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Kristin, a reference librarian, loves her work. She helps people with genealogy research, computer trouble and internet access. She helps people look for employment or print their school homework. She recalls one time when she helped someone free bats trapped in a building, and another time when she was asked for guidance on how to open a Bible. “Is there a proper way?” the caller inquired.
Kristin enjoys helping. “It doesn’t matter whether you’re a millionaire donor to the library or someone who’s come in to get out of the cold, we treat you the same,” she said.
As Kristin and I spoke, a short man dressed in a gray sweatshirt and blue hospital pants wandered up with a question. He smiled wide, revealing a few missing teeth. He needed a haircut and a shave. He presented Kristin with a cracked cellphone. The phone worked, but he wanted help deleting a phone number that had somehow gotten saved to his contacts.
I’ve seen this man before in the library. He’s often here when I am, sitting in the comfy armchairs next to the shelves designated “Fiction.” Sometimes he talks to himself or to the library staff, who all seem to know him. His appearance doesn’t signal “millionaire donor.” But he is given the same service, the same respect, as if he were here to fund a new wing.
In the end, Kristin cannot figure out how to delete the number either, but the man is not bothered. He returns to his comfy armchair to sit and chat and enjoy the hospitality of a public library that welcomes all.
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