The Library: Now

Wanting to do research on a topic, I figured the Central Library of this burg was the best bet in scavenging information.  A small, spiral-bound notebook came with me, as did a working pen; I looked forward to solid information, hopefully something on the history of this city from the early 1900s.  Pushing through the door, it was as if I had walked into a big box store with a blue light special.  What on earth?  It turned me into a 80 year old curmudgeon whilst the young people played and scampered about, not one of them holding a book.  Logging in on a computer, you must type in your card number, and then jump through numerous hoops that save No Information meaning you have to type and retype search criteria every time the page flips.  Okay, computer wins, but I found a few numbers to scout for in the stacks.

I get the books and sit at an empty table.  At the computer station at the far end is a mother, wearing a summery outfit, meaning hardly anything, and her young, maybe seven year old son is getting a loud lecture from Craycrayville.  "You can go look around, but if anybody grabs you, you must scream...just scream and scream, do you understand?  Scream my name, scream Mommy, just scream, I want you to do that.  Now go away."  The little boy clung to her a few minutes until he realized she had dissolved into the monitor, and went away, coming back with a few adult books, since the children's section is too far away for any screaming to be heard.  He sat and read and twisted and of course was bored and so started a one sided conversation with his mother, who apparently had promised a trip to a store if He Was Good at the library.  She started talking back to him "No, you can't do that, what's the matter with you, I told you I was busy and have to do this,  the number isn't coming up, where is the number, this computer doesn't work.  Why are you bothering me?"  He manipulated her into a conversation with threats of misbehavior and she fell for it and I thought good for you, kid.  She should have thought this out better.

She got fed up, can't take you anywheres, and dragged him down to the information desk to find out why the computer wasn't working.  A library assistant came over and explained that the computer resets at each page so all she had to do....but she wasn't having any of that. "No, it's broken.  Your computer is broken."  Her boyfriend came up, and she tornadoes her frustrations onto him, loudly.  A small baby begins to squall, nonstop from another computer mother, who is also not ready for this or could care less that the baby needs something.  The couple is arguing, with the man staying fairly calm, but frustrated in a "whaddaya want me to do?  I'll do it, just tell me.." spiraling down into the lost ocean of No Answers To That One, Buddy.  This goes on for twenty minutes less than twenty feet from my ear. Go to the library if you want your blood pressure to hit the kablam an artery stage; what happened to librarians that shushed people?  Probably got shanked and their mouldering carcasses now fill the empty Dewey Decimal Catalogue trays.  

Baby still going, the arguing is fading away and out the door.  Good bye, good bye, I wish you hemorrhoids, lady.  An older gentleman comes and sits diagonally two seats down at the same table as me.  Fedora type hat.  Glasses.  Plaid untucked shirt.  Fine.  He's reading something, some book, I begin again to read mine, and it's fascinating.  Minutes go by.  He stands up, undoes his belt, opens his zipper and sits back down.  What the heck was that?  I am not waiting to find out and slap my book shut, give him the squinty eye, and relate to the information desk that that old guy just opened his pants and maybe keep an eye on him.  The only time a man can open his pants is maybe after Thanksgiving dinner while sitting in the Laz-y-Boy and even then you'd better not be related to me.

One of the books I wanted was not out on the shelves, but was being held out of sight; I made a request; okay, five minutes?  Terrific.  I sat at a farther table to read, and while reading a family gathered, a large Auntie, nieces nephews and Mom.  "HEY C'MERE, C'MERE YOU GOTTA HEAR THIS, SHE KNOWS EVERYTHING ABOUT BEYONCE.  TELL HER, TELL HER, JUST WAIT YOU GOTTA HEAR THIS HAWHAWHAWHAWHAW!!  SEE?  WHAT DID I TELL YOU?  SHE KNOWS EVERYTHING!!!"  My book arrives, I gotta get out of here, the noise is making me craycray.

Self checkout tells me I can't take one of the books out even though it was shelved, I find a librarian who is kind and she pushes buttons on the keyboard to make it all right.  I zip for the door, and notice the quiet outside, even though a Food Festival is going on in front of me.

I cannot imagine libraries staying the same as they were when I was a child, the options and technological advances are immense.   But do we need a cafe?  People were walking around the shelves, drinking sticky stuff with straws.  And of course, the noise.  Kids make noise, babies cry, they just do.  But if you are over nine years old, you could keep it down.  People: 1, Curmudgeon: Zip.

The moon was as orange as a bright slice of cheddar, a thick quarter moon rising at the horizon last night, seemingly larger from the refraction of the atmosphere.  It was lovely, serene, and floated upwards over our confusion and workaday sounds.  A bedtime story moon, a laughing crescent.
Sleep well.