Why is it that every year we have to do this dance? In late spring, Mayor Michael Bloomberg comes out with his budget announcing all sorts of draconian cuts–which he claims to hate–and then the groups from the various threatened constituencies are forced/expected to mobilize opposition against said cuts to halt the worst-case scenarios so that, when the pain comes, we’re grateful it’s not as bad as it could have been. Can we not just get an honest budget proposal from the mayor to begin with? I know, I know: naive doesn’t even begin to describe that question.

And so here we are, again, in the midst of our late-spring petition-signing ritual to save our libraries from another round of cuts that could gut as much as 30% of the operating budget, close branches, layoff librarians, etc., etc. As Rita Meade, a Brooklyn librarian who blogs over at the Screwy Decimal notes (via GalleyCat), “Based on this budget model, Brooklyn Public Library could potentially lay off 158 employees this summer, including yours truly. Zoinks.”

So get ready patrons of the New York Public Library system to click on some links and go sign some petitions: Brooklyn, click here; Queens, click here; Manhattan, Staten Island, and the Bronx, click here. You can also go to SaveNYCLibraries.org to find a list of upcoming rallies and other ways to help out.

But lest you think to yourself, “What’s the big deal? More people are buying eBooks now, so much is online, does the library system even need to be as big as it is? Is it even necessary?,” go read Laura Miller‘s excellent column “Why Libraries Still Matter” in Salon about the centennial anniversary of the iconic main branch of the New York Public Library. In it, she sums up about as well as anything I’ve read lately why we should collectively care about these vital public resources:

There’s something about that vast, serene, light-filled space, with its monumental oak tables and brass lamps, that steadies and focuses the most jittery mind. When I’m finding it hard to work anywhere, I can always work there.

Today, those oak tables have power outlets and more than half the patrons are tapping on laptops. Yes, they have laptops and yet they’ve come to the library. Librarians (who are of course the most invaluable feature of any library) tend to bristle at the stereotype of their profession as a glorified shush patrol, and typically respond by pointing out the many, many community services libraries provide, from storytelling for children to multimedia resource centers for job seekers to gathering places for seniors. But let’s not totally discount the shushing, because a good library can also give its patrons something that’s getting harder and harder to find: quiet.

The Rose Reading Room is an exceptional place, but even the humblest branch library can provide the same precious resource to its patrons. There’s nothing “elite” about needing some tranquility, either: If anything, the poorer and younger you are, the harder it is to find a quiet spot to read, write and think, where family isn’t crowding around and countless electronic devices aren’t blaring at you from every corner. Access to a little peace and quiet is as essential to a humane society as access to parks and art. That’s not something the Internet is ever going to be able to give us. It can only be found in a real, not a virtual, place, which is what libraries have always been and what we all still need them to be.

Well said.