A sad day where I come clean

Three years ago, I was still in Brooklyn acting as caregiver to my father during what turned out to be the final months of his life. I had a lot of time for reading and the book,Unorthodox: The Scandalous Rejection of My Hasidic Roots by Deborah Feldman was recommended to me. It wasn't available at my home library (and certainly not as an e-book), but it was available at the Brooklyn Public Library. My dad told me to dig into his wallet and find his library card. Using my dad's library card, I tried to request the book online. It wasn't accepting his card.

Dad was living in a rehabilitation facility in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn. Once he was cleared to go out for "walks," one of our first outings was to the nearby branch of the BPL. We were informed that the library had gone to a new system of library cards. Dad applied for and received a new library card. The first book "we" took out was Unorthodox. I was once again a part of the public library system that contributed to my love of books - and libraries - as a young girl. Sometimes I'd bring Dad along with me when I'd visit the library. Often, I'd request the book I wanted online and would quickly swing by to pick up the book after spending way too much time looking for a legal place to park in Bensonhurst. I could request books from other branches and within a day they'd be ready for pick-up at the New Utrecht branch. What could be better?

After Dad died that August, I remained in Brooklyn for a few more weeks and continued to gobble up books. When it was time to come home, I had two different e-books from the BPL on my (new to me) iPad. And I continued to use the Brooklyn Public Library as a source for library e-books.

Until...  yesterday. I went to download Lilac Girls which I had out on my iPad from the BPL to my phone. Error message. Tried again. Another error message, but this time it was more specific. It let me know that my dad's library card had expired. Oh no! So sad on so many levels. As I used my dad's library card over the past three years, I felt connected to my dad. He was always so proud of me for becoming such an avid reader. (Unless you are a reader who is the parent to a non-reader, that probably makes no sense.) He was so happy to be able to reconnect me to his beloved library. One of my dad's final gifts to me had come to an end. I miss you so much, Dad!

And of course, my "in" with a great source of library e-books is severed. But in the scheme of things, right at this moment, that's feeling kind of minor.