I was sitting at home last Tuesday night, quietly minding my own business with a pot of tea and a mediocre book when my gal-pal Jodie sent me an alarming text informing me the Belle Isle Library has been unceremoniously closed, attached with a picture should I need proof.
My already fragile psyche was obviously shaken. Many people know that the Belle Isle Library was my first true job, obtaining a work permit to hold an afterschool gig as a page, shelving books and setting up meeting rooms for close to five years. It was additionally the site of many youthful erotic exploits, some of which I have chronicled here in the past and think about often.