Notes from day four of a strike

(Disclaimer: This is not about the issues--you can check the official union websites for that. This blog is just an opportunity to talk about what it’s like for this full-time-librarian-slash-part-time-writer-and-singer, on the picket line.)

So far: Okay, I’ve only been on the picketlines for two days so far (Thursday and Saturday--yesterday), so I realise my perceptions are going to change as this strike goes on. Right now I’m still hanging onto little issues from work, thinking things like, “Hey, there’s that librarian from project X--I need to talk with her about Y!”, which all of a sudden is the very last thing we’re going to talk about. I also find myself a little annoyed to remember the time I spent over the last couple of days in the office, setting up meetings which are obviously cancelled now, making plans for days we are now going to be closed, talking about things that are now unlikely to happen.

Then there are the small day-to-day adjustments to make. Obviously the routines are different. (There was a little flurry of discussion on the library staff Facebook pages when the strike was announced--we were wondering what we should wear on the picket lines.) I’m accustomed to putting on my work clothes--trying to look professional-slash-creative--and getting in before eight in the morning. I used to turn on my computer, check the library’s bulletin board for news, listen to voice mails, check for emails, and set priorities for the day. No matter how often I walked around the floors where I worked, and up and down the stairways and escalators, most of my work day was spent at my desk or at a meeting table.

Now of course we’re outside. So far the weather’s been good, but the pavement is hard, and the scenery is entirely different. At the end of the day we exchange emails or Facebook messages about our sore backs and hip joints. There’s a lot of standing and slow, slow walking. On Thursday morning as I set down my bag with my water bottles and reading materials (for the bus), I found myself remembering the little comfort objects on my desk and in my desk drawers up there in the building. Like a lot of my colleagues, I have a bit of a stationery fetish. That’s my own cheap blue and green battery-operated stapler up there; those are my own pens. There are also four pairs of shoes under my desk. (None of them are comfortable enough for the picketline anyhow.) From outside, I remember my little office as strangely homelike and cozy, decorated with my daughter’s artwork and a framed ‘50s movie poster. I know I’m conveniently forgetting the stacks of work I was hoping to get done and all the unfinished documents on my computer.

On Thursday one of my librarian colleagues, an accomplished musician, brought his guitar. Another library worker brought a books of protest songs, and a few of us sang. (Can I just mention how much I love children’s librarians?) The time went by much faster that way, but a four-hour picket shift is still pretty long. Someone told me later that we were on the CBC TV news that night. I’m sorry I missed it.

My four-year-old daughter, B, has been asking about the picketline and the strike. Friday was our day off together, but I brought her by, with the excuse of lending the new Harry Potter book to one of my friends. It was sunny and there were lots of picketers walking around in mostly good-natured clumps. Whenever someone drove by and honked in support, all the library workers cheered and waved. At moments it felt like an extended coffee break, with a lot more time than usual for socialising. Quite a few of my friends and colleagues were happy to see my daughter; we exchanged knock-knock jokes, and there was a lot of smiling. B must have picked up the sense of common purpose and positive energy, because she sat--quite fascinated--through the information update meeting from one of our union leaders. But she kept trying to lead me into the library itself. Friday is preschool storytime day, and even though she knew we were out on strike, she couldn’t quite understand that the library was closed. She kept looking in the windows to the children’s department, looking at the weirdly empty, tidy aisles.

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Yesterday morning I put my own guitar in the back of my car and headed down to the library while my husband and daughter were still in their pyjamas. I can play just about well enough to accompany myself when I sing, and I had a few songs in mind: Protest songs: “Which side are you on?” (quite atmospheric in A minor); “If I had a hammer”; “This land is your land” (with the Canadian placenames). Cowboy songs: “Streets of Loredo” (because it’s long and dark); “Cool water” (because it’s beautiful); “San Antonio Rose” (because I love the Patsy Cline version). Others: “San Diego Zoo” (by Stephin Merritt); “Rickety tickety tin/Irish ballad” (the Tom Lehrer song, channelled through one of my favourite singers, Barbara Manning); “Casper the friendly ghost” (by Daniel Johnston, partly because there’s a librarian in it); “River blue” (by a one-time library assistant colleague and amazing singer/songwriter Oh Susanna). Plus some of my own songs, here and there.

It was a little strange at first setting up my guitar outside without really knowing what I would do. I weighted down the lyrics--and my picket sign--on the ground so they didn’t blow away. At times other library staff joined me to sing, and at times I just played and sang by myself. It was fluid; sometimes performance, sometimes practice, and sometimes just goofing around. But by the end of the picket shift my body was sore and the guitar had pressed a few weird bruises into me. Even with all the breaks, chatting and walking around, I don’t think I’ve ever stood up with a guitar around my neck for that long.

Over the years most of us have found ways to bring our outside (creative) lives to work with us. Now we’re trying to bring these same elements to our new responsibilities on the picket lines. Today there’s going to be a “read-in,” some workers are knitting on the line, and there’s talk about doing some “painting in solidarity.” I’m going to try to bring my guitar again when I’m back on Monday. There are a lot of musicians at the library--I wonder how many of us will have our instruments there?

Whew! That was long. I promise that future posts will be more succinct.