Lockstepping on Your Public Library

And ear-splitting celebration…

Getting to my closest library here in Vancouver requires me to walk across the field to the community garden, through the patch with the missing piece of fencing, past the gate off its hinges, through the fenced apartment complex next to our building, along the mobile home and RV park across the road, through the neighborhood with its little houses and duplexes and a coffee house favored by my friend I-, past a state school for the deaf, along a road with a bowling alley, tanning salon, breakfast café, and National Park, and across an I-5 overpass covered in murals.

The library itself is a fine building, modern with large windows and wooden floors that sound like they’re murmuring as you walk across them. There’s a community room up front where people can get help with technology, taxes and practicing their English skills. There’s chair yoga and a teen hangout, kids’ reading and music programs, science shows, discussion groups, board games, and sessions where writers can sit together to write in silence.

If this sounds like the same one you go to, yay to all of us! The American public library is an astonishing public enterprise that works for everybody who avails themselves of its many marvels.

The funding for libraries mostly comes from county and local taxes. But little pieces — special grants — come from the federal government. These are used for addressing internet access or providing after-school tutoring for kids, connecting veterans to benefits and services, buying books, helping the un- and under-employed find jobs, and maintaining local cultural and historical collections. Another little portion of federal funding is dedicated to doing research, training librarians, and supporting museums.

Every state in the union and every single territory – blue, red and in between — gets some portion of this money. Last year the total outlay was about $276 million. That’s 0.003% — three-thousandths of one percent — of the federal budget.

And, just a few days ago, the Institute of Museum and Library Services, which runs this remarkable operation, was assigned a new acting director by Dear Leader. Stop me if you know the punchline.

That’s right. Immediately, the new acting director began dismantling his new fiefdom. But only after issuing a press release.

In a statement this guy, who shall remain nameless though we could just think of him as Mr. Sh*tbag, had this to say:

…I am committed to steering this organization in lockstep with this Administration to enhance efficiency and foster innovation. We will revitalize IMLS and restore focus on patriotism, ensuring we preserve our country’s core values, promote American exceptionalism and cultivate love of country in future generations…

The boldface is mine. Lockstep? Patriotism? Exceptionalism? “Probably sounded better in the original German,” as Molly Ivins once observed.

Now, Mr. Sh*tbag is in charge of dismantling the sole federal agency dedicated to funding library services. The only funds they’re being allowed to spend right now by the Office of Management and Budget are the ones needed to shut themselves down.

Do not sit back and tsk, please. Show up with your body and your voice and give ‘em hell. It doesn’t matter if it’s a protest specifically against cuts to IMLS. It’s truly all of a kind. And while you’re at it, haul along a friend or family member. We need to show numbers.

Even if it doesn’t look like Dear Leader and his followers care, at some point sufficient plucking and poking from America’s citizenry at every Mr. Sh*tbag who comes along will help this Jenga tower of totalitarianism collapse.

In the meantime, joy!

Last night Ms. Wife and I headed to the local community college to participate in a Brazilian Carnival. The evening kicked off with a demonstration of capoeira, the Brazilian martial art that resembles a fierce pas-de-deux with cartwheels thrown in.

Then the repiniques warmed up. Portland’s Bloco Alegria delivered pounding Rio-style samba and batucada music, with a crazed dance lesson, soulful singing and rhythms that called out to every hip in the room.

When your head is filled with heart-pounding, ear-splitting celebration, there’s no worrying about the future. (At least for a little while.)

Obrigada to Clark College’s Spanish club!

Plus, we tried out Cecilia for lunch, with friends A- and G-. While the diners around me enjoyed their healthful greens and vegetarian benedicts, I went right for the buttermilk fried chicken & waffle. Nary a wholesome molecule in sight. Maple syrup counts as a fruit serving, right?