Hi Joe,
I'm one of the many HPLD staff who enjoyed your presentation this morning. As someone who trained in U.S. History--specifically, Western History--I particularly enjoyed the analogy you offered. I decided to try to carry it a little further thinking that perhaps following the course of history would help us find a path away from our isolation, help us find a way to go from being on the same page to turning the page to a new chapter.

If, as you suggested, libraries will wind up on the res if we don't heed our prophets re: the advancing "eTimes," what's next? BIA-style boarding schools that strip language and cultural traditions? Bone-crushing poverty? (Thinking of Hal Borland's When the Legends Die here). Even when, many years later, BIA policy called for "self-determination," Native Americans didn't find it easy to follow their own path; and mineral extraction and gambling have brought almost as many curses as blessings to Native-owned lands. It's been too many years since I actively read/studied this history and my knowledge is not thorough enough to carry this analogy to a proper conclusion, but the path seems awfully rocky.

Turning to Western history in general, I am reminded of the writings of one of my mentors, Dr. Gerald Nash. A scholar of the 20th Century West, Dr. Nash posited that the West remained a "colony" of the East until World War II. First, the closing of the frontier in 1890 gave rise to an new organizational society. Then, the wartime economy, he said, created a tipping point that resulted, by century's end, in the West becoming the pacesetter for the nation. Railroads helped start the process in the late 19th c., the interstate highway system of the mid-20th c. became a key component of the network that increased Western dominance to a position of leadership.

So, if the internet was our "Columbus moment," what will network & support our libraries the way Eisenhower's highways did the West and the nation? We can look to technology for an answer(and of course it will play a role), but in the end I believe it will have to be the hearts of librarians. On this historic day, when heart and soul and blood and persistence brought a watershed moment in the history of Egypt (not unlike the old Gospel song "Let My People Go"), I am reminded of another story of heart and persistence. The story, an account written last summer by Colorado Supreme Court Justice Greg Hobbs, appears in his essay "First Light" on this website: http://www.unco.edu/middleground/photoalbum/grand_canyon.html


"Many friends give us welcome, we gain new ones. Rangers Andy Pearce and Jacob Fillion introduce the Park to us. Irene Nakai Hamilton reads us a reminisce about being in the family car with her father at the entrance gate refusing to pay the fee because his people were here long before the Park. Embarrassed, young Nakai slides as low as she can in the back seat. Now a teacher of her Nation’s children, this Diné woman considers her father’s stand worthy of a warrior. The Ranger waved them through. (Question: does a story a teacher tells her students in an Arizona classroom violate the state’s new ethnic studies curtailment law?)"

So, is Mr. Nakai's example a lesson for us in library land? Do we reassert our historic and traditional role of controlling our data and stand our ground? Will that be enough to unify us? Or, will we first have to be tested in the crucible of change to find our strength and voice?

Such a long comment and I don't feel I've loosened the Gordian knot at all; but at least we've continued the conversation--one step in the right direction.

Good luck in your (prophetic) endeavors.