Librarian in the Living Room

Growing up in a nonreligious but somewhat spiritual family, denominations of severity were always intriguing to me. My friends in my predominantly Italian hometown of Youngstown, Ohio were catholics, sometimes taking me to their church, me inadvertently shocking them by taking communion without ever having been baptised. I did not know as a 13 year old nonreligious girl studying the world religions and philosophies for fun that taking communion as the heathen everyone saw me as was wrong … would I go to this hell place?

The Jehovah’s Witnesses were always something of deep mystery to me. It was as if they knew not to come to our porch,ring our doorbell, knowing perhaps that they would be greeeted with blank but intirgued stares and definitely not converts. As a teen girl, though, watching cute teenage boys in shortsleeve buttondowns, neckties, loafers, and pleated khakis was nice. And it didn’t surprise me that they didn’t talk to me, give me a glance, since no other boy in those torturous years did either. But I wanted them to bring me The Watchtower. Yeah, I really wanted that, their sweaty, peachfzz upper lips glistening in my eyes while they described my needing to be saved, be a part of them like breath so that I would not burn for eternity.

But I watched MTV with an addictive spirit, especially Headbanger’s Ball, Yo MTV Raps, and 120 Minutes as these shows were church … my religion … and that lovely Adam Curry was my god, preacher, and daily bread. These boys, like the little cocain-snorting blossoming bankers’ sons at school, wouldn’t like me either.

Abrahams’ book is touching, amazing, and laugh-at-high-decibal funny. My love Don was a bit ill at ease to hear me laughing hysterically in the airport, the airplane as we headed toward our Jamaican dreams.

And now as I read the macabre novel, Darkly Dreaming Dexter I sometimes wish to return to such a fun read with dark moments, yes (as is always a part of any intense religion), wanting to read it again to try to stave off my current night terrors. Last night, even with Don by my side, I dreamed of an elaborate plan of embalming live bodies, their shoes lined up like lozenges in a tin in the winter, everything so cold, hard, and wrong. Horribly wrong. And, as always, I was a reluctant partner in this darkness, unable to save myself or those surrounding me.

So, yes, a funny book … A GOOD THING! And this book’s got it ALL! And All … And all … Hallejueuh, amen!

This year’s Teen Summer Reading Club, Express Yourself @ Your Library will be my swan song. I am off to Chicago August 1st, thus leaving my position as Teen Services Librarian on Friday, July 24th. I will be attending beginning my studies for a Masters in Modern Art History, Theory, and Criticism at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago. This change is exciting, bittersweet. I will greatly miss my teens at the library and my job in general. So, that said, with this year’s Summer Reading theme being art and expression, very timely.

The above picture is me, from the back facing what is supposed to be (at least conceptually) a museum wall — hence my kickoff program, “Fit for a Museum Self-Portraits.” I wish I could take the cred for this, but it was inspired by the current issue of Readymade magazine (April / May 2009). I want to share this because it is not only an inexpensive and fun craft (at least we are doing it on the cheap — old wallpaper, digital photos printed, and cardboard or small canvases to glue them to) that the teens will most likely enjoy …

Especially when you offer to scan them a JPG for their Facebook page!