Would you move to a town with no libraries?

I grew up in Salinas, California. It's the birthplace of John Steinbeck. In fact, I grew up at 50 Villa St., just down the street and around the corner from the house he was born in, now a restaurant.

Not far away, there is a library named after him. In front of it is a bronze statue of him. Granted, it's hideous, supposedly "life-size", but it's short and fat, and is a very unflattering image of him. A cigarette with a long ash is tucked between his fingers. I have to wonder why the artist didn't include a glass of whisky and a broken bottle at his feet.

But I digress. I spent hours in that library. I listened to records of classical music with those big oversized headphones from the 70's, I looked at books with Ansel Adam's photography of Yosemite. I read "The Pearl" there for the first time.

My grandmother called Salinas a "cultural Sahara", she in turn quoting some acerbic literati of her time. She was right. The main event in Salinas each year is the California Rodeo. But it at least had libraries.

Across the street from my grandma's house was Central Park. It had a huge locomotive, a rose garden, and was bordered on the west and north by long rows of eucalyptus trees. It had a tennis court, where Grandma broke her hip when she was learning to play tennis at the age of 62. And it had a recreation center. You could check out red rubber balls, and they had these tables with checkers, but they had pockets in the corners, and were slick, and you used a pool que to hit the wooden disks into the pockets. Coloring books. Crayons. Crafts. I once saw a rally at that park, Ceasar Chavez spoke there in solidarity with the migrant field workers. I watched from our front window. I listened to the music, and hear his voice over the loud speaker system. It was in Spanish, and I couldn't understand him.

In the summer, they would fill the wading pool, over-chlorinate it. It had a rather awkward statue of a dolphin in the center, that shot a rather disjointed stream of water from its nose. We would lay on towels on the asphalt surrounding the pool, which was about a foot deep at the center, around the statue. It was a relief on summer days. It was free.

North of town was Sherwood Park. It was also a eucalyptus grove, and they had a huge olympic swimming pool, with two diving boards. I think it cost a dollar to get in, if I remember, and locker rentals were extra. I learned how to dive on the high board. My first boyfriend took me there on a double date with his best friend and his girl. We were in 8th grade. His mother drove us.

All in all, Salinas was a typical agricultural community. Outside of town were the lettuce fields. That rich, black soil produces the sweetest lettuce in the world. And always, the migrant workers. The library had a section in Spanish.

Imagine my horror when I heard on NPR that Salinas, California, birthplace of one of America's greatest writers, is closing its libraries and recreation centers due to budget cuts. It is the first city in America to do so. Voters rejected to increase taxes to fund them.

Letter to the Editor

The following is the letter I wrote to the Editor of the Salinas Californian.

Dear Editor;

I live in Rhode Island, but I grew up in Salinas. I lived at 50 Villa street, with a view of Central Park, and those other-worldly eucalyptus trees. I played on that Locomotive, and paddled on my belly in the wading pool on hot summer days. I collected owl pellets from beneath the sickle-shaped leaves of those trees, and to this day the smell of eucalyptus reminds me of Salinas.

I remember the parrot that escaped and made a home in the park. I remember hearing it calling "Go home! Go Home!".

I walked in the rose garden with my first boyfriend, swam at the municipal swimming pool in Sherwood Park.

And I spent long summer days in the cool comfort of the John Steinbeck Library, before it was renamed in his honor, and that hideous statue of him was erected.

I haven't been back to Salinas in over twenty years.

But now, I worry, and worry deeply about my home town. I heard on NPR this morning that Salinas is closing its libraries and recreation centers.

It is the first town in America to do so.

Are there no lettuce barons to give grants to the library? Has Salinas truly fallen prey to the false rhetoric of the far right, that the left just wants to spend your hard earned money on frivolous trivialities like books and public recreation centers?

And what are the good folk of The Salinas Californian saying about this? I should hope that it's being covered, and well, in the print edition. After all, newspapers rely on literacy. And where better to encourage literacy than a public library?

This is stunning. I'm gasping like a fish out of water over this.

Yes, I know I'm not a resident any more. But I am who I am because of my childhood in Salinas. And I worry about the children of Salinas today.

We have a budget of over $140,000,000,000.00 to wage war in Iraq. It seems we have lost sight of our own children, our own literacy, our own summer afternoons by the pool. And that breaks my heart.

God save you from yourselves, Salinas.

Sincerely,
E. Howe