One of my profs in grad school espoused what he called random reading. “On the way to the library,” he said, “memorize a license plate number. If the first number is odd, turn left when you enter the library; if it’s even, turn right.” Succeeding numbers determined floor, aisle, shelf, and book. However many numbers a license plate had, we should use them all to lead us to a book. And then we should read that book.
To some extent, this is what we all do when we go to the library. We just tend to start the search in our favorite sections: cookbooks, audiobooks, science fiction, or whatever. The license plate method pushes us a bit, to check out other sections and, in the end, other books. That prof was an outstanding teacher, endowed with a sense of curiosity and an analytical brain. Imagine my delight, when I met the love of my life, to find out he shared these traits and practiced random reading, albeit without the license plate.
Now, with the advent of Little Free Libraries, random reading is, if you’ll pardon the expression, a walk in the park. These are collections of books housed in elevated, window-fronted cases and offered without charge to passersby. They tend to sit near sidewalks, although there’s one hidden in the trees at Bromley Park and there are two at nearby elementary schools. Anyone may take a book from a Little Free Library, and anyone may add to the collection.
Some Little Free Libraries concentrate on certain types of books. The one at Thurston Elementary, as expected, specializes in children’s books. The one on Omlesaad Drive devotes itself to science fiction and fantasy. But the others I’ve come across present a whole range of reading matter. They are, in effect, curated sources of random reading. Basketball’s Best Shots, anyone? How about Dog Whisperer: The Ghost, about twelve-year-old Emily and her dog Zack? Or Saving Fish from Drowning or A Taste of Venice: At Table with Brunetti? You never know what you’ll find in Little Free Libraries. Indulge your curiosity. Practice random reading. No license plate required.
You also never know what you’ll come across when you’re out for a walk. I know of people so enamored of reading that they read books while walking. For me, that would be doing neither activity well. As my friend Sue says, “I’m taking a walk here. I might miss something!” Today, for instance, I would have missed two bullfrogs. Earlier this week I would have missed a snow-globe experience.
The dog and I were walking through the Traver neighborhood, enjoying the mostly shady path that meanders between houses where back yards abut. Cottonwood trees are shedding their cotton now, and the air was full of it on a day with scarcely a puff of breeze. The seeds hung suspended in space, drifting up, down, and sideways, catching the morning sun that filtered down among the trees. Being there then felt like being in a snow globe.
The cottonseeds riding the breeze seemed not to settle, each one a point of light. Inside the snow globe of the cottonwoods’ making, the dog and I stopped and watched the floating lights. The suspended bits of fluff seemed to suspend time along that path. Motion and sound skipped a beat. Then we stepped out of the stillness and walked on.
Coming down Georgetown on the homeward stretch this morning, I glanced up to see two women out with a dog generously step off the sidewalk to let us continue—a bit of cooperative CoVid protocol. It was our daughter’s friend, Jen, her close friend since they were girls. Jen grew up in this neighborhood, and her walking companion did, too. They’ve been friends since childhood, as have my friend Sue and I.
Friendships like these differ qualitatively from the surprises we find in Little Free Libraries or come across in our daily pursuits. For one thing, they’re rare. Not many of us have more than a few—although my friend Janice and my nephew Jack have such gifts for friendship that nearly all their friends may feel especially close to them.
For another thing, such relationships feel normal, like family—or in some cases better. These people are the family you choose. With whom you engage without pretense. There would be no point in pretense: these people know you too well. They see you as you are and as you’ve been, and cherish you, as you know and cherish them.
So, read randomly. Look around when you’re walking. And get in touch with someone you love.
1 July 2022