A LOST CAUSE WORTH FIGHTING FOR
by Andrew Williams

I'm in cranky mode today, which means you incessant readers are gonna get
one straight from my misanthropic spleen. As I type this, I'm sitting at a
computer in a college library. Next door to me, several people are
carrying on a conversation as if they were sitting in Starbucks sipping
chai. This would be normal at any other time, except that for everyone
here (except me and possibly the library staff) this is finals week.
Ballcutting time. And it occurs to me: does anyone younger than me
remember when people were *quiet* in libraries?

My theory, based on no facts and scant observation, is that folks in this
current generation grew up in a time when it was no longer a faux pas to
carry on conversation in libraries. With the addition of computers and
cell phones, that standard further relaxed to where chit-chat in libraries
is no longer restricted to bathrooms or labs. And requests for quiet are
met with non-compliance or outright hostility.

I really don't want to do a job unless I'm getting paid for it, but the
temptation at these times to play Library Nazi can be overwhelming,
especially considering the amount of caffeine that is presently flowing
through my system. If I thought it would do any good, I'd speak a few
sharply chosen words to the disruptors, but having been on the receiving
end of such a public shaming, I know that such a riposte would most likely
be received with indifference, a very temporary compliance or
defensiveness.

It seems to me the solution is simple: Have librarians enforce the rules
of quiet in libraries. They're getting paid, and it's in their best
interest to ensure an environment where people can get work done without
having to waste any energy needed for concentration to screen out the
yakkers. OK, Walkmans and Discmans can help here, too, but not everybody
wants to or can use them. And should people have to jam their ears full of
music just to keep out babble? Granted, I love music, but I love silence,
too.

Of course, libraries are not the only sanctums to be violated thus. People
pay $$$$ to go to concerts and then yak all the way through the show.
Freezing stares are useless. Comments like, "Excuse me, I didn't pay $$$$
of my hard-earned money to hear you talk" are generally ineffective,
especially when directed against drunks. (I speak from personal experience
on that last.) Fortunately, this problem--along with the use of cell
phones in public and private places such as restaurants--seems to be on
the decline.

What I think the problem boils down to is this: People can't stand quiet.
When it's quiet, you can hear yourself think. And you may hear yourself
thinking things you don't want to think. So, better to turn up the noise
and wipe out the signal, especially if it's distressing or disturbing. But
if we don't listen to our still small voices, then how else will we know
we're in peril?

America says: "Who needs to think when your mouth just roars?"
Andrew says, "I do, America. I do."

If anyone's got a solution, I'd love to hear it. You know where to write.