Salem’s Libraries Rise from the Grave: Cookies, Sunday Hours, and the Sweet Smell of Tax-Funded Redemption

Oh, Salem, Oregon—you sweet, soggy corner of the Pacific Northwest, where the rain falls like a perpetual apology and the libraries, bless their underfunded hearts, have been gasping for air like a goldfish flipped out of its bowl. I remember my own library days, back when I was a kid dodging the fluorescent-lit aisles of some forgotten Midwestern branch, pilfering paperbacks that smelled like mildew and other people’s regrets.

Libraries were my escape hatch, my free therapy session, my one-stop shop for dreams that didn’t cost a dime. So when I read this press release from the City of Salem—titled with all the flair of a utility bill, “Salem Public Library to expand hours on November 10”—I felt a little flicker of hope, like finding an extra Xanax at the bottom of the bottle.

Let’s face it: 2024 was a rough year for Salem’s book nooks. Funding gaps wider than the Willamette River, courtesy of skyrocketing costs and those pesky statewide property tax limits, led to service cuts that left patrons wandering the streets like literate zombies, unable to snag a storytime slot or a quiet corner to nurse their existential dread. I can picture it now—the Main Library at 585 Liberty St. SE, shuttered early like a party pooper, and the West Salem Branch at 395 Glen Creek Rd. NW, operating on a schedule so skimpy it might as well have been a haiku.

But salvation came in May 2025, when the good voters of Salem passed the Livability Levy—a fancy term for “please give us more money so we don’t have to close everything fun.” It’s a temporary tax bump, up to five years, earmarked for parks, rec centers, and yes, those glorious temples of free Wi-Fi and questionable restroom graffiti.

Come November 10, just a week from now as I type this on a drizzly November 3, things are getting a glow-up. The Main Library’s stretching its legs: Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays from 10 a.m. to 7 p.m.—perfect for those evening escapades when you need to research conspiracy theories after the sun sets. Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays? 10 a.m. to 5 p.m., including that holy grail, Sunday hours. That’s a jump from 38 to 48 hours a week, folks—enough time to finally finish that doorstopper novel you’ve been pretending to read.

Over at the West Salem Branch, they’re adding a whole extra day (hello, Monday from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.), plus Wednesdays from noon to 7 p.m., and Fridays sticking at 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. From a measly 10 hours to 21? It’s like the branch woke up from a coma and decided to party. This all stems from a community survey—because nothing says democracy like ticking boxes about when you’d like to borrow “The Joy of Cooking” without judgment. Evening and Sunday hours at the main spot, Mondays at West Salem: your voices were heard, or at least tabulated.

To celebrate this minor miracle, they’re throwing open houses with treats—because what’s a library expansion without free cookies to lure you in? Swing by the West Salem Branch on November 10 from 10 a.m. to noon, or the Main Library on November 16 from 10 a.m. to 1 p.m. I’ll be the one in the corner, pretending to browse while stuffing my face, reminiscing about how libraries saved my sanity more times than I care to admit.

Why does any of this matter in our screen-addled age? Because libraries aren’t just buildings with books; they’re lifelines. They host programs that teach kids to read without turning into iPad zombies, offer meeting spaces for the lonely or the ambitious, and provide services that got slashed when the money dried up. The levy didn’t just pad the budget—it added three staff positions and filled vacancies, ensuring there’s someone there to shush you properly. And let’s not forget, this is how small towns like Salem keep their soul: by voting to fund the things that make life a tad less brutal. Other places use similar levies for schools or buses; here, it’s keeping the lights on for story hour.

If you’re jonesing for more details—programs, services, that elusive sense of community—hit up www.cityofsalem.net/community/library, email library@cityofsalem.net, or call 503-588-6315.

Me? I’ll raise a metaphorical glass (or a lukewarm library coffee) to Salem for remembering that knowledge shouldn’t come with a cover charge. In a world that’s increasingly paywalled, this feels like a small rebellion. Or at least a decent plot twist.