A thread. Today in an interview I was asked why I’m being such an ass and harping on about the supposedly gold-plated library.

It was at that point that things got personal. I had to reveal very personal about my childhood.

Read on.

#yxecc #yxevotes #yxe #saskatoonlibrary

When I was nine I went to the library one summer when we travelled from Alberta to visit Saskatoon. We went to the Frances Morrison library.

It was magical. All. Those. BOOKS.

That summer afternoon I read books about dinosaurs. I read books about big trucks. I read books about pipelines. I read books about oil. I read books about Richard Nixon.

It was the happiest day of my young life. It was glorious.

But then we had to leave. And I had to leave behind the books.

No!

“No”, I cried. “I don’t want to leave the books behind! I LOVE THEM!”

And before the adults’ huge, grasping hands could catch me, I shoved the books under my shirt and ran for the door.

Down the stairs, two at a time. I was swift and slippery like oil through a pipeline, like electrons in a nuclear reactor. I spun, I deked, I dodged.

And then, just as my hand hit the cold glass of the main doors...

The Librarian.

The HEAD Librarian.

She was fast. Like a turkey.

Her gnarled, clawed hand snatched at the back of my shirt, twisting it tight until I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

“Pardon me, young man,” she said. Her voice was hoarse and raspy like the sound of a book being torn in half down its spine.
“But I don’t think those books belong to you.”

“Y-yes they do!” Tears welled in my eyes. “They’re mine! They’re MY books!”

The Head Librarian’s cold eyes narrowed behind her reading glasses. “No they are NOT! Now hand them over!”

“NO!” I screamed and —

I’m sorry. I can’t go on. It’s too painful. All I’ll say is that she hauled me back into the library and stood me in front of everyone and

AND SHE MADE ME GIVE BACK THE BOOKS

I WAS SO EMBARRASSED

I WANTED TO DIE

I THINK I DID ACTUALLY DIE

Afterwards , on the ride back to the hotel, sitting in our family station wagon, the vinyl seats making my butt all sweaty, I swore — I SWORE AN OATH — that if I couldn’t have those books, THEN NO ONE WOULD HAVE THOSE BOOKS

AND HERE WE ARE... forty years later and I have my chance. I have my chance to destroy what was denied me. I have my chance to destroy what they think is beautiful. I have my ch — no. I have my OPPORTUNITY to stop the gold-plated dream library and HAVE MY VENGEANCE!!!

And now you know.

Now you know the real story.

This isn’t about . @charlieclarkyxe
This isn’t about . @stoonlibrary
This isn’t even about BOOKS

THIS

IS

PERSONAL

and I won’t be denied.

This was not creepy in the least.