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Effingham Fish
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My dad worked in a library for many years, as chief of security, which basically meant he closed the library and showed up when they called him to say that someone had used one of the elevator's trashcans as a toilet again or that a guy had been caught in the stacks fellating himself (both true stories!). It didn't pay much, and he got manipulated ruthlessly as a pawn between his boss and her boss (his boss' boss, if that was unclear), the two of which combined to make him resign eventually. But, he loved the hell out of it while he could. He was an MP while he was in active duty, and he's been a cop at heart ever since. Well, when he'd close the library, sometimes my little brother, Matthew, and I would go with him. The main purpose at the time was to play MUDs - think a text-based Everquest that doesn't suck ass - which we were both enamoured of at the time. What remained, though, was when I'd "help" dad check the stacks while Matt stayed behind. The lights had already been turned out, and the only light was his huge, black Mag-Lite, which was actually more than enough. Row by row, I'd follow him through as he shone his light down it to be sure some would-be book thief wasn't laying in wait. More than once, I'd point to a book touched by his light, and ask, "What's in that book, dad?", and always he'd reply the same, "Read it and find out, son."
So, that's what I do now, when I have a free day: go back to the library where he worked and wander the stacks (the only familiar part, all the rest has been renovated at least once), reading all the books I can, but mostly just savoring the smell of the potential knowledge and memories.
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