Air con! Rising up in a tiny ranch residence within the unincorporated a part of a rich Chicago suburb, cranking the home windows closed and cranking up the AC in the summertime was a uncommon luxurious. On the most well liked days, my mother would deposit me on the public library, and I’d spend your complete day within the cool air beneath its hovering ceilings, looking out via encyclopedias, tucking myself into quiet examine carrels, or exploring the magazines within the grownup part upstairs. I didn’t have a library card since we lived within the unincorporated a part of city; we’d have needed to pay for that privilege–an “additional” that my dad and mom couldn’t afford. Seared in my reminiscence: the day an envelope arrived within the mail, addressed to me and with no return handle, containing a library card bearing my title. To today, I don’t know who despatched it (although we had our suspicions about these pretty, nurturing librarians who got here to know me as a frequent patron). Life altering. Isn’t that an unimaginable reward?!