Edward's Adventure

New York

I belong to a little library on the upper east side. I've always loved libraries, and in New York, the closest public library to me closed for renovations. Besides, it was small, crowded and noisy. I needed a place to write, so I started searching for a quiet space not too far from my apartment on the upper west side that was quiet, had internet access for my laptop and a good staff who really understood books and book lovers.

I found it a year or so ago. For a very modest amount, I became a member. Little did I know that besides the other musts on my list, they also had an excellent lecture program--and a lovely children's library with  a terrific children's schedule of events.

I've been anxious to take my grandchildren to the library to take advantage of the programs. And today was the first time we could work out our mutual schedules. This morning at 9 am, I walked the few blocks to my son and his wife's apartment, and collected Edward,  nearly three, to go to story hour with Miss Rachel, the librarian, and other two and three year olds.  This was the first time Edward and Grammie had gone on an adventure without mom, dad and his big brother, Ethan, so I wasn't sure how reticent he would be.

Chris buzzed me up, and Edward was waiting in the foyer, his eyes big...and sleepy. But after his dad tied his shoes and gave him a hug, he slipped his hand into mine and we were off. First the M79 bus through Central Park, its arched bridges like tunnels as the big crosstown bus glided under them. We arrived at the library, a converted townhouse just before ten, and took the six person elevator to the third floor--the kind you only find in old New York townhouses. Miss Rachel, the librarian, greeted Edward as if he had been there every month this year. She handed him two felt cutouts that he held in a deathgrip, and then she began the stories.

Edward sat on my lap on the floor, as did most of the other seven children in the cozy parlor, as Miss Rachel read one of Vera Williams' stories about a caterpillar who ate every fruit and sweet he could crawl up to. And with each food, the child who held that felt image was expected to put the felt piece on the felt board that was adjacent to Miss Rachel's chair.  So, first the two year old with the apple, then the plum, then the strawberry. And then it was Edward's turn. I had no idea whether he would parade up there like Peter Pan on the ship, or grab my hand in horror hoping I would do it for him. Well, he didn't do either. I had whispered to him a couple of fruits before that his turn was coming, and I'd let him know.. and go up if he wanted.

And then Miss Rachel called for ... THE PEAR.  Edward gave me a sideglance, I smiled and nodded. He got off of my lap, walked straight toward Miss Rachel, and put that pear dead center on the felt board. I could not contain myself, and in a stage whisper said: "Bravo, Edward!" Back he came, slowly, solemnly, a little self contented perhaps.

Miss Rachel read two other books, everyone got to color the caterpillar, and then it was time to go. He spied a book about the first railroads, and almost had the umph to ask Miss Rachel if he could take it home. I translated a bit, and Edward proudly walked out of the library with his loaned books--including the caterpillar book.

On the bus ride home, Edward was still but occasionally his husky voice would fill me in on what was going on in that complicated head. "I run in the park some days," he confided. "It the one near your house." And indeed it is true that his parents do morning runs usually on the weekends, and the boys are in the new fangled tandem stroller that Chris pushes up and down the six mile course. It's a family staple.

It seemed to go well for Edward. When we got home, he told his mother with great animation about the computer video he watched of Thomas and Bob the Builder ( think Mr. Greenjeans and Captain Kangaroo, add forty years of technology and generational/cultural shifts and you've got the idea ). He kept the train book under his arm for safekeeping; then put his coloring of the caterpillar on the table to finish after his nap. 

I kissed him goodbye and asked him if he would like to go on an adventure some other time. He nodded, preoccupied, his eyes scanning the page in the railroad book that shows 19th century locomotives next to Conestoga wagons in the old West.

MC