Musings

The library phase of the Lone Dog Road book tour has begun, and I’m loving it.

As far as I’m concerned, libraries are one of civilization’s greatest inventions.  They’re the physical embodiment of our collective memory, and they anchor communities in a way that nothing else does.

Who among us has not read of some important person, perhaps from an impoverished background, who had his or her life shaped by hours sitting in a library, gently guided by the helping hand of a caring librarian?  Who among us cannot remember at least one moment in our life when the library served as a sanctuary or a place of intellectual discovery or adventure?

It does not even have to be so much about reading; it is the way that a library exudes a sense of calm and possibility.  There is always a tiny moment of thrill when you enter into one, as if you are entering a world apart from your daily stress and bustle.  A magazine, a book picked randomly from the shelf, maybe just the relaxation of sitting in a chair surrounded by the comforting silence that libraries offer — everything about it says, this is a place you can stop, be still, allow your imagination to take wing.

And then there are the children, shepherded by a parent or grandparent, who sit at the children’s table, excitedly turning the pages of a picture book, sharing words or images that catch their fancy.

And the elders, filling their days; the students doing term papers; the homeless and disenfranchised with nowhere else to go.

And the immigrant families, who see the libraries as a place of growth and understanding that helps them make their way in this new country.

All of them are part of this civic treasure that so many of us take for granted.

Yes, libraries are changing.  The computers now are as actively sought after as the books. The homeless and derelict can bring an untidiness and even a danger that compromises the peace and calm that libraries are meant to offer.

But even with all these changes, our libraries remain a place of hope and possibility outside the relentless commercialism that overwhelms all other aspects of our daily lives.

I keep coming back to the word, “sanctuary”.   Libraries are places that protect something special, quiet, and hopeful in our lives. There is nowhere else quite like them.

I am thrilled, even honored, to be on the road visiting our Minnesota libraries.  There is no place I would rather be than driving through the farms and lakes and forest and fields of my home state, visiting these places that give so much, so quietly, to the people they serve. They are the souls of their communities.

I couldn’t be happier, prouder, or having more fun.