The first 20 minutes are always the most difficult. I leave my car, strap on my backpack, and begin to walk around the Gomper Homes. I always feel out of place, an outsider who is trying to gain some understanding of the people who call this place home. I walk slowly, looking to my left and right for people who will question my motives for being there. A question is a relief, an opportunity to explain myself and hopefully engage in conversation. Everyone looks at me. No one knows why I am there, but they all know that I am out of place. This becomes evident through my body language. I make eye contact with several people, but I am afraid of invading personal moments and so I frequently will fix my eyes on the pavement in front of me. I hold my styrofoam cup in my hand and occasionally drink its contents. I am nervous. Will I meet anyone today? Will I be greeted with hospitality and understanding, or presumption and preconceived ideas? I make a complete circle around the Gompers Homes and start my second trip. The first trip is understandable, but the second trip is suspicious. I understand this very well, and pray that I will recognize someone or have the opportunity to meet someone new. As I visit the Gompers Homes more frequently, I begin to realize that this journey is as much about myself as it is about the residents of East St. Louis. Walking down the street, I think about my role in this project, my relation to the residents, and the feelings that I encounter as I photograph. Who am I to photograph people in and around their homes? I am constantly plagued by the issue of exploitation, and whether or not I am simply exploiting the lives of these residents. I must look to the documentary style as a method for unraveling truth and exposing important issues that need to be addressed. I often wonder how I would react if a photographer came through my neighborhood and asked if he or she could take my picture in front of my house. Sure, why not? I would be happy to help, but does that willingness translate into a pure motive for my own work within an impoverished housing project?

I continue through the Gompers Housing Project and stand on the corner. I realize very quickly that walking is completely different than standing. As I stand, I force myself to be in one place, resolute and firm. I am no longer strolling through, but claiming a certain corner, a certain place, and claiming the right to stand there. I am nervous. I hold my styrofoam cup and fish out the small lime that rested on the bottom of the cup, the last remnants of my lunchtime soda. I put the tangy lime in my mouth. I am overwhelmed by the jolt of flavor that rushes through my body, and relieved to find a small respite from my nervousness. I stand on the corner for five minutes, until I am relieved by the sound of a man across the street. “Hey man, you alright,” he says. “Yeh” I reply. I take the opportunity to walk over to him and start a conversation, telling him what I am doing, and asking permission to take his photograph. He and his friend comply, and I walk back to my car and take out my camera. The first 20 minutes are over.

I apologize again for the lack of posts, and will continue to make promises to be more productive in the area of blog content. I had an interesting occurrence the other day involving Morris Library at SIUC and their reserve fine policy. I have decided to write a letter to the Dean of Library Affairs and to the Chancellor of the university. Below is rough draft of that letter. Please read and advise on any changes or thoughts.

I am writing this letter to address the current fee policies regarding reserve books checked out from Morris Library. On September 25, 2007, I checked out a reserve book entitled “The Working Poor,” by David K. Shipler. I was using the reserve service because I was waiting for my own copy of the text to arrive in the mail. I checked the book out around 3:00 PM, and received a receipt for the transaction, which outlined the time when the book was due. I needed to read approximately 80 pages of the text for my next class, so I began reading the book in the library and kept careful track of my time. For some reason I had the time 5:36 PM stuck in my mind for when the book was due. At 5:32 PM, I decided to return the book to the reserve desk so that I would not risk turning the book in late. I glanced at the receipt as I walked to the reserve desk and realized that the actual due time was 5:28 PM, 4 minutes before the current time. I handed the book to the student worker who informed that I had a fine. I asked how much the fine would cost, thinking that it would be $0.50 or perhaps $1.00, which I would have gladly paid. I was startled and quite frankly amused when the worker told me that I owed $50.00 for 4 minutes of overdue time. 

The current fee policy regarding overdue reserve items at Morris Library is outrageous and appalling. To levy a $50.00 fine on hard working students for an hour or less of overdue time is disgraceful to Morris Library and to the entire university. In addition, this policy at SIUC is completely inconsistent with other universities, including the University of Illinois - Champaign, Yale University, University of Florida, and Southern Illinois University Edwardsville. The fines for overdue reserve items at these institutions range from $1.00/hr to $3.00/hr. To support a policy that charges 17 to 50 times as much as similar institutions is reprehensible. I should also mention that the book I was reading, “The Working Poor,” chronicles the lives of many Americans who work 40 to 60 hours a week at low wages in order to support their families. In disgust, I read about the many exorbitant fines and fees that quick-cash lenders, financial institutions, and legal advisors charge to the hard working members of society who happen to fall below “acceptable” levels of economic stratification. As Morris Library fined me $50.00 for 4 minutes, I couldn’t help but think about the working poor, and imagine how you will use my $50.00 fine that provided me no product, no service, and cost you nothing in return. Perhaps you will fund the 29 million dollar renovation project that has confined me to the first floor of Morris Library for the entire duration of my graduate studies at SIUC. I appreciate progress, and I applaud the vision of this university to become a nationally respected top-tier institution, but I do not believe this progress should come at the expense of its students via exorbitant fines. I propose a solution to you, Dean of Library Affairs, and to you, Chancellor. I will gladly donate 5 copies of “The Working Poor,” by David K. Shipler to Morris Library. I purchased the book online for $10.00, so this will settle my debt to Morris Library, and provide my fellow students with greater access to this important text. I appreciate your time and I eagerly await your reply in this matter. 

Again, please please please let me know what you think about this letter and how I can improve it before I mail it to the dean and chancellor. I have thought about including a list of universities and their reserve fines on a second page. It would likely have between 30 to 50 universities and their current policies, to show how absurd this policy really is. Let me know what you think!