Weeding again. I guess people don’t read anthologies as much as they used to. Maybe they didn’t ever read them much. We have a lot of them in the library that are sitting on the shelves collecting dust. Good ones, too. Some very odd ones. Like fiction about farm communities in the Mid-West. We are not in the Mid-West. Needless to say, there wasn’t much interest in that one. One that I found that looks pretty neat is called Reading Rooms: America’s Foremost Writers Celebrate Our Public Libraries with Stories, Essays, Poems and Memoirs. There are sections in it on Small Town Libraries and City Libraries and Laughter in the Library. I’m a little afraid to read the section on Librarians. It seems like everyone has had a bad experience with a librarian and those impressions must be memorable. Ah well. I haven’t read much in the book yet. It’s the kind of book that I can’t read methodically, rather I need to taste bits of it here and there and dip into it at random. E.B White’s poem reminds me of the times I used to go to the Boston Public Library reading room while I was in graduate school. I loved the hush. Everyone was working or reading. There was coughing, paper’s shuffling and chair’s scraping, but it was still so quiet. One of my all time favorite places.