Residential Library - 219
Hal Wastes His Wages!
January 27, 2007

Unless you count that alumni weekend when I really needed a place to pee, I suppose the last time I entered a library in earnest was 10 years ago as a senior in college. I had sold one of my text books for beer money but needed it to read some short story by Willa Cather. Anyone familiar with Ms. Cather’s work will understand why I chose that particular book to hawk for beer money.

The truth is I generally don’t read that much anyhow, which is nothing short of idiotic for someone who hopes to someday make a decent living in the field of written prose. I often attempt to slog my way through books, but after awhile I feel guilty since as a writer I should be writing books instead of reading them. So I spend the entire day mentally debating whether I should read or write, then I check my email, play a game of online checkers and before you know it PTI is on and my day is squandered. But recently, a fellow underemployed friend with too much time on his hands convinced me to drop by the Hoboken Public Library (500 Park Avenue) and check out what the facility has to offer.

I was initially apprehensive when signing up for my library card. I enjoy flying below the radar, so I’ve always had a bit of paranoia when it comes to libraries. It stems from the absurd notion that some government agency is monitoring the titles I borrow and adding them to my FBI file. There’s also the issue of the $2.40 I’ve owed the Onondaga County (NY) Public Library since 1992. Should this be the last column you ever read by me, you’ll know I was right about one or the other.

After handing over valid ID to prove my Hoboken residency (see—“they” ARE watching…) I was issued my card on the spot and left to wander the aisles in search literary quarry. Once inside, the relative peace and quiet was nothing short of astounding. Then I realized—this was a no cell phone zone! Oh, the bliss! To simply walk around in a building free of bells and whistles and ring tones and “yo’, where you at;” it was like strolling through Eden.

I walked around in an effort to acquaint myself with my new surroundings. The top floor was all children’s books, but it was relatively quiet and delightfully stroller-free. On the second floor I found periodicals and reference books, along with free internet access. Meanwhile, in addition to books, the ground floor also held a treasure trove of CD’s and DVD’s. Furthermore, there was a substantial collection of books on CD, thereby solving my conundrum of reading v. writing. I could write while I “read,” provided I was diligent enough to review my work in order to avoid blatant plagiarism.

Elated, I checked out my first books on CD—Conversational Arabic. Hell, if I’m gonna have the FBI pouring over my library file I may as well make it spicy…

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