I live in St. Louis, Missouri, which is supposed to be the buckle of the Bible Belt here in the Mid-West of America. It’s a conservative town, like a lot of the middle of the country, but last night parts of my city burned. We sat up last night listening to police scanners and following the news, and social media as we watched the peaceful protests about the Michael Brown case turn into violent riots. Maybe if there had only been people from Ferguson, MO, or at least the St. Louis area, involved it wouldn’t have gotten violent, but there were too many people from outside our state that wanted the protests to be exactly what they were last night. For days I believed that no matter what the grand jury results, there were too many elements in town that wanted to loot and burn, and they were going to do that regardless. Some because they are truly anarchists and believe that change can only happen through such acts; some because they had decided it was an excuse for them to steal from other people in their community; some because they just enjoy the release of violence; some because they got caught up in the mob mentality and they did things last night that they would never have done on their own. I wonder if that last group is embarrassed today, or even ashamed of things they did when the mob had them in it’s thrall? They anarchists and the violent, well, I’ll quote, “Some men just want to see the world burn.”
As far as I can tell through news sources there was only one riot related death last night. Watching last night it seemed like half the city was going up in looting and flames, and surely there would be causalities. Death had to follow such destruction, so to find that we lost only one person to it all seems miraculous. There were enough injuries that we may still lose more people from complications due to injuries sustained last night, but so far only one more person added to the tragedy. I guess people’s guardian angels were holding hands and trading favors.
Our night was full of the harsh crackle of the police scanner as Spike listened for certain numbers to be called off that would let him know if it was a public disturbance, a shooting, an assault, or a riot. I’ve never really mastered listening to the scanner, I often have trouble understanding what’s being said. We listened to it like background music, then he’d turn it up and we’d fall quiet, and we’d all listen. Was the violence growing? Was it getting closer? How bad was it getting? On a scale of Gandhi to L. A. Riots, where was it?
Jon explained on a map where each new event was, and how close it was to us, and those we loved. Genevieve read off which business was on fire now: Walgreens, Beauty Supply, Little Caesars, McDonalds, Public Storage, AutoZone, and several others. People are more important than things, or places, but every business that was destroyed last night was someone’s job, or jobs. The people that were doing their work, doing their best to be productive and happy, are jobless today just before the holidays. So many people live paycheck to paycheck that every lost job, sometimes just a lost week of pay, can mean they can’t pay their rent, which means they and their family could be homeless by Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza, Winter Solstice. We needed some hope in St. Louis last night and we found it in the Ferguson Library.
The Library stayed open normal business hours yesterday and is open today so the children have some place to go with the schools closed. Libraries were safe places to me as a child, a place full of my very favorite things in the world – books. The librarian near my elementary school let me leave the children’s section early and read from the adult side of things. She never censored me, or questioned my reading material. I am so grateful to her, because I was able to read without being judged, and that is very freeing for a child. Books were a place to hide, a shelter from harsh realties of all kinds. The books I read during late elementary were part of what helped me become who I am, not just as a writer, but as a person. As long as there are libraries full of books where children can go and lose themselves in stories, there is hope. If you woke feeling helpless and wondering what you could do today, donate. I donated to the Ferguson library, because books and the people who love books are my people. It’s not about the color that happens to be on our skin, if you love stories as much as I do, then we have more in common than anything that divides us.
As we all look for things we can do to help rebuild, or reinforce the good things that remain, find something positive that means as much to you as books do to me and put your money, your time, to that. We donated to the Ferguson Library so that they will be there for everyone who understands that stories are part of what makes us human, makes us people, makes us who we are, and helps us to become more.
