I’ve always loved libraries. Both my parents loved books, and our house was chock full of them. Growing up in Baltimore, at an early age (perhaps ten) I was taken by the hand, driven to the nearest branch of the Enoch Pratt Free Library, and introduced to the mysteries of a real library of organized books, rather than a couple bookshelves of miscellaneous books. It was love at first sight. By the time I was twelve, I regularly walked to and from the Guilford Branch of the Pratt. It was only a mile, and children regularly and safely walked the...
