I just read a book called “The Story Behind Toilets” while sitting on the toilet. Nothing beats some good reading material while trying to do your bizness, and I loved the irony of reading about toilets while using the crapper, which, in case you didn’t know, is the last name of the man who improved the design of the flush toilet. While I was not successful in my endeavor, I did learn that toilet fact, as well as a steaming heap of others, my favorite one being the practice of putting an unpopular public figure’s likeness on the bottom of a chamber pot. I like the idea of colonists taking a dump on King George III.
I got that book, along with some other interesting ones, at the children’s section of my local library. As you may recall, I am a huge fan of the library. Mainly, I love them because I love to read, and there is always something new to be perused at the library. I have a hard time selecting books at a bookstore because I don’t want to pay for something that I might not enjoy. What if I make the wrong choice and I am saddled with some piece of crap that should only be used for kindling or wiping? At the library, I can take risk-free chances, and if I don’t like them, so what? I just drop off the boring books and pick out new ones. I also like the part where my house isn’t cluttered with all that reading material. If I bought and kept all the books that I and my children read in a year, we could start our own library, or, at the very least, have our own episode of “Hoarders.”
You have to get over the part where other people, strangers whose hygiene might not live up to your standards, have manhandled the very same books that you now hold in your once-clean hands. I am sure I wasn’t the first person who read the toilet book on the toilet, and I won’t be the last. So if you can handle the mystery stains or the stale cigarette odor or the scribble marks or the occasional mildew/vomit smell of the books, then maybe the library is for you too.
Since it is the summer, my children have shut their brains down in sleep mode in an effort to not overtax themselves by actually retaining old facts or learning new ones. I decided to be a normal mom this year and not force them to complete workbooks, but I insist that they continue to read. For E, my older daughter, reading is a pleasure. S, my younger daughter, is not quite as passionate about it. She doesn’t understand why we should read when there is a perfectly good television sitting there, waiting to be turned on. It ain’t gonna watch itself, you know.
In an effort to hold their interests, I try to get a nice assortment of reading material every time I go to the library, which is on average once a week. For E, this is pretty easy. As long as there is some reference to Nazi Germany or a dead mother, she is good to go. At eleven, she is the upstate of South Carolina’s leading child expert on the Holocaust, and considering our location in the Bible belt, our library system has a surprisingly vast collection of juvenile genocide material. I have to work a lot harder to find things that are going to appeal to S. She prefers storybooks with a silly slant, but not too silly. One time I got one too many silly books and she questioned why all the main characters were idiots. She doesn’t like to read things that are too easy, but she also doesn’t want to overexert herself. What she really doesn’t want to do is read.
So last time I hit the local branch, I scouted around for some unusual choices. I don’t just go for fiction or picture books; I scan over the nonfiction as well. I am overly familiar with the Dewey Decimal system (fairy tales, 398.2, World War II, 940.5), so I am pretty good at searching around for something that might appeal to her unusual tastes. Hence the toilet book. I also got her a book about popcorn, her favorite snack food, a book about caring for your hamsters, and even a book all about being healthy, if you are a monster, because it is more fun eating broccoli and getting an hour of exercise daily if you aren’t a regular old human. For E, I found a young adult book about a Korean girl called “Slant” as well as a collection of slave diaries from South Carolina, since she just finished reading two Holocaust stories. Even experts need to expand their knowledge base.
When I checked out, the librarian noticed my assortment while scanning each one. “I am trying to figure out the connection between toilets, small rodents, and popcorn,” he said to me.
“We have eclectic tastes in my family,” I replied before something funnier popped in my head. I should have said “We have a busy afternoon planned,” or “Look it up on the Internet,” but I behaved, and thus did not embarrass my perpetually embarrassed eleven year old daughter who was with me.
As we left, I couldn’t help but think back to when the Patriot Act was made law in 2001. In it was the library records provision, which in essence gave the FBI the ability to investigate what a person gets from the library. Now, like a good American, I get my porn on the Internet, but if my odd assortment of reading material catches the eye of the local librarian, imagine the kind of trouble I could get into with the authorities. What if they took that provision one step further and decided where and when you could use your public reading materials? What if the book return procedures included DNA sampling and testing? They could fine patrons for mistreating their books, maybe sending tickets in the mail like those evil speed trap red light cameras.
As for my daughter, she has no interest in reading a book about toilets. I guess it’s time for another trip back to the library, maybe for something about how television works or how diseases can be transmitted through fecal contact. Anything to get her reading.
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