Ask Me. I Might Know.

1991.  I begin work in the Feilding Public Library, juggling opportunity and motherhood.

2026.  A differently branded place, but I am still here!

You’ll see me around.  That’s me, the one with grey hair wearing a badge on my lanyard saying “Ask me. I might know.’

Reflecting to the beginnings I can still hear the clack, clack sound of the of the old Remington typewriter used for typing out catalogue cards. Inky fingers straightening out twisted typewriter ribbon. The letter E annoyingly sticking all the time. I see varnished wooden catalogue drawers housing the thousands of cards stacked on top of one another like a multi-story building.

Back then, in those vintage days I looked forward to after school hours helping children with research for homework.

‘So, you want information about whales?’

Ask me.

I do know.

599.5

An ocean of books about whales. ‘Here you are! You choose.’

Fail.

It is the country Wales they are after.  I should’ve fished for more information.

Can’t get it right all the time. That’s why, only - I might know.

I remember the whirr, whizzes and birthing pains of our first computers trying their best to connect to this thing called the internet. You could almost read a chapter of a book while waiting for a connection and another chapter while waiting for pages to load.  That’s okay. We did not know any different back then. How they were the catalyst for change, how fast everything would become.

Somebody recently asked me, “How do you keep up?’

‘I don’t know really, continually I just try...  It’s all pretty whizzy-do, isn’t it?’ I add, half joking.  I think whizzy-do encompasses everything MCHL has on offer.

Looking back again, I remember some of my favourite people.

Mrs K, the Barbara Cartland look alike.  Entirely always dressed in pink with matching lipstick that veered off course. Plonking her pile of Mills and Boons on the counter, opening each page to the date due label ready for stamping, she would say (with a wink) ‘This is the only love I get nowadays you know dear.’ I marvel at the power of books to bring whatever it is a person needs. All these years later as I shelve Romance books my thoughts swing to Mrs K.

Mr M was part of the furniture. After popping out back for a short chat he would then make himself comfy on the same chair at the back of the library every day. One day he didn’t show up, the next day he didn’t as well. No Mr M today, and we worried. He never ever came again. Afterwards, that chair was always invisibly marked as Mr M’s chair.  Of course it has since been replaced. The space has changed but any empty chair at the back of the library reminds me of him.

Mr D, an avid Western reader always looked a little scruffy. One morning he came in neatly dressed in a suit and tie. ‘You’re looking very spiffy today, Mr D.’

‘Oh yes, I’m just off to bury my wife.’

Trying to choke out sorry words, I really felt for him. You do because, in a stretch of 35 years you hear snippets of people’s lives they share with you.

Happy stories, sad stories, they all matter. Happy ones can be so simple and refreshing. As simple as joy spreading over someone when you find a book that they’ve been so looking forward to getting their hands on. Shiny eyed pleasure on the face of a child getting their very first library card.

Those things might not seem like a big deal, but to me they are. They are why I am still here.

Those kinds of things will never change. They will always make a mark. Ask me. I know!

Feilding Municipal Library.

Manawatū Community Hub Libraries (MCHL) provides services at Te Āhuru Mōwai.