Library Days

Dad loved books. Books of all kinds – science books, biographies, “shoot-em ups”, as he called them, mysteries -- you name it, he read it. There were always multiple books lying face down, opened to the page where Dad left off, in various places throughout the house. When he found a book particularly interesting, he enthusiastically passed it around for all of us to enjoy. Or, if he really, really liked it he bought copies for everyone. He was thrilled when the first Barnes & Noble opened nearby, and he made trips there frequently, buying a half dozen books at a time. His (and Mom’s) enthusiasm for learning and enjoyment through reading was inherited by all seven of us children in a very strong way.

When we were growing up, however, purchasing books was not a luxury afforded to the Ruszel family. Instead, every two or three weeks, after dinner, Dad would call for us all to collect our books and we’d head out to the library in Pleasant Hill. Mom, for reasons I never understood until I became a mom myself, opted out of these sojourns.

At the library, we’d all split up to go to our various areas of interest. I remember the progression I made as the years went on: starting out in the children’s section with the cool miniature wire chairs with colored seat cushions, to the young adults, to the adult fiction – which was upstairs! I once bumped into Dad up there when I was about 12, and he said, “Hey, what are you doing up here?” Uh oh – I thought I was caught! I replied, “Um, looking for a book”, “Oh, ok.” was his reply, and he moved on.

When the library staff announced closing time over the loudspeaker, we’d all bring our newly-found books to the counter to check them out. We would meet at a central table and read until the whole group was finished, and we’d happily pile back into the blue Volkswagen bus with our individual stacks of treasures for the drive home. Inevitably, the bus took control of Dad at the Baskin-Robbins Ice Cream store, and it pulled into the parking lot there so Dad could treat us all to ice cream cones. We brought home Oregon Blackberry in a sugar cone for Mom.