Keeping it real while we all lose touch

There’s something wonderful about living in an age when if something big happens on the other side of the world at midnight, the rest of us know by 12:05. First reports of the mission to kill Bin Laden came from tweets about unusual helicopter traffic in a Pakistani village nobody ever heard of.

Even though internet, cell phones and social networking have advanced communications faster in the last three to five years than the rest of history combined, I fear we’re losing touch.

Example one: this morning, I watched as a grandmotherly looking woman walking with a young girl, maybe 10, in our parking lot. They walked out between parked cars and barely missed getting hit by a car heading for the book return. Nobody knew what almost hit them. Everyone involved was talking on cell phones.

Example two: last weekend, as I was getting out of my car at Walgreens, I saw a mom pull up with a car full of kids. Mom got out to visit Redbox. The kids in the car were eerily quiet. Instead of arguing and poking one another, each had their neck bent over some kind of handheld gadget. Maybe they were texting their taunts. I bet that if I’d thrown a tarp over the car and asked the kids where they were, they would have said, “huh?” They were out of touch with their physical world.

Example three: we live in climate-controlled environments. Windows don’t open in most commercial buildings. Take a walk in the neighborhood on a warm day, and it’s hard to hear the birds over the hum of central air. Ever since the weather guy came up with the heat index, we now know not only the temperature, but what it feels like outside. I prefer to go out and feel for myself.

Libraries are not immune to this. Back in the old days, we used to thumb through drawers full of little cards to find books. I used to appreciate the thrill of the hunt. Going way back, some of the cards were hand-written, and the careful librarian penmanship was a work of art. I love the immediacy of the information on the computer, but it’s cold and lifeless.

I’m not alone in this feeling. There hasn’t been a card catalog in Fond du Lac in 20 years, but hardly a week goes by that some loyal library user doesn’t wistfully recall what it was like to explore the many drawers.

Reading is undergoing a change as well. I like the feel and smell of a book. I like knowing that it can sit on my shelf or sit in my hands, that it won’t change (other than some coffee stains) and that it’ll be there when I want it. But e-books and e-readers are taking over. Sure, I can download a book from the library instantly instead of making a trip downtown, but I’ll stick to the hard copy. I can use it for pressing leaves or as a coaster if I want.

Libraries are adapting and changing with customer demand, but we’re not losing touch. Though some people predict libraries will disappear – who needs brick and mortar to download digital files? But along with lending e-books and the real thing, libraries serve a larger purpose. They’re a place to get in touch with friends and neighbors. I mean actually touch them, shake hands, give them a pat on the back and talk to them face-to-face. Or take in a program. Take kids to story hours. View the art up close in the gallery.

There’s virtual reality and then there’s the reality of personal contact. Each has something wonderful to offer. I prefer to experience both, and that is my library. Instant information and communication blended with the friendly faces of the staff and the people I meet here: that’s real, that’s keeping in touch.