It's a "Thereabouts" day and as Mother's Day weekend sits on the doorstep, I've dusted off a piece I wrote some six years ago about my Mom and our visits to the bookmobile.
The time is the late 1950's and it's a Bookmobile Day Friday...
Mom and I walked hand-in-hand down to the end of our short street where the big two-toned green bus parked for an hour a few mornings a month from 10:30 to 11:30. Sometimes we arrived in time to watch this behemoth lumber and creak into place, but most of the time it was there already, with the stairs pulled out waiting for us. In warm weather, the driver lounged outside on the grass smoking a cigarette, but when he saw us coming, he jumped to his feet and with a big smile lifted me up into the library on wheels. Those steps were just too big for my four-year-old legs. Mom always thanked him, and the librarian who greeted us, always smiled.
Inside, both walls were lined with books floor to ceiling and the narrow hallway between them was paved with beige linoleum. A long thin bank of fluorescent lights that ran down the centre of the bus emitted a comfortable hum. In the summer, it was hot and airless, so we never stayed very long, but in winter the bookmobile was a cozy refuge from bitter winds, due in no small part to the engine running for the full hour.
About half way down on the driver’s side was a two-foot square window. This was where the children’s books could be found. A small kid-sized wooden table with two chairs sat under the window and nestled between two low vertical shelves that displayed the entire children’s collection, perhaps some twenty books in all. Most of the time I had this special space all to myself -- it seemed not many children got taken to the bookmobile by their mom.
My favourite books were Lois Lenski’s stories about Mr. Small – Cowboy Small, Policeman Small, Papa Small, The Little Sailboat, and The Little Train, to name a few. My all time favourite book was “Curious George”. George and I had something in common too. We were both very curious and that occasionally got us into trouble.
One day, Mom handed me Ludwig Bemelmans’ “Madeline”, even though I really didn’t think a story about pretty little girls in Paris, France was anything I would like. As the story goes, Madeline is taken ill and has to go to the hospital. I had just had such an experience, so Madeline and I had something in common. My mom was very clever!
Sometimes I just liked to watch Mom find her books. She scanned the shelves carefully, often with her right forefinger tracing along the bottom of the book spines until she found something of interest, at which point she pulled out the book to read the inside flap. Then one of two things happened – she either put the book back or she went on to read the first page. If then a smile crept across her face, she closed the book with a satisfactory snap and added it to her book bag.
We presented our finds to the smiling librarian who great purpose, thumped the due date stamp on the slip in the back of the book and filed the borrower's card in a wooden box. Then out the door we went - with a little help from the driver - and back up the street, walking hand-in-hand. After a lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches, we spent the afternoon curled up together on the living sofa reading our books.
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| Mom and I, 1958 |
So many memories,
So many stories,
So much love.
To all who mother life -
hoping, fearing, dreaming,
laughing, crying, rejoicing,
nurturing, protecting, loving...
Happy Mother's Day!
©2023 April Hoeller
