The way I see it, First Love can be broken down into two categories:

Romantic love.

Other.

“Other” can include everything from restoring classic cars to brewing bathtub gin to collecting thimbles.

I wouldn’t dream of telling you about my first romantic love (if forced to do so, I would lie), but happily invite you to join me aboard the Good Ship Reminiscence for the “other” category.

Ahem (clearing my throat)…

The object of my first non-romantic love was a library. Many things have changed over the years, but the town where I grew up is still intact and in situ in my imagination. The hub of the town was my family, because when we are young, we always perceive ourselves as being at the center of the universe. The radii from my hub reached out in all directions from our big old Tudor house to anywhere I wanted to ride on my bicycle.

This included my friend Laurel’s house on Terrace Court, Central School on Greenwood Avenue, the Glencoe Beach on Lake Michigan, the Glencoe Movie Theater on Vernon Avenue, and the crown jewel of my commuting collection – the Glencoe Public Library, smack dab in the middle of town.

I would park my bicycle behind the green shuttered Colonial style brick building, walk around to the front of the library, past the fountain, under the portico, and into a world of things that I needed and wanted very much.

To the left of the entryway was a large space replete with Queen Anne chairs, side tables bearing decorative lamps, Oriental carpets, wide windows overlooking leafy lawns, and oil paintings on paneled walls. Close your eyes and conjure up the reading room at a British men’s club in a Lord Peter Wimsey novel.

Open your eyes.

Okay. You’re there!

In the center area beyond the foyer was the checkout desk. Past that was a small room with expansive wood desks perfect for doing homework, and at the back of that room were French doors, which lead out to the small slate terrace where I had parked my bike.