"That Librarian" and Our New Reality

Amanda Jones worked like other school librarians worked: largely undetected. But she stood up for the right to read in Livingston, Louisiana, and there she called down opprobrium upon herself.

You know who they are now: the people who, for all the wrong reasons, think certain books should be removed from libraries, many of which they've merely heard of and haven't read. They make up all kinds of fear-mongering scenarios that never happen and never will. They connect what they do to a higher calling, believing that they are in concert with God and that justifies personal attacks and outright lies.

They call those who resist them, as they should be resisted, all kinds of damning names such as "groomer," pretending and assuming that librarians, somehow, are leading children into horrible lives.

And they have weaponized social media to do so. It can open opportunities to having and keeping friends, yes, but also wield devastating slander and libel on someone with no other motivation other than to set things straight. It can demonstrate the devastation of standing in the way of ignorance and hatred. "There really is no arguing with these people," she wrote. "They will believe what they want to believe, even when shown the truth, and when shown the truth they will often lash out with hate."

She kept a journal of her awful experiences of, in essence, trying to stand up for the rest of ourselves, and turned it into a book, That Librarian, out just recently. The saga is not pleasant. The criticism of groups such as the self-appointed Citizens for A New Louisiana lurched into genuine libel, and Jones, with funding help from a Go Fund Me site, tried to take them on in court. But the local judge, perhaps affected by members of the above mentioned group who turned up at the session, didn't allow herself to separate the quasi-religious issue from that of the personal damage it had caused Jones. She denied the request to sue. Jones fiercely defended her rights and appealed. Her account documents what happened in-between.

It was a personal hell, not of her own making. It's a story not that unfamiliar: When people begin to understand what the Bill of Rights is really all supposed to be about--letting minorities do what they think is right and living and let living as long as no one gets hurt--gets in conflict with righteousness many claim but can't live by, then you can get people fired up for foggy but somehow palpable reasons.

What book banning seems to be all about, when all else is swept away, is people who rail against the public displays of homosexuality and transgenderism and cherry-pick the Bible to justify their attitudes that if God would never permit it, why should they? Thus, why should they pay their hard earned tax money to someplace that tolerates it? And if it tolerates it, doesn't that mean it promotes it? It has more to do with discomfort in viewing and experiencing it than notions of righteousness, anyhow. But the religious angle stands as a firewall, a leakproof organizing strategy.

It doesn't seem like the book banners, the alt-right, and the white Christian nationalists are interested in being educated. Education is about knowledge, facts, truth, and what they're pushing isn't about these things. What they stand behind is really a belief system, which happens to be profoundly undemocratic and exclusionary. In truth, it's a believe system based in nostalgia, a longing to turn back the clock to a time when Christianity was more universal, when whites ruled society, when women were subservient to men, and when gay people stayed closeted. It cdhrainly doesn't appeal to be, but for those feeling enominically or socially "eft behind," or perhaps, simply out of step, it may be. a kind of a lifeline. It bestowers meaning, belonging, identity. It creates an us-versus-them world, at the heard of which is fear of difference and fear of change. Hate is its by-product. It's powerful stuff and what makes it so miserable to be targeted by them, and so frustrating to go up against. Do they believe the lies about that book or this book being inappropriate? I'm not sure, but I'm sure that they need to believe what they believe to maintain good standing with others in their communities.

There really is no arguing with these people. They will believe what they want to believe, even when shown the truth, and when shown the truth they will often lash out with hate.

It's time we admit that the United States has had an ominous history that hasn't aways been fireworks and "Yankee Doodle." Our country has some awesome ideals but has history of not living cup tot hem--of mistreating women, children, people of color, and the LGBTQIA+ community. Admitting the dark side of our country's history doesn't mean we hate our country.  It is the opposite.

I want to live in a country that earns its title of being the best until it is no longer a delusion or lofty idea but a fact. Instead, I live in a country whose current politicians are too busy dragging us through the mud with manufactured outrage over teaching real history and including books in our libraries that speak the truth and feature all members of society. I would love to stand in from of people like Marjorie Taylor Greene and Matt Gaetz and ask them what in God's name they think the are going besides causing us to backslide as a country.

The world can be pretty confusing these days. What I see is a society growing more open-minded to people who are different from them, and a backlash from a segment of people who are uncomfortable with this. These folks see it as a zero-sum game. Any movement toward openness and acceptance somehow takes something away from them. This is where and the victim talk comes from, and the steading raising of volume and distortion in their claims as the truth fails them and they reach for fear mongering.  American was founded not as a Christian nation, as they like to believe, but as a pluralistic democracy guaranteeing freedom of worship and the promise of equality. We still have a long way to go in the equality department, but the progress we have made should be celebrated, not feared. What Christian nationalists want nothing to do with this celebration. They want to turn back the clock to a time and a place that never was. It's sad and too bad. All it would take is a bit of courage, positivity, and generosity. True Christian values. But fear, hate and intolerance are easier and maybe more emotional satisfying in the short term. Indeed, they're playing the short game, and it won't end well.

Every day I wake up wondering who or where the next hate campaign will be launched. All across the country ate speech is running rampant, funding is being threatened, and our libraries are under attack. People are no longer hiding their racism. I don't know if I'm relived, because at least they are showing their true colors so that we can identify them, or if I'm just sad and wish they'd go back to hiding it.

She filed suit against Citizens for A New Louisiana and its spokespeople, Ryan Thames and Michael Lunsford, but got it thrown back in her face when the parish judge went along with the whole business not as a legal tort, but as a morality play of which she was apparently the guilty person. It set off a social media war. She was accused of things she couldn't have done.

The good part about this is that Jones set up a Go Fund Me account, and got herself enough money for appellate pursuits because there are plenty of people out there who love their libraries and don't want them to become right wing echo chambers. In the meantime, she became something of a media darling and was asked to speak in various places about the horrors of this obsession. And, as you can see, she took time off from what had suddenly become her incredibly stressful job to write her book.

So she's doing fine, sadder but wiser, of course. But I wonder about other librarians who, like her, want nothing more than to do their jobs helping people with the wonders and joys of reading. What happens to them when they are attacked? Who rushes to their aid?

I have done some reading connected to my advocacy position with the Friends of the Shorewood Public Library. Some librarians do "weeding" of some books that might bring public scrutiny. Such a practice can be deemed "normal," since some books really do need to be gleaned from the stacks due to lack of borrowing or simple wear and tear. But some librarians use this practice to do sneaky removals of potentially controversial works. People, young and adult, who might need to read them go wanting. Thus the undermining process works all by itself, without anyone raising their voices.

This is the ex- aspect of our lives now, that people have grasped onto something they can brag about without realizing how others are being hurt and how the culture is reduced. Not that they care. Self-righteousness begets compassion and, worse, critical thinking.

This upcoming election will not end this. Part of it is obviously, and ridiculously, to curry favor with ex-, or to be connected to him in some palpable way. But his defeat would not make this disappear, and his victory will accelerate it. If you like your local library, get ready. They're coming for it. It's just a matter of time.

If your local bookstore has a copy of Jones' book, just sit with it for a minute and read the final two dozen pages. It contains her advice about how communities can gird themselves against these unwarranted, pathetic attacks. In a word: Organize. In another: Inform. In a third: Warn.

This is part of our new reality, that others are trying as hard as they can to avoid facing reality and demand that we do, too. They have no right to do so, but they will seize power if they can get it--just like their hero is trying to do again.

Be well. Be careful. With some luck, I'll see you down the road.

Mister Mark

This Is Why Pete Rose Isn't in the Hall of Fame

Pete Rose has just passed away at 83. That will no doubt bring forward yet again one of the diciest of ethical issues in sports: Should he be selected to Baseball's Hall of Fame?

On paper, it's a no-brainer, and ridiculous to suggest otherwise. He's still, and because of big money contracts and the inclination to retire early now, probably will always be, the all-time leader in base hits with 4256. Beyond that, his on-field actions, his aggressiveness (sometimes pretentious, as when he would sprint to first base upon walking) and nickname of Charlie Hustle made him an icon to many.

But Rose smudged the game itself. Addicted to gambling--and upon his own admission, though much later--he bet on baseball games while managing one of its major league teams. Implicitly, he's been blamed for the sudden death of Bart Giamatti, then commissioner of baseball and a raging idealist of the game's contributions to our world ("Baseball breaks your heart," he once wrote, in a hauntingly prescient phrase), who died very soon after making the ruling that banned Rose from baseball from that day forward.

He has also been linked to fooling around with underage girls--not a good image for someone trying to be in someone else's Hall of Fame. His baseball accomplishments are terrific. How he conducted himself beyond his sports career is not. 

The betting alone is shaky, but if he had bet on horses or football games, he might even be forgiven. But he didn't. He bet on the game he said he loved so much, despite how bad he made it look.

For many of the Baseball Writers of America, the institution in charge of nominating and selecting the members of the Hall of Fame (with the exception of a players' committee which might override a rejection here and there), what Rose did is unforgivable. I happen to know something about some of the members of that group, or at least those who used to be.

During the 1980s, I earned myself a master's degree in journalism from Marquette University. To do that, one must write a thesis. I figured to combine two things I loved, journalism and baseball (I was in the middle of my experience of writing a local sports column), after reading a book that suggested that baseball writers--which I once dreamed of becoming, but life got in the way--didn't especially like what they did but you know, like other things, it's a living.

So I thought, pre-internet: They must stay in Milwaukee while the teams they cover play at (then) County Stadium. They would most likely work out of their rooms and they might eat breakfast or lunch at those hotels. I also did some digging as to who wrote for what newspaper (still in that heyday, soon to sunset). I also learned the hotels at which the visiting teams stayed and wondered, Could they be the same? Would make sense to try to get 'insider' stories.

I put that guessing together and called front desks. Sure enough: not only were the writers there, they were dispatched to me straightaway and suddenly I would be talking to them (our world now being much different, I highly doubt that you'd be able to do this now). I invited them to lunch. Most said yes; this to someone they'd never met.

I brought my tape recorder. We'd have the most fascinating talks. Going around the league, contributing to their newspapers in an important way--what fan didn't turn to the sports page every morning?--but operating mostly facelessly, they were eager to talk to anyone interested in what they did and how they did it, to get a glance under the hood, so to speak.

I was having the fun of my life. There's nothing like the enthusiasm that original research gives you. And I learned quite the opposite of what I had postulated: Baseball writers loved what they did, but like most of the rest of us, would take a moment to whine about its challenges and its daily grind of deadlines and need to say about games in a fresh way, even though what would take place on the field would have ringing similarities to the last game and the one before that.

But they also considered (and still do, I'm sure) themselves guardians of the game's lore and history, a significant contribution to our culture. They knew that what they wrote on a daily basis, while not necessarily anything a Pulitzer Prize committee might consider, would be ensconced in someone's library and archives forever. That status, they took very seriously.

I talked to just a few of them at later dates. They were crabbier, which meant I'd interrupted them in the middle of something, which could be any time of the day or night for baseball writers, who write about baseball generally besides the teams to which they are assigned. In no indirect way, then, they have to be 'on' 24-7, because staying in, maybe, Seattle, they might get a call about something in New York. They do not take fools gladly.

Considering all that, their stance against Rose being in the Hall of Fame makes sense. If they're the ones who measure the greatest of the sport they knew more about than just about anyone else, if it still means something very important to a vast bunch of us, then determining who gets that honor must still contain the essence of honor--being a cut above people who, even though a different kind of elite in that they, too, were major leaguers, didn't quite measure up. That means setting standards, standards they're allowed to set for the Hall, and thus for the sport.

But some of the BBWA's hallowed practices have bordered on the silly. After an obvious first installment, for a particularly long time, nobody got a placement on the first opportunity, after the five years that the BBWA required to wait for it. Willie Mays didn't. Hank Aaron didn't. (Go ahead. Look it up.) That was preposterous, a 'tradition' that made absolutely no sense and diminished the Hall of Fame's seriousness rather than extol it. It made the process look much like a conjured star chamber.

Rose, for his side, said he didn't bet against his team (though he would bet on them to win), and didn't throw any games to win bets. I believe that. I don't think he stooped as low as Joe Jackson, a member of the infamous Black Sox scandal of 1919, who did throw two games of the World Series, then changed his mind, except it was too late and too little to prevent his team's defeat.

But that didn't mean Rose's actions weren't highly questionable or beyond the realm of decent ethics. They were akin to insider trading. Betting on major league baseball games, when one has been a player and manager, means you're taking advantage of information and a sense of learning few others have about those who play the game, either genuinely because you've done it yourself, you know and have watched the people themselves, or implicitly because the game itself has to be played at a certain level and you can tell who can get it done and who can't. I've played the game at a Division III collegiate level, for instance, but I can't extend that experience to knowing how to hit, say, Corbin Byrnes of Baltimore, if I could at all. 

Pete Rose knew enough, or thought he did (though he ended up losing a lot of money, because the game is still full of inexactitudes, full of statistics compiled only after the fact), to think he could fool the system and make plenty of money on the side. He took advantage of a privilege that he had earned, but one that few can have, and to the hardworking members of the BBWA, that's being something of a sneak and a bully.

Rose never apologized, either. The road back to forgiveness belongs to the perpetrator, at least at first. Rose thought that not betting against his team was enough for him to secure a pathway to the Hall. But he played fast and loose with the rules. 4,256 hits should have been more than enough, and no one lives a perfect life. He also slapped the deciders in the face, though, again and again, and that tells you something about him. The writers hold the keys to the door. His key never fit. (Shoeless Joe Jackson apologized, but with more than 3000 hits, he's still been denied entrance, too. So there's that.)

I don't like attaching Rose's denial of entrance to Giamatti's untimely death at age 51, though. To say that speaks to a sense of the Salem witchcraft trials, where bad events were blamed on people who had nothing to do with them. My own heart attack can't be tied to anything going on in my life at the time, though I had just moved from a very nice apartment under duress because my rent had been jacked up and I felt a sense of betrayal about that (though business is business in that racket, too). My cholesterol count was way-way up there, though.

If Giamatti passed away that soon, something else would probably have gotten him, and not too far later. It's not like being commissioner of baseball is a cakewalk. Did Giamatti's good karma get drained by Rose's bad? Come on now. That means the bad guy won. You want to go with that?

No, let's not go there. Let's stay with the core issue: Rose isn't in the Hall of Fame because the Baseball Writers of America say he shouldn't be. Their reasons are fair enough. But the grudge match can be called off, too, now that Rose has passed. He can't enjoy it now, not even for a day. That might change the equation.

I leave that to you. It's still not an easy call. Much will be made of it on the sports talk shows. If it happens, it will probably have to be some time later, after the greyhairs of the BBWA (and many of us) are gone. 

Can certain values remain? Which ones? We'll be making a different evaluation of that, too, after November 5. That determination is still far more imporant.

Be well. Be careful. With some luck, I'll see you down the road.

Mister Mark