This series invites people to share how libraries and reading have influenced their lives. Read other stories here.
I’ll never forget seeing the bookmobile traveling down a street in my neighborhood in Pompano Beach, Florida, when I was a young child. The excitement was palpable as all the kids raced to clamber aboard. I can still picture what it looked like inside — colorful books lined up neatly on display — and the feeling of abundance when the librarian said I could pick out any books I wanted to take home for free. For a kid with two working parents scraping to get by, this felt nothing short of miraculous.
Years later, my family moved to Rochester, Minnesota. I attended Lourdes High School, built in the early 1940s in a Gothic-influenced style reflecting traditional Catholic church architecture. The former chapel housed the library, and I loved sitting in that beautiful room with its high ceilings and tall, arched stained glass windows casting colorful patterns across the highly polished floor.
The librarians were two old-school Franciscan nuns — Sr. Leocadia and Sr. Lorenza — unsmiling women in full, floor-length habits. They regularly banned my brothers and their friends after antics like balancing a heavy library table on their knees and letting it slam down onto the hard floor. I can still hear the stone walls reverberating with the bang. Several classmates were also frequently banned for talking. These were the days of strict silence in libraries, after all. And while I was a chatty child, the enforced quiet gave me a welcome respite from the noise of my teenage years.
At the time, the Rochester Public Library had just one location, a bus ride or two from the suburbs. I loved wandering the stacks with no particular book in mind, just to see what I might discover. I can still remember being in a small dark room threading microfilm through the reader and cranking the handle to scroll through old newspapers when doing research for class projects. The library had artwork you could check out to hang on your walls at home, and movies in massive film canisters along with projectors and screens (just remember to leave the fan on so you don’t melt the film). Once again, I was amazed that all of this was available at no cost with a library card.
After my freshman year of college, my family moved to Austin, Texas, and I enrolled at the University of Texas, home to one of the largest academic library systems in the country. I have fond memories of studying at the massive six-story Perry–Castañeda Library, as well as the historic reading room in Battle Hall with its ornate façade and striking red tile roof, built in 1911. It was quite something to imagine that I was sitting at the same tables where students from decades earlier had once studied.
I majored in journalism at a time when background research didn’t involve the internet or AI; it involved heading to the library. I found out just hours before his performance that Itzhak Perlman had agreed to my interview request for the campus radio station. I remember racing from one library to another across campus in search of back issues of Time and Newsweek, along with several national newspapers, to research the famed virtuoso violinist and prepare my questions. I fondly recall his kindness and patience with a very green student reporter.
My off-again, on-again romance with libraries
After college, I focused on my career. I traveled frequently, moved several times, and worked long hours, which kept me out of libraries for many years. I still read books and listened to audiobooks, but I found myself turning to bookstores in airports when I needed something new to read. Libraries weren’t conveniently located, and life was incredibly hectic. I missed my quiet refuge.
My love for libraries was reignited when I left the corporate communications world and took a role heading up Community Relations and Marketing for the Jacksonville Public Library system in Florida. I worked at the Main Library, an impressive centerpiece of downtown. Our team worked closely with library staff at 21 locations promoting everything our libraries offered and advocating for the funding needed to do so.
To communicate the library’s value, I drew inspiration from those early days on the bookmobile and in my hometown library. I remembered how it felt to be a teenager seeking solace — a true third place. I shared firsthand knowledge of the value of libraries as unbiased, reliable sources of information. I wrote about the incredible dedication of library staff. And I deeply understood why libraries matter, and I worked every day to convey that message to elected officials, community leaders, and neighbors.
Mutual admiration
My love affair with libraries has come full circle. I am grateful to work at NoveList, where I help share what’s incredible about libraries with people all over the world. I’m thankful to live near my public library, where I once again browse the stacks, still feeling the thrill of finding the right book at the right time. I love taking my nephew’s children to the library and watching them discover the magic that libraries — and the books within them — can bring to their lives.
I will always support libraries, because throughout my life, in so many ways, libraries have supported me. And because librarians make moments like these possible every single day.
Kathy Lussier is the Director of Product Content & Services at NoveList. She is listening to The Secret Book Society by Madeline Martin and reading The Let Them Theory by Mel Robbins.
