The following is a story told to me by a fellow prison librarian. Since I liked it so much I decided to share it. Two of the best library patrons I ever had were two older men I called the library angels. I can’t tell you they had always been angels. Obviously, they had both committed crimes that led to a prison sentence. But after many years of incarceration, they presented themselves as polite and respectful human beings. One night these men started coming to the library every night, where they would sit quietly on the floor among the library shelves and put the books back in order. Obviously the inmate library clerks who were getting paid to work in the library were so grateful, and we all just started calling them the library angels, and the name stuck. At that time, the shelves were often in disarray because of shortened hours, the library being extremely busy, a computer crash that lasted for months (so we had to keep paper records of all circulation transactions), and other factors. I also think they enjoyed having a quiet activity to distract them from prison life. Both these men were well-known and well-respected in the small community at that prison, but not because they were shot-callers or muscle-bound or selling contraband or anything like that. They were respected for their wisdom and their kindness. One was a Native American man who had a gentle demeanor and told some good stories. The one who was respected for his kindness was known throughout the community for capacity to give gifts and expect nothing in return. These two men were actually friends, which is pretty rare in prison. A lot of inmates have associates, but friendships are less common. The kind man was also known for his walking. The yard at this prison had a 1/8 mile paved track, and this man would walk around the track in the mornings and the afternoons. He had a long beard and was tall and thin, so he was easily recognizable from any of the living units’ windows surrounding the track. Everybody knew who he was and called him by his first name or simply "the guy who walks." In the summer, he got very tan! He also read books while he was walking, and I guess he must have read a lot of them over the years. One day he brought a map to the library and showed me where he had walked. He explained that he was recording all the miles he walked during his incarceration and was tracking his progress on a map of the U.S. that he had carried with him all this time. He told me he had taken a detour to visit his friend’s reservation. These are just two of the very interesting characters I have encountered while working in a prison library.