When I made the decision to leave my first marriage, I had a 4-year-old daughter and no job.
My ex, in an attempt to scare me into staying said, “It’s hard out there, you’ll never make it.” Fortuitously, my county library system was looking to open a new branch in my community, a rural area 50 miles due south of Nashville. Designated to be in the old Bethesda School, I applied for and got the job. In the beginning it was part time and over the course of a few years, grew to full-time.
Imagine starting a library! Choosing the layout, choosing books from a state clearinghouse of books an ordering new books and planning programming for both children and adults. A labor of love. And my daughter’s elementary school, the new Bethesda School, was just down the hill: She walked up after school with her friends, I would seat them at the front table near the circulation desk. I provided a snack and then they would all finish homework and play until picked up by their moms, my friends, from their work. We were a village.
It became a “Cheers bar for women,” a place where they could congregate to discuss books and even get emotional support. I led an exercise routine a few mornings a week on the reading corner rug.
Programming included an annual Halloween maze in the shelving, father-daughter date night, bicycle parades, Weight Watcher meetings, really an open book for me to be planning-creative.
Book group b-day 
Reading corner 
Summer programs
Before all of this, when our children were toddlers, my friends and I would meet regularly at P’s round kitchen table to coffee chat. We rued that the community needed to provide for its less fortunate, so once ensconced at the library, with the approval of my supervisors at the main library in town, I opened “The Corner Closet,” a food and clothing pantry, which was very well-received and appreciated
My librarian job was a life-line, a perfect way for me to be accessible for my daughter and to grow my confidence, after being out of the workplace for a while. I thrived there, until after several years, I started getting restless again. By that time, though, I was equipped to move on. Jesse was entering high school and self-sufficient enough for me to return to emotionally intensive teaching. Still, I taught at her school and was there for her, which was pretty much only when she need money!
Thank you, Bethesda Library.
