A few years ago I fulfilled a rather simple but meaningful life goal: I placed a Little Free Library in front of my house. This minor bucket list acquisition took a little bit of doing. After all, it’s not as if you can just go to Costco and buy a Little Free Library. plunk it near your sidewalk and you’re good to go.
As a kid I was an avid reader, a regular at the Shasta County Library, previously located on West Street, just a few blocks from our Chestnut Street home. That building is now the Shasta County District Attorney’s office. Thanks to the library, our home had lots of books. The thing is, we didn’t own the books. They were borrowed. The first book that was all mine was a Bible, which I still have, a gift from an elderly neighbor, Mrs. Norgaar, who took my mom, my sisters and me under her wing. One year she invited us to join her and her family for a fancy Thanksgiving dinner in her elegant dining room. Although the actual food was a blur, what I most remember were the incredible table settings with gorgeous china dishes, polished silverware and starched cloth napkins. I believe my lifelong love of vintage dishes and pretty tablecloths can be traced back to “Grandma” Norgaar’s early influence.
“Grandma” Norgaar circa Aug. 1962
At any rate, that Bible was my first new book that wasn’t a borrowed library book. Even my beloved Nancy Drew books were secondhand, a gift from Magnolia Elementary School friend Laura Hugo, who unbelievably passed her old books onto me. I still have those books, too. (Thank you, Laura!)
All this childhood nostalgia is to say that I grew up ultra aware of the importance that children have their very own books. And that’s what inspired my desire to place a Little Free Library in front of my house.
Acquiring a Little Free Library
I found this website that describes in detail the history of the Little Free Libraries.
Here’s an excerpt: “In 2009, Todd Bol of Hudson, Wisconsin, built a model of a one room schoolhouse. It was a tribute to his mother; she was a teacher who loved to read. He filled it with books and put it on a post in his front yard. His neighbors and friends loved it, so he built several more and gave them away.”
Last year, more than 200,000 Little Free Library book-sharing boxes were identified in 128 countries worldwide.
In Redding, Little Free Libraries are made possible because of a collaboration between First 5 Shasta’s Reach Higher program, Redding Rotary, the City of Redding, and Shasta Woodworkers members, who construct the libraries from materials donated by Sierra Pacific Industries.
The Reach Higher website lists 92 Shasta County Little Free Library locations, which isn’t a complete list, since some Little Free Library folks (like yours truly) have opted out of registering their Little Free Library address. It’s been four years since I first reached out to First 5 Shasta for information about securing a Little Free Library. I learned the organization had a few Little Free Libraries available, which I could pick up at McHale’s Signs, which had built several of the Little Free Libraries. It’s been a few years since I received my Little Free Library, so those who are interested in getting a Little Free Library should contact First 5 Shasta for updated information.
My Little Free Library was raw wood, with a thin primer coat, which I painted Tiffany box blue and black. I also wallpapered the inside of the library.
I hired a handyman to roof the library with real composition shingles. He then secured the library to a sturdy platform attached to a thick, pressure-treated 4-by-4 wood post, which I also painted, and added my house numbers, just so there would be no mistaking whose house sponsored the library.
My Little Free Library was a misnomer of sorts, because it soon became a $1,200 Little Expensive Library when my handyman dug the hole in which concrete would be poured to hold the post firmly in place.
I believe his exact words were, “I think I hit your sewer line.”
He was correct.
Let me pause now to share a piece of unsolicited advice: Call 811 before digging any holes on your property. Had I called 811 prior to digging a hole for my Little Free Library I would have learned the exact location of my old clay sewer line, and could have adjusted the placement of my Little Free Library a few inches in almost any other direction to avoid the pipe. I do marvel at my ability to choose a location that was directly over the sewer line, which makes me think perhaps I could go into the business of water witching, in the event this journalism gig doesn’t work out.
Since that experience, I am a big believer in making an 811 call for anything deeper than planting tulips. The 811 system is efficient, and the workers are experts at locating and marking underground sewer, water, electrical and gas lines.
You’re welcome.
The silver lining to that sewer line fiasco is that the plumber was able to install a nice long section of new plastic (or whatever it is — maybe PVC?) pipe, which was an improvement.
Soon, a new hole was dug, the post was set and my Little Free Library was nearly ready for visitors. I went to thrift stores and stocked up on books, mainly for kids, but got some grown-up books, too.
One unexpected bonus was I had a sudden ongoing supply of books for my reading pleasure. I read the books, and then return them to the library when I’m finished. I’m currently reading The Art Thief by Michael Finkel, and so far, so good.
I take my job as the Little Free Library caretaker very seriously. Job No. 1 is I make sure the library is always stocked with books. At Christmas time I placed miniature cellophane wrapped candy canes inside a pretty jar. My granddaughter left inside the library and at its base her hand-painted rocks with sweet messages like, “10/23 If you take this you are loved. Have a happy Halloween. Sorry for the smears I’m a lefty.”
In springtime, I placed a pretty basket on the wall beside the library and filled it with lemons, a bounty from my prolific Myer and Lisbon lemon trees.
“Help yourself!”
I’m the kind of person whose closet is organized by color, so of course my Little Free Library was curated with the kids books on one side, and the adults books on the other, according to size, big to small. I periodically remove any religious tracts or Bethel School of Supernatural Ministry textbooks. I figure that if someone wants a Little Free Library packed with religious reading material, they can make one themselves.
Through a layered screen of shrubbery and plants, my office window gets a veiled view of my Little Free Library, though people can’t see me from the sidewalk. What joy I feel to hear kids talking excitedly about books! “Look, dad! A dinosaur book!”
Sometimes, those moments nearly move me to tears.
It wasn’t long after installing my Little Free Library when I found myself moved to tears — and other emotions — for different reasons.
The first time was when two women walking a pair of pit bulls stopped by my library, pulled out bags and stood in front of the library for several minutes. I couldn’t see exactly what they were doing, but I had a bad feeling about it. As soon as they left I rushed outside and looked inside the library. Sure enough, it was empty, with the exception of a few thin magazines. I was pretty fired up about it, so I walked briskly in the direction they’d headed, and found them around the corner, lugging their heavy loot. They turned around when they heard my footsteps. My head of steam evaporated into a cold sweat when I took a look at the women –central casting’s ideal actresses to play female roughnecks — and their muscley dogs, which stared at me, as if ready to rumble. I chickened out, and continued past them, as if I were just out of an afternoon stroll.
“Have a nice day!”
I later told my friend about it, and he guessed they were stealing, then re-selling the books. So I ordered custom stickers, which I place over all the books’ USB codes, with the words, “Noni’s Little Free Library. Take a book, leave a book. NOT FOR RESALE.”
Noni? “Noni” is my grandmother name, which I chose more than 15 years ago before the birth of my first grandchild. It rhymes with Doni (though Italians correctly pronounce Noni with a long ‘o’). My primary goal was to head off any unacceptable grandmother titles, like Mee Maw or Granny, or, like my departed friend Jan — who had a tiny grandmother and a larger grandmother, which designated one grandmother with the wince-worthy “Big Grandma”.
The thing is, I discovered that most Little Free Library thieves probably don’t take the time to flip the books over and check for cranky sticker messages. Twice I’ve seen cars far newer than mine screech up in front of my LFL, and in both instances a well-dressed woman exits the car with an empty box in which she places all the books, except magazines, and then quickly hops in her SUV and speeds away.
Blows my mind. Every time.
One day during the holidays the entire jar of candy canes disappeared. And a few weeks ago, the basket of lemons disappeared, too. Not just the lemons, but the entire basket, with all the lemons. Plus, every so often, when I check on the LFL, I find it in a state of great disarray, with books jumbled in a disorganized topsy-turvy mess, as people pawed through the tidy display of books without any thought to returning it as they found it.
These were low moments in my LFL days, moments when I became so discouraged that I sometimes wondered whether I should continue with the library. Here I was buying books, only to have them stolen, or mistreated. I even considered investing in one of those birdhouse cameras, to place inside the LFL, but that felt a bit voyeuristic. However, I did rig up a system with a literal chain attached to an old colander for the free lemons, which kind of messes with my FLF’s friendly aesthetic. If someone really wants that rusty colander, they’ll need bolt cutters.
There’s a reason I haven’t given up on my Little Free Library. My reason boils down to the fact that my Little Free Library is visited by far more good people than bad. This Little Free Library reminds me that although I’m aware the world is made up of givers and takers, I’m pleased to report that according to my LFL experiences, there are more giving, grateful people than selfish assholes.
For example, I often open the LFL and find it absolutely packed with book donations of quality books. And for a few recent weeks someone left white envelopes with flower seeds inside. A neighbor left a thank-you note that said her husband had a medical condition that required fasting, and he was using lemons in his water, and she was appreciative of the fresh lemons.
But most of all, it’s kids’ happy reactions that inspire me to keep stocking books, despite the occasional LFL setbacks. I confess that sometimes, when I look through my office window, I could swear that I sometimes see a scruffy girl of about 10, delighted to find a Nancy Drew book, basking in the elation that comes in knowing she gets to keep it as her very own, perhaps for the rest of her life, if she wants.
Who knows. Maybe she’s the daughter of a woman with a pit bull; perhaps a woman who stole books for her kids.
I could live with that. Maybe I should borrow a page from my granddaughter’s book, and send a message of grace and goodwill, no matter the quantity of books removed from the Little Free Library, and no matter why.
If you take this, you are loved.
I’m working on it.
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