Date: Saturday, February 28, 2015
Company: Brea Library Writer's Group (Kaleo, Ned, Christy, Rita, Carol, Patty, Emily)
No matter how beautiful the library's architecture, no matter how
exquisite the furnishings, the art, and the displays, in the end, it's the
books that get you. As I walked through the Cerritos Library,
my mouth dropped open at the grand designs and costly technology, but after a
few minutes, my eyes were drawn to the shelves, devouring the titles. Art
shouts for attention, but books have more sticking power, for they hold the
promise of knowledge, of adventure, of long lost childhood days...
* * *
The first thing that actually caught my attention, after stepping
out of the parking lot, was the gnarled trunk of an oak, stooped onto the
ground, practically begging me to climb it. So I obliged.
.jpg)
The Cerritos Library was an imposing white structure embellished
by titanium sheets stacked like gold brick. This contrasted to library's the
soft curves--a theme which, I later learned, would be continued inside. Statues
and fountains gathered at its feet. One glance, and we all knew the splendor of
the Cerritos Library ground our tiny city library into the dust.
Then again, the Brea Library didn't come with a $41 million
dollar price tag. Nor do we charge $100 a year for non-residence to obtain a
library card.
The neighborhood around the library included a sculpture garden,
a high school, and Heritage Park, where I used to play as a child. (Heritage Park is an absolutely amazing
place. Playground equipment is integrated into historical buildings. I highly
recommend it to anyone with kids.) We didn't have time to enjoy the park, but
we did stroll through the sculpture garden, which was just across the parking
lot.
It took us a half hour, but finally, finally, we stepped into the
library. We were greeted by a photography display called "Symphony of the
Universe" by Larry Kim. Stark desert boulders stood out amid starry
cerulean skies.
The colors perfectly complimented the full, wall-sized aquarium
that heralded the children's section.
"Whoa," I said.
"That was the reaction I was looking for," Kaleo said.
Kaleo and his wife Patty had been here before and would act as
our group's guide throughout the day. They began by pointing out palm trees
that sprouted around the entrance way. They were real trees but no longer
living. They had been dehydrated.
The Cerritos Friends of the Library were having a "sidewalk
sale" inside (due to the faint possibility of a drizzle) and had set up
long, plastic tables stacked with old books. These tables were about the only
cheap furnishing the library had. I was pleased to see their used book
selection wasn't much better than ours. Christy cracked up over a book titled Don't
Die Broke.
Next to the sale was the Reading Room, a very brown place whose
old-fashioned sensibilities deliberately contrasted with the modern look of the
rest of the library. The grandfather clock and the newsstand look of the
magazine section made me think of the Victorian era. But a second glance had me
sensing a subtle Asian theme. The exposed, crossed beams of the magazine
stand's roof echoed the structure of a shinto shrine. Jade green lanterns
embellished the wood.
After browsing through the used books, we decided to continue our
tour by entering the Young Adult section. Although it had been decorated in
steel and Art Deco, it strangely reminded me of a 50s diner. The technology
room was inspired by succulents, because nothing says teens like ugly potted
plants.
Three touch screen computers, each as big as a flat screen TV,
were embedded in the succulent wall. There were also apple computers and a
table that turned out to be a giant tablet. The tabletop tablet only seemed to
have three programs, but we had fun playing around with the 360 astronomy app
and indulging in a game of group trivia.
All this was still on the first floor. We had two more stories to
go.
The second floor belonged to the adults. Swoops of glass gave it
a vaguely oceanic feel, and plenty of windows made it feel bright and open. For
the most part, though, the room was strictly business. It had shelves and
computers--so many computers. Research rooms were made entirely of glass and
had SciFi names: H.G. Wells, Jules Verne, Isaac Asimov, Aldous Huxley, and, for
some reason, Nikola Telsa.
Little corners of beauty met us at the staircase and elevator.
Artwork here, a ming vase there, a covered piano. The slitted windows teased us
with the view. We made it to the third floor, where they kept the stage for
lectures, presentations, and movie nights. Currently, it was home to an orchid
show and Hawaiian dance presentations. We stuck our noses in and watched the
show. Older women in flowered dresses swayed together and clicked shells in
rhythm of the music. We watched for a while and stuck our noses back out.
Constellations lit up ceiling; a rocket ship waited for lift
off. If you went inside a candy cane
striped light house, you could sit and read or stare out the portholes at the
fish in the aquarium. A T-Rex skeleton gazed hungrily at the lighthouse. We had
to go up and put our hands to the rock its feet were embedded into, and that's
where we found sliding square puzzles of various fossils. There would come a
time when three of us adults would pore over those puzzles, refusing to give up
until they were solved. Proving, I supposed, that you never really grow up.
And that would be the end of the story, except that one member of
our group, Rita, was late to arrive. We met her at Chipotle for lunch and then
took her back to the library to give her the tour all over again. But this
time, when we came to the third floor, the Hawaiian ladies were gone. We
stepped inside, drinking in the heady scent of orchids. The door to the balcony
was propped open.
Should we go outside?
Tentatively, we peeped out. There were chairs and tables and heat
lamps--and another person admiring the view. We took that as a good sign and
walked out. The air was slightly chill but clear--clear enough to see the white
mountains in the distance. Bushy-headed trees played peek-a-boo with
skyscrapers. No telephone poles. Cerritos had installed an expensive
underground cable system, so their denizen's wouldn't have their view blocked.
Rich people.
Sunlight glinted off the titanium paneling. I followed it around
the corner and stared into the library's courtyard. The fountains and statue
below were small enough to be a pendant on my necklace. My eyes drifted to a
mosaic statue of an open book, pages fanned. I smiled.
When all's said and done, isn't that the reason for the library?
