According to the American Library Association, there are
17,566 public libraries in the United
States. That’s more locations than
Starbucks. Public libraries receive
about 4 million in person visits per day, 1.5 billion per year, or 2,554 per
minute, so by the time I finish writing this sentence another 5,000 of my
fellow Americans just went to the library.
These days going to the library isn’t just about the books, though
that’s the majority of what folks read or peruse or borrow or research in the
stacks and shelves of our local bibliotheques. (That’s French for “library”, which I learned
at the library.)
Library patrons also surf the net. If you lack access to
high speed internet or just need help with the computer, the library’s often the
place to go. The homeless seek warmth
and shelter within those walls too. Curious kids carry oversized piles of
colorful books and plop down in a sunny corner room for a quiet afternoon. Local authors plug their latest books. Frequent road trippers like me check out
books on CD for long car rides. Seniors
read the newspaper. Public forums on
everything from frogs to fascism to fashion happen within that space too.
The public library may be the most democratic of civic institutions
left in the United States. At a time when distrust of anything “public”
or supported by government funds is at an all time high, it is right and good
to remember the miracle of that little brick building tucked away on Main Street or that
soaring edifice in the city center or a simple one room edifice on a quiet
rural back road.
The public’s library.
The “public” means that everybody is welcome, EVERYBODY: no
exceptions. As common repositories of knowledge and information, art and
literature, new magazines and dusty old manuscripts, libraries are secular
cathedrals of wisdom, open for all and free for all. Doesn’t matter if you are a high powered genius M.I.T.
researcher hunched over mathematical tomes or a squirmy toddler clutching his
very first book.
That is unless you live in Roseburg,
Oregon, a city of 21,903 folks in southwest Oregon, the biggest city in Douglas County. Voters there last fall rejected a measure to
add $6 a month on to their tax bills, to keep open the county’s eleven public
libraries, including the one in Roseburg. The sign at the front desk of that library
says it all. As of June 1st, “All services will cease.” According to a May 13th
New York Times article about the
demise of that public library, the shuttering is due to fervent anti-tax,
anti-government sentiment among county citizens. Twenty four hour law
enforcement coverage has ceased in Roseburg
too. Jails are severely under funded and non-violent offenders are routinely
set free. Elections are at risk too: no one to pay the clerk. The irony is that
the county property tax rate is actually sixty percent lower than the statewide average.
Yes, the citizens there have the absolute right to de-fund
practically everything “public” I suppose.
That’s democracy too. Makes me
wonder what’s next to go? How about street lights, road repair, ambulance
service, firefighting, maybe even public schools?
But a place without a public library? I just cannot fathom this truth, and all to
save just $96 per year, per citizen. When the “public” is no longer “public”,
when cynicism and anger against all things government reaches this kind of
fever pitch, we are in very, very big trouble as a people. Not just in Oregon. Every where
across the United States. Democracy is only as vibrant and alive as the
commitment of the folks who are “the public” in “the public” to be “the public”.
That’s you. That’s me.
That’s all of us.
So instead give me the sign that graces the front desk in
the new addition at one of the crown jewels of American public libraries, the
Boston Public Library’s central branch downtown. Walk through the Boylston Street doors at the BPL and
there, emblazoned for every one to see, is this simple welcome: “Free to All”. Okay, not really “free”. Citizen taxes pay for the library, and
companies and corporations too, along with private donations. But finally the
public library is free to all, because the public supports the public and then all
of us pay our fair share. Together. All
in for all, the public.
That’s the way it is supposed to work.
So maybe I’ll see you at the public library. I’m the one reading the French to English
dictionary. Dieu merci pour la
bibliothèque publique!
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