The Secret Bookshelf

 

By Marilyn Moore

A story on NPR this morning (February 21, 2024) about a secret bookshelf in a teacher’s classroom in Houston causes me to think, again, about why books are important and why they are banned.  A very brave high school teacher has created a collection in her classroom of more than 600 books on the list that have been banned in Texas, banned because one (that’s right, one) state legislator sent out a list of 800+ books and said they should be removed from classrooms and libraries.  What power, what arrogance, and what a travesty.  

Many of the books are stories of characters who are diverse, especially those who are persons of color and those who are LGBTQ.  No surprise here, those populations are frequently the target of book banners across the country.  Which of course leaves students who are of color and/or who are gay or lesbian or trans with absolutely no way to see themselves in the books in their classroom or library.  Except in this classroom, where the teacher took the list, enlisted help from friends and students, and acquired the books.  

The students who were interviewed described the books as overflowing the bookshelf, spilling into plastic totes (kind of like the bookshelf in my study, except the books aren’t secret).  They talked about the importance of seeing themselves in print; one said that such books gave her hope.  Teenagers need hope; we all need hope.  And seeing how others who are like us have survived, prevailed, and emerged strong is a source of hope.  

It is astonishing and discouraging to me that this is still an issue; we’ve dealt with book bans throughout the world’s history, and as the popular Facebook meme says, “book banners have never been the good guys in history.”   But they’re still at it.  

Among the books that have been banned the most are classics.  To Kill a Mockingbird.  Catcher in the Rye.  The Diary of Anne Frank.  Is there a reader anywhere who hasn’t paused to think about justice after reading To Kill a Mockingbird?  Or a teenage boy anywhere who hasn’t found himself somewhere in the pages of Catcher in the Rye?  Or a student learning about WWII who hasn’t felt it all up close and personal after reading the story of Anne Frank?  Or who hasn’t pondered the future of the world after reading 1984 or Brave New World?  I get it, to some readers these books may have been dull, or uninteresting.  But is that a reason to ban them?

No, these books aren’t banned because they’re dull or uninteresting.  They’ve banned because they made somebody uncomfortable, or they caused someone to think they would make a student uncomfortable.  They make me uncomfortable, too.  Shouldn’t a miscarriage of justice make us uncomfortable?  Shouldn’t we vow “Never again,” when we read Anne Frank’s story?  Shouldn’t we be nervous about how easily truth can become lies and lies can become truth?  Of course we should, that’s what education is…to confront knowledge we didn’t know, and expand our understanding of the world in the process.

I’ve been thinking about what books would be on my secret bookcase…books that have contributed to my understanding of who I am and how I fit, or don’t, in this world.  As a white cisgendered female I’ve not had to look as hard for characters that look like me as the students in the Houston classroom, especially the Black lesbian girls.  I do remember realizing as a new teacher that there were few stories that celebrated girls for their courage.  I cheered when I found Thunder Cake by Patricia Polacco, a story about a little girl who is very afraid, and is shown by her grandmother how to be brave.   And Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time, whose main character is Meg, age 12, gawky and awkward and not fitting in, summoning up the courage to find her father in a place that is literally worlds away.  

A Wrinkle in Time introduced me to Madeleine L’Engle, who has touched the part of my soul and my world where space and time and music and connections and possibilities all come together, with the most glorious of metaphors and the most real of human beings and their lives.  I suspect this Newberry Award winner has been challenged someplace, most likely because the spirituality that pervades it does not match easily with any traditional understanding.  I will always remember the student in my classroom, a sixth grader, who said with a sigh and a look of wonder when we read the last paragraph, “That is such a good story.”  And it is.  And when I visited The Cathedral of Saint John the Divine in New York, where she was resident writer for years, I sensed all over again those themes of joy and music and wonder and awe.

Other books that would be on my secret bookshelf, except I don’t have to keep them secret.  One is Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer, who brings to the pages the insights of an indigenous woman, a botanist, a climate activist, a teacher, a writer with a profound insight into the sacred worth of creation.  It reminded me of Keith County Journal by John Janovy, Jr., where I met the king snail, stagnicola elodes, who taught me to ask the question, "What am I willing to gamble to find my place, and my time?"

The One Hundred Years of Lenni and Margot by Marianne Cronin, painting pictures in the art therapy room in the hospital in Glasgow where both are patients, illustrating their combined ages, one painting for each of Lenni’s seventeen years and Margot’s 83 years.  What would I paint that would remind me of when I was four, or fourteen, or sixty-four?  And Dakota, by Kathleen Norris, who writes about the impact of the wide-open plains on the growth of her own spirituality.  Anything by Maya Angelou, especially her poetry.  And Anne Lamott, who shines the bright light of humor, brutal honesty, and profound insight on every stage of life.

I could identify many more, and I suspect you are thinking of the books you would name that have affected your life.  Books that we didn’t have to read in secret, books that we found in some way, books that made us uncomfortable, or hopeful, or joyous, or sad…books that open doors to worlds we don’t know, and books that shed light on the life we do know.  That’s what the teacher in Houston is providing for her students…and it shouldn’t have to be in secret.  

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A prairie prayer

 

By Mary Kay Roth

Tallgrasses shimmer and shiver on this crisp-clear February afternoon, only a tickle of a breeze whispering and rustling over the land.  An absolutely perfect, sky-blue sky hovers above. And I breathe in one of the most serene sanctuaries I know, Spring Creek Prairie, a tallgrass prairie preserve found only 20 miles southwest of town.

There is simply something mystical about a prairie. 

The land here holds me close.  Embraces, cradles me in its arms. Keeps me safe and steady.

I’ve always said the outdoors is where I find my spirituality. The prairie is one beloved church where I pray.

Looking back, one of the best things I believe I did for my children was to immerse them in the great outdoors.  However, I may have failed in my mission to honor their own native horizons. 

Josh prefers the majesty and wonder of the mountains.  Anna would choose the hypnotic, turquoise waves of an ocean.

I will always be a prairie girl.

Glowing ever so quietly with nuanced beauty, the prairie offers a solid certainty that life is large and wide and somehow everything will be ok.  A prairie reaches deep into my soul and smooths out my crazy. 

And it seems almost everyone has their share of crazy these days.  I’ve had my own.  

Someone rear-ended and totaled my beloved car. Verizon folks are puzzled why my data refuses to transfer onto a new phone and Saturday’s Wordle took me six guesses. This week one of the fiercest, most fearless activists died in a Russian prison and a shooting in Kansas City came far too close to some of the dearest people in my life.  Meantime, the dog trainer says my puppy barks at people because she’s afraid of the world.  

At this point in life, many might turn to counselors. Medication. Meditation.  Chanting.

I go to the prairie.  

Strangely it doesn’t really solve my problems, it simply reminds me there is something bigger – greater.  No matter what happens in life, the raw and uncluttered beauty of a prairie vista will go on and on, as far as the eye can see. And the tallgrasses will continue rustling in the wind.

Other folks have said it better.

• Willa Cather: “As I looked about me, I felt that the grass was the country, as the water is the sea. The red of the grass made all the great prairie the colour of winestains, or of certain seaweeds when they are first washed up. And there was so much motion in it; the whole country seemed, somehow, to be running.”  
• Walt Whitman: “While I know the standard claim is that Yosemite, Niagara Falls, the Upper Yellowstone and the like afford the greatest natural shows, I am not so sure but the prairies and plains, while less stunning at first sight, last longer, fill the esthetic sense fuller, precede all the rest, and make North America’s characteristic landscape.”

Yet we must tread cautiously on this precious ground.  Once upon a time, tallgrass prairie covered 142 million acres. Today about one percent of North American prairies still exist, only 30 million acres, making prairies one of the rarest, most endangered ecosystems in the world. 

Yet if you live in Lincoln, prairies linger close.  

A wonderful patch of prairie grows on the far side of Pioneers Park.  Nine-Mile Prairie perches on the northwest edge of Lincoln.

And Spring Creek Prairie Audubon Center is an easy drive away. Now at 1,160 acres – they added 310 more acres in a recent purchase – I can wander three miles of walking trails here, through native grasslands, wetlands and ponds.

Scientists tell us prairies require little maintenance – no need for fertilizers or pesticides – build soil, capture carbon, trap sediment, provide rare native habitat for birds, butterflies, insects, reptiles and many small critters. 

But to be completely honest, I love prairies for more than their ecology.

I love them for their powerful connection to something more. I love them for their gentle heart.  For their restrained announcement of spring in subtle shades of emerald and olive green – for their summery tallgrasses reaching high, sunflowers towering above and birds practically screaming with joy – for their autumn landscape of burnished russet, ruby red and deep shadow.  

Even on this wintry afternoon, with acres and acres of brittle browns and austere grays, there’s something cozy and comforting at Spring Creek.

So, this afternoon I take time to lie down and disappear into the grasses, looking up into an endless sky, the silence around me, almost unbelievable.

I can hear my own heartbeat, feel the pulse of the land, practically feel the earth turning, as I nestle down and burrow even deeper into the prairie, lingering here for just a little while longer.     

*Spring Creek Prairie: https://springcreek.audubon.org/

These Are A Few of Our Favorite Things

For Valentine’s week, we thought it would be fun to reflect upon a few of our favorite things. We hope you enjoy this week’s Meeting of the Mayhem Minds, and that you can celebrate Valentine’s Day immersed in and enjoying a few of your favorite things. Thank you for reading, sharing and commenting. We love hearing from you.

Places for the Heart
By JoAnne Young

Years ago, my husband gave me a lighted paper heart, framed in three dimensions and decorated with
white splatters and smiling suns, bought at a long-gone head shop in downtown Lincoln. It’s been a prominent fixture in our living room for decades, kindling my love of anything heart shaped.

 I see no fewer than nine hearts today in this room – a copper heart ornament, a metal wind-blown heart enhanced with a crescent moon, a small heart-shaped wooden box with a tiny silver heart inside. I love them all, but the heart light is my favorite.

 My love of hearts carries over from art and décor to nature. The ultimate natural heart is our own, the original shape of love and utility that sustains us. I was privileged in 1988 to watch a team of surgeons and nurses at Bryan Memorial Hospital transplant a heart into a Nebraska man and then bring his story to Lincoln Star readers. I won’t forget peering into his chest after doctors had removed a more imperfect heart, before slipping in a stronger, healthier one. That place in our chests is a most beautiful fist-sized container of shiny white and red tissue, a jewel box for our heart.

 On a walk on a favorite Florida beach in December, I came across a red heart shape buried partially in the sand. I dug it out and learned it was a sea heart, a seed pod from a liana vine that grows in Central America and Caribbean islands. They can travel long distances, bobbing on the ocean surface. A true gift that endured who knows what mayhem to end up in the hands of a truly grateful heart lover.

***

Roundabouts
by Marilyn Moore

Roundabouts….I love them.  I’ll go out of my way to drive a street with a roundabout.  Not everyone agrees with me.  My friend Barbara Jo will go out of her way to avoid a street with a roundabout.  That’s okay…each to her own.  But I love them.

Lincoln’s first roundabout, built more than 20 years ago, is at 33^rd and Sheridan.  Just like the city traffic engineers predicted, the number of accidents decreased, and the dollar value of damage when an accident did occur decreased, also.  That’s because people have to drive more slowly, and since there’s no yellow light changing to red, there’s no incentive to speed up to beat the light.  So, they work. That’s a reason to like them.  And yes, I like the natural landscaping and works of art in the center of many of them…and I know there are those who don’t.  Each to her own….

Now there are dozens in the city, from big ones (think 14^th and Superior) to little ones, like those in neighborhoods such as at the intersection of 11^th and D.  Our roundabouts don’t hold a candle to the really big ones, like those in London, where six (!) lanes of traffic maneuver a roundabout.  We’re good here managing two lanes.

Fewer traffic lights, fewer stop signs, and safer intersections….I just like them.  It seems to me that drivers are more careful, they watch out for other drivers, there’s collaboration and just a moment of community as we yield to one another.  A good metaphor for how we might live with one another in ways other than behind the wheel. 

***

Zen and a Paper Mate Flair …
by Mary Kay Roth

I love lists.  Lists of groceries, errands, good books, potential gifts, dream destinations.

But perhaps the true secret weapon for writing a perfect list … one of my very favorite things … is the perfect blend of paper and pen.

For me, that’s a Docket Gold legal pad and a Paper Mate Flair Felt Tip Pen (medium point, never thin tip – and, god forbid, never scented).

I’m crazy weird about this combo.

Admittedly these days I use my laptop for most of my major writing projects.  But when it comes to doodling, scribbling random notes, personal writing and, yes, making lists, I want the real deal. 

I want paper and pen. 

And I’m downright obsessive about the right ones. I want a pen that feels just right in my hand. I want smear-resistant ink that won’t bleed through the page. I want paper that absorbs the ink, effortlessly.

I’ve tested out countless legal pads in my life.  For some mysterious reason I landed on a Docket Gold. 

But I didn’t need to test out pens, because I loved the Paper Mate Flair the very first moment I held it.  With a classic 60’s vibe, this writing instrument is a thing of beauty – meditative – serene – zen-like.

When I buy yet another box of them, my kids shake their heads wondering why I need more – as there are piles of Flair pens scattered around my house.  But come on, you never know when they will discontinue your favorite color.

Because, yep, I’m just as quirky about the hue.  Black and red are forbidden, they are boring. Lime greens and neons are hard to read.  But when I pick up a mocha, scuba-blue, cranberry, magenta – be still my beating heart.

So, if you want to make me happy, if you want to be my Valentine, forget raindrops on roses. Just give me a Flair pen.

***

Making Rolls
By Mary Reiman

I love making rolls. I love the process as much as the product. Maybe more. 

The recipe was given to me long ago, in my first year of teaching. It was a perfect Saturday activity because it includes a beginning and an end, with a final product. In teaching, we finish a semester, or a year, and send students on their way, often wondering how they are doing, or where they have landed in life. In baking, I see the result of my work. 

There is no mixer or bread machine involved in this recipe. I use my hands to get the right consistency before punching the dough (OK...maybe there’s a bit of aggression alleviated at that point). The stickier the dough, the better. Watching it rise, getting out the rolling pin, cutting and shaping, and then brushing with butter (because everything really is better with butter). There’s nothing quite like the aroma of freshly baked bread wafting through the house. 

As important as the baking, is sharing with others. Packaging them and rushing off to deliver while they are still warm. It’s my way of letting friends know they are important to me. 

Sharing the love and joy of something made by the hand, and from the heart.

***

Riding in Cars with Dogs
by Penny Costello

Boone

I am blessed to live with two sweet, silly, and scrappy dogs named Boone and Idgy. When we go for rides in the car, Idgy likes to stand with her hind legs in my lap as I’m driving and hang her head and front legs out the window, looking down the street, ears flapping in the wind. She also really loves to roll the windows down. Boone likes to sit in the back seat on the driver’s side, and he appreciates it when Idgy opens his window so he can hang his head out, too.

My favorite thing about car rides with my dogs is seeing other drivers’ reactions when we pull up beside them at stop lights. Invariably they smile at the dogs, and conversations ensue.

Idgy

Often I hear “Oh, your dog is so cute!” when they see Idgy hanging out, smiling at them. I respond with a smile, “She knows.”

She has this way of looking at these folks with what looks to me like anticipation, as if she’d like to say, “How cute do YOU think I am?” When the light turns green after those encounters, as we continue down the street, I praise her and tell her she’s doing a public service putting smiles on peoples’ faces and making their day a little brighter. And it makes my day brighter when I have those sweet exchanges with complete strangers at traffic lights.

The same thing happens when we go to restaurants for curbside pick-ups. They brighten the days of wait staff who come to the car with our food, as well as drive-through bank tellers, pharmacists, and baristas at coffee shops. Boone and Idgy LOVE drive-throughs, because they very often score a dog treat of some kind. And it does my heart so much good to see peoples’ faces light up and know we provided a moment of brightness in the midst of their daily routine.

Boone and Idgy are not certified service animals, but in their own wonderful ways, they’re providing a service just the same. And I’m blessed to be their delivery driver.

***

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Squall Alert

 

By Mary Reiman

Note to self… 

Never leave Lincoln without my pink bag – the ‘go-to’ bag. The pink bag should always contain a phone charger, a toothbrush, and a device with a book just waiting to be read. 

Because you never know when a squall will pass through so you can’t get home. What was to be an hour visit to family on January 18th turned into an unplanned stay without my pink bag. 

Squall: a sudden violent gust of wind or a localized storm, especially one bringing rain, snow, or sleet. A snow squall warning is issued for short duration. These warnings will be used to warn about whiteout conditions with intense bursts of snow and wind.

Are squalls only about weather? 

Think about that definition for a moment. We got through that afternoon and evening of swirling snow. But doesn’t it seem like we are still surrounded by squalls? Localized storms take many forms. Are low clouds hanging over Lincoln? 

Some of last week’s news stories: 

• Melting snow in Lincoln causes damage to a building, causing businesses to close temporarily. That was problematic for those employees on Monday morning.

• Raising sales taxes so property taxes can be lowered. How is this most beneficial?

• The need in our state for more skilled workers in spite of low population growth. A dilemma.

• Potholes (potholes=squalls)

Or national news:

* Amelia Earhart’s plane may have been located. A female adventurer in a time when female adventurers did not receive a lot of acknowledgement.  Interesting to think that all these years later they are still trying to locate her airplane. Was it a squall that sent her plane into the ocean in 1937?

* Loss of taste and smell from COVID. For most, those senses come back within a few weeks after testing negative. However, for those who still can’t taste or smell after eight weeks, there’s a major concern, more than a squall.

Is a squall simply a blip in time when everything seems to go awry?  

Well, in our political world, it seems that squalls are becoming more long term, turning into gale force winds, especially throughout the plains of Nebraska. I fear this turbulent weather pattern will be hanging over our heads at least until after the election. It is only February and already our nationally elected officials are not passing needed legislation, even though they support it, because it would look like they were supporting the other party’s candidates. Really...is that what is best for their constituents? Is that the first question they ask themselves when voting for any legislation?

And then there is the headline from today's Lincoln Journal Star. The proposal to ban books from school libraries across the state of Nebraska. Much turbulence ahead.

Let's use The Color Purple by Alice Walker as an example. It is on a list of books created by a national group, being circulated state by state, to be banned from school librarians. The Color Purple is a classic, has won a Pulitzer Prize and National Book Award, and was made into a movie in 1985 and recently released again in 2023. Within the story line about the power of family, resilience, hope and bravery, is also the acknowledgement of sexual abuse by a family member. 

IF a child who has also been sexually assaulted reads The Color Purple and realizes she/he is not alone in the world, then that book needs to be available for that child to read. The same can be said for children contemplating suicide, or with feelings of being isolated or bullied. It does not mean that every child or young adult in that school should read every book, but diverse literature, sometimes dealing with difficult topics, is what they are searching for to give them solace in the storm of emotions they are feeling. What purpose does it serve to ban those books? 

If we truly want to address the mental health issues caused by childhood trauma, allow children the opportunity to read and reflect and know they are not alone in this world. 

I believe there is power in words. The power to heal. 

Parents may look at the online card catalog to see the titles of the books in their child's school library. There are selection policies in the school libraries. There are processes in place if a parent is concerned about a book their child has chosen to check out from the library. 

Mr. Penner's quest to ban books is a story worth following. You may want to submit your thoughts/concerns/comments to your representative on the State Board of Education. I attended Friday's meeting. I know they read the letters from their constituents. They referred to several of them. The board will meet again to discuss the possible rule changes on March 8th and your letter will probably need to be submitted by the 6th. Their agenda, with the link for public comments, will be posted:  https://www.education.ne.gov/stateboard/ 

If you would like to talk about this storm brewing, please let me know. I think fondly of the days when I had great conversations with parents who called to ask about a book in the library. Discussions, learning from each other. Civil discourse. Perhaps this would still be a better way to calm the stormy weather that seems to have settled over us.

FOR MORE URGENT ACTION: From the Nebraska Legislature: LB1399 - Change provisions relating to the involvement of parents, guardians, and educational decision makers in the education of their children.

Read page 5 of Section 6:   https://nebraskalegislature.gov/FloorDocs/108/PDF/Intro/LB1399.pdf 

Comments regarding this bill need to be made by 8:00 a.m., Monday, February 5th https://nebraskalegislature.gov/bills/view_bill.php?DocumentID=55180 

You may notice that some of the language about the school library resources in LB1399 sounds familiar. Some of our state legislators are finding very subtle, some might say subversive, ways to ban books.

Yes, storm clouds are looming overhead.

I think I will definitely make 'squall' my word of the year...hoping I don't have to change it to 'gale-force winds.' 

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