Learning from The World's Strongest Librarian

Unbeliever's Prayer - John Gunther, Jr.
Art Journal Piece

The third Nor'easter in twelve days means another snow day on which to be able to finish up reading the current title on my bedside table - The World's Strongest Librarian: A book lover's adventures by Josh Hanagarne.  How could I not be drawn to a title like this one, for aren't I a book lover too? From the earliest age, even still in the womb, Josh's mother took him to the public library where he fell in love with books and reading. Reading would become a key coping skill as he dealt with his Tourette Syndrome diagnosis. It was fascinating to learn first hand what life is like for someone with this disorder and how Josh strove to calm the tics. It wasn't easy. He struggled to get through school, his Mormon mission experience, and through the work day.

It was his passion for books that finally led him to find his life's work as a librarian, "saving lives and worlds isn't in my purview....Saving minds, however ... perhaps it's not as farfetched. (p. 208)" He goes on to talk about the power of a mind that continues always to think, to question, to search: "The mind that asks and experiments and evaluates will die one day, but will provide a richer life for its owner. The mind that does nothing but rest inside the brain doesn't sidestep the puddle. It's sitting in it. (p. 208)" How powerful is that! That is my worst fear in life - losing my mind. Not only do we struggle to keep our bodies under control, and Hanagarne knows more than most of us that battle, but to work to keep our minds intact is something we must all work at. There are days as a teacher that I encounter a student who has stopped asking why, who has no desire to keep learning, who wants the right answer without working to find it for themselves, who is afraid of being creative, who fails to take the risk - and my heart breaks. And I ask myself - what kind of life is that?

Another part of Hanagarne's story is his travels down the road along the journey of faith. He was raised in the Mormon church, but when he hit his early twenties began to doubt and question. I could sympathize with him for as someone raised in the Roman Catholic tradition I too have had to question mainly the difference between belief in God and belief in a religion. Like Hanagarne who by the end of the book implies he's still trying to figure it out, so am I. In reading Will Schwalbe's Books for Living, I came across his quotation of "The Unbeliever's Prayer" written by John Gunther, Jr in May of 1946. John was a teenager dying of a brain tumor and himself struggling with the issue of faith. (His story is told by his father John Gunther in the memoir Death Be Not Proud) I created the piece above in my art journal, finding the words of this prayer to have deep meaning.

Being a book lover allows me, Schwalbe, and Hanagarne to go on adventures into countless worlds real or imaginary. Those books teach us lessons that allow us to grow and evolve into the people we are and will be. I am where I am today because of the books I've read. Where will I be in five years? Who knows but I will be a different person then because of the experiences I will have lived through and the books I have read.

Digging in, staying put, and blooming

Living the dream - a collection of
magazine clippings 

In need of something different to read, I turned once more to memoir. On the library shelf was Jerusalem Jackson Greer's At Home in this Life. Intrigued by reading the back cover blurb something resonated with me, so home the book went with me.

Greer opens with describing  a "terrible year" that she had lived through. I knew exactly what that consisted for I had lived through about four years in a row of what I would describe as terrible years - Dad died, Mom went through cancer treatment, Memere passed at the age of 100, my mother-in-law passed, and my father-in-law's health deteriorated at such a rate that he had to be moved into assisted living. One thing after another. Now that's not to say that things weren't without joy - both my children graduated from high school and went on to college, Mom is approaching her third year cancer free, I found a new job, and there were countless glimpses of peace and serenity even on the darkest days.

Jerusalem, a loving wife and mother, wanted more for her family and dreamed of upping stakes and moving to a farm. It just wasn't meant to be - well not yet. She had some lessons to learn first, the most important being to learn to live well with what and where she already was. Her focus for this memoir is a passage from Jeremiah 29:4-14, which she elegantly summarized as "Be Here Now. Be content and invested in the life you have, instead of wishing for a different life (p.89)." No truer words touched me while reading. Here we are growing older, dreaming of retirement yet there is so much to do in the here and now right where we are now. Before we could ever downsize the house will need a list of projects completed. Now that we are done paying for college, funds can be funneled into a new furnace, roof, and siding for the house. Carpets need replacing and wood floors resurfaced. Plus there is plenty of stuff to purge - stuff we no longer need or would desire to pack up and move to a smaller place.

Art journal piece - found poetry, collage, and zentangle

It was comforting once again to know that I am not alone in the daily struggles of life, that there is someone out there going through the same thing. That's one of the benefits of reading memoirs - coming to see that our lives aren't all that unique and perhaps someone has a small bit of advice that will help us get through. Greer's advice was to learn to live simply, pray for guidance, focus on family, and to serve the greater community when possible. Simple doesn't always mean easy, but when given the chance this type of lifestyle can bring many riches.

I was inspired by her work to create these two pieces that illustrate the many themes discussed in the book. Greer loves to collect, decorate and feather her nest. I love to do the same. The first piece features the display of beautiful dish ware, a passion of mine. The second piece centers on building that safe space that is home.