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CHICAGO, Ill. For the last few years, libraries have begun leveraging their resources in the fight against the deadly opioid crisis, providing critically needed information, and services. And while it’s too early to measure the impact they are having, libraries are playing an increasingly active role in prevention and recovery efforts. Every day, 130 Americans die from an opioid overdose. It’s an epidemic that Public Library Association Deputy Director Larra Clark says has placed libraries and their staff on the frontlines. “If there is an issue that's playing out in this country libraries are almost certainly part of that story,” said Clark. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, from 1999 to 2017, almost 400,000 people died from an overdose involving an opioid, including prescription and illicit drugs. Three overdoses inside the Peoria Public Library in central Illinois in less than a year forced administrators there to act. Deputy director of the Peoria Public Library Roberta Koscielski says on one occasion, a man in the midst of an overdose came up to a librarian in the middle of the day. “He collapsed right in front of her at the desk. So, she called the security card called emergency responders and he was revived with Narcan,” said Koscielski. About 80 staff members at all five of their branches are now trained on how to administer the life-saving overdose antidote Narcan or naloxone. “This role of library as an intermediary intervener supporter is not new but I think this crisis is new and we have to help the people who are coming in our doors” said Clark. The nonprofit Online Computer Library Center released a report this past fall detailing some of the ways libraries are playing a larger part in battling the national opioid crisis. At the top of that list, says Clark, is education. “How can we translate that into better services and support for people for individuals who may be addicted or for their families and their communities?” 7,000 pill bottles representing the number of opioid prescriptions filled each day in Utah hung from the ceiling at the Salt Lake County Library as part of a marketing campaign titled “Use Only as Directed” meant to represent the magnitude of the crisis. Many libraries are stocking books like Sam Quinones’s Dreamland: The True Tale of America’s Opiate Epidemic. “I had no idea when I read it just about the size of the problem and that people can work a job and be very addicted to a substance,” said Koscielski. With the threat from opioids in the form of pills, heroin and fentanyl not going away, Clark says many libraries are helping to search for answers and provide them to those who need them most.“One of the things that we heard from people is do something, right? There's not one right answer to this. It is not going to be libraries alone. It is not going to be any of these other agencies by themselves. This issue is too big.” 2954

It wouldn't be Fourth of July without fireworks, but the fireworks industry is now bracing itself for a potential bombshell in terms of their bottom lines if a trade deal with China isn't finalized. "If the 25 percent tariff is imposed on importing fireworks, it could have a devastating impact on the U.S. firework industry,” says Julie Heckman with the American Pyrotechnics Association. Heckman says President Trump's threat of a 25 percent tariff--or tax--on over 0 billion worth of Chinese goods could, if enacted, hurt the U.S. fireworks retailers. "In the U.S., we import 99 percent of our backyard fireworks from China, and over 75 percent of professional display fireworks,” explains Heckman. Any new tariff wouldn't have an impact on this year’s supply, but the fear is for the upcoming New Year’s Eve and Fourth of July in 2020. The costs associated with the new tariffs could be passed on to the consumer, as well as the thousands of cities nationwide that put on bigger displays. "We're really worried about the 16,000 Independence Day holidays that are put on in this country by small townships and municipalities that are already cash strapped,” says Heckman. “They’re struggling to have the money to fund their Fourth of July show. Another 25 percent would be crippling." Heckman also says nonprofits like churches, veterans’ groups, even Boys and Girl scouts who use fireworks sales to fundraise, would take a financial hit as well. 1468

CHICAGO, Ill. – Imagine a window providing a glimpse into the past – Europe in the late 13th century, 1930s America, life during the Revolutionary War. Then imagine that world fitting inside the palm of your hand. That’s what happens inside Jay Kupjack’s workshop. He is literally a giant, towering over his diminutive room recreations. “I guess you could call me a miniaturist, I suppose,” said Kupjack. Krupjack specializes in all things small. “The preferred scale everybody likes is 1/12th,” he explained. “So, it's an inch to a foot. That seems to work out. Not too small. Not too big.” Kupjack is the last of a dynasty of miniature artists. “It's some you know it's deliberate and it's delicate,” said Kupjack. Both his father, Eugene, and brother, Hank, dedicated their lives to the intricate Lilliputian artform. Everything is made by hand. “My brother liked doing ancient stuff,” said Kupjack. “He did Greek Roman, Egyptian. We don't go too far into the present. There's a 1940s diner.” Kupjack’s late father was the primary artist on many of the 68 Thorne rooms that have been on display at the Art Institute of Chicago since the 1930s. “This probably took about a year,” Kupjack said about an interior of a pirate’s cabin. Today, the 1265

NASHVILLE, Tenn. -- When you think of Nashville, you think bright lights and big music. Poverty is not part of its image. “There’s so many creative people that never get a chance to do anything with it. You’re too busy trying to survive, trying to eat, trying to stay alive,” said Chris Bandy, an artist. But poverty does exist in Nashville, and the rest of the U.S. At a house on the east side of the city, some of those living on less are doing a little more. “I’m doing what I was meant to be, you know, being a practicing, creative artist,” said Kateri Pomeroy, a Nashville artist. She uses the studio space at Poverty for the Arts. Pomeroy and her husband Sam are two of the first artists to join POVA, as it’s known. Sam was finishing up a wood sculpture he’s been working on. POVA was started by Nicole Minard as a way to help people who didn’t have access to art supplies and studio space. “I really saw the breadth of talent so many people on the streets had, and I would get questions like, ‘how can I get my art in a coffee shop?’ or ‘people see me drawing on the street every day, how do I get it to them without a cop pulling up and stopping me?’” said Minard. Minard provides the space, and the supplies for people who want to create art and she helps them sell it. POVA pays artists 60 percent of the selling price. They reinvest the other 40 percent into rent and supplies. “In those five years since we’ve started, we’ve served over 75 different artists and we’ve paid out over ,000 to artists on the street,” said Minard. The program gives exposure for artists who otherwise wouldn't have it. “If you don’t have the right school, the right gallery, the right representation, you really don’t get seen,” said Bandy For those that use the space to paint, draw or scribble, POVA is a place to prove they belong, even if they've known their potential all along. Edwin Lockridge was born with a paintbrush in his hand. “My parents actually have pictures of me, photographs of me as a baby with a pen and paper in my hands,” said Lockridge. But life has been rough for him and his family. “My mother and my father both have Alzheimer's bad, excuse me. I admit that I’m not in the best of health myself,” Lockridge said. To him, POVA is a matter of life and death. “The revenue from my art buys art supplies, medicine, necessary stuff to keep me alive for my basic survival," said Lockridge. For Pomeroy, Bandy and Lockridge, POVA provides opportunities they could not have thought possible. “This place has given me a transfusion, a new blood, and a new way to live" said Pomeroy. “We are family,” said Bandt. “There are no words, there are no words. This is my extended family without a doubt,” said Lockridge.That sense of family and community is a work of art no one can put a price on.   2838

Animal shelters across the country are taking part in a nationwide study that's giving animal lovers the chance to hang out with a dog.Participant Moira Hopkins loves a good happy hour. However, instead of getting a drink, Hopkins is picking up a dog at the Humane Rescue Alliance in Washington, D.C. She picks up a dog named Jackie, who is part of the shelter’s happy hour program. It allows volunteers to take dogs out of the shelter and hang out with them for a few hours to let the dogs escape from the stress of that environment. “You just sort of see the tension just dissipate,” Hopkins says. “A great happy is when they suddenly end up taking a long, long nap because they don't get good sleep in a shelter because it's noisy and chaotic.” The shelter is taking part in a national study by Arizona State University to examine how getting out of a shelter, even for just a few hours, can affect dogs. Workers at the Humane Rescue Alliance say they've seen how a short getaway can help lower stress levels and even make dogs more adoptable. “When dogs appear less stressed to a potential adopter, that makes adopters want to meet them because they're calm and they're lying in their den, rather than jumping around and barking and acting all stressed out,” says Jennah Billeter, who works at the shelter. The ultimate goal is for these happy hours to lead to happy outcomes. “It has really, really good outcomes for both the human and for the dog, because the human gets to have the love of a dog and enjoy them and sometimes maybe even end up adopting them, because they fall in love with them on a happy hour,” Hopkins says.For more information, visit the 1682

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