Quiet in the Library!

I never thought I would become 'unwelcome' at my childhood library.

The Bixby library holds many precious memories for me. It's where I signed my first library card after weeks of practicing cursive. It's where Mom made the 'only as many books as you are old rule' and the later 'you also have to be able to carry them all' amendment. I've explored those stacks, worked in those stacks, and returned to them over and over. College, multiple remodels and my favorite librarians retiring didn't break my relationship.

I've managed to keep my card active through a combination of a) having parents who work in Tulsa county or b) living or attending school in Tulsa county. While I didn't always NEED to visit, I can't remember a time when I didn't have the fall back of the resources. (I also mooch wifi regularly.)

On New Years Eve 2018, however, I needed a computer. The backstory is long and involves waking up at dark-thirty and a rescued dog. I went to the computers... and realized I'd forgotten the password after two years.

Well, one explanation and a sales pitch later, I stormed out of the library. My sanctuary had been reclaimed by the city of Tulsa. If you can't produce a pay-stub or proof of address, there's a fee to use the computers and a even bigger fee if you want a working library card.

“Sorry it's policy. It's just out of my hands.” The librarian was very professional and polite. Unfortunately, she ran smack into that emotional baggage labeled Issues. (yes, with a capital 'I') Short version, my brain burped up a lot of unpleasant feelings and memories.

I've bulldogged through college administration, a string of idiot doctors, and the Social Security Application process. 'Out of my hands' is a trigger phrase. It means my paperwork is in limbo; that someone who never met me thinks I've hit the cut off point; or, most often, it's time to fight nasty.

The library isn't the place for fighting. So I excused myself before I made a bigger scene than snapping 'Screw this noise!” at the fees for internet access. (At $2 for a 90 minute session, it's cheaper to burn through my cellular data.) Not very mature, that I'll admit. However, I'd just had the rug yanked out from under me.

In a previous rant, I talk about how internet and a functioning computer are a must for modern life. Suddenly, I get why the homeless and unemployed are stuck waiting in lines. They CAN'T browse the status of local or government support networks. They CAN'T book a online chat session. Waiting in line for somebody to verbally explain things is the best option. (Two dollars can also buy a lot of different things when you're on the poverty line, trust me.)

The library is an invaluable resource of how-to-books, genealogy records, philosophy and entertainment. However, it's not free or free access. What was I thought was my second home, turned out to be a private club; once again, I'm an outsider.

Now, a cooler head would swallow their outrage and pay for the membership. I am calmer, I could scrap up the money... but I'm too embarrassed to ask for one. A skinny, trilby-wearing brunette is pretty memorable. I gonna wait a few months before I go back. (If I take off my hat, nobody will recognize me.)

I don't want to be pegged as the lady who yelled in the library.