Casco Public Library

a cozy, welcoming and vital resource that encourages lifelong learning and exploration, cultivates community connections, and upholds intellectual freedom.

Petite but sweet, the Casco Public Library serves as a cozy oasis and a portal to the wider world.

Thank you to everyone who has donated to our 2017/18 Annual Appeal!

There are so many ways to support the library year-round:

  • Volunteer
  • Get the library something from the Amazon Wish List
  • Lead a group or event
  • Donate online

Annual Appeal: Your help means we can help everyone all year!

The library provides so much to so many and with your support we can continue to do so. For example, have you or someone you care about taken advantage of any of these?

  • Storytime
  • Lego Club
  • Film Nights
  • Meeting Space
  • Free WiFi 24/7
  • Access to computers
  • Printer, copy, and fax services
  • Books, magazines, CDs, and DVDs
  • Creative groups, book discussions, educational lectures

Check here to calculate how much library materials and services save you each year.

Need a little more library inspiration before donating? Check out what libraries do and mean to others in these videos found on Youtube via and writing pieces donated by the Lakes Region Writers.

Robin Williams (1996) doing a series of comedic riffs for the opening of the new San Francisco Main Public Library. Now what does your Maine library mean to you? Donate today!

The Cookie Monster learning about the library. Times have changed. We actually have a lot more than books. In fact sometimes, we have cookies!

The following has been generously donated for us to share by members of the Lakes Region Writers group.  Thank you to our writers and thank you to our readers. Please take a moment to think of what the library means to you and donate to help keep us going for another year.

Dearest Library

By Pip Richardson

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

Of all they shelves, each filled with sweet delight;

Fact, fiction, movies, books, poems, and plays.

I love thee for they programs and displays,

Thy information desk and internet site.

I love thy web access, meeting rooms and light,

Thy evening hours as well as days.

I hope that thy doors never meet the fate

Of many rural libraries that try,

On small budgets, to remain open and up-to-date

And must rely on generous donations to get by.

Thee, beloved library, my favorite place of late,

I shall but love thee better for thy will to satisfy.


By Gary Lewis

There was small village who lost

Its library from its budget moths

The solutions, its true

For us all, not a few

Just a buck each is all it would cost

It is the same for our town. 

By Gary Lewis

The fire station can save your home.

The local church can save your soul

The rec. center can save your figure

But only the library can save your brain.


By Hannah Brilliant

“What a good library offers cannot easily be found elsewhere: an indoor public space in which you do not have to buy anything in order to stay.” –Zadie Smith


I read Zadie Smith’s novel White Teeth during the two weeks at the tail end of my summer that I had set aside to do nothing but relax. But I’m a bad relaxer, so what that meant was that I devoured almost five novels in the span of fourteen days: White Teeth, The Emperor’s Children by Claire Messud, July, July by Tim O’Brien, Waiting by Ha Jin, and about half of a novel whose name I can’t quite remember and whose overly dramatic protagonists left me bored and wanting. That one went quickly back to the library when I returned from my break. Though the others were placed in the return slot as well, I’ve been daydreaming about them since. I daydream about Claire Messud’s New York and Tim O’Brien’s snapshots of Vietnam. I can’t stop thinking about Ha Jin’s communist China and about how little I had thought about it previously. And I can’t stop thinking about Zadie Smith’s London.

I lived in London when I was nine and ten years old. I attended a small British private school and lived in St. John’s Wood. To me, London was a fairytale. My father worked in the upper offices of Harrod’s department store and every day after school was spent sprinting from the toy department, down through the teen section, down again to handbags and leather goods, down into the basement where the marzipan animals lived, and all the way back up to the office on the fifth floor where the secretaries would give me lollipops and bottled fruit smoothies.. All that is to say that I didn’t really see London. Reading Smith’s novel reveals a city I almost can’t believe was mine. My memories have been frosted over with the haze of time. I almost can’t believe I really lived there, especially when I read Smith’s depiction of North London, of neighborhoods only a tube ride away that I never set foot in. And yet, and yet: Smith’s characters ring true to me. What they feel sometimes is what I feel sometimes. And that’s the thing about books. Differences exist but doorways can be opened and things can come through. Feelings and thoughts and empathy and understanding leak out from the spines of all the best novels I’ve read. Those sheets of paper, folded and glued and bound, they are windows to something more for me; not just other worlds but other existences, other ways of thinking. They make me feel, somehow, no matter how alone or weird or out of place I feel in real life, someone else is feeling it too.

That’s what libraries have always been to me as well. They are the one place no one ever expects me to engage in awkward small talk. They are the one place where quiet, independent thought is always encouraged. They are the one place where no one wonders why I’d rather spend my evenings with a book or movie rather than a crowd of other humans. I don’t think I’ve ever walked into a library and felt out of place, and I’m not sure I can say that of anywhere else in the world. And to Smith’s point: I’m also not expected to buy something. There is not that cycle of consumer expectation, followed by being overwhelmed, disappointed, regretful. There are no expectations, no shopkeepers watching your every move, waiting for you to make a purchase and leave so they can go back to their game of Words with Friends. It is a space to belong no matter who or what you are, because no money or explanations are required.


By Pam Peters

A building to greet the open mind,

to end an argument with facts

to satisfy the curiosity

to entice the lonely out of their sheltered lives

to entertain the toddler, giving Mom a break

to bring together individuals with a passion for…

writing, reading, knitting and weather sharing

to start the next great novel

or finish reading one.


By Pam Peters

Books in rows, learn the secret code

Find your interest or shop for a new one

Got a question? Find the answer

through librarian lips, words on paper or blinking screens.


Join with others to learn a craft or conquer a skill,

sending email to far off friends, polishing a resume or

finding that rutabaga recipe.


‘It’s raining!’ the family cries,

DVD’s to the rescue, along with picture books,

Harry Potter and that delicious mystery.

‘Just one more page.’ They beg after being put to bed

‘You can’t end now!’


By Mary Strain


When he was a toddler, we went to the library for story time.

Me, nervous and middle aged.

Him rail thin and wiggly.

I so admired that elegant high-heeled mother form up on Leach Hill.


The month I spent alone, with no cable and stacks of journals?

The library loaned hours of movies and yoga sessions.


When I couldn’t bribe him enough to read, the librarian helped persuade me that yes, listening to stories on tape would feed him.


Expecting my third child? That librarian asked

Have you heard about this?

And printed all the latest about it.


That Otisfield guy with the viral YouTube interview with himself?

Met him at the library.


My restless boy who loves to act?

Gave a ghoulish performance at the library Halloween, emerging from the casket.

Nourishing moments of glory for him.

“He may be curled up on the couch in back there, Mary. He does that sometimes,”


And that rich mesa of thought, those monthly Tuesdays. Extraordinary!


You mean they have books too?