Seeing Matt's Stars

Fame and Fiances

The next morning, I woke up early, as I did most every morning, took my shower, ate a bowl of oatmeal with my hair wrapped in a towel, got dressed and went off to work. My job placed me at the university's library, one of my favorite places in the world. I said hello to the librarians working the reference desk as I walked in and handed the book I had read the previous night to George who sat at the circulation desk.

“Finished another one?” He asked, swiping it under the scanner to check it back in.

“This one was wonderful. A real adventure. I think you'd like it.” It was more than a passing sentiment. One of my deepest talents was my passion for people. I asked questions for answers, rather than for courtesy, and I remembered those answers. Passionately detached. It was a gift. George truly would enjoy the book, and money would say that he would have trouble putting it down.

He chuckled with a glance at the clock, “you better get upstairs. You're going to be late.” His voice was teasing, like he was making use of an inside joke. In a way he was.

I was already beginning to move away. “I'm never late.” Passing by the elevators, I made my way up four flights of stairs to the top floor. Before he was out of sight, I glanced back at George. He had flipped open the front cover and was reading the first page.

The library always amazed me. Over one and a half million books on hundreds of topics, plus teaching materials for education majors, VHS tapes, DVDs, CDs from modern pop music to Beethoven to sound effects to Broadway musicals and Italian Operas. I got to do so many different things while I was there, and I never knew what I loved more, dealing with the books or dealing with the people. When boxes upon boxes of books were donated, I got to be the first to touch them, then go through checking and double checking or making lists. If someone requested a book from the basement, IRMA as we called it (Infrequently Requested Materials … something...), I was one of the people who got to go down through the hidden stacks and search it out. So often, with any time I had to search through books, I found myself getting lost in flipping through the pages or scanning the shelf to see other interesting titles near by.

In the summer months, our tasks were more in number and less in organization. That is to say, every day of the week we could start on an entirely new project that we could work on as time allowed throughout the week.

As I walked into the back room where the CDs and DVDs were housed, I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and turned it off. At 7:45 I was officially clocked in, my shift started at 8:00.

Just as I grabbed my “to do” slip from the employee board, the staff elevator opened. Three men in white t-shirts and jeans walked out. They were the painters who had been working on the stair way for the past few days. “Well, hello boys. How goes the work?”

“Never quite as adventurous as yours, Charley, but I do get to climb on tall ladders.” The youngest of the three teased. I gave him a smile before continuing back out toward the desk.

They walked out the same door as I did to get to the stairway. “But I get to travel to Narnia and back, ride on a Polar Express, fight for lost Grimm relics, discover the secrets of love and creation and the flaws of Utopia, learn magic, travel to distant planets, and battle to save Olympus.” I was flipping through a cart of books to be shelved, a far off smile across my lips.

The young one, perhaps a few years older than I, leaned on the desk in front of me, a grin on his face. “One of these days, Charley, I hope I get to know what it feels like to have even a quarter of the passion you do, and maybe have someone look at me the way you look at those books.”

I smiled. Only someone without emotion could have avoided feeling a pull at the heart after that sentiment. “You will, without a doubt.”

“Because everyone deserves to?”