The BookMobile.

 Over at AC's, he had a beautiful story.  

It reminded me of one that I may (or may not) have. 

When I was a child, we lived way out in the sticks. My mother did not drive. My father worked long hours at the steel mill. When summer time rolled around, there were no other kids on our road. At some point, we did discover kids who lived a long walk up over the hill and would go to play with them sometimes, but for many years, it was just we four kids. 

We had very good imaginations and did not get bored, but I was a reader. I loved to read, and I had read every book on my shelf. The library was out of the question, but happily, the bookmobile came to a nearby town, one that we could walk to via an unused railroad track. We'd walk along that until the high old railroad bridge which terrified me. You could see the water rushing below through the gaps in the ties, and I was afraid of heights. My brother and sisters would scamper across fearlessly, but it took me forever, picking my way, step by step. 

At the end of all that, there was the post office, a small old fashioned building with brass locking boxes and big windows in the front. We were also tasked with getting the mail while we were there. My mother would never give us the key for fear we'd lose it, so we'd always have to ask the postmaster who was a very angry person who yelled at us every time because "we needed to use our key". 

I dreaded dealing with him every bit as much as that old railroad bridge, believe you me.

But I digress. 

Eventually, the bookmobile would pull up, making all the fear worth it. Up I would go to return the books that I'd borrowed two weeks before, which left me free to find new books.

I was a shy and awkward kid, and I don't know how old I was when the beautiful 'book mobile lady' watched me. She asked a few questions. 

"Do you like to read?" And "How old are you?" Things like that.

When she was done, she looked at me thoughtfully. "I think that these books are too young for you." She pointed out some books that she thought I would like, books for older kids.

I remember being uncomfortable being the focus of an adult's attention. That was often not a good thing in my experience, but I remember saying, surprised, "I can borrow any book on the bus?" She kindly told me that I was allowed to do just that. 

It was an eyeopener for me. I thought my choices were confined to one rack of books at the back of the bus.

So I scanned the long shelves of books and selected my limit of books, big fat ones this time, and much harder to carry back home. (Plus I had the added terror that I might drop one on that dreaded railroad bridge ~ spoiler alert: I never did.) 

When the book mobile returned the following visit, that beautiful lady was waiting to ask, "How did you like your books?" 

I told her that I liked them very much, It was all I could manage. I could not express to her the wonder I felt reading them, and the joy I felt in the knowledge that when I was done with these, there were plenty more books just waiting to be read. Not trying to be dramatic here, but it really felt as if a whole new world had opened to me. 

I wanted to BE that beautiful lady when I grew up. I wanted her job in the worst kind of way. She got to travel! And there were books! 

So fast forward 55+years later and there I am, sitting on the couch discussing feral cats with our tenant Paula. I mentioned a neighbor of hers, one that I'd seen Paula talking with. "I talk to her, but I don't know her name," Paula said. I told her the names of her neighbors and mentioned that Patty had been the head of the library for years. 

Paula said, slowly, "I used to work for the library when I was in high school. When I graduated, they offered me a job on the bookmobile, and I did that until I got married."

I looked at her thoughtfully.

"Do you remember going to the Irvine post office?" 

She did. 

We did the math. 

The time was right. 

When I related my little story, she did not remember playing a part in that, and who knows? It may not have been Paula. She probably met a lot of shy, skinny kids in her travels to the remote areas of the county and such an exchange would have been just a ordinary librarian duty. 

What I do know is that this ordinary thing was extraordinary gift to me.