How to Run a Temple

We all need temples. Witness the gold and labor and imagination lavished on the great cathedrals and museums and universities. Something fundamental in us needs places large enough and beautiful enough to simultaneously excite and fulfill the longings of our best selves.

I have found cathedrals and museums and universities insufficient for my needs. Sooner or later (unless you becomes sacristan, docent, or tenured professor), they make you leave. And, while you are entitled take to what you can carry in memory, you must leave behind the tangible treasures.

There is a temple with much of what the big institutions offer and something that they don't: treasures to take home. I can go to the five public libraries in my area as often as I like for as long as I like. And when I leave, I take home all the books that I can carry.

Perfect, you say. Perfect, I say.

But I'm having trouble with my home library. I chose it based on driving distance, charm, cleanliness, and the quality of the collection. My problem is the librarians. With few exceptions, they are uncommunicative and unfriendly. The children's librarians have even been curt to my daughter (hanging offense).

When I check out they give me terrible looks. I realize that I might be a little immoderate in my library use. When I come through with a bad stack (definition: both arms too full to safely carry the load), other patrons sometimes raise their eyebrows. That's fine; maybe they have better things to do with their time. But I don't think it's right in the librarians. Shouldn't they be gratified that someone wants to read their books?

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