MY TRIP TO THE LIBRARY
We have a vacation home in a summer resort community on the south Jersey shore (permanent residents, 1,000, summer residents, 25,000). We love it there, especially in the off-season, before the crowds arrive.
Although I rely on the Internet for much of the work I do, we do not have Internet access at our house; it costs too much for the few weeks a year we are there. It is after all a vacation home.
The week of April 18th was one of those off-season vacation weeks and the Town Library advertises wireless Internet access, so that seemed like a perfect solution. On Wednesday, I went to the Town Library to access the Internet from my laptop.
That is when, as they say, the fun began.
"Hello," I said to the Librarian, "I understand you have wireless Internet access here so I can access the Internet from my laptop?"
She did not crack a smile. "Do you have a library card?"
"Can't say as I do. How do I get a library card?"
"Only Authorized Persons may have a library card. Are you an Authorized Person? If you are not an Authorized Person, your first use is free; then you have to pay."
I had only a fleeting moment to consider the question. "Parents were married; natural-born citizen; high school graduate; veteran; yet I don't know: am I an Authorized Person?' At last: "I don't know " I'm a homeowner and taxpayer. Would that count?"
"Yes, you would be an Authorized Person. May I see some I.D.?"
I gave her my Connecticut driver's license and she began entering data into her computer.
"Do you have something to prove you are a homeowner and taxpayer?"
"Well, no actually, not on me ..." I said.
"Then the Tax Collector's Office is just out the door, down the hall, and around the corner on the left. Go over there and they will give you a form that identifies you as a homeowner and taxpayer. Bring that form back here and you can have a library card."
"Be right back." I exited stage left for the Tax Collector's Office. I already had that heady feeling that immigrants must have just before the Naturalization ceremony starts: I was about to become an Authorized Person.
The Tax Collector's Office was vacant. I waited a few minutes and a sofa-built middle-aged woman in a print dress and with all the aura of an Authorized Person herself appeared; croaky-suspended specs and all. "May I help you?"
"Uh, yes. Name is Richard Wise. The Library sent me here for a form that proves I am a homeowner and taxpayer."
"Name?"
"Wise."
She turned to her computer. "Here it is." She printed out the form. "Do you have some I.D.?"
"Actually, the Librarian has my driver's license."
"I can't give you this form without some I.D.," the Tax Collector snapped.
"Be right back." I exited the Tax Collector's office for the Library.
"She needs my driver's license." I fetched the license, went back to the Tax Collector, and presented the I.D.
The Tax Collector donned her glasses; inspected the license, front and back; took the glasses off; and regarded me askance. At length, she handed me my license and the now-prized form. I had become an Authorized Person.
Exultant, I returned to the Library. The Librarian eyedballed, then returned, the form.
"Here is your Library Card," she intoned. "It is quite valuable and you will need it whenever you use the library. Keep it in a safe place and don't lose it."
"On my honor," I began.
"And here is your Rule Book. This Rule Book tells you everything you need to know about the Library." I was expecting her to warn me to read the Rule Book carefully and, above all, never to approach the desk with any damn question that was already answered carefully, fully, completely, and authoritatively in the Rule Book.
"Thanks so much," I said, clutching the Library Card and Rule Book to my chest. "I will treasure them. Now: Internet access from my laptop... I can do that from here..."
"No, I'm afraid not."
"I can't? But the Town website... the sign on the door... the Rule Book?"
She cut me off. "We used to do that but the box it needed burned out about a month ago so they took it away. It should be fixed by now."
"I see... but it does neither of us any good if the box is fixed there but not installed here." I used "us" on purpose, hoping to create some sense of affiliation, of shared purpose and responsibility, of "I feel your pain.'
It didn't work.
"Anyway," I continued, "I can access my e-mail from your built-in terminals here, can't I?" For some reason, I avoided the term, "hard wired.'
"Yes, if you want to connect to an authorized website. It's all explained in the Rule Book."
I knew I was skating on thin ice here, asking questions without first reading the Rule Book.
"Okay. Google... authorized website?" I asked.
"Google is an authorized website."
"Wonderful. Now, if I put the documents I want to send to people, which documents are now on my laptop, onto a CD, could I then put that CD into your computer and send the documents from there via Gmail?"
"No. We can only accept authorized CDs."
"I think I see: only authorized CDs sent by Authorized Persons through authorized websites are allowed. I detect a pattern here. Okay, why don't I read the Rule Book first? It will probably answer all my questions."
"That would be a good idea. And one more thing ..."
"Yes?"
"Would you be good enough to sign our petition here?"
"Let's have a look " what's the petition for?"
"The Governor wants to cut funding to libraries by 74%. We're trying to get enough support to stop him."
"Seventy-four percent? That's awful. And what would be the specific impact on you?"
"Well, for one thing, we wouldn't be able to offer wireless Internet access anymore ..."
"Oh, really? Now, just so I understand... you are an Authorized Library?"
###
