LibrariUS

Gittemeier, 32 and now living in Atlanta, grew up in Stockbridge, Georgia, then a rural town.  He wrote to us through LibrariUS saying if it weren’t for audio books – and the libraries that supplied them – he wouldn’t have graduated from high school. 

Many people have told us they depend on the library for audio books they otherwise could not afford.  (And no wonder: The cheapest audio book download from Amazon.com’s “Listener Favorites” list today is $14.95; the most expensive, $34.95.)  Even more say they use audio books to break up the boredom during commutes, or for vacation entertainment.  So Gittemeier’s story caught my attention.

“I was a teen parent at age 17.  I went to school during the day and worked at night and on the weekends.  The stress took its toll and I missed so much school I was threatened with expulsion and given the option to attend an alternative school that was run more like a jail than a school.”

He had to pass three literature classes in one year to be able to graduate, and he turned to audio books for help:  “I listened my way right through Frankenstein, Canterbury Tales and several Shakespeare plays,” he says.

Gittemeier’s teacher liked his idea so much that she had him bring audio books in for the entire class to listen, drawing in kids who, like Gittemeier, were likely to skip the readings.  Concerns over copyright laws eventually nixed this teaching method.  But by then, Gittemeier was hooked.

“I had little free time outside of school and work, so I listened in the car, at night in bed, and even in the shower.  I listened my way right through high school.”

After high school, Gittemeier wasn’t able to go to college right away, so he worked two to three jobs at a time, and read whatever his girlfriend at that time was reading for her women’s studies college courses.  Reading about the classism that he had experienced firsthand since childhood changed his life.

“The audio books in high school helped me grasp the classics and build my confidence in literature courses, but it was seeing myself (and the person I wanted to be) in the pages of a book that really compelled me to read. 

“She read books by Howard Zinn, Audre Lorde, bell hooks, and the like.  When she finished a book she would pass it on to me and I would read [it] on my lunch breaks.  Then at night we would lie in bed and discuss the books.  It was through these books, and our midnight conversations, that I found words to describe my working class experience.  These books made visible the oppression I felt and witnessed on a daily basis.  The relationship did not last, but my love of reading did.” 

Gittemeier has since earned a master’s degree in women’s studies, and is now in library school.  He also works at the Washington Park branch of the Atlanta-Fulton Public Library on the west side of town, near Spelman, Morehouse, Morris Brown, and Clark Atlanta University.

It’s not a wealthy neighborhood.  Kids show up at the library without coats in the winter and hungry after school.  Gittemeier spent his free time at the library when he was in middle school because there was no other public place where teens could hang out.  So he can relate. 

“In my library I see many of the girls come in pregnant and the boys fighting in the parking lot.  My coworkers see trouble, but I see myself 15 years ago,” he says. 

“I’m in library school now, because I want to do anything and everything in my power to assure these kids that their lives do not have to be like this forever.  Like the Dan Savage videos, I just want them to know ‘It Gets Better.’” 

More importantly, Gittemeier wants them to learn that they can make things better – for themselves and for others.  He worked with kids to make a “free box,” which sits in the library lobby.  Toys, games, kids’ clothes and shoes – anyone can take from or add to the free box.  He encourages kids to contribute whenever they outgrow clothes or toys.  It may be a community where, according to the 2000 Census, 73.4 percent of families live in poverty.  But kids (and adults) have things to share, and can help their neighbors.

Did your life take a different turn because of the library? Tell us about it by commenting here.  Or, put it on the LibrariUS map!

If not for public libraries, many people would not have access to computers or to the Internet.  But when deadly tornados ripped through Tuscaloosa, Ala., Joplin, Mo., and Minneapolis, libraries stepped up to provide something more basic:  electricity.

Tuscaloosa.  “It’s nice to see that people who wouldn’t come to public libraries are coming to us for help.  Just unfortunate the circumstances.”

That’s Vincent Bellofatto, spokesman for the Tuscaloosa Public Library, reflecting on what’s been happening at the library since exactly one month ago today, April 27, a tornado killed 41 people and “erased” wide swaths of the city.  The three libraries were unscathed and had power, so the next morning, the main library opened at 10 a.m., just one hour later than usual.

Library staff posted on Facebook, tweeted and broadcast on local radio stations that the library was open with power and Internet, and people showed up.  Lots of people.

They came to charge cells phones and laptops, to use the library’s free Wi-Fi, and its computers.  Every outlet in the building had some device plugged into it.  By 4:30 p.m., the library’s Wi-Fi hit capacity.  More than 250 devices were tapped in.  All 70-plus library laptops were checked out.

Tuscaloosa librarian Susana Goldman wrote to us through LibrariUS: “Thank God we [survived] the storm and are able to help those who need it!”

Immediately after the tornado, the Alabama Public Library Service lent the Tuscaloosa Library 15 laptops and some staff dedicated to registering tornado victims for Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) disaster assistance.  Other volunteers rallied from the library and law schools at the University of Alabama.  Over the past month, Tuscaloosa residents have filed more than 11,600 applications for $10.2 million in financial help, but people are still trickling into the library for fill out online FEMA forms.

The tornado turned the libray's bookmobile into a Wi-Fi/FEMA-mobile.  In addition to its usual route delivering books to various neighborhoods, it now parks in high-traffic public places to share its Wi-Fi signal and FEMA registration laptops with people who need them.  Early on, that was at University Mall.  Last week it took part in a city-wide basketball competition.

Joplin.  “People come in almost apologetically and say, ‘Can I come charge?’  And I say, ‘Of course!’”

Joplin Public Library director Jacque Gage’s voice rises when she repeats her response to a question she's heard many times since Monday.  She wants people to know the library’s resources are for their use.

Twenty-five percent of the library’s staff lost homes in the May 22 twister that killed at least 126 people, destroyed 8,000 buildings (mostly homes) and left most of the town without power.  Yet, on Monday morning, May 23, the library opened its doors – and outlets – to area residents in need of electricity and comfort after the pain of the storms. 

Ms. Gage says few people stopped in that first day, despite her efforts through traditional and social media to let everyone in town know the library has resources to share.  But the following day, people started arriving for computers.  So she posted on TechSoup for Libraries for help (which she got) to set up 50 new computers, still in boxes, that the library recently purchased to replace old ones.  Now, fortuitously, Joplin Library has double the number of computers they would normally.

Most people who were severely affected by the tornado haven’t come to the library yet, according to Ms. Gage.  They’re still in shock, or trying to get basic necessities.  But the library’s gearing up for when they do.  It’s adding Internet bandwidth this week to accommodate all the extra computers.

Sadly, the Joplin and Tuscaloosa libraries, like so many others, rely on property tax revenue for survival, and fallout from the 2011 tornadoes could have ramifications for several years to come – this at a time when budget woes are causing many libraries to close or cut back their hours.

Minneapolis.  “People know this is a safe haven.”

Librarian Natalie Hart’s description of Sumner Community Library is particularly apropos after a tornado struck the north side of Minneapolis (less than a mile away from Sumner) last Sunday, causing at least $166 million in damage.  Budget cuts several years ago mean that every Minneapolis library except the downtown one is closed on Mondays.  But this past Monday, to provide electricity, Internet, and other tornado aid, Hennepin County Library opened three branches, including Sumner.

Librarian Denis McLaughlin helped out at Sumner earlier this week when his branch, North Regional, located in a tornado hit area, was still closed from lack of power.  Sumner made extra computers available, and he recognized at least 5 or 6 North Regional patrons, who came over to apply for jobs online or write resumes.  They needed working computers, which neither their homes nor their regular library had.

Ms. Hart has noticed new people at Sumner this week, too: “People are sharing their stories, what’s happened to their homes, how sad they feel.”

She says people who were affected by the tornado seem to be seeking a place to unburden their hearts – that they’re using the library as much for connection as connectivity.

Sumner’s just as prepared to meet this need.  “This is a very relational library.  “The most important thing I do at my job is to converse with the people who come in the door.”

Have you sought help from a library after a natural disaster or personal crisis?  What resource(s) were you seeking?  What did you find?  Share your story by commenting here, or put it on the LibrariUS map.

If you’re ever at the Notus Public Library in Notus, Idaho, look for the puzzle table.  It shouldn’t be hard to find.  The library is a compact, 20-by-40 feet, and it contains but two tables, aside from the one the preschoolers use.  If you pass by the puzzle at the right time – before the kids get out of school and descend on the library at 3 p.m. (and the adults all clear out to avoid the kids) – chances are, librarian Jo Ellen Ringer will pull you into a conversation and introduce you around.  (She's on the left, with her two puzzle table volunteers in the photo below.  Photo credit: Ginny Lindemann)

With a population of 531 residents, Notus does not have a barber, beauty shop or coffee shop where people can congregate.  The bar is not an alternative for most women, Ms. Ringer explains, so they come to the library. 

Ms. Ringer was one of the first librarians to respond to our LibrariUS query about the role of libraries in civic life.  Her insights led us to rethink our approach to the survey, which was initially focused on the information needs of communities.  But after just a few minutes of conversation with her, I sensed an opportunity to also examine the civic and social needs of communities through the lens of the local libraries.

The Notus library is open 15 hours a week.  It has an annual book budget of $300; last year the library was allocated just $100 in tax money for books – though Ms. Ringer applies for and obtains grants every year so she can buy more reading material.  She earns a bit less than $130 a week for her work (typical, she says, for a rural librarian).  She can afford to be the town librarian because Social Security Disability covers her bills. 

Ms. Ringer had a 20-year career as a therapist and social worker before she took on running the library in 2003, and it might surprise people to know how much she relies on that experience in her library work.

“I learned about [four] years ago, when we had an ongoing jigsaw puzzle on the table, it gave women a reason to linger.  So I make sure one is always in progress,” she says.  Two volunteers, both with much personal experience with alcoholics, abuse and depression, work on the puzzle and welcome new women to join them.  They discuss gardening and canning, but also domestic violence, family relationships, and financial issues.

“At times the community has been able to pull together to provide the food, gas or whatever else is needed,” Ms. Ringer says.  “I work very hard at connecting newcomers to an oldcomer (for lack of a better word); I will directly introduce them and mention something that might interest both.  It usually works.”

The puzzle table is more necessary now than ever, as Notus is seeing more newcomers and more need.

Ms. Ringer has been issuing four to five new library cards a month recently.  A year ago, it was just one every month or two.  But more families are moving the 30 miles from Boise to Notus, hoping to cut their monthly rent in half (it’s $400-500 a month for a single-family home with a yard).  Ms. Ringer says many of the new families are made up of a stay-at-home mom, a dad who’s lost his blue-collar job, and two or three children. 

New library cards are also going to people who live outside city limits, and didn’t apply for a card before rising gas prices started keeping them closer to home for entertainment and information.  Cards are supposed to be $10 for people who don’t live in town, but Ms. Ringer waives the fee if would-be patrons don’t have $10 to spare, which amounts to about half of all new cards issued.

Many of the men who visit the library aren’t there for puzzles or making friends.  The library has become a de facto job center.  Men need Ms. Ringer to sign them up for email accounts, and teach them to use the computer to look and apply for jobs – same as other 50-something-year-old workers across the nation, who are going to their librarians to walk them through their first encounter with a computer.

Canyon County, where Notus is located, had 11.3 percent unemployment in March, compared to 8.8 percent nationally, and 9.7 percent in Idaho.  Construction and truck driving jobs have gone away.  There’s still some agriculture work in the areas surrounding Notus, at the potato-processing and the onion-shipping plants.

Ms. Ringer gladly provides one-on-one computer instruction, but only until 3 p.m.  That’s when about 15-20 kids from age 6 on up – children who don’t have computers with Internet at home – mob the library after school, on Tuesdays and Thursdays when it’s open.  They walk or bike over, and stay until their parents get off work and pick them up.

“The teens do not require my supervision but the 6- to 12-year-olds do.  I don't plan any backroom library work after 3 p.m. because I need to be ready to hear about [the kids’] day at school, or fights between parents,” she told me.  “I get them to play Scrabble with me to improve their vocabulary and spelling skills.”

“Every rural librarian has these latchkey kids,” Ms. Ringer explains.  “We get many more when summer comes. Parents do not have the money for day care for older elementary kids. As long as they are not requiring constant intervention, I am okay with it.”

In addition to counseling, tutoring and playing with children – and making sure they’re safe (Ms. Ringer says she and her volunteers keep an especially close eye on kids who live in homes with alcoholics or moms with interchangeable boyfriends) – she puts them to work.  Ms. Ringer is very proud to offer Notus’ kids a marketable skill.

“I have trained 14 kids so far to put away books, empty the book drop, put cards back in books. They handle check-out and place calls for overdue materials, all under my supervision. They learn the Dewey decimal system. Some of them can help me process books to go on the shelves. At any given time, three children from 8-14 years of age are my library aides. As they get older, they look for paying work and the next kids come along, eager to learn. These children feel a real commitment to their own library.”

Does your library provide child care?  On the job training?  Career counseling?  Friend finding?

Tell us what you and your neighbors depend on the library for.  Map your story at LibrariUS, or add it as a comment below.