I have been missing out on something. As I write this, I am sitting in a public library for the first time in eight years. I know I’m young and have no idea what time is, but that seems to be a long time to not do something so basic. Maybe I just think it’s basic because I spent my youngest years with a librarian for a mother. Until school, many of my days were spent in that little library in Latrobe. But since then I’ve taken advantage of this public resource so little.
So here I sit, with two retired books that I’ve just purchased, realizing that I really don’t need a library. The modern world doesn’t need libraries. Not public ones like this anyway. Who doesn’t have a smartphone that acts as a constant link to all human knowledge tucked away in their pocket or on hand at all times? The need for a physical repository for knowledge is absolutely archaic. I wonder how the public continues to allow their dollars to be spent like this. I wonder if my absence over the past eight years is evidence enough for the modern uselessness of libraries.
But now that I’m sitting here in one of seven unique sets of cushioned chairs, I am uncertain of any conviction that we should do away with these tax sucking establishments. This chair itself, a quiet place to sit, relax, reflect, and be, may be enough reason to keep the relic in which it abides. How often nowadays can someone sit down in public and expect a peaceful moment to be with oneself and to enjoy his surroundings. I can think of parks and coffee shops as two of the only other places this can happen. And parks are publicly funded as well. Maybe that’s the government’s most vital role these days. Sure, public safety is important, and public health is high on the list of priorities, but meditation and self-reflection seem to be something lacking from today’s public experience, or at least my experience, since I’ve been missing out on libraries these past years.
The thing is that this is how I see libraries. Their use is simply a free place to relax in comfort and quiet. A nice place away from home that can stand in for my own living room, without the TV. Mostly, it is a different backdrop for l how I was going to spend my hours anyway. But I’m not certain that my fellow library patrons feel the same way about it. Most of the older folks are actually reading something, be it book, magazine, or newspaper. Many of the younger are either staring into their computer screen or their cell phone screen. One or two may actually be doing work for school, but it seems more likely that they are playing a game or watching Netflix or just surfing the internet and posting to Instagram.
I guess what I’m really curious about is not what everyone is doing, but why they are doing it here. The library is far from bustling, but it is certainly more crowded than I would have expected for a weekday at 2 PM. People actually come here, on purpose, apparently consistently. And as I’ve said, I’m curious why.
For those reading magazines, are they devoted readers of those few they leaf through now? And are they just trying to save a few bucks? Or was he in the area and just needed a layover before his next appointment? Or is she so bored at home living life as a stay-at-home wife that she just needs a change of scenery?
For those on their computers, are they actually working? If not, did they just get sick of paying for internet in their apartment? Or do they like the company of strangers all isolated at separate tables like carriers of individual plagues? Is she here often, or like me, did she just find herself here on this particular day?
For him reading that book, did he just start that one an hour ago when he plucked it from the shelf? Is this the second day of reading, and was he relieved to see that no one had checked it out since the last time he was here? Why didn’t he just check the book out and read it at home? Or is he fast enough to finish in one sitting and it would be a waste to leave the library with more than he brought in?
And for those scrolling their cell phone screen down for the past two hours, why the library? Why not the bench outside, or the pavilion in the park, or the table at the coffeehouse, or the bar, or at their friends’ houses? Why did they make the effort to come here and do what they could do anywhere? Anywhere with Wi-Fi, at least.
It seems to me that the children who come to the library have much more purpose than the adults who come alone. Although the children can hardly keep their attention on one thing for more than twenty seconds, from the time that they entered the door, they knew exactly what they were here for. The adults on the other hand, although they made the conscious and active decision to be here, will be much less likely to be able to say why they are here. Sure they may be able to tell me what they are doing here, but why they are doing it here is another question entirely. They may be able to say what has occupied their time while they sat at that desk, or in that armchair, or on the floor of that aisle, or in front of that desktop, but I doubt many will be able to answer why their time should be spent thusly, or why they should seek this particular entertainment here rather than that there. These people and their lives, their emotions and motives, are a mystery to me and perhaps to themselves as well.
So more than the manufactured peace and the solitude that this building offers, I think that what I have been primarily missing out on are the people of the library and all of their stories. I’ve been missing out on the existence of this not inconsequential group of people who made it a point to be in the library at 2 PM on a weekday. And I’ve been missing out on all of the things that they enjoy doing enough to be here rather than anywhere else. I’ve missed out on everything that is going on in their lives that have brought them here today, and perhaps for some, everyday. I’ve missed out on the high school freshman who is looking for some refuge between leaving his classmates and returning home to his broken family. I’ve missed out on the widow who is otherwise too tight on money to get the magazines that keep her company. And I’ve missed out on the foreign undergrad who simply prefers the busyness of a quiet library to the stillness of his studio apartment.
I’ve missed out on these worlds that are not my own, simply because I was not selfless enough even to open my eyes. Experience goes far beyond my own, and I hope to share that of others in small degree so that I may be reminded of the complex expanse of human life and its place in this wide world.
I’ve missed all this because I’ve ignored this airport terminal, this bus depot, this public library. Rarely a destination, this is a place of transience for the modern vagabond, regardless of his station or net worth.