Yes, as I post this I recognize today is 911. A day that anyone who was alive in 2001 will remember, even if a child, then. A day that changed so much and took away so many lives and livelihoods, and compassion for some. I won’t forget the morning as I was about to start another day teaching workers about hazardous materials response, or HAZWOPER to those in the know. Our phones in those days were mostly to make calls, not to watch videos and news like today. Someone in the class got word of the Trade Center catastrophe and we turned on the television in our Mount Hood Community College classroom. We sat in silence and shock, tears running down our faces. I thought about my young kids in school and how they would learn about it. I thought about friends in New York and all the emergency responders. I asked the class if we should cancel for the day, but everyone knew they were required to get 40 hours of training in and there’d be no way to make up a full day. We kept the TV on and advised folks to get air, or go home if needed. And eventually we carried on. It’s a work day I remember more clearly than any other. But, if you’re looking for more in this blog about it you won’t find it. Not today at least. Though yes, 911 is mentioned however briefly in my current read by Susan Orlean, The Library Book.

Yes, libraries have always figured prominently in my life. From childhood through the present, having just yesterday pedaled home with two books I had on hold. (Whistler by Ann Patchet and Spectacular Things by Beck Dorey-Stein.) Tonight (or heck, maybe even this afternoon) I’ll have to decide whether to allow myself to dive into Whistler before finishing The Fifth Season: Every Age Must Come to an End by N.K. Jemisin. Yes, I try to stretch myself to read genres that aren’t my favorite, and while well written, I’m struggling a bit with “doom and gloom” the same week an “AI expert” stated how AI will decimate humanity. Yes, my heart will likely advise my brain to escape to Whistler now.

I will, however, continue to listen to The Library Book via my Libby (library supported) App. Yes, I’ve forced myself to regularly listen to audiobooks after remembering Mom’s major adjustment to audio after her eyesight faltered, preventing her from reading in the fashion she loved nearly more than anything else. While I do put holds on my Libby audiobook list, more commonly I finish a book and then find myself in immediate need of another before I set outside for a walk. Often I find myself looking for “what’s available now.” Yes, sometimes I get a dud that I don’t finish but often I come upon something like The Library Book, that I hadn’t yet heard about.

This is a great book, by the way! Learning about the little known 1986 Los Angeles library fire is fascinating. I had to backtrack a bit in the book because my brain wandered off to what I know about the cause of the Willamette University Library Fire (see my blog: Willamette University and the Fate of Perpetual Scholarships). Other interesting things include tidbits new to me, like how philanthropist Andrew Carnegie not only donated over 56 million dollars to create libraries, but also how he helped move women into librarian jobs. Perhaps my favorite story is about how Althea Warren, director of the Los Angeles Public Library from 1933 to 1947, said it was “acceptable to fib about staying home to read a book, emphasizing the importance of taking time for oneself and enjoying literature without feeling guilty.” Yes, I too have done this. I remember when Russ was mayor and I’d put a book in the car in case I needed to escape an event that was going on a bit too long for me.

Both the role and services provided by libraries through history is fascinating and sometimes troubling, budget challenges and solutions, and the change of offerings through the years. Certainly, even in our lifetime we have seen this. Learning about new resources added during the depression and the various wars, as well as curriculum offerings and updates. Story hours remain popular even today, as those in some local libraries require one to get there early to secure a spot. Today too we have a “library of things” where you can check out appliances and tools that you neither own nor intend to buy; and yet I was surprised to learn similar programs were discussed beginning in the 1890s at the LA library. Teen rooms entered in 1968, a few years before I was a teen. I do remember looking for young reader – not children’s books – as a preteen.

My Music Man mentions libraries eleven different times, all separate stories and including different libraries, Multnomah County, Early Oregon City, LaGrande, Lake Oswego, and West Linn, including this excerpt.

“During our time in Eastern Oregon, we entered a new chapter of rural living: our nearest neighbor now was almost a mile away but a real town was accessible by a less than three-mile bike ride. A town with the Granada Theatre and a donut shop that sold powdered sugar cream puffs. And a Carnegie Library, its basement crammed full of books for young readers. I pounced on them, finding favorites in Summer of my German Soldier and The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman. No interest did I have in Nancy Drew. Books about hardship, strife, and injustice drew me into their pages. I rode my bike to the library several times a week that first summer, before school started, a plastic shopping bag from WhoWho slung over my handlebars.”
My Music Man, Ch. 17 Interrupted

My high school-aged library memories include being astounded that I could check out flute musical scores from Portland’s downtown central library. Oh, and who can forget spending much of one winter break in the library answering the take home chemistry test (yes, Mr. Flennigan, you remember this) while still finding time to browse the stacks of fiction.

I particularly like how Orlean ties library developments and struggles to significant cultural and political events. Certainly, I have no personal memory of early times, the World Wars and depression, though Mom shared such stories. Most of us remember the difficult times of the Covid Pandemic and changes within public spaces, although I have hold a fond memory of being asked to give a West Linn Library “green room” story time to show on their YourTube station. (Yes, you can still watch me reading “Blueberries For Sal.”) Interesting as well is to learn how much of the news about the major Los Angeles Library Fire was missed by so many because the Chernobyl disaster occurred a few days prior. I don’t remember hearing about the fire while attending graduate school at the University of Washington, but I clearly remember Chernobyl as the incident was discussed in detail during my environmental health sciences classes. Yes, news oversaturation even then.

Although I haven’t yet finished the book, the most emotional passage for me was listening Orlean recall going to the library with her mother. And how sad she now feels as her mom, with dementia, no longer has those memories. I too shared libraries so often with Mom, from my childhood visits to Lake Oswego Library in our Wilsonville Days or downtown Multnomah County Central Library for a big outing, to my later driving her to West Linn Library. Gratefully, even in her last days, she could still draw up those memories through whatever memory challenges she did have.

“You gifted us the love of libraries and books—weaving literacy into the lives of your children and grandchildren. Immediately after you died, it was impossible for me to go to our local library without
remembering the times we walked its floors together, searching out books, relishing its unique smells and whispered voices. Those are dear memories for me now.”
From First Breath to Last: A Story About Love, Womanhood, and Aging; What Makes Us

And as The Library Book reminds us, offerings change with the times. While I can still browse through those flute musical scores event today, LPs or albums are no longer housed and long ago replaced by other digital platforms.

“In 1974, as he neared the end of his life, Daddy Dick donated his entire Irish tenor John McCormack vinyl collection to Portland’s Multnomah County Library. To some, John McCormack was the most popular of all Irish singers and sometimes said to be as popular in the United States in the 1920s as Elvis Presley was in the 1950s. Daddy Dick’s collection was one of the largest McCormack collections in the world: accumulated over twenty-five years and containing all the discs the tenor made, from his first efforts to his final recordings in 1942: a collection containing nearly six hundred songs and arias. Daddy Dick had labeled each of his 78 rpm records with a British flag for those purchased in England, a shamrock for the discs from the Emerald Isle, and without a designation if purchased in the US. This collection was Daddy Dick’s final gift to the library: for years he had spent St. Patrick’s Day at this historic building, presenting recordings of his beloved music for all to enjoy, and adding in stories about McCormack—a man well known for his humor.”

Even my fiction has a place for libraries. After all, many times I have told one person or another that they are of my most favorite places.

“But at this moment, she knew, she had to follow her memories on a journey back in time to the exciting days when she planned the bottle’s voyage. Back then, she had even gone to the library to download a map of the river; examining every crook in it, anticipating the turns her bottle might make. She somehow believed that if it could only survive the dump over the big falls, and then make the turn into the Columbia River—her note might make it all the way. To that kid in Japan, she had figured back then. She laughed at herself, thinking about how unlikely it would have been for the bottle to travel clear across the Pacific Ocean. Back then, though, she believed it was possible. It had all started with a story she had written for Mrs. Marquam. All about two girls who ended up becoming best friends for the rest of their lives.”
Beyond the Ripples, Literary Fiction, 2019

In my next work, Humanity’s Grace, Gloria gets off her feet and rests in a chair at the Astoria Library while she ponders her life, son, and what may be ahead for both of them. Little did I know when publishing that work of linked short stories that I would move a few characters on in A Map of Her Own, and main character Celia would find a hero in that same Astoria Library to help her track history of the Camas Paper Mill, and eventually, the woman she is so curious about.

P.S. Events and Books

SPEAKING OF LIBRARIES…it just so happens I’ll be in a lovely library next week. I’d love to see you at the Lake Oswego Library this Tuesday, September 15 beginning at 5:30 pm.

COMMERCIAL BREAK and “hard sell.” Maybe it’s a soft sell, really. But, if any of this sounds interesting and especially if you’ve never read any of my books, I’d love it if you (literally) checked one out. Many Oregon libraries, at least, can track one down for you if it isn’t sitting on the shelf. And, if not, come to one of my events and buy one from me, order from (any) favorite bookstore or buy one on online. Find them all now on the shelf at Portland’s Bold Coffee and Books, and a few other stores. Both my memoirs are available on audiobook narrated by me and on all audiobook platforms. It’s fun to know that people are reading these works. And if you have read them – posting a review somewhere is a great way to thank an author and very appreciated! OK, end of sale.

Oh, except I will say, speaking of libraries…this was pretty cool when one day I walked into ours and spotted this recommendation for From First Breath to Last on the wall. Yes, I love libraries. And I particularly appreciate all who support libraries, safe-keeping of books and my friends who work within their walls!

And now, be kind and compassionate to yourself and others, and take time to escape with a good book, or in a library.