Dear library director
I’m writing in regard to one of your librarians, to tell you a bit about how she helped my wife and I at a time when we were in dire need, and feeling extremely distraught about our situation.
Since I’ve had health issues resulting in triple heart bypass surgery, our lives have been in a downward spiral. I lost my job of 17 years in southern Utah, and soon to follow we lost the house we’d been buying for some ten years. We became homeless in a matter of months, reduced to living in a camp trailer and being buffeted from place to place with no real help in sight. We had to subsist on my wife’s meager social security until I was old enough to qualify for their early retirement benefits, which are scant. We lost hope of staying in southern Utah and were forced to return to Salt Lake City where we had a friend and some acquaintances that we hoped to call upon for help and some form of refuge. The forthcoming help was in the form of so called ‘couch surfing’ which is a category of homelessness wherein we rented a room, sharing facilities and utility expenses with people who, although taking us into their homes, were nevertheless understandably anxious to have us move on so they could regain their privacy.
During this time we tried to get housing in Salt Lake, but soon became aware that housing was impossibly hard to come by. The housing authorities in their efforts to be of assistance were caught in a cycle of registering people, giving them lists of possible rental properties to check into and issuing dire statements regarding the length of waiting lists ranging from six months - if we could quickly negotiate the system and if vacancies arose - to three years - if the best we could do was keep our names active in the system. The most immediate problem was that the quest for housing soon depleted the meager gas and telephone resources, that we could barely afford for our domestic uses, let alone an extensive search for housing. This situation was depressing to me.
Even though I’m not really healthy enough to work, and my wife, being seventy years old with her own health issues couldn’t work. I began trying to find a job to help make ends meet and to afford more gas and telephone to continue our housing search. I soon came to realize that nowadays it isn’t even possible to apply for work except on line. I had no real clue about using the internet, and my damaged computer wouldn’t access it. I decided to go to the library because I’d heard there were computers to use and librarians that could help with job applications. Entering the Chapman Branch I embarked on the daunting mission.
We were assisted by a nice lady librarian that made a gallant effort to school me in computer use, but it was a lot for me to digest. I guess that my distress over our situation of virtual homelessness showed, and she sensed it, becoming curiously interested in our plight which I shared with her. She said “excuse me a moment” and walked away, soon returning to give us contact information for the Volunteers of America, which I’d not been aware of; she said that they might be able to help us find ways to get help. We then called and made an appointment to meet with them, and it was decided we’d meet the next day there at the Library.
Well, although the Volunteers weren’t able to really save us from our dilemma, in a second meeting there at the library, they suggested that I go to the 4th Street Clinic where I could see a doctor and get my maintenance meds for free. While visiting the clinic, my glaring anxiety led to my seeing a psychological therapist, and subsequently being prescribed a med that helped suppress and stabilize my volatility. During several months of visits my therapist, came to realize that, as I had insisted all along, my wife and I were incapable of doing all of the things that were continually stacking up as necessary for us in order to get housing, a process that so depleted us economically as well as emotionally. She eventually put us in touch with a Salt Lake County housing specialist within the Department of Aging Services, who within a short time helped us apply for housing, and advocated to facilitate our success in finally finding it.
Now this is a complicated story, and there might have been another route for us to have had a similar successful outcome. But I’m pretty sure that if we hadn’t met this sensitive librarian, compassionately acting beyond her duties to put us in touch with those who she hoped could help us, that we’d probably be dead, considering the depth of our despair; certainly I was contemplating suicide at that time.
Anyway, since we began going into the library we’ve been checking out books - one of the few satisfying, educational and entertaining things that we’ve had affordable access to. Whenever on duty, this thoughtful librarian would enquire about our search for housing, this let us know that someone remembered and cared about us.
The other day while picking up a book, I saw this lady once again after a long absence. I said hello and told her that we had finally found a home, which delighted her. I told her this story, thanking her for playing what I truly consider to be a pivotal role in the chain of events leading to our survival and emergence from homelessness. This brought tears to her eyes as she said how grateful she was to hear the story.
I feel that within the chain of quite disjointed social services there is a type of ‘one size fits all’ mentality that doesn’t have the time, compassion or personal intimacy to meet the needs of all of the people disparately seeking help, without the resources to make a stand against the uncaring cruelty of our starkly-cold-wealth-worshiping-society.
But - seemingly few and far between - there are individuals that do care, who are sensitive to people’s needs, and are willing to selflessly go the distance to do what they can toward helping and showing concern for others.
I talked with another librarian about this lady and was told her name was shortbreadlover that she was a substitute librarian hoping for a permanent position there. I just wanted to let you know how grateful I feel that she was there at the time we arrived in such a befuddled condition. I think you’re very fortunate to have her in your employ; she certainly gives the library an air of compassionate dignity, interest and service to library frequenters. I hope you’ll consider these things in your dealings with her. She deserves the very best treatment as she works at - as it turns out for us - a very important job. I hope to see her there frequently in the future.
Thank you for your attention, interest and consideration. Please extend our fond regards to shortbreadlover
Your grateful and well served library patrons,
i have deleted any personal names or information but this is the letter the people sent to the director of the library and i wanted to share with you. the story brought tears to my eyes. i had no idea of what was really involved. and all i did was try to help them best i could with little i knew.
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