I hit the library yesterday to do some ‘Net surfing and emailing, only to find it “canceled” like so much else. It was open and minimally staffed, but had the air of a haunted house. Patrons could check out and return books, but the banks of library computers were shut down (“until at least March 31,” said the signs), chairs were removed from all the carrels and upturned on the long reading tables, and the ever-present din of children was absent.<\/p>\n
I never thought I’d miss the shrieks of rugrats, but I did. The place was a freakin’ tomb.<\/p>\n
They “allowed” me and my laptop in to use their wifi, but “only for 10 or 15 minutes,” according to the only librarian on the floor. Because of you-know-what. The shutdown wasn’t local, but system-wide. Dozens of libraries in multiple counties; every library in a sprawling interlinked system, open, but barely functioning.<\/p>\n
I pondered why it was safe for me to be in the building for 10 minutes, but not for 20. I silently questioned which medical or epidemiological standard dictated that while it was unsafe for me to be in the building, it was perfectly safe for the librarians to be there all day with people going in and out. I wondered how the poorest of the poor people in those dozens of communities were supposed to complete their school work, do their legal research, keep in touch with their families, or perform whatever other tasks they usually do on those public computers.<\/p>\n
I cynically supposed that laying off librarians due to Covid-19 was more a financial measure than a health measure. (The ‘crats who made the shut-down decision were the same gang who, last year, closed our local library for five months, on zero notice, due to an “emergency” they’d known about for five years. It was part of their dishonest attempt to permanently close several of the smallest town libraries without naming their real intent.)<\/p>\n
But of course, sneaky bureaucrats and cost-cutting aside, shutting down for fear is one of those political choices with perverse incentives. There’s no reward for keeping a public facility open (bleeding money), but plenty of incentive to “do the right thing” by limiting services to “protect health.” Never mind that there’s not even a case of the virus in our county.<\/p>\n
The actions of a small-town library system are small potatoes compared with so much else that’s going on in the world. But this seems a microcosmic example of how the world has lost its head.<\/p>\n
This morning the librarians told me I’m not allowed to be in the building at all except to pick up and self-check-out books. (But there’s a bonus! I can make photocopies for free because they’re not allowed to touch any coins I might try to hand them.) <\/p>\n
They also say tomorrow the place will probably be closed “for the duration of the crisis.” <\/p>\n
Well, at least that will end the less-than-Solomonic splitting of this particular baby. <\/p>\n
I’m sitting outside posting from my car now. It’s cold and spitting snow, so forgive me if I don’t take enough time to find and include most of the links I intended or if my proofreading is less than perfect.<\/p>\n
—-<\/p>\n
Yesterday afternoon I found the shelves of the town’s one grocery store stripped of all disinfectant wipes. And where shelf after shelf of toilet paper normally sits, there was one lone package. At least customers weren’t fighting over it.<\/p>\n