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Browsing Tag: #library
Have you ever been treated as an outcast? Like you were the only kid in your class who wore glasses, or had freckles or curly hair? Or maybe you were a transplant from some far away city into a rural type town. Have you ever felt like you were the only one? And so, since you didn’t have anyone to talk to, you turned to books. And in books you found others just like you, a kid who had glasses and curly hair. A kid who had divorced parents. A country kid in a city school. A kid who wanted a dog but only had two goldfish in a glass bowl on the kitchen counter. You identified with these characters because they had things in common with you, and it seemed like a miracle because you were all alone until you discovered this book that appeared to be written just for you. Some kids are fortunate enough to have parents who talk to them, who pray with them, who teach them right from wrong. Some kids aren’t fearful of talking to a teacher, or a church leader, or maybe they trust a neighbor or relative with their deepest secrets and use them as a moral compass. But some kids don’t have that. Some kids only have books as friends, and as allies. Some kids only have books as a means to justify feelings or to trust with their heart. Maybe these kids use their…
Do those two words conjure dusty corners and musty smells? Do you think of lamplight and heavy drapes and threadbare cushions on antique furniture? Do you envision leather bound tomes, heavy as bricks, piled on every surface and crammed into shelves that reach to the ceiling? Do you picture bespectacled old women, peering at you from under steel gray buns when a book from your pile slips to the floor, causing a disruption? Do you conjure up card catalogs and rainy afternoons and periodicals enjoyed by a large potted plant? Perhaps you are remembering hours spent in your school library among books on spaceships and whales with rainbow posters on the creme colored cinder block walls. Maybe you remember being slumped in a plastic chair at a round table with a chipped veneer finish, #2 pencil in one hand, the other in a fist at your hairline as you tried to determine what the differences are between porpoises and dolphins for your research paper. Or was it college, when you were there in your cubby, scratching out an outline to your thesis and some grad student was being helpful and surfing through ten weeks worth of newspapers from Chicago’s Great Fire on the microfiche to help you. You were taken into the archives by a lady who probably painted lines up the back of her legs during WWII. You’re tapping away on one of those newfangled Apple computers, the monitor the color of a cherry Lifesaver…
Last week was Library Appreciation Week. I only posted one thing about it, but I think I post often enough so everybody knows where I stand on libraries. In case you recently crawled out from under a lettuce leaf, know that I LOVE them. I don’t know that I can adequately put into words what the library means to me. But I’m gonna try my best. Even though I’m more than a week late. I’m always late. And before I forget, that cover pic was taken by Liz Ballard, who truly has a history with our local library. I didn’t ask for permission, but I don’t think she’ll mind. I have served on the local library board for several years now, and it looks like I’m going off next month to serve on the Regional Board. Anyway, that’s the least of my love. QUITE literally. Board meetings are typically endured, not always enjoyed. Even though they try to make it cool. Here’s our meeting room: But that’s part of adulting. The good news is, it allows me to know what events are coming up before anybody else 😀 I have a lifespan of memories at the library. It brought tears to my eyes when I was asked to serve. My mind flashed back to all the times I’d walked through the door, clutching my satchel, ready to…
I got a little emotional the other day. Sometimes you have those moments where you just know you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. An epiphany, if you will. About a month ago, my friend Rhonda, the director of the library (don’t tell her I idolize her job just a little bit), called me up in the wee hours of the day. Obviously, she was trying to catch me while my guard was down so I would agree to her little plan. I hadn’t had my coffee. Something about a Seed Swap, that wasn’t on the National Holiday, but it was close enough, and could I say a little something about soil? Why sure because CLEARLY I’m qualified after seven months at a job. But I agreed because namely, it just sounds like a day we’d have snow. January 19th. When I went to write on my old school blotter, I discovered it was a Saturday. That sly wench! Nonetheless, I assembled 27 folders full of valuable literature, soil sample boxes and forms, several posters, and my ever-present blue board. I loaded up Maggie for my presentation. Presentation. Snort. We’ll see about that. I didn’t want to get in over my head, so I just printed some Fun Facts About Dirt off the NRCS website. Fortunately, she had me paired up with my good friend Jim from the City, and he…
Well, this is involved. I’ve just picked up Jewel’s Never Broken today. As in, I actually opened the cover, not went out to the store and bought it. I’ve had it for awhile. But here’s a link, if you’re so inclined to have your own copy. I love her. https://amzn.to/2TcG39I It starts with an “Ode To My Fortieth Birthday” style poem, which I found poignant. I’m not even fifty pages in, and she’s breaking my heart. I feel a kindred spirit to Jewel, always have. She loves the wilderness and grew up out in the Alaskan territory on horseback. She writes many of her own songs, and I admire her resiliency. I think this will be an insightful book, not only into her life, but mine as well. If I weren’t so ashamed of my library right now, I’d post a few pictures of it. How ’bout I just post some oldies instead?Welcome to my abode. I have read a great many of these pictured, but I would say 50% remain unread. I just love them. This is my utopia. It’s a dream I’ve always had, to be able to walk into my own library and select a book at random. I’m pretty sure I’ll like whatever I’ve picked up because, after all, it’…
You don’t have to crack the spine to read a book. I’d prefer you never crack it at all. If given the opportunity and GIFT of holding a brand new book in your hands, simply open it, fan through the pages a couple of times and gently bend the front and back covers 90°. That’s all that is necessary for breaking in a new book. Now, once you’ve chosen your new book, or it has chosen you, as is so often the case, you just open it up and get to reading. My preference is to be in a chair I can nest in, with my water and chapstick nearby, under a good light. I plan to stay awhile. I don’t want to be sidetracked, so I don’t have my phone near my person. I might even bring snacks. And then I’m whisked away, often to the Lowcountry, but sometimes my Book Club forces me out of my comfort zone and I have to read about the poor women in Kabul, or tribes in Africa two hundred years ago. Sometimes I don’t read about people at all. The best part about reading is there are no rules. Whenever I meet someone who says they don’t like to read, after I swallow my disdain and overall nausea, I quickly ask them about their interests. And guess what? People always enjoy reading something, whether…
I don’t have much on my social calendar. Granted, I have more on it than I did five years ago, but I’m still not what you would call swamped. And I prefer it that way. I need time to recharge, time with my books. However, at the last board meeting, I cemented a whole whirlwind month’s worth of activities with my gal pals. We’re going to read and eat and watch the royal wedding. Friday, I finally convinced Shug to try Aubrey’s. Of course he loved it, as I knew he would. What’s not to like? Saturday was my mega-busy day for me: baby shower, hiking, dinner and drinks with two of my three lovelies. But then the rain. But maybe it wouldn’t affect the festivities. It didn’t matter to me. I could be just as happy at home, curled into a corner with my book. Unlike most people, I embrace the rain. Plus I’m too lazy to water my flowers, so it’s always welcome. The best thing about baby showers is the food. The worst thing is the children. Luckily, there were no children in attendance, so the worst part to endure was the oohing and aahing over tiny socks. Once that was over (alas, there were no games where you couldn’t say baby or win a prize for having the most abnormal crap in your…
Sometimes I think I’m doing all right, that I’ve got my act at least on stage, if not together. These are generally the times I’m comparing my life to the people you see in the news who have their heads stuck in pickle jars and the like. Other times, I embrace the fact that I’m batshit crazy and there’s simply nothing that can be done for my affliction. Today I thought I was doing alright. I even remembered to accessorize. Of course, when I got to work things took a nosedive, but that’s par for the course. My confidence was restored later, though, when the secretary of a large corporation requested a contract that I was reasonably sure I sent over last week. Digging through email archives, I unearthed it, and sent it back to her, along with the one from our insurance agent. She wrote back, apologizing profusely, blaming a lack of coffee on her slip. I was only too glad to soothe her, saying I was just glad I wasn’t the only one who goofed and felt crazy. It’s always nice when people who seem so professional are just as nutty as the rest of us. I have discovered this is nearly everyone. By the time we had finished our little conversation, she was signing her emails “Cait” instead of her full name with initial credentials 🙂 In celebration of making…
You know when you are wanting some greasy salty potato chips but you don’t have any, but you’ve got a pack of plain saltines, and since they’re the closest thing you’ve got, you eat them even though you know they’re not going to be nearly as good? And you bite down only to discover they’re stale? That’s how this book was for me. A poor, tasteless, substitution for what could have been a rich, colorful story. I typically prefer Southern literature above all other genres. I even had the pleasure of meeting this author the other day. I’m just so thankful I had already purchased this Kindle book for $1.99. Because I probably would have cried my eyes out had I paid $26.95. Poor Ella May. Poor children. Poor Yankees, millworkers, law dogs, displaced mountain people, and all small minded individuals. There was a whole lot to root for in this book, but it’s all heartbreaking. Her story needed to be told, but I just feel like we learned about her in jumps and starts and it was hard to remember who was who as we read different perspectives from chapter to chapter. I still don’t know what to think, but I’m apt to believe all the same problems still exist. I’ll give you the link for ease of you reading other opinions, but…
It terrifies and saddens me that I almost lived a life without Neil Gaiman. He is most wonderful and gifted and unique and I was thisclose to never knowing. If you need a vacation for your brain, if you want to slip into something more comfortable, if you’re tired of the pretentious books with parallel meanings and readers’ guides (why can’t they just say what the want to, for the LOVE), if you can’t stand the thought of another book hailed as a “gripping suspenseful novel with a twist, the likes of which have been unseen since Gone Girl” THEN READ NEIL GAIMAN. On second thought, just read him for the love of reading. Read for the childhood you think you’ve lost. It’s just there, around the bend. Step in. Step through the wall. Perhaps you’ll meet your hearts desire. Maybe you’ll catch a star. Buy it here I don’t know why it’s not showing the picture….it’s a pretty fantastic cover. There’s a unicorn in this book, for Pete’s sake. A UNICORN…
