Over the following three weeks I had the book, I was mesmerized  by the mysticism of the verses that told of Irish tales, legends and myths, introducing me to my yet to be discovered Irish roots.

I certainly fell in love with the works of Yeats but “The Song of Wandering Aengus” became one of my all-time favorite poems. To this day, I can still recite it from memory, verbatim. It did, however, take me growing up and years of living life, experiencing love and loss, yearning and searching, to discover the meaning of that poem and the emotions it nudged and awoke in that yet-to-be-tested little boy. There’s actually some other lines of verse in the poem that speaks to experiencing the road of life:

Though I am old with wandering

Through hollow lands and hilly lands,

I will find out where she has gone,

And kiss her lips and take her hands;

And there’s a couple of other Yeat’s poems that I’m especially passionate about. The eerie, dark and brooding “The Second Coming”, and the lyrical “The Stolen Child”, which delves into the mythical world of fairies and changelings. Powerful stuff, all!

As for Ray Bradbury, he had to have wrote hundreds, if not over a thousand, short stories during his career, and after discovering him I devoured all I could find. He did write some novels, the most famous being Fahrenheit 451 which was about a society that banned and burned books with a fireman being the one who did the burning. And a couple of his short story compilations were put together that actually read like novels, The Illustrated Man and The Martian Chronicles, that one telling about man’s colonization of the Red Planet. I find it ironic that there is now talk and planning going on about a possible manned mission to Mars which, if it comes to be, Bradbury would be unaware of since he passed away in 2012 at the age of 91. It’s sad to think that he would not see his fiction become reality.

As you surely noticed, when I was telling about my child librarian, I kept referring to her as just that: librarian. It’s sad to say and I do rue the fact that I can’t remember her name. I hate that for I would certainly have loved sharing this story with her to let her know what an impact she had on my life. I did have another librarian mentor though, my elementary school librarian, Mrs. Blackwell, and before she passed away, I did get to talk to her and give her thanks. But in sharing this story here, I’m certain all will understand where my passion comes from in writing posts about the books I read and love and how I came to be the ‘bookaholic’ I am. The best I can do is send out thoughts and vibes to my long, lost librarian as well as to the spirit of Bradbury and Mrs. Blackwell. And without a doubt, not to forget my dear, sweet Mom, who got me that first library card and filled me with the love of reading. Thanks guys! You opened my world.