A quick scan of my blog reveals that apparently I have not ranted about this.  Ranted about people chatting up during performances where quiet is preferable (That quiet part in a song or dance?  It’s called a “rest” and is actually written into the score.  It is not break time for you to start commenting on the performance with your seatmate.)

This has to do with the library.  Sometime between the time I was taken to the library as a small child and today, sometime after Marian the Librarian admonished Professor Harold Hill to stop singing to her in her library and this moment in time, something happened.  It is no longer expected that the library is a quiet place to read, study, or just hang out in the glory of knowledge.

No, it is apparently a community center, a place for people to congregate around the desk and have full on conversations with….for the love of God….the librarians.  “Oh, really? He went to Cal?  How is he doing?  I haven’t seen him since he was in middle school!”  And that’s the librarian.

No point in wondering why that parent is not shushing the child.  It’s cute, doncha know and I guess we’re supposed to be happy that the parent is even showing the child the library.  Wouldn’t want to squash the little darling’s appreciation for literature.

Yesterday I was here (I’m writing a paper for school) and after last week when the 18 month old was entertaining everyone with that 18-month-old gleeful screech (how adorable), I decided to set up camp in the little room that has been designated the “quiet study area.”  Yes, that little 25 x 25 room is our refuge.  Only one problem, the wi-fi is non-existent in there so I had to choose between being able to access the internet for my paper or go out to the free-for-all that passes for a  library these days.

So today I’m back out here in the fray.  I have my headphones on and am listening to Mozart.  I can still occasionally hear the librarian answering a question so that we can all hear the answer.  Thanks for that.

I know, I’m growing old, this is just the way it is and what people are used to.  I know I have to let it go.  Honestly, on the way here I was thinking – I wonder what kind of business model I could come up with that would center around people being able to pay a fee to come into my quiet space and be guaranteed quiet for a spell.  It wouldn’t be a spa or a church, no fancy aromatherapy, no coffee,  just a quiet place to sit, or read, or think or just be in the quiet.   That used to be what a library was.

I can’t even do it with headphones on here unless I brought my Bose noise cancelling headphones.  In order to drown out the chatter I have to listen to Mozart.  Which is ok.  It’s just not – – – what’s that antiquated term?  Oh yeah.  Quiet.