Gone to seed

I read a New York Times article late last year about personal libraries and different motivations for amassing them. According to the author, various schools of thought hold that personal libraries are 1) a self portrait of one's brain (especially useful for attracting a mate), or 2) an emotional and totemic history of thought and creative development, or  3) a repository of books 'to read' in the future, a store of knowledge for whatever awaits. 

All of those motivations for accumulating books are true for me, and are a facet of the strong tendency towards bibliophilia that is a legacy from my parents. I've resigned myself to having lots of books; I try to let the silly or mistakenly acquired ones go, tend to retain nonfiction and pass on (or borrow) fiction, and have generally enjoyed building a library. I love a good book sale. 

This past year my books have been largely in storage, and I've missed them.  I didn't really need them, but I missed them. In some ways they are a mirror. In other ways they are companions, guides along the way. I like having them around. 

This summer I'm working again at QuakerBooks of FGC, generally as a bookstore staff person - cashier, customer service, etc. Part of transitioning to Gathering at Virginia Tech has involved unpacking and processing loads of used books, which are a new inventory phenomenon for the FGC bookstore. 

Most of the used books came from the personal library of Elizabeth G. Watson, a Quaker writer, feminist, activist and minister who lived a long and inspiring life and died in 2006. The books donated to FGC are heavy on poetry, with loads of Rilke, Tagore, and Dickinson, as well as feminine/feminist spirituality, and Christian theology and spirituality. There were a lot of titles I was very tempted by. 

I knew Elizabeth Watson only by reputation, and admittedly have not read any of her books (Guests of My Life, Wisdom's Daughters, etc.), but experiencing this piece of her library gave me enormous appreciation for her brilliance,  creativity, and spirituality. I have some sense of her now, whereas before she existed only in a mental register of "well loved and respected Friends." 

While we were unpacking and sorting the books, Harriet and I talked about how it was a little sad to see them all scattered, especially because so many were marked up, full of notes and personal messages. It felt like breaking up a collection. 

I had spent the evening wondering if this is what would become of my library when I'm gone - divvied up and donated by my heirs. 

But then I decided that it was fitting. Perhaps when book lovers die, we really go to seed: all the books we have loved, or intended to love, scatter to the wind to take root and grow new ideas in someone else's life, in someone else's library. Perhaps that is a good way to live on. 

I picked a few of Elizabeth's. I look forward to their fruits.  

Carry it On

Today, one of my best friends invited me to go to a dedication of a mural her organization had helped organize. The Community Arts Center has long had a relationship and collaboration with several different schools and organizations in Chester, and this particular mural was on the side of the parish building at Calvary Baptist Church.

It's not well known, but Martin Luther King Jr. lived for three years in Chester, attended what was then Crozer Theological Seminary, and preached his first sermon at Calvary Baptist Church. Following in the footsteps of Dr. King would take you through Chester. 

It was kind of amazing to sit in that church, think about its history, delight in the diversity of people who were there and the diversity of people who were involved in the project, and then consider all that in the context of Barack Obama's presidency. 

Then, driving back home across I-95, through the lush green trees of Delaware County, I noted the dramatic change both in the upkeep of buildings and the racial background of residents between Chester-Upland and Wallingford. It was a reminder of the racial and economic extremes and segregation that exist in this county, and how much further we have to go. 

The event was also a reminder of how much farther I have to go - of how white my life is, how much I don't want that and need to work on it, and a reminder of the potential for connection and community that exists right where I live. No need to travel.

I don't think Barack Obama is an infallible saviour, but I do have moments when I forget and then remember that he's the president, and am like "Oh Wow!" A song was sung during Festival Week at Pendle Hill that keeps coming back to me (and appeared on someone's t-shirt while I was at Intermountain Yearly Meeting): 

Rosa sat 

So Martin could walk

Martin walked 

So Barack could run 

He ran and he won 

So all our children could fly*  

*An internet search didn't reveal who truly wrote this as a song (Amy Dixon-Kolar?) and what the full lyrics are. The sentiment has been expressed by several people, famous and not famous. This is how I learned it.