I may, or may not have, shared about how my sleeping habits have been skewed for the past couple weeks. Aside from being sick over the last weekend, the sleeping has been erratic and seemingly, non-existent. I tend to sleep more between 8am and noon, than any other time of day. Regardless of this issue, a couple nights ago I had some strange dreamings (go figure) and one point stuck in my head after I awoke. We have to go back many years to when I was in second grade...
A short background. I grew up in Kirklin, Indiana. A small town that actually gets a dot on the map, but pretty much straight north of Indianapolis on 421 (the Michigan Road). Being a bit more rural, I was bussed to the school of the area, Clinton Central. I attended there from Kindergarten thru about half of my 5th grade year... but enough. We gotta drop back a bit.
Second grade was never a big remembrance. I think for many of us, aside from a catastrophic event, those early years are just blips, some may have small memories attached, but it is what it is. Mine are, until this one. I don't remember what time of year it was - fall, winter, spring. I just remember we had library day where as a class we would go to the school library. They had a 'pit' - a recessed lower area - where the librarian would read some sort of picture book to us. At the end, she would encourage us to go find a book we could 'check out' of the library for a couple weeks.
I never went book hunting. The picture book readings were stupid. I didn't want to look at picture books, so had no intention of checking on out. I think this went on for a couple weeks or so, and the librarian noticed I never went to look for books like the other kids. She gently confronted me, asking why didn't I...blah blah...I vaguely remember telling her it was because I had no interest in picture books, as there is no story to them. She took me aside, and we went back over the side of the library that was for 4th grade and higher, and she pulled a book off the shelf, handing it to me. "I think you might like this one then," she said. I glanced at the cover, which had a picture that looked interesting. Then I read the title.
"Nope. Not interested. I already read this one," I told her. She gave me a weird look. "My dad gave me several books he had as a younger kid, and the Hardy Boys was one of them. They are boring. You know they solve the case in every book."
With a nod, she placed it back on the shelf, and led me back to the main desk.
"Come back tomorrow at recess time, and I bet I will have something to interest you," she said. I think I just shrugged, and went on as it was time for the class to return to our rooms.
The next day, at first recess, I remember telling my teacher that I was to report to the library for recess, and she let me go. I walked in to that quiet sanctum, headed for the main desk, and the librarian sat there, watching me approach. In one movement, she placed a hard-backed book on the desk. No picture on it. Looked really thick (my 2nd grade eyes). "Take this and read it. In two weeks, come back and tell me if you like it, or if you need to finish it, or whatever.," she said.
"There's no check-out card," I mumbled. Remember those? Check-out cards?
"This is not a book from the library," she said. "It is my personal one, and as long as you read it, return it, and tell me about what you read, you can borrow it as long as needed."
Wow! Talk about special privilege!
Let's call that the end of that memory. The book she handed me that day was Tolkien's 'The Hobbit', and two weeks later, I was asking her to let me have it one more week, as I was almost finished reading it. This was one person in my life that helped encourage my reading...one of many. As it turns out, her son was also in my class, and we became somewhat friends, though, he was more for destructive ideas, versus my reading ones. Over a summer I spent time at his house (running through the woods, destroying whatever at his whim) and he at mine (can I kill your rabbits?). Sigh.
So this odd memory came up, and since there is nothing else to do at 3am, I did some googling (is that a word now?) to come up with some information. First thing I came across was yearbooks. That school, the same year I graduated, and saw names/faces. That son was there. As were many people that I was not happy with. Another story, another day. But Google did lead me to the obituary of Mrs. Gruelach. That librarian that knew I was something different and encouraged me to read more, above my level, and enjoy it. She passed away in 2018, and admittedly, I probably have not thought about her since ... 5th grade? Circa 1981? or so?
So, yeah. I'm a bit depressed. I'm sure the lack of sleep has nothing to do with that...duh... but in ways, I'm truly sorry I didn't know before. Obviously living out in AZ to get news like that from IN, well.... Is what it is. She is missed.
PeacE
