A Quandary in Quarantine

Chapter Three

I had had my one-on-one originally scheduled with Maggie for right after lunch, but after a brief phone call we canceled our meeting in favor of a short all-staff at 11 o’clock. She was worried about the town’s potential response as much as I was, and wanted to talk to everyone all at once.

11 o’clock rolled around and Irene and I put up the “We’ll be right back!” sign that directed folks to the circulation desk who could not wait. We always left that desk staffed, even if it was only a part-timer.

The break room that doubled as our conference room was located on the other side of the library, next to the children’s department. Having a full kitchen readily available for programming was really great for Luce. She had had local restaurant owners and chefs come in on occasion and do live cooking programs for families around the holidays. The cookie bakeoffs were especially a big hit. Irene and I entered the room and saw that Maggie and Luce were already there. The other full time librarian did not start her shift until after lunch, as it was her night to close, so the four of us that comprised the senior staff of the library were all there and ready to hear what Maggie had to say.

“So, let’s just face this head on. By now you have probably heard that this Coronavirus thing is a lot bigger of a deal than everyone had originally thought. As you know, the Library Board is scheduled to meet this Wednesday and so I will likely have much better idea of the town’s response after that point. But, I want to take some time now and go over the preliminary guidelines I was able to find online so we can be proactive about how the library will handle the situation. I think we should focus on keeping ourselves and our patrons safe, and take it one day at a time. I have drawn up a schedule for additional sanitation of our work areas and our “high touch” spaces like around the self-check out machines, and the circulation desk surface for starters.”

As she spoke, she passed out a one-page document to each of us. I quickly scanned it, and saw that she had referenced early information put out by both the Centers for Disease Control as well as the American Library Association. Good call citing the ‘big sources.’ I glanced first at Luce and then at Irene, both of them were focused on reading the document, too.

“We should also ensure we put signs up in the public restrooms reminding people to wash their hands for a full 20 seconds, right?” Luce started humming the tune to “Happy Birthday.” She used the song she used to teach her story time kids about personal hygiene, and appropriate length of time to be washing their hands.

“Yes, I think that would be a great idea.” Maggie nodded at Luce, who quickly jotted a note to herself to make the signs. “I think I will go ahead and ask our volunteers to take some extra time wiping down the picture books and board books with wipes as they do the re-shelving, too.”

Irene, who had been uncharacteristically silent up to this point, carefully put the paper down, folded her hands in her lap and said, “Maggie, I am sorry, but I have been watching the news carefully and I need to impress upon you my growing concern. I do not think our country’s leadership is taking this seriously - I worry the town will follow suit. I need to hear you tell us that you will fight for us at the Library Board meeting tomorrow. I believe we should be much stronger in our response. Just asking our patrons to wash their hands will not be enough.”

“Irene, I hear you. I do.” Maggie now joined us at the table and looked directly at each of us before continuing. “I am scared, too. I am going to tell you something as a friend now rather than as your boss. I planned to take this to the Library Board first, but I really think we should reduce the hours we are open to the public right away and extend all check out periods for an additional week so people are not worried about bringing materials back. I hope the Library Board will be in agreement with me.”

Luce and I looked at each other. “Wow. This really is real, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is. Luckily for us, this team is already ahead of the game. Libby, I want you to go ahead and set up the chat client and update the auto-response on the email and start promoting this as the best way to reach out to the library immediately. Maybe giving people the option to ask us for help virtually will encourage them not to leave their houses, and help them stay safe.”

Irene’s eyes opened wide, but she did not say anything. I was surprised, since she had voiced opposition to my plan before. But, I guess if there was a silver lining to the coming apocalypse, it was that we would finally have virtual reference services up and running.

*****

Later, as we all went back to our desks and our little corners of the library, I prepared to dive into the task of setting the new chat reference platform. Irene called to me from her office. As I entered her space, I noticed a pile of printouts from our ancestry database strewn across her desk. She must be working on a genealogy request for one of our patrons. We periodically got requests like that, and I knew from experience the databases could quickly lead someone down a rabbit hole of ship manifests, scans of muster logs from various wars, articles about marriages and deaths. To say they were easy to get lost in would be an understatement. I saw a name highlighted at the top of one page - Martinnen. That sounded vaguely familiar but I could not quite place the name. It sounded Finnish to me… But, just at that moment, Irene cleared her throat and my eyes snapped up to meet hers.


“I do want you to know that I appreciate your willingness to spearhead this chat reference initiative. I know, I know - “ She started when I made to speak, she held up her hand and indicted she wanted me to stay quiet. " was wary of the change initially, but I do think that if this Coronavirus thing continues to affect us - even if it’s only for a month - I think opening up different ways for the patrons to connect to us will ultimately be a good thing, Libby. I’m glad you were already on the path before it became absolutely necessary.”

Flabbergasted, I was not sure know what to say, so I just just smiled weakly and turned back to my screen. I wondered what had come over Irene. That type of praise was rare and totally out of character for her. Not that she was ever outright mean to me or any of the other staff members at the library, but she was not the first person that came to mind when you thought of warm and fuzzy coworkers who turned into friends, either.

*****

As three o’clock edged every closer, I gathered my materials and headed back to that wonderful break room/conference room/program room that we used for nearly everything here at the library. The workshop was due to being promptly at the top of the hour, so I had about 10 minutes to prepare the room before patrons started arriving.

As I set up the tables and chairs, I noticed a piece of paper behind one of the shelves which held Luce’s pantry staples for her cooking classes. I picked it up, thinking I would put it in the recycle bin, but then my eye was drawn to the writing on the back. Scribbled there, I saw more of that same spidery antique-looking script I had noticed on the printouts on Irene’s desk earlier in the day. The writing style so popular at the beginning of the twentieth century, which has since fallen into disuse. Thinking perhaps she’d been researching on her lunch break, and dropped a piece of paper, I unfolded it. This piece, though, was definitely not a scanned and printed document, it was an original. It appeared to be a letter. I sat down at one of the tables and tried to decipher the words.

My dearest Mirja,

I know you refuse to let this transgression against our good family name sully your beautiful soul, but I am not as strong as you are, my love. I have to take action! I cannot sit idly by while their fortunes increase, and ours stay stagnant. We came to this country for opportunity.

How can you expect me to let it slip through my fingers, now, when we were so close? I hope you can forgive me my actions, but this is the only way I can see

There, the text cut off, clearly in the middle of a sentence, but as I gently flipped the page over, all I found there was a single word, the name Mirja.

I jerked my head up quickly from the page as two of my workshop attendees entered the room, laughing and talking to each other. I was expecting eight people today, and it appeared they had started to arrive. I slipped the well-worn piece of paper into the back of my notebook, making sure it laid flat and would not get damaged. It would have to wait until after the workshop for any further exploration, it seemed.

The two ladies who had entered were our long time Library Board president, Denise, and her friend Ruth. The two, both octogenarians and long time widows, often attended library programs together. They especially loved the genealogy workshops. Ruth often attended genealogical programs when she traveled around the State, too. Recently, she’d attended a class at the Wisconsin Historical Society led by the archivist, Lee Grady. She had promised to bring back any good tips she’d learned to share with us today. I smiled at her as she and Denise took the seats at the table closest to the front.

“So, Ruth, what did you bring back for us?”

“Oh, I’ve got a doozie of a story! But I’ll wait to tell it until everyone arrives!”

Okay, no tips or tricks then, just some potentially hundred year old gossip. Perfect for this group, I smiled.

“Great, can’t wait!” I laughed.

The other six people who had registered for today’s workshop slowly trickled in and took their seats. I had my PowerPoint queued up and I was about ready to start when another person slipped in through the door. Susan Taylor, another Library Board member quietly took a seat at the back of the room, right next to the shelf where I had found the letter. She regarded me with her typically cold gaze.

“Oh, hi, Susan!” I started. “We’re happy you could join us, you’re more than welcome!”

Other than a slight rise of her eyebrows, and an incline of her head, Susan gave no response. Okay…

“Well, let’s get started. Thank you all for coming today; I’m glad to see a few new faces. We’ll start by giving the floor to our friend Ruth, who recently attended a class at the Wisconsin Historical Society.”

“Thank you, Libby, dear.” Ruth turned so her body was pointed towards the back of the room, and all eyes were riveted on her. Ruth was a great storyteller, as well as an avid genealogical researcher and her tales from other programs she attended typically were quite fascinating.

“The program I attended was on the history of sanitariums in the state,” she began. “Lee Grady led it, and he’s so wonderful! I was happy to watch him speak again. Remember I went to his talk on the Menu Collection a few years ago?” Ruth had regaled us with stories on this unique collection held by the Wisconsin Historical Society of menus from Wisconsin restaurants and hotels, schools, organizations, and even private home dating from the mid 1800s to the present day.

Ruth continued, “This program was very unique. My favorite part was the discussion of the process of ‘being committed’ at the turn of the century. Apparently, a family at the time did not need much evidence of actual mental illness. And of course, at the time anyone who was even slightly non conformist might be labeled as ‘insane.’”

At this, there were a few nods around the room.

“Grady told us a story of a man who was basically upset because he felt his wife did not enough housework. So, he and his wife's brother, who happened to be a doctor, wrote a doctor's note to have her committed. That was all it took. The poor woman.”

Ruth shook her head.

“So, in other words,” I broke in, “When we find records of mental illness, or other problematic events in our family’s histories, we should remember this example as a cautionary tale?”

“Yes, that is exactly what Lee Grady said. History is written by the victors, as we are reminded by Winston Churchill. That’s as true in family histories as it is in the history of the world,” Ruth said, nodding in agreement.

I couldn't quite put my finger on why, but at that moment my gaze was instantly drawn to Susan Taylor who still sat in the back of the room as Ruth continued to field questions about the program she had attended. When her unwavering stare met mine, I quickly busied myself with my PowerPoint. When Ruth was finished, I began the workshop; Ruth’s poignant statement set down roots in the back of my mind and refused to let go.