|
Isolated. Cut off from civilization. The dinky village didn't even have a stoplight. What had I gotten myself into? I had followed my heart, but feared I'd left my brain in San Francisco. Newly married, I was moving from the pleasantly bustling college town of Fredonia, New York to a country home on the outskirts of the Village of Sinclairville. The move wasn't far in distance, but I felt I'd taken a huge leap backwards. While living in Fredonia, I attended the local college, made friends, and blossomed intellectually and creatively. Moving from this place of growth seemed to take me back where I had started from — in a small town like the one I grew up in with "nuthin' to do." Different town, same stifling. I was a creative, energetic person; I wanted to experience life to the fullest! It wouldn't be long before I wilted in such a small, out-of-the-way place. Who would have guessed that the little library in this village of merely 650 souls would be my salvation? Tucked away in the basement of the village's community building was the Sinclairville Free Library, the oldest library in Chautauqua County. Since being established in 1835, the library had been located in bank offices, people's homes, the Grange building and school buildings before landing in this basement in 1977. Like me, this library got around. After living in such civilized places as Pittsburgh, Los Angeles and Fredonia, I felt a bit tucked away in Sinclairville myself. Soon after I discovered the library, it was moved to a brand new building in a prominent place on Main Street next to the Post Office. The library thrived in its new location, and I made another discovery. Thanks to the library, I could thrive in my new location too. So much more than a holding center for books, this small hometown library is a gathering place that nourishes the whole community. Throughout the week, preschoolers and their care givers listen to stories and make crafts, quilters piece together fabric scraps for blankets to give to the Red Cross, people meet to support one another in weight loss goals, teenage boys come together to exchange Pokemon cards, school children snuggle up in their pajamas for evening story time with their teddies, and families gather for activities organized by the creative and energetic library staff. It's Wednesday morning, the time when writers meet at the library to write together, share works in progress and encourage each other. We meet in the children's room. This room is full of life. Colorful children's storybooks line the shelves. Woodland creatures painted on the walls by local artists surround us. A duck comes in for a landing, frogs dive, fish swim through cattails, squirrels climb up the windowsill, an owl snoozes in a treetop and a bunny family reads together in their burrow. There is no place I would rather be than tucked away in this room. I grip the edge of my notebook and scribble with my Sinclairville Free Library pen, a gift from the library for my time spent volunteering. Circled around the library table with me are my writer friends, bent over notebooks with their pens scratching across pages and creative juices flowing. How has the library changed my life? It nourished this budding writer and gave her
roots in a new
community. Don't look now, I think I'm thriving. |