I miss a library that is safe without demons from the Obama nor drag queens.. why are evil people allowed to defund libraries and pay for sex surgeries of foreigners and not pay for libraries? shame is great in this day in age.. shameful life is..

As many of you know I use to live in the library during the day light hours of the 1980s. I spent my time with Lewis, Tolkien, Rice, before it became cool or interesting to the masses.

On a trip between Montana, and North Dakota I visited a rather large library on the plains of North Dakota. The library looked like a bank built in the 20s. I got to spend a few hours there by chance due to the family and car troubles. I rapidly found an ole favorite the Hobbit in the back of the library of course where the loners usually just enjoy the peace and quiet. I quickly read through the first 200 or so pages stopping where the dwarfs were imprisoned prior to their release by Bilbo.

Just when the dwarf’s prison doors were to be opened; knowingly, since I had read the book a few times before a book popped out the shelf and fell open next to me reading the Hobbit. Humor how life happens at times. The book was something I had not read nor touched before Harry Flashman. Odd that the book definitely was not categorized by the author last name nor title of the book for a library category. So I was unsure why it was here. Putting it in an older boring colored Hardcover caught my attention. Grabbing at it instead of pulling it from the self it went back and made me jump as a click, and the whole shelf swung against me as if a door opening. When at that point, the shelf pulled open with my hand.

The librarian was no where to be found. I believe she went out forgetting me. So with no one to stop me, I pulled the door open. There on the floor was a pill of envelopes, and from the light from a window over the chair I was using, I could see a light from a pull string light. Bending over reading the address, I was the majority referred to a Mr. Babsy. Humor someone’s Hemingway hideout? Who knows anyway pulling the chain lighted a small room. A table, what looked like a still? The pill of envelopes and a small looking medical gad was what I could see. Being venturous I went through the envelopes. Which had wonderful 20s stamps all addressed to Babsy? Trying to figure out why their presence was there I noticed a mail drop between the back against the door.

Well, I guess if someone was to hide a room a library was as good in a place as any. What surprised me most were the lack of dust. Any ways moving across the room, I started to review the books from the table. The first was a ledger accounting it seemed of a business operation of medicine? No I suppose after seeing a liquor bottle. There in the ledger were small towns that appeared in North Dakota, South Dakota, Montana, Illinois, Minnesota, and other little towns that I recognized from my travels with my mom since the split up of my folks. It seemed these were major illegal operations built on the plains of North Dakota. Sort of like the Kennedy’s moon shine hold in Havre, Montana. Looking at the next book it seemed like a personal diary. Last date 1929 written about a Mr. Babsy and venture of moon shine. The journal was given by someone's Limburg for a birthday gift to a Major Babsy. Reading the dairy about Mr. Babsy seemed to be in love with someone. He had it bad. Seemed obsessive to appoint that I realized I had never fallen head over heals in love before. It seemed to detail that Mr. Babsy was a local that was planning to take and make himself a rich person.

Humor he even gave some detail on back accounts and politicians a few of them; I heard about from history class. One name I saw I did not expect was my great grand father. Well, I knew the righteous stories on how he made it in flax in the 40s. Seeing his name there made me wonder a bit but life is a mixture of chance opportunities. Anyway venturing into the boxes one contained several old medicine bottles labels peeling with age and odd color liquor look inside. Another box had a letter on it without an envelope. Opening the letter which was addressed to someone whose name I had heard in the old folk’s home where my great grandfather lived. What a small world we live in. The letter was telling him that if Mr. Babsy might never come back; from reading the content the letter it was sort of a last will and testament from Mr. Babsy. The letter went into how several small communities were being used, and their libraries were being used to store medicine, etc. Opening the box under the letter, there were roughly fifty thousand dollars in twenties the year 1920 stamped on them. The box looked half full. Humor what one expected and what one gets are two things. I closed the box. Thinking I needed to talk to my grandfather prior to doing anything. I took the dairy, 20 dollars from the box replacing them with a 20-dollar bill my father gave me on his recent visit to me. My parents of course being separated tried to buy my love at times. I also toke the letters unopened. Pulling on the chain the light chain broke while closing the self backward. I went through the library. I pushed the shelf back into place. I went to the door. Humor the librarian had locked me in with a note saying she was out for lunch. Well, life happens so I went to the rear to my seat and begin another time the Tale of there and back again. Later in the evening, the librarian awoke me by turning on all the lights, and my mom was calling my name.

There is an always a time to remember things. I was not back to that area for sometime. Shelf wise I expected the librarian to find the or see the room and something to be written about it in the news. But at age 10 I visited the library again because a cousin had passed away in a kayak accident. That was a spooky time. If I could have recorded my aunt terror cry at the funeral, I could have made a mint in horror movies. Her cry was that of a broken heart in pain. Anyway at the library I checked and the room opened again. Nothing was touched. At this point, I was more greedy and the backpack I had been given. I filled with the money, ledger, and a few bottles of liquor. I closed the room and checked an old book out author Rice's book on the planet Mars and was off to listen to my family remember Stevie. The howl from my aunt cries still ringing through my ears. Death is something to live with. That was my 11th funeral in so many years of living. Any way hiding the money and stuff was hard. My mom was observant lady thus I had to hide it in the camper prior to her seeing me with the backpack. In those days, we rode in a Chinook camper a home on wheels.

So I hide the loot in a closet in the camper. The envelopes in the selection of books and the money in a board game that I topped with a shirt. The bottles went through the toy box with the toy soldiers. Being young with a hidden source of money was to affect my life in new ways. What do you do with ole money to a reservation town of Popular Montana? Experiences were often and difficult with a very strict mother, but the was still there. My first attempt for fun was reading the letters. The initial letter again with a story a bout a young farmer kid saving man off the east coast from a ship wreck. The adventures described made me want to run away and started my reading anew in adventure books. The boy saved the man, and the man gave him the world, and he could afford to eat out at locations and have physical fun that only a farm boy could dream about. Partying with royalty, sleeping with women of interesting character