As the morning light pours through the windows, a knot of toddlers manages to play with trains, books, and dress-up clothes simultaneously while a dad watches from the couch, holding a sleepy baby. At the table a mom balances her checkbook while comforting a small child who hiccups into her shoulder. Big brothers and sisters hurry to do their homework so that they too can play. It is a scene that could be the busy living room of any home – but instead it is the Children’s Department of the Greenwood Public Library. Call it the community’s living room – a third place for everyone to connect, relax, and breathe in a life run ragged with appointments, shopping, and school or work commitments.
In the teen room, the noise level goes up a notch. Groups of girls gather over teen magazines, video games are played, music is shared, and there is the occasional loud outburst of laughter or teenaged indignity. There are more boys than girls here today – not your average library in any way. In spite of the generally high activity level, other teens are engrossed in reading and heads are seen bowed over school books. The teens who come here might not realize that the person behind the desk has a master’s degree or even that she is a certified librarian, but they know that she listens to them and knows their name. And that’s all that really matters.
Upstairs, the scene is quieter. The news is read on newsprint or monitor. Laptops and e-readers appear out of backpacks to adorn every study table, and study groups stress quietly over upcoming tests. New friends are found in the pages of novels as well as behind the desk. Dozens of public computers are well used, and those searching for jobs are buoyed by a little company, a little help, and a smiling face. In this place, it doesn’t matter how much money is in your wallet or what your purchasing power is. By coming through the door, you’ve staked your claim to this place – this is your library, your community, your place to be.
This is a place people want to leave a legacy. Over the years we have had everything from books purchased in memory of good friends to larger bequests. In 2008 William Fisher’s family chose to donate funds to the library in memory of their father and his love of books and of the library. The Fisher family’s legacy is a waterfall area at the entrance to the library. It is a peaceful spot where families regularly make a point to stop and say “hello” to the waterfall, and there are cheers every spring when the waters return.
Story time alums Dick and Tom Van Arsdale remembered GPL at a critical moment in our history and began the Hilda Van Arsdale Library Fund in 2012 with an inaugural fundraising event featuring Coach Bob Knight. Their goal for their mother’s legacy is a stable and strong library, ready to welcome generations of families and story time children
A legacy of another sort arrived today at the library, a gift in memory of Scarlett Kapke, granddaughter of the Hogan family. Her legacy is exactly what any small child would love – a tree to climb in. It arrived in pieces before we opened this morning, and as children arrived, they watched with growing excitement as their tree was assembled. Finally, it was ready. Climbing, playing, exploring, and sliding ensued. All day long there was an extra measure of laughter and joy among the smallest GPL patrons.
While other libraries struggle to convince their communities of their worth, GPL is fortunate to have patrons who not only understand the library’s value for their family, but fight to preserve it for generations to come. Looking at the sweet faces peeking out of the tree trunk today, I knew these children had no idea of the many gifts woven together to make their playful morning possible. But I knew, and I thought you might want see what a legacy can look like: A grinning, giggling, joyful legacy.