The Bond of Community Is the Antidote : Working together for something so small yet significant as the opening of a library, we glimpse the cure for a twisted notion of individualism.

The stars and stripes, the California bear and the flag of the City of Angels. Several days ago, these symbols of our nation, state and community greeted 1,000 celebrants attending the dedication of our city’s newest addition to its sprawling library system: the Platt branch in Woodland Hills.

But the flags did not wave proudly from the top of the pole. Rather, they hung listlessly halfway between the top and the flock of children chasing each other around its base. One glance reminded us of the pain in our nation’s heartland.

We had not met the victims of the Oklahoma bombing. Yet we had seen them on television and in our newspapers: They are us. Faces black and white, Hispanics, Asians, young, old. But while we were celebrating Earth Day and a community dream, rescuers were digging through unthinkable destruction.

The promise to West Valley residents for a branch library became a reality because of a bond issue. The Platt branch was the first new library built since the bond election in 1989. But without the community’s working hand in hand with city officials, the dream would never have become the attractive, 14,000-square-foot structure with its checkerboard front sidewalk, filigreed sculptures and high-tech cataloguing.

The adults listened to a short speech by Mayor Richard Riordan while kids exercised their birthright to run and jump and chase. Suited but sockless, the mayor claimed he forgot extra socks after a community bike ride in Pacoima, but added that the magnificence of the new library just “knocked my socks off.”

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Cub Scouts presented the colors and led the Pledge of Allegiance. A fifth-grader shared the dais with the bigwigs and gave the most touching speech, which was about finally being able to carry books home and read them to her invalid grandmother. Yet we could not escape those three flags at half-staff.

A theme of the dedication was that books are gifts to succeeding generations. Books are inanimate, yet they talk. Books give, they do not take. Libraries, the gathering place of books, are where generations meet.

And it is not just the people of the West Valley who can point to this achievement. It depended on the voters in 1989. Caring people throughout the city decided the welfare of our community was worth a financial sacrifice. Which brings me back to the tragedy in Oklahoma.

The heinous crime that took so many lives appears to have sprung from an anger based on a misguided form of individualism. Community is a foreign concept to many who believe that individual rights supersede all societal obligations.

Rather than reach outward to the community and attempt to improve the lives of fellow citizens, these self-proclaimed patriots jealously guard what they perceive as theirs. They feed on simplistic arguments offered by talk shows and columnists. The tragic result is they feel compelled to defend themselves at all costs. Any means to repel the enemy is acceptable, even blowing up buildings and tiny children.

The anti-venom to this poison is alive right here in Woodland Hills, and it blossomed on Earth Day, 1995. People working together, sacrificing together, showed that, even if it takes 33 years and means moving a massive, sometimes unresponsive government, it surely will be done. Its name is Community.

The mayor cut the banner across the main entrance. The crowd surged forward. While many shelves remained to be stocked, people milled around, getting a look at the videotapes, the multipurpose room, the computerized card catalogues. Long lines formed to get new library cards.

I flashed to the news photo of a weary firefighter cradling a bloody infant. But in front of me a young mother held a sleeping baby while her 3-year-old giggled over Dr. Seuss, and the image of the best that we can be crowded out the worst.