There’s a bench in front of the library with my mother’s name on it. I don’t recall my mother ever being one to idle on benches (although she sometimes hinted of nights “sitting on the square” which was, I think, A Thing in the 50s), but I’ve always thought that there’s nothing more fitting to her memory than that bench. It was given by her classmates, who apparently also remembered nights on the square in the 50s.
My mother loved that library. She was an every-other-Wednesday patron for years and years. Once she sent me to return her books with the instruction “just tell them to give you something they think I’d like.” The librarian was helpful, but she admitted I was setting her a rough task. Checking the file she said, “Dottie’s already read everything.”
I had a library card before I could read…maybe before I could walk. Mother made sure of that. And that, in a lifetime of gifts, was perhaps her greatest gift to me. I can’t say that I’m much of a library user these days; it’s too easy to download from Amazon without budging from my recliner. The love of pleasure reading, though, has been mine forever. A gift.
Rounding the Square 
Glad to see you writing the blog again. I too love the library and feel a little guilty for not supporting it much anymore by checking out books. We need to learn how to use their digital download program. I’ve done it a few times, but note nought o be comfortable with the process.
Cathy