To be serious (not for long, I promise) I talk up libraries all the time. I do that because, as many of you know and have been bored hearing about, I was an Air Force brat. The first thing I'd do in every new town was find the nearest library. Where I'd essentially set up a cot and a pillow (near the water fountain so I'd have someplace to brush my teeth when I got up) and move in until my folks had to pick up, per the United States government, and move again. Love, love, love libraries
One of the nicest compliments I ever received was from a soft-spoken librarian. I was signing some books for her when she told me my books never seem to make it back to the library. What, they'd get lost halfway?
Kind of, she replied. Readers always stole them. "Nobody ever brings a Betsy book back," she told me, trying to hide her alarm at the way tears welled up in my cynical eyes. "They just never make it back." Like in that movie Vertical Limit! Sometimes the mountain killed the Betsy books, like it tried to kill Chris O'Donnell's sister, Robin Tunney!
"Um, no, not like that at all," Shy Librarian, who was quickly being renamed Nervous Twitchy Librarian in my head, replied. "More like...I have to go."
She dashed off (super secret librarian business, probably), but I always remembered what she told me. I should have gone into stern scolding mode upon hearing some of my readers dabbled in petty larceny, but I went into touched weeping mode instead. There was something wrong with my eyes. Probably a recurrence of pinkeye. It was an infection, not proof I'm not dead inside.
Anyhoo. Head over to my FB page to find out how you can reward, or punish, your local libe with the awesomeness that is the Betsy books.