I remember my first introduction to Mr. Dewey’s Decimal System. I did not like it. There were too many digits on the page. I imagined that the numerals were going to lift themselves off of the page and begin fighting. An eight would pick a one up and stab a seven in the chest. I also thought, who was he to decide why certain numbers were the path to books about the galaxy, and others were the path to historical figures like Harriet Tubman, or even why some numbers were about planes or sailboats?
Those elementary trips to the school library were overwhelming. I held my list of Dewey’s numbers in my hand not really knowing what to do. I decided to go to the edge of the maze of books away from everyone else that was scrambling through the books on The Civil War, and How to Play the Guitar, and pirates. How can one not judge a book by its cover?
As old as I am now those books seemed ancient to me then. Plain hardbound covers with tattered corners and dimpled spines. When I picked up one of these specimens the dust would float into the air along with a smell of something that is old. We were assigned several tasks to help us learn how to use the library. I could barely complete the assignment. If anything, it caused me more apprehension about all things library. On my list were words like biography, arts, humanities and poetry but it was all too confusing to me.
Whenever a trip to the library happened, I always made it a point to make myself as far away from others as possible. Do you remember filmstrips? I began to tolerate the library more once I found those to pass my time with. I was in a hurry to turn in my filmstrip player so that I would not be late for my next class. I hastily tried to unplug it from the outlet by yanking on the cord which caused it to separate from the part that plugs in to the outlet. Panic-stricken, I tried to shove the cord back into the plug while it was still in the outlet. A flash of light, a loud pop, followed by a puff of smoke, I looked at the soot on my hand and learned why I was told not to yank cords out of outlets. I silently gave the ruined player to the librarian and without a word she dismissed me. I still wonder why I did not get into trouble for trying to burn down the school.
Whenever I went to the library it was begrudgingly against my will until I found the art section. There was a book of photography. There were no words, just black and white shots of ordinary things captured in engrossing angles and perspectives. I was mesmerized trying to figure out what some of the objects were. That is until one specific page caused me to pause. It made my stomach jump with excited curiosity. I closed the book keeping my place marked with a finger and looked around to see if anyone was near. I slowly pulled apart the pages and stared at the page with great wonderment. I felt a fantastic uncomfortable excitement. It was an outdoor shot with some scattered trees and a person in the forefront facing towards the right of the frame holding her right leg up as she covered her stomach with her right hand, naked. I memorized where that particular book was shelved with no help from Mr. Dewey. I began to be accepting of learning more about libraries and the books within.
~Melik / me2upro.com
