I had just been telling someone about the old board game Mystery Date. The premise was that each player (girls, of course), had to assemble an outfit that matched the date (a guy, of course: the game was originally issued in 1965, after all). The date was chosen by twirling the plastic doorknob and opening the door. I found the commercial for it on YouTube: "When you open the door, will your mystery date be a Dream?…or a Dud?"
On our weekly library visit, I was surprised and amused to find this Mystery Date display. The blue poster says "Love thy library." Each book was wrapped for Valentine's Day, with a puffy heart sticker and the bar code of the book on the outside.
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On our weekly library visit, I was surprised and amused to find this Mystery Date display. The blue poster says "Love thy library." Each book was wrapped for Valentine's Day, with a puffy heart sticker and the bar code of the book on the outside.
Ready for a mystery date?
Check something out from this display!
Red wrapping — Adult
Pink wrapping — Teen
Purple wrapping — Children's
I thought this was a hilarious game and a great idea. For someone else. But lately I have been telling myself: find the story. The only way to find the story is to take the next step. If someone is crafting something on the street, stop to ask questions. If a mystery book is on the shelf, check it out! I was wary. I'm reading many books. I don't have time to read a book I'm not interested in. Why did I think I would get a Dud? From its size and thickness and flexibility, I picked a trade paperback and checked it out. The checkout slip listed the title, but I did not recognize it. I still thought it was going to be something like Family Recipes for a Happy Life or Ways to Please Your Man or something equally silly.
I brought it home.
I opened it up.
Let the Great World Spin: A Novel by Colum McCann
Neat! Fiction. A book I probably never would have discovered on my own. I began to read. The prose knocked me out. The characters gripped me. Each chapter was its own stand-alone story that revolved around New York City (I'm only on page 86 out of 349 at the moment). I was glad I had decided to go ahead and take the risk. But if I had thought for one second about who had picked the books, I would have smacked my forehead: librarians. Librarians picked the books. Librarians love books and love reading. Of course they would choose books they felt were worthy, books that they loved. I should have been more trusting. The Mystery Dates would all be Dreams!