From the Archives | Dear Mr. Wilding

Facebook's On This Day reminded me of this today... 
Six years ago, I was a fledgling library-girl. I was 19, working part time as a page at South Cheatham Public Library, the library that will always have my heart. There was one patron who was a favorite of all the staff there. He was invested in my education, and particularly rooting for me to get to library school someday. Dear Mr. Wilding, If you could see me now.



Dear Mr. Wilding,
It seems like not that long ago that I was signing a get well soon card from all of us library ladies for you.
It seems that they neglected to tell me that you weren't getting much better.
If I had known, I would have written this all to you sooner, while you could still receive it.
I wanted to tell you, that I was accepted at Bryan.
I couldn't wait to have you back at the library again, so I could tell you.
I knew that you'd be proud of me.

I remember the first time I met you, I wasn't even working at the library yet.
You were there telling stories, when I returned some books for my mom.
It was the middle of the day, and you asked me why I wasn't in school.
I told you that I was in college... and for some reason, that was hard for you to believe.

I remember all the stories you've told me.
about working in the labs with mosquitoes,
and sailing with your kids,
about caving exploring...
Some day, I'll tell my children about you.
I'll tell them those stories.

You were my favorite Mr. Wilding.
Curmudgeonly though you were,
I was always very pleased when you,
my favorite of the Three Interesting Men,
came in for a book.
Because, even though you may have given the other ladies a hard time when it came to finding a book,
I know that you were really a softy at heart.
You may make a face at that statement, (and boy could you make some beautiful faces)
but I know this for a fact.
'cause you were genuinely concerned when I wrecked my car,
and made sure that I was getting a good one when I replaced it.

in fact,
the last time I saw you,
you told me to get home and take care of my cold.
then preceded to tell me that if my car continued to make that clacking noise there might  be something wrong with the...timing belt was it?
I'm gonna miss you Mr. Wilding.
Thanks for making my life so interesting.

Sarah the library girl

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