Joyce Valenza’s Neverending Search

I found myself crying in the flooring section of Home Depot this weekend.

Dennis and I were walking around looking for materials for a renovation project when I was stopped by a big, strapping guy in his thirties with two boys, around seven and ten.

“Joyce Valenza,” he said. “I’m Thomas O’Malley.” He turned to his sons, “Boys, this is Miss Joyce. When I was your age she was my librarian at the Lawncrest Branch. She was always so kind to me.”

The boys seemed unimpressed. Nevertheless, my eyes welled up. There were so many children I served in that small branch twenty years ago.  I did remember Tom, but I am shocked that he remembered me.  He was a regular visitor, but wasn’t one of my storyhour or Vacation Reading Club kids.  But then, you never know the kind of ripples you start.  And there are days discovering those ripples makes all the difference.

On Friday night I was trying on readers in Steinmart’s.  A woman, who did not herself need readers, stopped me.

“You were my librarian in 5th grade,” she said. “Remember?  For American history, we researched ‘We Didn’t Start the Fire.’  We made a timeline that stretched across the walls of our classroom.”

Her friend said, “Yeah, I remember you too.  You served my little sister green eggs and ham.  I was in your storytelling troupe.”

When the young women continued, “You haven’t changed a bit,” I started balling again.  I looked down at those readers in my hands.  I knew that I had, but maybe not so much.