Sunday, June 21, 2015

Short Stories
The city’s libraries aren’t long on hours

I go to my branch almost every day. It’s just two blocks down the street and around the corner. Half the time I take my computer and write by a window that looks out on unvarnished East 23rd Street. I always look over the new books. I enjoy the habit of going there. I often go on Saturdays for an hour or so. I’m grateful to have a close-by library.

The branches here aren’t open 9:00-9:00 or 10:00-10:00 seven days a week like they are in the old suburb of Cleveland where I used to live, or in Wyoming where I go to visit one of my three kids. More like 10:00-6:00 on average and, not on Sunday. That’s pathetic/embarrassing/sinful for a city that thinks itself so literate and progressive. Where do city school kids do homework or write papers or do a project on their own or with their school friends? In crowded apartments, that’s where. Odd isn’t it? In such a sophisticated world city. How can it be so?

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