William Shakespeare died over 409 years ago but remains equally relevant even now. How is it possible? He could see the future. We can't live forever. Everybody must either die early or later. You may be rich or poor; that doesn't matter. You will be no more after death. You will not allow carrying a penny with you. So, why do we feel jealous? or getting angry? We should ealize that.
In our India, there are a huge number of local libraries. In every colony, we can see those. It is very small but plays an important role in creating reading habits. These are almost free and mainly created to build up reading awareness between children and teenagers.As it is dealing with students, the timing is too small, 4pm to 6pm. But it is able to create reading habits. So, the detective, horror, and adventure storybooks are mainly available here. In our locality, there are two small libraries. Those were my heaven. My reading habits grew from there. That's the importance of local libraries.
I have my kindle and use kindle unlimited which is very, very handy, but I also like to have the physical books. I LOVE bookstores, but those are slowly dying out. I'm not sure they were ever that popular in Australia, as they were in the UK - maybe it's the weather.
My library has evolved, big time. They have all kinds of tech classes plus traditional classes, storytime, reading challenges, paper and digital books. They even lend out different devices for folks who need them for schoolwork and playaways for anyone who wants to borrow them (it's like a preloaded audiobook device that just has one book and I think you check it out like a book).
SandraLynn So glad to hear that your local library is still alive. This does hold some hope for the future.
Cubby Weren't you the lucky one! I always admired librarians, their coolness, soft-spoken help, knocking on their desks when youngsters at the tables became noisy...and the groups and the clubs and the children's part of the library, too, where some smart mothers brought their kids, even their toddlers. Once, one mother explained to me that she was trying to teach her baby, early on.
Like you, I too miss it all, be it from the other side of your desk at the library.
I remember years ago (though not really all that long ago) when I had brought thirteen books home from the library! I loved reading all kinds of books, from picture books to teen to YA to fiction and nonfiction.
When I was a young teen, I remember babysitting my cousins and we'd ride our bikes to the library and pick out books. I loved the smell of the library, even as a kid.
Now we have Libby, and I rarely go to the library. My only contact is to renew my card over the phone.
While I miss the actual books, I love the easy access on my cell, and I love that I can listen to audiobooks without having a CD player.
I worked in libraries for 16 years and I loved it. We had programs for kids year round. We also had a writing group and book club. There was even a knitting club and craft club. All in a little village library where I worked. I miss shelving the books. I miss ordering the books. I miss the patrons.
But I don't miss the library board! Like your book club, the members changed and it just wasn't the same.
I suppose libraries evolve as much as anything else. They have changed and still attempt to provide services. The library here in this rural village is a vital entity.
Every trip, especially a road trip, carries some memories. Those may be bitter or sweet. We love to remember those sweet memories. The blogger also remembers those sweet road trips. A little glimpse is here; the reading experience is wonderful.
Joy Jul 6, 2025 at 7:53pm In response to "Road Trips"
Kåre เลียม Enga Yes, the boys stopped fighting only because I've never lied to them. And believe me, what I said then wasn't a lie, either.
And so true, each motel or diner has its own atmosphere.
Prompt:
“it is the end of July and the idle breeze of gentle childhood befogs my mind once more"....
Let the beginning of this poem inspire your entry today.
-------------
July
July is here again,
stirring ancient echoes
warm on this old
wrinkled skin
and my smile spills
and memory hums
of sunburned hands
sticky with melting treats
when sprinklers hissed
and butterflies danced
as if a fleeting dream
brought them near
in summer's glow
but such flashbacks I hide
with tears I never show.
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