A Walk in London

I went out for what was supposed to be a quick morning walk in London, Ontario, today, and stumbled upon three treasures – the London Public Library and two 80+ year old women, one named Gladys and the other, Jean.
Believe it or not, the London Public Library – the Central Library – is located in a mall in the heart of this economically-depressed city to find the library right in front of me! Unfortunately, it was closed today for staff development, so I peered into the windows to catch a glimpse of the inside. Right away, I saw a few things that I liked, so I whipped out my little travel log to take note of them. For example, inviting salmon and azure-colored signage over the information desk reads “Welcome Desk” and over the computer stations, (which are referred to as “viewing stations”), signage reads “Discovery Place.” A security guard manning the door asked if I needed help. I started to tell him that I was a library science student from Indiana who was very interested in this library in the mall when a little old lady appeared at my side. She touched my arm and told me that her friend was sitting nearby and was the library’s most devoted patron and could tell me everything anyone would ever want to know about it. Maybe it was the lady’s big twinkling eyes that were made even larger by the thick lenses of her eyeglasses, but I liked what I saw and accepted her offer. Soon the three of us were sitting together on a mall bench – Jean, an Englishwoman, and Gladys, a Scotswoman, and I, a descendent of English and Scottish immigrants to New Brunswick who later walked across the border from Truro into northern Maine.
Jean introduced me to Gladys, and I began asking questions about the library and their feelings about technology. Turns out, the library moved to the mall five years ago for three reasons -- space, modernization, and downtown revitalization. It had been located in a grand, old, stone edifice which now stands empty, for lease. The new library is up-to-date technologically and has many computers, an underground parking lot, a café, extra rooms, and a courtyard with a garden called “The Reading Garden”. In the summer, people can go read in the garden. Gladys said that many immigrants from Jamaica, the West Indies, South America and the Mid-east live in London and take ENL classes at the public library.
Across from the library inside the mall is the library bookstore, where volunteers sell weeded and donated books are sold to benefit the library. Also in this space are meeting rooms and a performance hall, where the Spriet Children’s Theatre of London often performs. City leaders hoped that moving the central library to the mall would attract people and revitalize the city center, but this did not happen, according to Gladys – lots of people come to library, but then they return to their car in the free underground parking lot and go home.
Gladys, who has had a library card since she was seven years old, remarked, “Reading is something that isn’t hereditary, but when you see everyone around you reading, as I did – my parents and older brother -- then you read, too.”
“How do you feel about technology?”—I asked my new-found friends. Jean piped up, “We don’t have cell phones because everything on them is too small for me to read” . . . “And my fingers are too arthritic to push the buttons,” added Gladys.” Gladys continued, “I wish I’d been born a little later so I could have learned it. It’s too hard to learn now.” “But how do you manage without using it?” I pushed. “We holler for young people to help us, and they always do. I was in a bind the other day and needed to make a phone call, and a young man said, “I have a cell phone, would you like to use it?’ So I told him the number, and then I talked into that tiny thing and everything worked out. Young people are very kind to us.” “But how do you get information to figure out medical prescription programs?” – I foolishly asked. They both looked at me soberly and explained that they pay $100 a year for all their medicines! They told me that many Americans come to Canada for prescription drugs because often, one pill can cost $50. “Why can’t you do something about that in the States?” – they both asked. I said that whenever anyone tries to, cries fly about socialized medicine, and whoever brought it up is called a communist. Then, everyone suffers, and the ones crying communist drive to Canada to get their prescription drugs.
“How do you feel about the effect of technology on children?” – I asked. Gladys replied that her grand-nephew is studying political science and told her that he searches for sources on the internet but always has to get books to research his topics thoroughly. “I think children should not be introduced to computers until middle school,” said Gladys. “They should just read books and learn from people until then. Technology is good for keeping us in touch with each other and with sources of information, but it’s bad because it separates people from actual social contact and their background. They’re so busy thinking about what they’re doing, and they’re moving so fast to shape the future that they don’t know about the people who made the technology. They don’t know enough or value enough the past.”
They were two very intelligent ladies. Both were retired nurses. Jean was 11 when the Nazis bombed England. She grew up in Stratford-on-Avon. She remembers one afternoon in the summer of 1940 when a buzz bomb approached. Jean said, “You knew it was going to fall if the motor stopped. My mother said, ‘I wonder who the blokes are that are going to suffer tonight.’ Later in the evening my father announced that he was going outside to read the newspaper. I followed him out and watched him read the newspaper by the light of Coventry burning fifteen miles away. The Germans bombed Coventry because there was an ammunitions plant there. The sky glowed all night long. And you know, the German scientist who made the buzz bomb – von Braun – was recruited by the United States at the end of the war to help with American technology. He lived a rich, good life in California ‘til the end of his days. He should have been sent to England for crimes against humanity. Instead, he got off scot free. He never had to pay for crimes against humanity. Then, two planes crash into the World Trade Center, and the whole world is in an uproar! But no one talks about the bombing that the English took day after day during the war. No, now people apologize to the Japanese for bombing Hiroshima and Nagasaki and to the Germans for bombing Dresden and Cologne! It’s incredible! The people who started it should be apologizing for what they did. War is more than immoral. It’s, it’s . . . I can’t find the right words to say what it is. It’s awful. When I was working AS a nurse in Birmingham in 1947, a 25-year-old man came in with a disease he got during the war. British soldiers often came home with tropical diseases. He had worked in a Japanese slave labor camp where he had to build a railroad. Well, the doctors had to do a spleenectomy on him, and he died. He survived a Japanese labor camp and made it home just to die. Now, spleenectomies are done all the time, and people survive them just fine. When I told Jean that a lawyer from Greencastle imported a buzz bomb and put it on a pedestal on our local square, where I see it every day, she said, “That is just ghastly. I don’t ever want to see one. I wish they had never been invented. But there you have it – there are benefits to technology, but it’s so often used for destruction.”
The time came to say goodbye. I watched the friends shuffle away with their handcarts knowing I would never see them again but understanding that I would never forget how we met or what they said.