Pants-Free Parenting: Library services as second home for some parents

I spent much of my childhood moving. Every five years and we were off, California, Texas, Minnesota, South Dakota. Each time we settled in, the first place we found was the library. We learned where to grocery shop or who our neighbors were, we knew the names of the librarians. 'If you know the library, you know the town,” my mom would say as we'd pull up to another low brick building, adorned with public art, sky lights and shelves and shelves of books. Even now, the soft smell of mildew, ink, glue, and paper makes me feel at home.

When I first moved to Cedar Rapids 10 years ago, the first place I sought out was the library. I spent my first few months here using the library to make photocopies of my resume and writing clips. I used the Internet to blog and to apply for jobs. I bought soup from the cafe and spent hours reading in the chairs. For a while, one of the new stations in town had stock film footage of the library that included my butt sticking out from the fiction section. It was the library that helped me take this new town and turn it into a home.

When the flood came, I had just returned a copy of Dorothy Allison's 'The Bastard Out of Carolina.” A few months later, when I went to the Marion library to read it again, the librarian told me it had been destroyed and that I was the last one who checked it out. I cried then. Right in front of her. 'If only I'd forgotten to return it, it would still be with us,” I said. The librarian smiled kindly if uncomfortably. I'm sure she too had spent a lot of time weeping over the destruction of the books.

Losing the library in the flood felt a lot like losing a good friend. It had been the first place that helped me set up a new life here in Cedar Rapids. Finding familiar books and familiar smells, finding access to the computers, the Internet, copy machines, and help applying for jobs had meant more to me than any plate of cookies offered by a new neighbor.

In the time that it took to rebuild the library, I had two children. My son was only two weeks old when the new library opened and my daughter was two and a half. Now, the library means something different to me. Now, the library is a support to me by offering children's programming - story time, play and learn, summer reading programs, and all the beautiful music. When my son was a newborn and I just needed to leave the house for a few minutes, I always went right to the library. It is also a welcoming sunlit space where my children learn from the computers, put on puppet shows, and where together we have discovered the joys of Neil Gaiman, Jon Klassen and the musical stylings of Pete the Cat.

When we are having a rough day, I like to take my kids to the library. A cookie and a book always cheers us up. The librarians are always enormously patient when my son, runs away. Now, the library is my boon, my parenting crutch, my saving grace, my children's education.

I'm writing about the library, because recent discussion about the tax levy has sparked some debate over the role of the library in our community. And I want to tell you what the library has meant to me, because I want you to know what a vital role the library plays in our town. And why it's so important that they continue operating at their current level (if not more).

It's hard for so many people, who have lived here for a while to understand all that a library means to a town. We take for granted our town and its offerings because they are so familiar. It's easy to forget what it's like to be new, to have no recourse, no help, no portal to the inside. It's also easy to forget what it's like to be a young parent, tired, frustrated, wanting the best for your children, but mostly just wanting them to stop screaming. For those new to town and new parents, the library is more than just books - it is a familiar book and a good sandwich. The library resources when you have none. The library is a welcome mat to newcomers and help when you have nowhere else to go. The library is our refuge, our resource, our boon. It's more than books - the library is our home.

Even now, as I write this, I sit in the library, in the fiction section staring out at the construction of Greene Square Park. This is my favorite spot and where I have written many columns and many articles, yes, even parts of a book (god help us all). And every time I walk into this building, I'm so grateful for this space and all it's given me when I was both a new face in town and again as a new parent. Let's fund this place.

' Lyz Lenz is a writer, mother of two and hater of pants. Email her at eclenz@gmail.com or find her writing at LyzLenz.com.