I was raised in a remote West Texas ranch house 12 miles from town, and I attended a four-room school house. At the rear of our classroom was a shelf of books. That was our library.
My deliverance came while accompanying my mother on her weekly shopping trips to the nearby county seat where I had access to a library.
The “Library Lady” loved me and made an exception to policy; I was allowed to check out a brown grocery bag full of periodicals in addition to a paper bag filled with books.