What in the world would we do without our libraries? - Katharine Hepburn
The other day when I was browsing the shelves in the library I happened to hear a young man at the checkout desk say, “Oh, I don’t have a library card.” Casually, like it was nothing. It stopped me short. I had to lean around the bookshelves and stare at this poor man, and, too, at his little boy by his side, clinging to the man's pant leg. No library card? To me, that would be like saying, Oh, I don’t breathe. How can you live like that? No, really, how can you survive?
One of my favorite places in the world is a library. Whenever I travel to a new town, I try to take a little time to find the local library and stop in. Every time I visit one, the moment I walk through the door, I can feel myself start to relax. It's like dropping in on a friend, you see.
All the libraries! The huge, airy library in downtown Minneapolis with its garden on the roof. The tiny library snuggled by the police station in Boyceville, Wisconsin. The New York Public Library, guarded by its handsome stone lions. Magnificent libraries in Madrid, London, Paris, dating back centuries. Huge university libraries, tiny storefronts, stately giants, lovely brick colonial libraries. They're everywhere - and now there are even miniature libraries by mailboxes and on front lawns, offering their treasures to passersby.
When I moved to Menomonie, my first and most important errand was to get a new library card. After years of change and footloose living, this was the place I wanted to settle: to marry here, raise my kids here, grow old here, and stay for the rest of my life. When I opened the door and walked up to the checkout desk, I felt like I was walking into my new home. And, in a way, I was.
It's a beautiful building, my library. Looking out over Lake Menomin, it's a labor of love by many people over many years. It's always busy, humming with activity: teens doing homework, toddlers playing or being read to on laps, tutors teaching children to read. There are people everywhere: hunched over laptops, lost in newspapers or books, working together on projects, gathered in the community room for classes and meetings. You can find your neighbors here, finding refuge from the cold and the noise of the world, basking in its warmth and safety. And, of course, you can explore row upon row of bookshelves, every book holding its own stories and secrets, just waiting to be discovered.
What a treasure is a library. What a blessing! They're the heart of any community. They're a bedrock of free speech and a refuge from noise and clamor. They're a garden of imagination to be savored, and a resource at hand more personal than any online website. I've basked in their hush, read (and sometimes dozed) in their comfortable chairs, pounded out essays on their keyboards and sat through lectures and town meetings with my neighbors there. Never once have they disappointed me.
Cynics might say that libraries are going out of style, but I don't see that happening at all. If anything, the parking lot is fuller than ever. They've kept up with the times, offering movie nights, book clubs, after school kids' programs, and summer outdoor music performances. They're not stodgy or out of date - they're as vital as ever.
But behind that buzz of activity lies a cold truth: libraries across America are under siege. Funding for libraries has been steadily decreasing, and many libraries have had to cut back staff hours and eliminate programs to stay open. To me, that's a travesty: not just an insult, but a threat to free thought, literacy and democracy itself.
There's a happy ending to this story, by the way. That young man, it turned out, had come in to get a library card, so he could check out books for his son. The last I saw them, they were headed for the children's area, with his little boy running ahead of him. Happy reading to you both, I thought.
Today happens to be not just Valentine's Day, but Library Lovers Day. May I make a suggestion? Sometime soon, take time to stop by your faithful local library and refresh your spirit there. Browse the bookshelves. Check out a movie. Look over their programs and events. You could even make a donation or sign up to volunteer. And, oh, for heaven's sake, get a library card if you don't have one (how have you lived this long without it?). The librarians would be delighted to help you.
Here's to that treasure, our libraries - and to the wonderful, hard-working staff and volunteers that keep the lights on. Let's do whatever we can to protect them and keep them going strong.
Comments