One hell of a performance (Human Pursuits 6/3/23)
Two different approaches to show business during a visit to Calgary's Public Library
CALGARY – I could see the street preacher’s pale gray breath spiraling out past his thin lips as we approached the library. It was Family Day and freezing cold but still, Calgary hummed along. Packed CTrain cars unloaded on the nearby platform, puking pedestrians in slouchy toques onto the salted sidewalks and pathways downtown. The day before, sunshine had warmed the city and the outlying foothills. But today winds whipped in from the flat, colourless sky, bringing with them a dusting of small dry snowflakes, some of which landed on the middle-aged white man with the microphone.
“We care about traditional values,” he said to no one in particular “Working hard, raising families.”
I stole a quick glance as we walked up the library’s steps. The preacher appeared older than fifty, with cracked skin around his eyes and temples. Even under his black coat, he looked cold and gaunt. To his left, another shabby white man nodded solemnly. This one was wrapped in a Canadian flag and held a sign that said JESUS IS LORD.
The preacher continued.
“We fear the Lord. We want to save you.”
As he spoke, Calgarians entered and exited the shining library. Each avoided making eye contact. If they were aware of the hellfire and damnation to which they were bound, they refused to let it show. And so he preached a little harder.
“We all know the Canadian government has been co-opted by the Marxists,” he barked as Max, Leah and I stepped through the big glass doors “That’s why they were so happy to strip our rights.”
“There’s a Cuba they don’t want you to see.”
His sermon was cut short as the door closed softly behind us. The library is shaped like an eyeball, with a large skylight where the retina would be. Blue winter light splashed across the building’s blonde wood interiors, illuminating the space like some secular altar. At the bottom sat an open-air auditorium, where families milled about enjoying special holiday programming. Phil Collins’s was playing over two standing speakers.
“This bond between us can't be broken, I will be here don’t you cry” he sang.
Several lifetimes have passed since Leah and I last visited what might be Canada’s most beautiful public space. Before our engagement, before we adopted Stu, before we bore the unforgettable understanding of what it feels like to be alone, we had traced through the stacks with Max, Christy, and Andrea, eventually making our way over to the houses along McHugh Bluff. We had gazed out at the cold city and wondered, as we always do, why we couldn’t all just live in the same place. Four years later, we still didn’t have an answer.
As we gently ascended the curved staircase Max spoke.
“Neo used to have meetings here,” he said pointing to a row of small glass conference rooms. “Before we had an office… Now we have roughly 800 employees.”
On the fourth floor, we stopped and peered into the Great Reading Room. Rows of people sat silently at long wooden tables. “If I had a library like this in university, this is where I would’ve posted up,” said Leah. A red-headed hipster in a denim bucket hat glanced at us from behind his book. We turned quietly and shuffled back downstairs.
On the ground floor, more families had gathered in the auditorium for Storytime with Allen the Alpaca. A later Google would reveal that, despite my assumptions, Allen was not a puppet, but in fact a real animal. How he could possibly tell a story I’m not sure. In any case, the show was about to start.
Back outside, the preacher had handed the microphone off to his shabby companion, who was singing over a karaoke backing track. “Can you believe it’s still not done?” he crooned to the tune of Cher’s Believe. I thought about the warmth and energy inside the library. At any moment, Allen The Alpaca would take the stage. He probably wouldn’t save a single soul. Either way, it seemed the kids were in for one hell of a performance.
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