Don Anderson raised his hand for quiet and the members of the
Roses for Moses Society gave him their intelligent and courteous
attention.
Don Anderson raised his hand for quiet and the members of the Roses for Moses Society gave him their intelligent and courteous attention.
“Gentlemen, today’s program was supposed to have been an interesting slide show on the evolution of blank verse in Iowa, but Robert Scattini has just invoked the society’s emergency clause. Robert?”
“Thank you, Don.” Scattini looked out solemnly at the uplifted faces and nodded. “My name’s Robbie Scattini; I’m a cop.”
“So, what else is new, Robbie?” asked Gary Young.
“I’m also a councilman, father, bon-vivant and have many other roles. But I stress the cop persona so you will better focus on what I’m about to tell you.” He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and read aloud:
“‘This is to advise patrons that that the titles of any books they borrow may be passed along to federal agents. Further, library workers are prohibited from informing patrons if federal agents have obtained records about them.'”
After a long pause Jed Logan raised his hand. “What’s that about?”
“It’s a notice that’s been posted in some public libraries,” Scattini said.
“Who posted it?” demanded Tony Ruiz, “the Nazi Party?”
“No, it’s in reference to the USA Patriot Act, and says that any questions about the policy should be directed to Attorney General John Ashcroft of Washington, D.C. I’m not making this up.”
Tom Breen arose. “What are they looking for, readers who borrow ‘Mein Kampf’ or ‘Das Kapital’?”
“I hope it’s not Shakespeare,” John Hodges put in.
“The way I understand it, it refers to any book taken out,” Scattini said, “including ‘The Cat in the Hat’.”
Kollin Kosmicki abruptly stood up. “Say, what would happen to a reader – a young reporter, say – who took out ‘The Cat in the Hat’? I mean, it’s not a subversive book.”
“I could make a pretty good case about a non-human creature exerting an unnatural influence on impressionable young mortals,” Scattini said. “No, they’re interested in any book borrowed. That’s what I wanted to bring up.”
“You’re not taking names are you, Robbie?” Bob Cruz asked.
“No, my department has not received any such directive yet. But I know that some of you have read books – heck, maybe I’ve read one or two myself – and I don’t want a hypothetical situation to arise that could tear me between my friends and my duty. If some of you guys are reading books, it’s probably wise to not let me know about it.”
“They couldn’t object to a fellow checking out a copy of the U.S. Constitution, could they?” Ruben Lopez asked.
“Maybe they’re too busy defending the Constitution to read it,” John O’Brien said.
“Maybe so, but we can read the handwriting on the wall.”
“Graffiti?” asked Mac Mota. “I thought we were talking about books.”
“It’s a reference from the Old Testament,” Jim Sleznick said.
“The Old Testament?” asked Richard Place. “Isn’t that full of Middle East unrest, with tales of slaughter and plagues and all kind of civil strife?”
“You seem to be pretty well acquainted with its contents,” Fernando Gonzalez said.
Place blanched. “Hey, are you accusing me of reading the Bible or something? I think I heard about it on a documentary.”
“I wish Sid Moses was here,” Anderson said. “He’d know what to say.”
“As a matter of fact, I called Sid earlier to remind him of the meeting,” Pablo Balancio said. “He must have heard something about the Patriot Act because he said he could make book on us becoming confused.”
Larry Brown laughed. “I wonder what they’re going to make of me borrowing ‘Wampum of the Plains Indians’?”
“Unless there’s anything else, I move to adjourn,” Anderson said.
A chorus of voices arose to remind him of unfinished business.
Refreshments were served.
