The local library has been an intricate, if not an essential, part of my life for as long as I can remember.

Growing up in small towns across Eastern, North Carolina, the libraries’ parking lots doubled as the gathering place for special celebrations. Often, there wasn’t another site in town large enough to hold the crowds.

Even though I was just a child when the Vietnam War ended, I still recall the morning when the citizens in the town where we lived, welcomed back a prisoner of war in the library’s parking lot. It was a gorgeous, early spring Saturday morning. A local construction crew had hammered together a makeshift stage near the front door for the event. My Dad and I got there early and found a spot to the right of the stage in front of the knot of people who had all ready arrived.

The former prisoner of war was a hero to the crowd that had filled the library’s parking lot. We clapped and cheered as he stepped onto the stage. He was wearing his dress uniform with his hat pulled down only a few inches from his eyes and a pair of dark aviator glasses. He was a tall man, and he looked unnaturally thin. I’m sure several months had past since he had eaten a good meal.

The celebration didn’t last long. Our hero admitted that he wasn’t much of a public speaker, thanked the townsfolk for coming out, waved his hand high above his head and moved back a few steps. The mayor made a brief remark and told our hero we were grateful for his service to the country. The mayor presented our hero with some type of plated gold medal and shook his hand. I went home that day with images in my mind of the horrors that man must have witnessed as a prisoner in a foreign land. I was thrilled he was home and away from the atrocities of war.

As I grew older, I developed a fascinating interest in books and the local library became my second home. I would find a chair near the back wall, sit there in my own world and read for hour upon hour. I was so captivated by the books I was oblivious to what was happening around me. Many days, I wouldn’t leave the library until the librarian flashed the lights, signaling it was closing time.

My passion for local libraries and the well of learning they offer to children and adults is one of the reasons I’m deeply disappointed in Wake County’s proposal to close Garner’s branch to help ease the budget shortfalls. Several years ago, when I was a full time employee for the Garner News, I spent a lot of time at the Garner library, doing research work for my articles. The staff was always friendly and eager to help if I had a question. You know, if the county goes through with their plans to close the library, I’ll feel like I’ve lost an old friend, and it hurts me to see my friends treated like that.

I want those of you who have so avidly protested the library’s closure to know that I’m proud of you and grateful for your efforts. You are the local heroes. Thank you.