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Revisiting some of the reads that in some way helped shape this columnist
Scott Woods
Before I was old enough to take on the duties of a proper latchkey child, my mother would abandon me at libraries. Her babysitter of choice was the Main Library Downtown, where I could pretend to spend at least half of the day at the nearby Salesian Boys Club, socializing with actual children. In truth, I spent most of those Saturdays — not mornings or afternoons, but whole days, Dear Reader — wandering the library’s aisles, mostly fiction, picking up whatever caught my eye.