the Oasis

When the library closes for repairs, those who rely on it for peace of mind and social connections will lose a main social hub.

By Scott Morgan, Managing Editor

She sleeps. But not really. Neither fully nor fitfully.

She stirs. But not really. Neither alarmed nor relieved.

Around her, the midday business of the library’s second floor whispers and hums and mutters and clicks.

She ignores. But not really. Neither wary nor curious.

Edward sits down heavily beside her. She is unfazed by him.

They’re friends. But maybe not really. Neither chatty nor uncomfortable with each other.

Edward

I talk with Edward first, because I know him. I’ve spoken to him here a few times already. Today, I ask him how he plans to spend his days for the next several months while the York County Library’s Main Branch in Rock Hill is closed for electrical repairs.

“I’m gonna find a coffee shop or something like that,” he says. “There’s plenty of then around Rock Hill. So there are places that I can go, but I think a lot of folks feel more comfortable being in the library because it’s a secure environment.”

It also doesn’t cost anything to be here. While Edwards says he likes to be outdoors and has money to spend some quiet time buying coffee during the day, he knows not everyone has the same options.

Edward works at one of the homeless shelters in the city. He expects to see more people use them to get through their days, now that the library won’t be an option, for however long that’s the case.

But he knows the difference between the library and the shelters.

“We can’t really provide the same atmosphere that the library provides,” he says. “You know, the comfort and the quietness and that sort of thing. We can provide shelter, if it’s raining, storming, cold, that sort of thing. [But] there’s a vibe, if I can use that word, here in the library, that’s welcoming to a lot of people. We’re going to try to provide that same atmosphere at the shelter, if we can. Our staffing is low, our supplies are limited, but we’ll still try to do the best we can. “

She stirs again, but only slightly. Her cheek stays mounted to her fist. She leans away, neither engaged nor indifferent.

Edward knows her from the shelters and from seeing her in the library. Her name is Angel, she tells me. She’s one of the friends Edward is concerned about spending the days on the street.

Angel

Angel is trying to figure out what will become of her days, at least through next spring.

“Whenever my friends are off work, I’ll probably go to their place and hang out,” she says. “I’ll probably hang around the parks or something. Relax in the grass and over in the shade. Then I might even go over where that pond is, where you can feed the geese. Yeah, I would love to do that.”

She doesn’t say which pond. She will find her way there from the city’s MyRide bus. She’s unable to drive.

Angel’s been staying at the Life House Women’s Shelter, in town. She’s made friends there.

She’s also made them at Bethel Day Shelter and looks forward to reconnecting with friends she knows from there as well.

I ask her if she’s concerned that the library is closing. Her eyebrows raise, almost as if the idea were a surprise.

“Yeah, definitely” she says. “I would love for [the library] to open up sooner, of course.”

She’s relieved when I remind her the closure isn’t permanent. But when the talk turns to winter weather, Angel, with a startling casualness, starts to think of what she will need to get to spring.

“I’ve definitely been wanting to buy a heating blanket,” she says. “I have to get me a heating blanket and find an area with a plug-in. I need to buy me some tarp to lay down on. You know, something might come up at another place that I’m staying at, like, it might be a day where there where they’re closed or something, for some reason, and yeah, just in case I got to go and lay in the grass on a day where the grass is kind of wet or something.”

Pauline

Pauline can’t drive either. While Angel doesn’t tell me why, Pauline is rather public about her struggles with epilepsy.

Pauline lives a few miles from the library, near where the city’s MyRide bus line once had a stop. Earlier this year, the city consolidated its bus routes, as its all-electric fleet fights to stay alive for city residents who’ve come to rely on the free public transit system.

Pauline used to be able to pick up the bus right near her apartment. Once the city cut that stop from one of its MyRide routes, Pauline has had to rely on friends and on York County Access, the county’s paratransit service that used to be part of the city’s services, to get around.

So Pauline doesn’t get out much. One of the places she likes best to go is the library. With it closing, she’s worried about losing one of the only social hubs she has.

“I feel like I’m pretty much stuck,” she says. “I don’t have too many places to go.”

Pauline has not experienced homelessness, but says her illness can leave her feeling isolated. She says the library “was really my place to kind of hang and chill. I would go to get out of the house and get a breather.”

Like Edward, Pauline says she plans to hang out in the occasional coffee shop and will continue to attend the writer’s group, Speak Up: Stories from the Streets, which has met at the library in Rock hill almost every Tuesday since last March. It will now meet at The Mercantile a few blocks away, while the library is under renovation.

But other than Tuesday mornings, Pauline is not sure yet how she will spend her days and with whom she will spend them.

This loss of social connection is a major concern for Pauline’s friend, Thomas, whom you might have already met in this story. Thomas is also part of the writer’s group, as is Edward.

He says that the six months (or more) that the library will be closed could be “devastating” to people whose grip on social connections are already shaky.

“Now more so,” he says, “because they’re closing,”