My grandmother died when I was 12 years old. Some of my memories of her are incredibly sharp, while others have become a bit more hazy in the decades that have flown by since her passing. But I do have strong memories of her walking me to the small branch library in the town where I grew up. There were mulberry bushes outside which would stain the sidewalk with their purple juice, and inside, books which were free tickets to far-off, magical places.
Libraries provide safe, inclusive places for youth, particularly for youth who might be, as I definitely was, different from other kids. I was nerdy, withdrawn, weird, a kid who lived for stories. I devoured books by the armful, and the library was probably the place I felt most comfortable. I always felt awkward and out-of-place, but not there.
My very first job as a teenager was in that same small branch library. Later, I worked my way through two university degrees working in libraries and archives. Today, my professional work as a folklorist, author, and storyteller still involves and revolves around libraries. I might still be weird, but stories became my life, and I wouldn’t change that for anything.
Those far-off, magical places I had only ever read about became, through my love and passion for stories, places I actually got to visit. I have read, performed, and researched stories in libraries on three continents, from tiny libraries on the Orkney Islands, to a jam-packed school library in Story City, Iowa, to the magnificent Openbare Bibliotheek Amsterdam - the largest public library in Europe.
A young colleague of mine, as I write this, is in Amsterdam.
“Go to the public library,” I urged her a few days ago on Facebook, “it is pretty amazing.” If she goes, and I hope she will, she’ll be one of the 2.5 million users and visitors who enter its doors annually.
Wherever, whenever I travel, I seem to end up in libraries. In Dublin last November, the highlight of my trip was my visit to the Trinity College Library to see the Book of Kells. Previous to that trip, returning home from a heritage conference in Digby, Nova Scotia, I made a co-worker drive back to the airport with me via Halifax, solely so we could see their amazing, jealousy-inducing new public library.
Not everyone gets to do this. Not everyone gets to travel, or visit far-off libraries in places as exotic as Stromness or Story City. Trust me, I know what this makes me: it makes me privileged. I recognize that, and I try, honestly, to acknowledge and remember what my own privilege means.
Yesterday, it was announced that our short-sighted government plans to close more than half the public libraries in the province, and to eliminate 64 much-need jobs, most of them in small communities. This is happening in the province with the worst literacy rates in all of Canada.
And so, when I see people far more privileged than I attack libraries, I get angry. Because it isn’t about cutting costs or being more financially responsible -- it is an attack by a privileged class on the very people who need our help, those people who depend on libraries: new Canadians, rural families, seniors, low-income peoples, youth, job-seekers, readers with low levels of literacy, the list goes on.
A librarian friend here in the province confessed to me privately about her job: “It's terrible, knowing how hard I worked for this, because it's all I've ever wanted to do.” Another told me how the library in her town is being shut down, in spite of the fact that is is well-utilized, with a large variety of programs for young and old. In that instance, her public library has been open in the community for 70 years. And I’m hearing from librarian friends that they found out about these job cuts yesterday from patrons and from media first, not from their employers. One found out about the cuts while at the grocery store at lunch, returning to work only to receive her notice. The chair of one library board was blindsided by news of the cuts from a reporter phoning her first thing yesterday for her response.
One librarian friend sat in her car yesterday and cried.
A museum colleague on the west coast of the island told me their library has been in place since 1955. “It was through the library our museum was born,” she told me. “It is a vital part of our community and very well used. We are slated to be closed.” They are not within 30 minutes of another branch, so anyone without a car is simply not going to be able to walk to their local library.
Somewhere in this province there is a weird little 12-year-old kid whose grandmother isn’t going to be able to walk him to their library anymore. That makes my heart ache. Libraries allowed me to discover who I was; in many very real ways libraries turned me into the person that I am now. I feel sorry for that weird kid. And I’m angry about those who simply do not care about, or want to understand, what libraries mean to him, and to me, and to those who need them most.
A museum colleague on the west coast of the island told me their library has been in place since 1955. “It was through the library our museum was born,” she told me. “It is a vital part of our community and very well used. We are slated to be closed.” They are not within 30 minutes of another branch, so anyone without a car is simply not going to be able to walk to their local library.
Somewhere in this province there is a weird little 12-year-old kid whose grandmother isn’t going to be able to walk him to their library anymore. That makes my heart ache. Libraries allowed me to discover who I was; in many very real ways libraries turned me into the person that I am now. I feel sorry for that weird kid. And I’m angry about those who simply do not care about, or want to understand, what libraries mean to him, and to me, and to those who need them most.
- Dale Jarvis, 28 April 2016.
The Newfoundland and Labrador Library Association could use your help.
You can read their open letter to Cathy Bennett here,
or click here to take action to save our public libraries.
UPDATED: here is the list of the 54 libraries on the chopping block.
You can read their open letter to Cathy Bennett here,
or click here to take action to save our public libraries.
UPDATED: here is the list of the 54 libraries on the chopping block.
