This article, by Linde Furman, was originally published in the Arizona Daily Star on July 21, 2024.
I wasn’t born a librarian. I didn’t exit the womb clutching a teeny book. My path to librarianship is an interesting and slightly harrowing story. I was living in Virginia. The day before my first public library interview, I was in a terrible car accident that should have claimed my life and the life of the driver who hit me. During my interview, I was so grateful to be alive that I was filled with joy and confidence.
When I went to work that evening, my area experienced its first derecho. It was unexpected, intense, and violent. Think seventy to ninety mph winds out of nowhere. I watched out the massive windows of the Barnes & Noble where I worked as trees were felled, streetlamp globes violently shattered, and a transformer exploded in the distance. As I stared out the windows, I thought, “I’m going to get this job. I’m going to be a librarian.” I wasn’t born a librarian, but that was the moment I knew I would become one.
I tell this story because many of us in the library profession aren’t born library workers. I share it because we are also human. We are helpers.
After more than twelve years in the profession, I am now a manager at Joel D. Valdez Main Library. I also lead our first Trauma Informed Care Team, devoted to supporting library staff. I am proud of the work these teams—and the library system—does. When I think it’s not possible to love these bright, energetic, and talented people any more than I do, I find my heart further filled with care for them.
I want to celebrate my colleagues and honor their stories. Each of us working in public libraries has a story of how we got here. Some of those stories involve pain or love or struggle. Many of us have stories of great challenge that have brought us here and shaped us into strong and compassionate public servants. Our stories are often those that make us want to be helpers and to continue helping.
None of us serve in the field because it is easy. It is not. Library staff return to work each day because we want to see our community thrive. We want to thrive, too.
Our world is both tumultuous and beautiful. We cannot train our eyes on only one or the other. The difficulty and paradox of trying to take it all in at once is that it can be overwhelming, and even heartbreaking. And so, we take it in one piece at a time. We want to uplift others from turmoil. We want to see others helping one another. We want to witness and generate more beauty and humanity.
Colleagues, I see you. I see your hard work. I see how tireless you are and yet I know you are tired. Though we often tell ourselves we aren’t doing enough, that we are not enough, I see that we are enough. Thank you for you, and for us. I am glad we have each other and that we remain here for each other in even more powerful ways. I see beauty and humanity in you.
To our community, thank you for supporting us. Thank you for coming to see us, for sharing your stories, and for seeking out new stories in our libraries. Thank you for utilizing the spaces and resources we build and maintain for you. You are why we are here.
Come and see us more often, get a library card if you haven’t, attend a program that might enrich your life. I invite you to share your positive library story with us and others. Consider telling library staff what they mean to you. They would love to hear it.
Linde Furman will celebrate four years with Pima County Public Library in November 2024. In addition to leading the Trauma Informed Care Team and working as one of two managers at Joel D. Valdez Main Library, she also serves on the Library’s Restorative Practices for Youth Team.
