Librarian

Librarian 1417 words

No one knows me really. What people see is a modern woman. On the surface I live like most single women do and I don’t stand out. My brown eyes, hair and quiet nature allow me to blend in. My truth lies within.

As a librarian, I can easily hide in my career which allows me to work around my beloved books. My main job description involves research of the past, which is how I like to spend time, anyway.

On the surface I am reserved and have few friends, and my life is quiet and unencumbered. I did have two romantic relationships, but these didn’t last. Inside my apartment, my domain is mine alone. That is why no one really knows me.

I can slip in and out of the last eighty years. Life was simpler then and that’s the way I prefer it. In this life, I am with my family every two weeks. Mom cooks a simple dinner of meat, potatoes, and a vegetable. We sit around the table relating to our daily activities and delight in seeing each other. Sometimes there is lull, but it doesn’t last.

“So how are things at work?”

“Nothing much but my new project is to teach a two- week class on how to use the internet to study one historic event.”

“Sounds as if you’d like that.”

“Yes, It’s in the newsletter for sign- ups. The best part is that each person can choose the event and year.”

“I’m looking forward to it. It’s called You Are There. Just hope enough people sign up.”

Dad interjects,” Well you’ll find out soon enough.”

“If you’re looking for a time and place, your grandma lived in London during the Blitz. I have some of her letters that tells what it was like.”

“Yes, I’ve read most of them. Have any more?”

When I return home, my safe place, I can relive any past part of history that I choose. It is comforting, at least to me. I have moved in and out of faraway places without luggage and back in time to clock in at the library. My apartment sits above a former bookstore that houses an old entry way to the basement. This is the portal I use to move into another era. It is a little unnerving each time I transition to another time, as I am momentarily disoriented until I am aware of my new place. I have learned so much by being immersed in the past that I choose.

Mom would often speak about her mother’s time in London, during the Second World War. Her letters told of her working as a secretary and being acutely aware of proximity to shelter. One of the letters said that Grandma met Mary Churchill in one of those shelters. It gave me an idea. My latest adventure is set in 1940, England during the Blitz. Mary invited me to spend time at Checkers, the Prime Minister’s residence at the time. Mary was only eighteen and into parties and horseback riding at other people’s country estates. I enjoyed spending time in the grand Medieval Castle that served as his residence and sitting in the Grand Parlor with so many important ministers and attaches. The only time we were in their company was during teatime, which was served every afternoon on China cups and plates filled with strawberry and vanilla cookies, and watercress sandwiches. Delicious fare and beautifully presented. Even though the conversations were guarded, we realized how stressful life was getting. During the evenings Mary and I visited the armories where the pilots were bivouacking. We spent several nights dancing with these young men and hoping to keep their minds off the bombing that happened more nights than not. Even in the worst of times, I felt young and adventurous. London was ablaze during so many of the barrages of bombs that rained down on the city and countryside. It was all very frightening and at the same time exciting to keep safe in one of the shelters.

I was amazed at how people of all walks of life had to protect themselves down in the bowels of the city when the sirens went off.

“There isn’t any privacy down here, Mary. Just sheets to separate the bathroom from the cots.”

“I know, but better to be down here than on the streets.”

Most had to get to work during the day. That year was not an easy one for the English. Listening to Churchill’s speeches on the radio helped bolster their resolve to get through those extremely tough times. He had a knack for telling the truth and still giving his people hope: “…I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears, and sweat…”

…Victory at all costs, victory despite all terror and hard the road may be for without victory there is no survival….”

Often, Mary and I saw the Prime Minister leave the protection of his home to visit the people holed up in the shelters. She asked him one evening, “Papa why are you going into the city during the bombing? Aren’t you afraid?”

“If I am afraid to be in the city, then everyone in London will be. I must show strength and resolve to stand strong.” Sometimes, we accompanied him, along with Clementine.

When I return to my current life, I keep feeling that I am living in a similar time. ‘Because of COVID restrictions, my life is controlled by others, but, in a different way, than the Blitz.’ It has Librarian.

a similar effect, though. We are restricted in being with our families and friends and told to avoid crowds. And stay home. We have no underground shelter to protect us because the elusive scare is still there, nonetheless. The Blitz was perpetrated by a group of people to fear, the German Luftwaffe, a concrete fear. The bombing of their planes seemed relentless. The world today would like to return to normal but, in both cases, we don’t know when the end will be.

So, I am going to go back to visit my friend Mary and continue to live in 1940 for a while. We are going to an annual Ball tonight. I just happen to have a formal blue dress that Mary is loaning me. My long, curly brown hair fits right in. When I am visiting Mary, I don’t feel the need to hide. I am young and eager to go dancing and enjoy myself. I brought heels and a fur jacket to wear for the occasion. I am inspired by the resilience of the Londoners because they continued their daily lives, as much as they could. As the driver brings us into London, we are saddened by what we see.

“Mary, I can’t believe that so many buildings are destroyed, and others are still standing.”

“Papa says that we must carry on. That’s all we can do.”

The British soldiered on, as they would say. I know that the bombings will stop, unafraid the British are prepared to continue indefinitely and not succumb to a German invasion, which they thought might come at any time.

When I am back in 1940, like my grandmother Lauren, time doesn’t move at all. I am floating and yet experiencing daily activities. We meet with the pilots at bases close to London to distract them from the war circulating around us. We danced with many men during the evening. One such pilot, Edward, with his rugged good looks and sparkling blue eyes, is attentive to both of us. From my grandmother’s letters, I realized something.

“Lauren, may I see you tomorrow, before I leave for my next assignment?

“Yes, Edward.

When I return to my present life, I cheat by rereading my grandmother’s letters. I need to see what she sees and feel the emotions she experiences during this tough time. Her letters are filled with talk about Edward and how they miss each other.

Then I must return to the present. Twenty people signed up for my class. I modeled the first paragraph for them to get them started. A hand went up. “Lauren, your description sounds so real!”

“That’s our aim here to bring the reader into the era and experience it like the person living there.”

Back in 1940, my cheating pays off as I sit huddled in the shelter, with my fellow Londoners, dreaming of Edward, and knowing the rest of the story.