The Magic Place In Town.

Nov.13.22.

Hello! To absorb this email, I’d like you to close your eyes and pretend.

You’re in the little seaside town, GOG. The sun is licking your face, and a wicked li’l breeze is flirting with your umbrella. (We shade from the sun with umbrellas in my lovely native land.)

You’re standing near the Seventies-style building of BOG, facing the little roundabout, in the middle of which is the Cenotaph. In the Cenotaph, you might see some wreaths. They were placed there by the citizens paying tribute to soldiers murdered in the two world wars.

Cars and jeeps and trucks and other metal scoot past you and a group of citizens; you’re waiting for the trotting green man light to tell you it’s safe to cross.

Your destination is the magic place.

The first time I visited the magic place, Cousin Nan and I, four and five years old, were spending school holidays with our town cousins. They said they were taking us somewhere wonderful. They were excited, planning in secret, eyes shining.

I will never forget that place. The door was as massive as the door in Beauty And The Beast. It opened to a foyer with a staircase as wide as the one down which Cinderella had fled, leaving her glass slipper.

Up, up, we went.

Suddenly, lo and behold!

Books!

Children’s books of all kinds.

I didn’t know which one to grab first.

It wasn’t as though we didn’t have books at home…we were lucky village children. Nan and I were blessed with books, day and night. But this…this was even more than I could have imagined.

I discovered book greed that day.

I don’t know where the children’s books are kept today in that wonderful room with the big windows. The last time I visited was 2018. I was with Sarah, Cousin Nan’s daughter, as book-mad as any of us. She’d come from Seattle to spend time with her much younger Guyana cousins. Though it was a wet, grey day, I was smiling down to my bones. We sat at huge, heavy wood tables, plodding through some ancient history books. I don’t remember what we were searching for.

Oh mah gawsh! The glorious smell of that place! Lawd have mercy, chile.  Could some French parfumerie recreate that scent? Weyyy heyyyy! See me in me Levis, wafting fragrance of old pages, glue, wooden floor and new books. Aiyee. Bliss.

Bless the man who gave the funds for us to enjoy our magnificent public library, the National Library. He also donated money to help build 3000 libraries around the world. Wow!

I wonder how many in my lovely native land know anything about this man, Andrew Carnegie, born in 1835 in Dunfermline, Fife, Scotland. We should pay attention because his early beginnings mirror the lives of many of our citizens. His parents were so poor, the family lived in a one room home. When Andrew was about 13 years old, they migrated to the US.

That was where he built his fortune. He became so wealthy, he was, at one time, the second richest man in the world. Long and interesting story, it’s everywhere on the internet, so I won’t rehash it.

What interests me is this…even though his family was poor, they believed in education.

Education, man, education! Y’know, that ancient Arabic word…Iqra…read…educate yourself, seek knowledge from the cradle to the grave.

I strongly believe in the education of the less fortunate. It’s lifted the children of cane cutters, trench cleaners, servants, and helped them join the ranks of professionals working in top institutions worldwide.

Obviously, Mr. Carnegie was devoted to the education of the less fortunate. He’s written books about it, about how wealth can be used for the benefit of humankind.

Aaaah, deep breath.

Now, open your eyes and imagine this.

Politicians and wealthy men and women investing in the best resource of all. Human beings. They believe in education for all, that it would help citizens everywhere enjoy a better standard of living…

Nice dream, eh?

Cynics scoff, but what do they know, and what have they achieved, eh? As far as I’m concerned, everything good begins with a dream.

Here’s another dream: I’d love to see towns and villages investing in books, in libraries and in community centers.

Have a happy two weeks until next time. Eat well, take care of you. Plenty luuuve, neena.