
Today I met my friend Nancy, a Coronado resident, for
lunch (I recommend the Gorgonzola Tartine) and a tour of her
library (I recommend everything).
This library was originally a small building (see above photo) but has been expanded out several times. The last one incorporated two 1938
Alfredo Ramos Martinez fresco murals. Originally, they were painted on the walls of Orange Avenue restaurant
La Avenida Cafe, and transferred to the library in the early part of this century. "El Dia del Mercado" incorporated several cafe doorways, and the Coronado library's front desk was designed around these same spacing parameters. (Check out photo below).
While browsing the stacks, Nancy and I came upon a series of signs with arrows and the word "
Playaways." Like good sheep we followed the arrows, and arrived at a shelf of single-unit audio book players. Which are pretty darn cool, because you'd never again check out a CD only to find it scratched. The
San Diego libraries don't have Playaways. Coronado's one up on us.
This library is so geared to its small community that it doesn't just take suggestions, it has a suggestion notebook. Patrons write out their opinions and staff then type them up along with a response, and print out and incorporated them into a notebook. My favorite suggestion came from a patron who asked that markers be put back on the rose brushes out front, because "there is one rose bush that I just love, but can't identify". The library staff responded that this idea had been discussed in the past, but has not yet been enacted. I love small towns!
Nancy asked that I mention the "library neck" that seems to afflict a good deal of patrons in libraries the world over. Its symptoms include squinting eyes, a slumped chair position, and a pronounced tilt to one's neck as they devour their tome. I'm not sure what's to be done about it--computer use results in a similar affliction of "telescope neck"--but I'm sure there are worse problems to have.
Pictures:

(El Dia del Mercado.)

(Canasta de Flores.)

(The teen area. Since it was early afternoon, this section was dead.)

(After the library, Nancy took me to Jim Morrison's childhood home.)