Hi my name is Phil and I am a Biblioholic.

I really had no choice. Yeah I know we all have a choice, but the odds were stacked against me from the beginning. My mother was already addicted when I was born. She's a real mess now. She doesn't just read Lincoln biographies, or three volume series' on the the Civil War anymore, she's gone on to harder stuff, like train spotting, bird watching, and even genealogy. We tried talking to her, getting her to see a doctor, even just to watch a little TV but none of it worked. We finally had an intervention, but she's going to have to hit bottom and start scrap booking before she can get the help she needs.

For me it started with my mom. I remember her taking me on my bike when I was five years old to the local Carnegie franchise. Yeah, "Free Public Library" the first hit is always free. They even had a special room down in the basement for kids. It had it's own full time pusher, reading to you, smiling, and being nice. How is a kid supposed to resist something like that that?

Then came school. They actually started teaching us to read?! What were they thinking? I remember Dick and Jane. Poor Dick and Jane, I wonder if they knew what they were being used for? Where are they now? Some dusty boiler room living out their last days all alone in the dark, or worse yet in a landfill with all rest of humanity's waste?

I can remember wanting to live like Dick and Jane. They were always having a good time, always happy, smiling, holding hands and running together, we never did see them the day after, when they crashed. I don't see Dick and Jane running and jumping anymore. I'm just glad that the authorities finally took this meth problem seriously.

But none of that is an excuse for me. Why do I have library of over 1000 books and a garage full of countless unknown others. Why can't I park my car in the garage like normal people instead of searching through boxes for my next book fix. I should never have picked up that first book, with its brightly colored cover and all those pictures on the pages. That seems so long ago now that I sit here 30 some odd years later, a Librarian.

Just give me a minute.

I need to get this out.

I need to tell the story of how a once happy innocent child who loved to ride his purple bike and once walked to the corner grocery totally naked and was sent home wearing a grocery sack, while his mother read Tolstoy. How I came from that innocent begging to now embody the plague that has spawned the billion dollar publishing industry and clogged our networks with pointless ramblings and blogs.

You've seen how the journey began, but can you follow it to its end?


My name is Phil and I am a biblioholic.