Some of my favourite and earliest memories are of being a young kid and going to the library (such a nerd I know). Most prominent in those memories are going the the TPL branch at Main and Gerrard, bounding my little kid feet up the stairs and plunking down in front of the shelf that had the garfield books and reading them then saving a couple to borrow and take home and read those.
I loved the library and especially that library to pieces. The trees that surrounded the the entrance and the red lines that outlined the doors and windows, the brick structure of the building, how it looked like a giant cottage house full of magic and once I feel in love with books and reading how it really was a giant cottage house of full of magic.
As I grew up there were other libraries that became important to me, the Dawes Road branch near my old apartment at Victoria Park in Crescent Town, it was the closest big library to us and much of my middle childhood borrowing was done there. The Walter Stewart branch near the East York Civic Centre which was near my middle school, Leaside Library near my high school and my girlfriend and Albert Campbell in Scarborough, the branch near the house my family and I lived in during my teens to mid twenties. All these branches were part of the same idea, the TPL system but all were distinct in themselves, in the items they carried, the patrons, staff and programs offered. I often felt (and still feel) the TPL system was a microcosm for Toronto itself; a dynamic co-dependent and accessible system that celebrated individual cultural differences as strengths of the overall mutual community we shared.
When the first of our 99 branches closed last year I was shocked and angry. I understand the desire in some parts for (what seems like) massive fiscal restraint but I just couldn't understand this. I still don't. Having 99 branches I though was a symbol of how progressive this city was. It was a sign of how important we as Torontonians both old and new valued literacy, the power of words, community spaces and meeting grounds, how we valued and defined our neighbourhoods. Now as we approach a time where we as citizens are being forced to content with service cuts to our libraries I am just confused. Utterly confused. We somehow can find extra money for policing. We somehow can find extra money for wards with councillors willing to horse trade with the Mayor but somehow can't find a way to save and even expand our robust library system?
I then ask myself, is this the kind of city we ever imagined living in? Is this what we think of when we think of places to live and raise families - a focus on policing and cuts to public services, places where libraries are deemed elitist and culturally unimportant? Do we imagine ourselves living in a place where the fabric of our communities and neighbourhoods is defined by what we lose rather than protecting what we have?
Libraries are escapes and shelters. You can browse for books and read and write yes. You can also access the internet, do school projects or other research. You can look of jobs, take advantage of classes offered. You can take your kids to reading programs, meet your neighbours. They are places where new Canadians and Torontonians can access vital services that can help them find their footing in a new society and even flourish. Libraries are quite simply are the hubs of neighbourhoods and communities, they are a central focus and tether, a universal point where privilege and class don't matter, everyone is a patron. Libraries are places where we are equals, where we are all searching bound together by words and language English and beyond. To take that from us speaks of the kind of society we seem to be being pushed towards, where these common grounds are not viable and not honoured. It is a sad and often distressing commentary on how this city is being made to change. As Torontonians and citizens of a city, we should be outraged far more than we have shown. As human beings all striving for a mutually beneficial society where we can rely on each other, grow from each other and seek each other for joy and comfort we should be ashamed we have let it get this far.
I will leave with this last note. My wife and I just recently bought a house. There are often main criteria people look for when searching for a house, neighbourhood, schools etc. One of the criteria for us was it must be within walking distance to a library for if we were to be blessed with children one day we wanted to give them the joy and gift of a library, to share the same magic we felt when we first got our red and white TPL cards, when we first borrowed books.
When we bought our home this past autumn, it was a ten minute walk from the Walter Stewart Branch.
A good library is a place, a palace where the lofty spirits of all nations and generations meet.
— Samuel NIGER
The library connects us with the insight and knowledge, painfully extracted from Nature, of the greatest minds that ever were, with the best teachers, drawn from the entire planet and from all our history, to instruct us without tiring, and to inspire us to make our own contribution to the collective knowledge of the human species. I think the health of our civilization, the depth of our awareness about the underpinnings of our culture and our concern for the future can all be tested by how well we support our libraries.
— Cosmos
Carl SAGAN
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