I got an Ontario City Library card the other afternoon. I had always thought of getting one, especially after shaming Gary Ovitt into signing up a few years ago, under the theory that the guy whose name is on the building ought to have one. Since I only work here rather than live here, I didn’t know if I qualified.
But then I was volunteered (note verb tense) to help get library cards to kindergartners, and that seemed like a good time to ask what the rules are, because it felt like if I were handing out cards, I should have one. Turns out anyone can get one. So I got one.
Later, the library director, Helen McAlary, told me there’s no residency requirement because so many potential users may work in the city but live elsewhere, or have some other reason for wanting to visit.
There’s not even a minimum age. “Even a newborn can be given one,” she said. “But we prefer they be old enough to know what they’re getting.”
I didn’t check anything out, and given all the unread books and unwatched DVDs in my home, I don’t know when I will. But I can, if the mood strikes. When the circulation clerk told me I could check out 20 items at a time, my heart beat a little faster. It took me back to the excitement of getting a library card as a boy and all the happy hours I spent at the library.