Derby Public Library, Derby, Kansas

Just ten miles south of Wichita is the small town of Derby, Kansas. According to Wikipedia, Derby is a suburb of Wichita, which I suppose is technically true, though in my mind it stands as its own separate entity, only related closely to Wichita due to proximity. It never occurred to me that Derby could be a suburb of Wichita, especially since growing up it was always a completely independent town. In my humble opinion, a suburb should at least be "attached" by even the thinnest industrial, commercial, or residential property (not including farms which are, by very definition, largely unincorporated), so Derby really isn't a suburb of Wichita in that regard. We've got space between us.

Growing up, I spent almost zero time visiting the little towns outside of Wichita. My best friend's paternal grandma lived in Augusta, my maternal cousins lived in Park City for a spell, and my junior high friend's father's family lived in Mulvane (I think??), so I tagged along on trips here and there, but there was no real reason to visit the outer bergs. Well. There was one reason. But I hardly knew my father or his family, so Bye, Bitches. And your Park City, too. Not to be a snotgoblin, but Park City's redemption story begins and ends at Cracker Barrel's doorstep. (They have the only one in a hundred miles.)

By my flimsy definition above, the small towns of Park City, Bel Aire, and Valley Center truly are suburbs...and Andover is just one shopping structure away from building that last link. It's hard for me to think of Wichita as anything other than just Wichita*, which is why it why it was so hard to understand the triplespeak of fellow college students from places like Chicago or Kansas City who would introduce themselves, for instance, as Brad-from-Kansas-City-well-technically-Lee's-Summit-and-no-not-on-the-Kansas-side-yes-on-the-Missouri-side-and-God-I-wish-I-was-attending-Mizzou-and-no-I-don't-want-to-talk-about-it. I realize this is how most of you big city folk understand the world, but for some of us, our town is just, you know, Town.

*It should be mentioned, with the Tightest, Twisted Lemon Face manageable, that Wichita contains within it a troublesome little tumor called Eastborough. This polyp, wart, ingrown hair, reabsorbed twin--pick your image--became its own, separate city back in the 30s. The Wikipedia version tells a cute little story, but skips the part we all learned through hearsay (which could be a lie, but doesn't feel like a lie, and isn't that what we're basing our "facts" on these days??): Rich bitches didn't want to pay Wichita taxes. Is this the real reason? Who cares. What we do know is that it is almost 100% white and affluent. If you are new to Wichita, you could easily pass through Eastborough unaware that they drop the speed limit to 20 mph and lay in wait to hand out tickets like bitter, mean-spirited candy. Back in the 90s (or thereabouts), Eastborough put up barricades to keep evil, speed demon Wichitans off of their streets. They didn't stay up for long since the same barricades had the completely unpredictable side effect of keeping Eastborough's residents in. Eastborough is tiny, less than a thousand people, but they do what they can to be different, what with the fancy black and white street signs and mega speed bumps that would send a speeding bus into the stratosphere. I believe with my whole heart that Wichita sold the commercial space directly outside of Eastborough to developers of the biggest mall in the city on purpose and for spite.  

Echo echo echo...

Derby, on the other hand, was always a place on a map. I knew of it because all the tornadoes trying to murder us had to pass through one of the outlying towns first. And this has happened, to disastrous ends, since people first settled here. Nice, flat land. Windy sometimes. 

(It may seem crass to joke, but that's how some of us deal with darkness. I wouldn't feel nearly as justified if I hadn't been one of thousands of schoolkids who repeatedly had to gather out in the hallway and put my head between my knees and cover my head while listening to the sirens scream outside and a few of my fellow classmates bawl uncontrollably in terror for themselves, sure, but more so for their moms, dads, and beloved dogs left out in yards to live or die at the whim of a tornado's turn.)

I am not sure what Derby's identity was all about back when I was growing up, but now it seems to be firmly writ in red, white, and blue blood on a mega Statue of Liberty wearing a majestic cloak of the Constitution. One of the main thoroughfares has been named Patriot Avenue, and the major streets feature extremely patriotic bunting and flags to make it 100% crystal clear that this is one Good, God-blessed American town. And you can take that to the Ever Bless-ed BANK.

Derby has every right to be hometown and country proud, but they should explode in a crystaline rainbow of shining, egomaniacal light over their lovely Derby Public Library: a clean, pristine oasis of modern comforts in a new, shiny box. I loooooved this library. Everything about it made me hum with joy.

First off, the parking was ample. I mean, ample in the over-the-top, we have land to give away, let's have Woodstock here except we'll call it Derbydoo. And that's what the Derby Library is all about: Embrace the Space. When you walk in the front doors, you get a sense of the scope they were aiming for: towering and abundant. To perhaps counter the awesome scale, there are lovely, library-centric quotes scrawled across the walls, and some of the stacks are arranged in classic visual merchandising displays most commonly seen in bookstores. 

My favorite part of Derby's library was, by far, the amazing amount of seating for patrons to work, study, read, and lounge. The ever-present "desk loungers" were empty, but that may have been more about location than anything, since they were located right behind the computer bays. But Derby has a phenomenal assortment of choices, from long worktables, to group worktables, to weird swastika cubicles...that...I'm sure...weren't, errrr. Purposely swastikan? 

In any event, I was able to set up and write for quite some time. There was the usual noise of kids tumbling in after school--and a Real, Live, Genuine Librarian Shushing, which I enjoyed immensely--but I was able to focus and feel accomplished at the end of the day.

Derby is definitely at the top of my list for return visits. Some would consider it far to go to get some writing done, but my perspective is forever out of whack after the first leg of my trip. I drove many, many miles to visit libraries all over those cities. Getting to Derby from my mother's apartment takes about 30 minutes (15 miles), but I drove over an hour (55 miles) to get from my LA-area AirBNB to the library in Hollywood. The Derby Public Library is definitely worth the trip!