The Librarian

the librabian

“Don’t you ever check out any books beside books on baseball?”

“Try saying that three times fast while holding your tongue.”

“Excuse me?”

“You said something sarcastic to me, so I thought I’d return the favor.”

“But you’re like 8 years old.”

“And you’re like 88 years old. Let me check out the kinds of books I want to check out.”

“I was just making an observation. I’m a librarian. I get to know people by the books they check out.”

“Yeah, but you make me feel like I’m a part of the proletariat because I read baseball books. Would you like it better if I read Dreiser or Tolstoy?”

“Maybe. But I don’t think you’ve got it in you.”

“Tell you what old lady –”

“Don’t call me old lady! I’ll wipe that smirk off your face if you don’t watch it!”

“Sorry. I was going to say, I’ll check out something else today if you brush up on your baseball. Then we can talk about it next time we see each other.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Because you need to take off those glasses and let your hair down.”

“LEAVE! Leave right now before I call security!”

“What about my book on Carl Yastrzemski?”

“Here! Now get out of here you little twerp!”

Little Bobby Ziegler was just 8 years old when he became smitten with the librarian at the South Newburg Public Library. She was 23. Funny what boys say when they have a crush on a girl. They conversed like this off and on for 10 years until one day the librarian contracted a pneumonia and died. Heartsick, Little Bobby Ziegler began reading An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser later that day. Today, whenever he visits a library, he thinks of that librarian and their conversations. He’s happy to have known her, but sad that he never got the chance to say something nice.

Illustrated by Audrey Sajovie



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