“What a great place this is!” I said to myself. “Right here by the door before you even go in there’s a box with books that says ‘Take some free.’”

And then you go in, and in the entryway there’s a shelf of books that says, “Take some free.” They’re really promoting books!

And then you go left into the library itself, and the lights are on and the temperature is just right, and there are books everywhere, and displays, and tables and chairs and magazines and computers, and the Librarian going off to lunch, and Wes manning the desk and running the show.

And you pause, looking left toward the special area where they have rows and rows of books for sale cheap, and CDs and DVDs, and you’re looking for Hillerman books because you want to find and buy some to take home because you’ve been recommending them to Kristina, having told her the story about how you discovered this wonderful author and you want to share him, even promoting the movies they’ve made about Joe Leaphorn and Jim Chee and crime on the reservation.

You’ll come back later to look, and you go up to the desk where Wes is sitting and you get out your library card and tell him you got an email reminding you to come in and renew your card, and you hand it over. And he takes it and says, “Let’s see what we can do,” and he presses some buttons and hands it back and says, “There, renewed, ready to go.”

And you chat. You remember him. He remembers you. You tell him how glad you are to see him again because he’s friendly and welcoming and manifests those qualities of this library, and he thanks you and you blather and he lets you go on, and on.

You both talk back and forth about libraries and reading and kids choosing books to go beyond the “required lists” in school, and his early choices centered around science fiction, and you said, “Mine too!”

And I went on about how when I taught elementary school, fifth grade, and later high school, we’d read one from the school list, and then I let them choose their own to read and report on for full credit. I wanted them to make a case for their choice, arguing like a lawyer for why the book was worthwhile and I should allow credit. And how one student in high school wanted to read a Hillerman book. I didn’t know Hillerman, hadn’t read him, was suspicious that maybe he was just the pot boiler of detective trash. “Oh no,” he said, “he’s really good. And this one book is about a young Indian on the reservation, about my age, who’s a long distance runner, and I am too.”

I OK’d the choice, and had to remind myself not to be so straight-laced judgmental, not to look down on something before I even knew about it. I thought I should find out what the kids are reading these days, and I checked out the Hillerman book from the library.

I started to read it, and immediately knew, “This is good! Really good!” And I read it all, and got another Hillerman book, and then another, and read through the whole shelf and thanked my student.

And that’s why I was looking for Hillerman to bring him home to my Daughter.

I thanked the Library again for hosting the poetry reading a while back, where a bunch of us shared what we’d written, some published. I met some nice people.

A guy came in and set up his stuff at a table, laptop and whatever, and got to work on his project.

Another patron came up to the desk, I backed off, paused my ramble, and let him check out a book.

I went to the sale section and discovered with delight that they had made it easy for me, arranging the books by alphabetizing the authors.

Kellerman, but no Hillerman.

Then I looked at the DVDs for sale to see if there was a treasure, some old movie not available on Netflix or Amazon Prime or Youtube, but no luck, not this time.

And I looked at the sections of books grouped by category, mysteries, no Hillerman. And a rotating wire rack of paperbacks, no Hillerman. I almost gave up. But I can be stubborn, determined, and I finally found a little shelf of random paperbacks, and one Hillerman, A Thief of Time. Fifty cents.

I had two quarters, fished them out, took them to the desk, handed them over.

I was ready to leave, sat for a moment with my walking poles by the magazines to rest a bit before braving the street. I could just see and partly hear a gentleman at the desk deciding he wouldn’t get a library card because he would hardly ever use it. More discussion, and Wes won him over. I admired his persuasive salesman technique and thought, “If I had a business, I’d hire him.”

I was leaving, turned back, dug out a piece of paper, took out a pen from my pouch, and went back to the desk.

“I’m not good at remembering names, Covid didn’t help, but I’m ready to write it down so I don’t forget your name.”

“Wes,” he said.

And he spelled it, “W-E-S.”

I wrote it down and put it in my carry bag with the Hillerman book.

“I’ll be back, Wes, W-E-S,” I said, and left happy.