The Carnegie Library in town was a favorite place. Climbing the broad concrete steps flanked by brick banisters meant opening the doors to adventure. Because my family didn’t travel often, I learned about the world from the books I found on the shelves of the library. The characters in the books became my personal tour guides that taught me about a world outside of my small town. The stories nourished dreams of places and friends that would be in my future. And when my life was sometimes dreary like the time when my mother had a long hospitalization, the books gave me hope of happier times.
