Salt Lake 2002 Paralympics: right…right…right…right….

Paralympics 2002

Salt Lake Paralympic Games March 9, 2002, Snow Basin ski resort

 

Right…right…right…right…       Left..left…left…left….

Those words rang out to the 114 blind kids and their parents or family members at the Salt Lake 2002 Paralympic Games at Snow Basin Ski Resort on March 9, 2002. All of the children had a reading disability that prevented them from reading regular-sized print. Some had been blind from birth, others had some vision, yet not enough to make reading a regular-sized print book work out. All were from Utah or Wyoming and some had come in from very long distances.

It was just so great that the kids that needed it the most–those that may be able to participate in the Paralympic games in the future–were able to attend. They experienced being there when others who were also blind were speeding downhill. The right..right…right…left…left…left…were the instructions that the coach to a blind skier said as they guided their Paralympic star down the steep course.

Sure, the kids couldn’t see the event, or at least not very well by most standards, but then, neither could the blind skiers. Still, there was much they could do. The parent(s) could describe what was happening. They could feel the chill and the excitement in the air. They could share with others from all over the world in their same circumstance, some much worse (or better) than themselves. They could hear what was happening, experience the moment when winners stood on the stands as the crowds roared in approval. They could be a regular part of the Games experience. They could plan, they could scheme, they could dream.

How did they get this rare opportunity? They read. Either in braille, by recorded book (in those days on cassette), or in large print. I should say they read and they read and they read. They all got to attend because they’d worked so hard for it.

All of the Utah children that participated in the Utah State Library for the Blind’s Summer Reading program in 2001 were invited to attend. Those that completed their reading goals received the free tickets. Free to them, that is. Two tickets were donated by a community sponsor to each child that completed their reading goals; the Salt Lake Olympic Committee worked hard to make that work out for the kids. That was one ticket for the child with a visual disability, one for a parent or family member.

They attended the Women’s blind division downhill racing as well as the Men’s downhill racing events. The day was crisp and clear. The crowds were excited. They were all experiencing things they had never seen before. It was just that great.

Paralympic torch

Paralympic torch run March 7, 2002, Liberty Park

Because of his outstanding efforts at reading during the Summer Reading Program, Quinn Price, a 12-year-old patron of the Library for the Blind, was invited to be a torch runner at the opening of the Paralympic games, on March 7, 2002, at Liberty Park in Salt Lake City. His father and grandfather ran with him: behind him, so they could give directions and encouragement, but he could be the one in the front of the pack. Quinn was an outstanding student and did an exceptional job of meeting his reading goals during the previous summer.

 

Paralympic park

An unexpected surprise: some of the children that participated in the Summer Reading Program were invited to the groundbreaking of the All Abilities Play Park at Liberty Park in Salt Lake City. The children got to dig a shovel of dirt and meet some of the paralympic heroes at the event. Two of them were Chris Waddell, winner of 5 Olympic Gold medals, and Lacey Heward, United States Paralympic monoskier, who has gold, silver, and bronze medals, and won two bronze medals in the 2002 Salt Lake Paralympics.

The Utah State Library for the Blind serves residents of Utah and Wyoming, no matter what their age, as long as they qualify. They need to be unable to read regular-sized print. It includes people with blindness, visual impairments, physical impairments that exclude them from being able to read regular-sized print (can’t hold the book, turn the pages, etc.). It also includes people with learning disabilities. Read more about the program on their website: http://blindlibrary.utah.gov.

It’s a Book

Is the book really dead? I just heard about an adorable book by Lane Smith, called “It’s a Book.” There’s a donkey talking to a monkey who’s just sitting there reading a book. The donkey doesn’t get it. Does it tweet? Where’s your mouse? He goes on and on but then finally asks to see the book and gets all entwined in it.

It’s so hard to say how the book will evolve in the next few years. We’re more digital than ever before and I seem to push, teach to, speak about digital books a lot. I have several checked out right now on my ipod. But the next great novel comes along and I’m likely to get a hard copy that I can sit on the couch and read.

Check out this way-too-cute trailer of “It’s a Book.” You’ll want to read it for yourself.

Books are going out the door

The Boston Globe reported a week ago that the Cushing Academy, a prestigious prep school in western Massachusetts, is replacing its 20,000-volume book collection with a “learning center” containing 18 eBook readers and three giant TV screens. It’s replacing the reference desk with a $12,000 espresso machine.

“It’s a little strange, but this is the future.”

ALA executive director Keith Michael Fiels says this is the first library he is aware of to eliminate books.

“When I look at books, I see an outdated technology, like scrolls before books,’’ said James Tracy, headmaster of Cushing and chief promoter of the bookless campus. “Our feeling,” he says, “is that we love books so much that we want our students to not have 20,000, but millions.”

Student Tia Alliy, a 16-year-old junior, said she visits the library nearly every day, but only once looked for a book in the stacks. “Very few students actually read them. And the more we use e-books, the fewer books we have to carry around.’’ Jemmel Billingslea, an 18-year-old senior says, “It’s a little strange, but this is the future.’’

The times are indeed a-changin’. One large library in Utah has replaced a reference service, not with an expresso bar, but with a Delicious account. At least a dozen other libraries I follow have replaced their reference desks with online reference services and in turn replaced those with Ask-a-Librarian Twitter accounts.

Have your deans or city council begun asking if your users are still reading books? Have they indicated that the space occupied by your book stacks might be better used? Is your library still serving a vital community need?

What are the implications of libraries offering collections and services based on usage? Was it a good idea in the past for libraries to eliminate research collections in favor of stocking videos and trendy novels from the best seller lists? Is usage a good indicator of value? Doesn’t it make sense doesn’t it to replace the works of William Shakespeare with big screen TVs offering access to American Idols? After all, they now get more usage (hits) than the Bard.

Libraries are under increasing pressure these days to change the ways we’ve traditionally done things. Is the book just a format medium that needs to be retired? The knee-jerk response to give customers what they want, to keep up with how people are using information, and to seek ways of cutting costs may, in the final analysis, be short sighted. Or, are the downsides of the bookless future things we can address and overcome?

The Cushing Library experience might make a great discussion at your next retreat, board meeting, or graduate seminar.

Here are few links to help you get started (don’t neglect the public’s comments; the discussions are well thought and surprisingly insightful):

Books are my drug of choice

Herriman» Last Thursday, I attended an open house. There were no refreshments, no wine or cheese. Not even root beer and Fritos for that matter. It was in the Herriman City Library.

The Herriman library is actually only a library in the sense that it has books, a few shelves, and is run by women who seem nice enough but are probably capable of violence if you make too much noise. .

Currently, our book repository is just a couple of rooms in a strip mall behind a Jiffy Lube. It’s not bad as small libraries go, but frankly I have more books in my basement. We deserve a better one. Not only has Herriman grown, plenty of us can even read.

The good news is that a new bigger and better library is on the way. The open house was to show off the artist’s renderings and give the public a chance to talk to the architects, county officials and workers without having to whisper.

As a journalist, I had plenty of questions. For the sake of space, here are the answers: “No, there will not be a helicopter pad, XXX-rated reading room, free doughnuts, hot tub, or parking for elephants. Please sit down.”

Before I did, I forced them to admit one important thing. The new Herriman library will have way more books, thousands and thousands of them. Eventually maybe even a million. I’m happy. You can’t go wrong with books.

Driving home I thought about all the libraries of my youth, many of them smaller than our current knothole of a facility. My family moved a lot and books were my drug of choice. There was only one place to get them legally.

———————————————————

The old man said, “You ditched school

for an entire week and went to

… the library?”

———————————————————

The smallest library I ever held a card for was actually a utility truck. The “bookmobile” came through our desert town once a week. Selection was limited but the driver/librarian was a godsend.

The driver’s name was Lloyd and he only had one foot. Depending on the intensity of his breath, he lost the other in the war or a hay baler.

Lloyd saw that I was bored. He introduced me to Joseph Altsheler’s Forest Runner series. We’ll probably never know how many lives he saved among those unfortunate enough to be stuck in the middle of nowhere with me.

The libraries of my life range from that bookmobile to the Library of Congress. Some are better than others but I’ve never visited one I would have complained about being locked in for the night.

I was thrown out of a library only once. A city librarian figured out that no 15-year-old kid belonged in a library three days in a row during the school year and called the cops.

For once, the old man wasn’t mad that he had to leave work and come and get me. He was deeply confused. The look on his face was a blend of pity and pride.

“Let me see if I got this straight,” he said. “You ditched school for an entire week and went to … the library?”

It’s the only time telling the truth ever got me out of a whacking.

 

– Robert Kirby

 

 

Robert Kirby is a columnist for The Salt Lake Tribune. This story originally appeared his “Kirby” column, February 4, 2009. http://www.sltrib.com/ci_11617648

Reprinted in Utah Libraries with permission of The Salt Lake Tribune