In the back of my mind were questions I imagined will come from people uncertain about the cost, labor and overall effort involved in something as huge as this restoration project. If someone asked me, "What's the point of saving an old building?", what would I say? I asked my colleague Zan Popp, associate curator and archivist how she would answer the question.

"We preserve buildings because they're historic. For their historic value. Because they are architectural works of art." I played devil's advocate and said, "But why not take a picture? Why not document the place, then tear it down and make room for something new and modern?"

"Because there's something about being in a space that is entirely different from simply a visual reproduction. Pictures lie. They don't tell the whole story," she said.

"True. An 8"x10" photo of the interior is nothing compared to being inside walking around. All my senses were activated. Sound and smell. Acoustics. I would rather stand on the stage and listen to my own echo than read a list of dimensions about achieving high-quality sound," I added.

I asked Brea Black, one of our Special Collections librarians the same question.

"Economically it makes sense. Sometimes it's too expensive to renovate, but for the most part historic buildings can be successfully upgraded. Another thing is the emotional element. Can you imagine how upset people would be if we tore down Topeka High School? And it decreases urban sprawl. I mean, think about it. In the 80s White Lakes Mall was all the rage. Then came Wanamaker. We keep building and building and vacating useable spaces. Kansas is full of space, but we don't need to use it only for property development. Downtown Topeka wouldn't be so dead if we didn't keep moving and expanding and vacating."

"Oh my gosh yes." I said. "I know green is the buzz of the moment, but I've always felt strongly about using existing buildings over and over. Reinvent their purpose. We constantly move the center of town. It's not good enough here so we move it somewhere else. People adjust and inhabit and then it moves again. It's almost obsessive-compulsive. Like we have no patience anymore. I think that's one of the strengths of this site.The Library represents a center which didn't disrupt or disband its community when it renovated."

I think sometimes people forget the human element of place. A few weeks ago on This American Life, Ira Glass spoke with Dennis Wood, a cartographer who's mapped his neighborhood. In addition to a locator map for streets, he's created a neighborhood map for how light falls through the leaves of trees and one for which houses display pumpkins during Halloween. He's mapped the neighborhood graffiti and frequency of neighbors appearing in the local paper. As Ira Glass observed, "he's creating maps that are more like novels. He's trying to map everyday life."

That's how I feel in a historic building. I feel all five senses working. My imagination fills in blanks for events which preceded me, and to reproduce these experiences for someone too young to remember a place and too late to experience its existence is impossible. I mean, would you rather know your best friend's children or look at their family pictures on Flickr? Historical documentation is extremely important, but it isn't the same as knowing a space after spending time within its walls.