libraries

As a child with an independent spirit and a bike (a green Schwinn with a white banana seat, white plastic basket with flowers on the front and streamers flying from the handlebars) some of my favorite memories involved pedaling a few blocks to the library in Clearwater, Kansas. It was a cozy place where I earnestly checked out volumes of a children’s encyclopedia and later Nancy Drew and Bobbsey twins mysteries. It’s where I found Farewell to Manzanar, my first introduction to the Japanese internment camps and the idea that I could learn something important by understanding the experiences of people of all backgrounds.

I’d fill my basket with books, proudly using my library card. I participated in summer reading challenges most summers and recall one season where the prizes were small illustrated cards describing tribes of Plains Indians that we laced together into a little book. My mom, sister and I sometimes would visit the much larger collection in downtown Wichita, where Mom worked at a nearby accounting firm. I so loved going with her to the multi-story building with windows overlooking downtown and filled with so much knowledge, so many ideas!

Even though I’ve visited Washington DC a number of times, I had never been to the Library of Congress. I knew of its collections and years ago researched ways to get prints of photographs taken by Dorothea Lange and others who made photos during the Depression and through the federal Works Progress Administration. One recent gorgeous fall day, I rode the Metro to the National Mall and then rented a Capital bike to pedal around the monuments. It was the perfect way to cover some miles and enjoy the views. As I docked the bike near the Smithsonian Metro stop, I saw a banner announcing the USDA’s farmer’s market. Among the produce, meats and eggs were many booths that offered prepared foods, and clearly it was a lunch destination for residents and tourists alike. I had one of the best crab cake sandwiches ever, sitting in the shade of a small tree near a tent set up with tables and chairs. Baskets held picnic blankets for people to roll out. Several diners tossed bean-bags in a corn hole game decorated with vegetables. After a scoop of plum sorbet made from local fruit, I was ready to go to the library.

Renting a Capital Bike offered a great way to see the monuments in DC.

I got another bike and pedaled to Capitol Hill. After docking the bike, I walked to the Jefferson Building of the Library of Congress, learned how to get a library card (called a reader identification card) and promptly wound my way through several lower levels to get to the registration area. A few minutes later, I had my laminated photo ID good for two years! I hadn’t come with a particular research agenda, so I wandered the incredible building, took photos, explored exhibits and then made my way back to the reading room with my card just to browse the stacks, pull a collection of feminist essays and find a lighted desk to sit a few minutes to read. I was filled with joy and humility to read in this temple of knowledge. I’ll have a list the next time I visit.

stunning architecture and mosaics honoring scholars of the past at the Library of Congress, Jefferson Building

Books and boots

After hiking with a group of students and artists at Cedar Point Biological Station last Tuesday, I realized my sneakers weren’t quite sturdy enough to support my aging ankles when climbing on rocky trails. After a few more days of sketching, painting and hiking a bit, I decided to spend Saturday exploring Ogallala. I visited the farmers market and enjoyed a cold brew from Slow Lane Coffee. I visited the local library and found a book I thought perfect for reading during the evenings at the station, The Art of Noticing by Rob Walker. When the librarian on duty told me I could only use it at the library, a waiting patron offered to let me check it out on her account. I was grateful for this display of hospitality and returned the book several days later after reading a wealth of prompts to contemplate.

Gotta love this turquoise bike parked at the entrance to Ogallala’s public library.

In addition to scouting local libraries, I seek out local independent bookstores and found a gem of a shop, Hokes Bookstore, which had a good selection of titles focused on the region. I didn’t clean out the section with my purchases, but made good additions to my personal collection of Nebraska literature and guides. To get familiar with a place, I want to know more of the stories and learn about what makes it distinctive. Discovering what grows and who lives here, and how those have changed over time are topics worth exploring.

When I strolled into Bomgaars, I was pleased to see that boots were discounted, so after trying on a few pairs, settled on the arch and ankle support offered by the Ariats pictured above. I’ve worn them nearly every day since I bought them and feel much more sure-footed on the rocky trails around the station.

A few days later, I received a package. A friend had thought of me while reading a book and insisted on sending it to me while I was away from home. Thanks, Ann G., for What Comes Next and How to Like It by Abigail Thomas. With its descriptions of friendship, aging, betrayal and forgiveness, it is a guide for appreciating the present moment, finding absurdity and humor every day, and celebrating love.

So while I may be striding with more confidence today, I’m also stopping often to watch, listen and learn.

Research

Realizing it's been some time since I wrote here, I'm getting back to it. Here are some of the books I've been reading as I consider visits to natural and restored prairies this summer. Research has always been a foundation for all my creative endeavors, and sometimes it's easy to remain immersed in that part of the work, following a thread of interest through history and numerous writers and other interpreters.

I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I am reading PrairyErth for the first time. I bought the book for my stepfather shortly after it was released and intended to read it myself. I didn't. Now it's more than 25 years later, and I am reveling in this deep map and looking forward to where it might lead me when I emerge from between its covers. Next up will likely be Deep Map Country: Literary Cartography of the Great Plains, as I want to read most of it before I hear author Susan Naramore Maher speak at the symposium "Flat Places: Deep Identities" at the end of the month.

The wheat stalks shown in the image above came from the last crop my stepdad planted in 2010. They are held in a textured ceramic vase my daughter made in middle school. The silk scarf of autumn colors and turquoise highlights is a new favorite, a recent gift from my mom, who also gave me Wander: The Kansas Flint Hills in Words and Images. It's comforting to me to have these tangible reminders of family connections, even as I wander.