public libraries – Lofty Minded in Alaska

An October letter

Hello dear friends,

It’s been a while since I’ve sent a letter out into the world. Not that I haven’t tried. Over the past month or so, I’ve started writing a letter on three different occasions, but in the end they didn’t feel right. There wasn’t anything wrong with what I’d written, per se, but they didn’t really do what I wanted them to do.

I don’t think this is just me being a perfectionist. Writing those unsent letters was time well spent as they got me closer to being able to write this one. We’ll see if this one will make the cut. I feel good about it so far, like maybe I’m finally getting back to center after a summer that knocked me out of balance.

In the letters I didn’t send I wrote about all the summer things. Most everything about my summer was good – camping trips, family visits, farmer’s markets, music festivals, late night dinners with friends, gardening, making fireweed tea – but there were some tough moments, too. Times when I didn’t feel quite as happy as I was pretending to be, and those times are harder to write about. Leaving them out didn’t quite feel honest, though. So I had to rethink my approach to this kind of open letter.

The site of this summer’s family camping trip. Kenai Lake, AK

What I’m realizing now is that these letters aren’t meant to be me telling you about how I’ve filled my days. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.) They’re not meant to be newsletters. Rather, I’d like to think of them as connecting points. A moment for me to sit down and say, hey, I’m still out here. My life is busy and full the way yours probably is too, but there’s a whole side of life that isn’t about how busy we are. There’s a side that feels things and tries to make sense of all the nonsensical things we’re witnessing. There’s a side that tries to cope with difficult situations and hard realities.

Of course there are authentically beautiful moments, like this morning: It’s not yet noon as I’m sitting down to this letter and I’ve already spent a few hours reading and writing. Before that, just after rolling out of bed, I took our pup out for a walk in the dark. I forgot to charge the headlamp before we headed out, so I switched it off for several minutes during our walk in order to conserve the battery.

It was quiet out except for a couple of owls hooting back and forth to each other and our feet stepping on the wet gravel and dirt road. The air was cool and damp, no wind. Close to home I could see a few lights from neighboring houses, further away I could see boats on the harbor and the Homer Spit. And stars. In the dark I trusted my pup’s nose to warn me if he noticed anything that I couldn’t see or hear. It was a hit to my senses, considering I’d been snug in my bed just ten minutes earlier.

When I got back home there was a hot drink waiting for me, and Dean had lit a fire in the wood stove. After filling his belly and a walk, our energetic pup was ready to curl up and sleep for a couple of hours, which allowed for the uninterrupted reading and writing time. A rare gift, these days.

Now the sun’s out after two days of intense winds and rain and I’m sitting at my kitchen table looking out the back window at blue sky and the fall landscape, which is beautiful right now in mid-October.

This blissful morning feeling is heightened, no doubt, by the fact that I have nowhere I have to go for the next three days.

You see I feel my best when I have plenty of time at home to read and write, when I have time to get outside and get my blood pumping. I’m happiest when I have time to cook good food and make things from the wild things that grow around here, when I have time to play and listen to music, when I get to choose what I want to do by my mood, the weather, by what sounds most interesting. There’s always plenty to do here, but when I get to go at my own pace on projects of my own choosing, it doesn’t always feel like work.

I can rise to the occasion when life pulls me in directions that take me away from my center – the way it does here in the summer – but I deeply appreciate when I can center more of my energy toward home. I guess I appreciate a simple life.

I’m not sure that adding a puppy to our lives at the height of summer was the best idea as far as simplicity goes, but that’s what we did. His name is Zuki and we adopted him on July 4^th. Our routines have been adjusted to fit his every need and in return he makes us laugh on days that might otherwise remain very serious. He’s easier going than our previous two dogs and as much as we loved them we’re thankful Zuki likes everyone he meets and wants very much to be a Very Good Boy. He gets us out walking multiple times a day, too, which has its benefits. Watching Dean interact with him has confirmed to me that I am married to a man who should probably always have a dog.

Last month marked 21 years of me working at the Homer Public Library, and lately I’ve been thinking about how the one job has taken me through so many different versions of myself. When I first started my job I was the mom of two adolescents trying to juggle work and parenting and finishing up my bachelor’s degree. My passion at the time was learning to play fiddle. Over time, my kids grew up and went to college and Hawaii and Canada and have had various other adventures. I earned a Master’s degree in Creative Writing. Dean earned a couple of black belts and changed jobs a few times. Now we’ve got a small garden business.

All of this happened while my day job has pretty much stayed the same. It’s funny how life can look the same from year to year on the surface, but really there’s a lot going on underneath. I guess that’s true of the library, too. Most of the books that were on the shelves when I started there all those years ago have been replaced with new ones. The staff has changed. The things we offer and the way we go about doing things is different than it used to be.

There have been times when I’ve wanted to mix it up, when I’ve kept an eye out for a different gig, but this morning when I was reading I remembered the one unchanging thing I’ve loved about my job from the very beginning, which is the constant exposure I have to so many incredible books; books that I might never have seen if I hadn’t spent so much of my life at the library, books that people have dedicated years of their lives to researching and writing, books that have changed my perception and deepened my empathy, books that have taken me to places that my physical body will never visit, books that have put words to truths that I myself couldn’t quite articulate.

There is no end, really, when you start down the book path: it’s endless, expansive, multi-layered, always unfolding. And that’s just the books. Add things like the ocean, and mountains, and human innovation… Add something as big as the idea of God.

You can see why I need some quiet time at home and out in nature just to let all of it settle into my being, to help me discover who it is I’m supposed to be in the enormity of it all. You can also see why I’ve stayed at the library for twenty-one years.

A view from our daily walk. Kachemak Bay, AK

Since books are on my mind, I might as well mention a few standouts that I’ve read since the last time I wrote.

*My favorite book of the year so far is Thirty-Two Words for Field: Lost Words of the Irish Landscape by Manchan Magan. There is so much I could say about this book, but ‘expansive’ is the one word that comes to mind that best encapsulates it. It’s a series of short essays about the Irish language—its history, its origins, its depth, its magic. I borrowed the library copy for my first reading, then I ordered a copy for myself and for a friend so that we can discuss it. If any of you have read it I’d love to hear your thoughts because I’m wondering if this book was uniquely impactful to me, or if it has hit others with a similar strength.

*A Horse at Night: On Writing by Amina Cain. This book, as the subtitle suggests, is for writers, and I’m not sure why it’s not more well-known. Cain is excellent at naming the things that writers do that often go unnamed, and she gives examples—one after another—of novels, plays, films, paintings, etc., that illustrate what she’s naming. If I were teaching a creative writing class, I’d use this as one of the required texts. (Note: This is one of the ones I read from this morning. I found it a couple of weeks ago when I was looking for books to weed from the library collection. It was purchased in 2023 and had never been checked out! How many other gems are out there, hidden in the library stacks?)

*Glimmerings: Letters on Faith between a Poet and a Theologian by Miroslav Volf & Christian Wiman – True confession: Sometimes I read theology books for fun. That’s because I am consumed with big questions about God, the Universe, Divinity, etc., and in fact I find it soothing and hopeful and challenging to contemplate such things. Reading the letters back and forth between the two authors was akin to listening in on a private, honest, and heartfelt conversation between two friends that are seeking deeper truths. There is so much good material in this book for the right person.

*And the last book I’ll mention is Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan. As you can probably see from my book list, I tend to read more nonfiction than fiction, but when I do read a work of fiction as lovely as Small Things Like These, it grabs hold of my heart in a way that nonfiction rarely does. This book is short and I read it in a couple of afternoons when we were camping this summer. It’s beautifully written and it made me want to try my hand at writing fiction again, but more importantly, it’s about a man whose moral compass gave him no choice but to do the right thing. It seems like the kind of story the world needs right now. Some of you have probably already read this book, or seen the movie by the same title? I’m curious about the movie, but I don’t want to watch it if it’s not excellent.

Alright, this letter is already longer than I meant for it to be. (See what happens when I don’t write for a long time?) I’ll wrap it up now with a sincere hope that you are well. Thanks for being out there and for clicking on the link that brought you this letter. I’d love to know what’s been on your hearts and minds lately, what you’ve been reading, or anything else you might like to share. (my email address is tsundmark@protonmail.com)

And now after full day of writing, I’ve finally got a letter that feels like maybe it’s the right one to send.

I’ll post it now, before I change my mind.

With love,

Teresa

Here’s a song I heard randomly on Radio Paradise a few weeks ago. The lyrics are what got my attention. – Two Twins by Switchfoot

A February New Moon Letter

Hello Dear Friends,

How could I not write a letter on this day that is so many different days wrapped into one, all having to do with the new moon. It’s Chinese New Year. (Welcome to the Year of the Fire Horse!) It’s Fat Tuesday. There’s even an annular solar eclipse which is not something most of us will be able to see from where we’re at but is still pretty cool.

Living next to the ocean in a place where the tidal fluctuations are extreme has helped me tune in to the moon’s cycles. Now the full and new moons mean the highest and lowest tides. They signal when it’s most beneficial to plant our garden. And of course there’s the direct tie to the cycles of women’s bodies. Did any of you ever read the historical novel, The Red Tent, by Anita Diament? It’s the fictional characterization of Dinah, the daughter of Jacob and Leah of the Old Testament. It came out in 1997 and it also influenced the way I think about the moon. It might be time to revisit that one.

That’s the trouble with books. There are many I’d like to read and there are many I’d like to re-read, but time is limited. Sigh…

In library lingo, there is something we call reader’s advisory. When a person walks in the door and wants help choosing a book, our job is to advise them. It’s one of the best parts about working in the library and it’s also one of the hardest, for a lot of different reasons. Sometimes a person doesn’t really know what they want and we have to ask the right questions in order help them figure out what they’re after. Sometimes they don’t offer a lot of information to work with, which is what happened to a coworker of mine this week.

This week a young person, probably around age 20, wanted my coworker to help them choose a book. But in this case, the person stated that they’d never read a book.

I don’t think it’s unusual for a twenty year old to have never read a book. Most everyone is a reader in one way or another, but not everyone is a book reader. And just because a person hasn’t read a book doesn’t mean that they can’t. In the case of this person, the time had come for them, and for whatever reason, they were ready.

Just the idea of helping a young adult choose their first book fills me with anxiety because I wouldn’t want to get it wrong. What if I suggested a book that was so off-putting to them that they never wanted to read another one? What if it was too long or uninteresting to them and they never finished it? What if it offended them in some way or reading it felt like a waste of their time?

Enjoying and finishing that first book seems important because if you’re a book reader you know the potential the book world holds. The hope is that this first time book reader would want to come back for more. But what’s compelling to one person might not be compelling to another, which is where making a recommendation can be tricky.

Which has had me thinking about what book I might have recommended had the patron asked me for help.

It would be helpful to know their interests, what kind of movies they enjoy, what kind of story they’re hoping for, but in this case the patron didn’t offer much. This is the sort of dilemma that keeps librarians awake at night.

I was later to the reading game, too. My brain popped around a lot and sitting still for long enough to read a book wasn’t in my nature as a young person. The kinds of books that first hooked me on reading aren’t necessarily the ones I’d gravitate toward now, but they served their purpose. They got me to settle in for a while and get lost in a story that wasn’t my own, and that getting lost and learning about the experiences of others, whether it was couched in fiction or nonfiction, was the part that kept me coming back to books.

I honestly don’t know what book I would have suggested. You almost can’t go wrong with true stories told well, so I might have steered them toward Shadows on the Koyukuk, a memoir of Sidney Huntington (co-authored by Jim Rearden) growing up along Alaska’s Koyukuk River. I don’t even remember the details of the book, but I remember the impact it had on me when I read it all those years ago.

If this first time book reader had preferred fiction I might have suggested A Psalm for the Wild Built, a novella by Becky Chambers. It’s short and sweet, hopeful and heartfelt, and it’s the only book that two different people have placed in my hand and said, “you should read this.” Their reasons for giving the book to me probably had to do with the fact that the main protagonist is a tea maker, but I think the story holds up even for those who aren’t.

Of course there is much to consider when making book suggestions, and sometimes all you can go on is vibes. I’m willing to bet that my coworker offered excellent suggestions.

Do any specific titles come to your mind for an adult first time book reader?

I don’t have a whole lot of personal news since my last letter, which is not a bad thing after January. The world news is a lot to process and I’m trying to read and stay informed without letting the enormity of it all absorb into my being. Some days I’m more successful with that than others.

It’s hard when horrible truths are exposed, whether that thing we wish weren’t true is in our personal lives or global. But I’m of the belief that knowing is better than not knowing, and that when our systems -whether they be family, health care, food, financial, religious, or governmental, etc.,- are tainted with abuse and corruption, that rot trickles down. We might not be able to name it, but I believe the sensitive among us can feel it. The atmosphere feels heavy with it right now.

I like to imagine what it would feel like to not feel like so many of our systems are tainted. I think that’s why I like to grow a garden, and write letters, and make tea from the wild plants I can forage. It’s why I like to play music with friends and go to potlucks. It’s why I feel comfortable at Quaker meetings and farmer’s markets and around the kitchen tables of close friends.

What do you do to keep yourself feeling connected to what’s good in this world?

Here are a couple of things I’ve enjoyed recently that I’d like to share with you:

*Our friend Robert Walsh hosts two radio shows a week on our local public radio station, KBBI, and has done so for the past several years. His love for music and his dedication to these shows is truly inspiring, and whenever we tune in we’re glad we did. Producing the shows is a volunteer effort on Robert’s part, and a big one at that. The shows are Set Net, which airs at 7:00pm every Saturday night and Drifter’s Escape which airs every Wednesday at 9:00pm. Both can be streamed from anywhere at KBBI.org.

It’s a rare thing to hear a friend’s voice on the radio and know that he’s put his heart and soul into creating a curated listening experience for anyone who happens to tune in. What a gift.

*I recently discovered a podcast called The Sacred Slope. It’s described as being “for the spiritually tender – those searching for healthier expressions of our global Christian faith and deconstructing harmful theology.” The few episodes I’ve listened to have been thought-provoking and entertaining. I would recommend the episode with April Ajoy (season 2, episode 6) for anyone who wants to hear a good conversation between two Christians who are concerned about Christian nationalism.

Thank you for reading my letters. Writing them feels good, and hearing back from you feels even better. Please feel free to share them with anyone you’d like, and if reading them inspires you to write or call or text someone you’ve been meaning to connect with, please take this as your cue to do it. If you’re like me, reaching out to people can sometimes feel overwhelming, maybe because a lot of time has passed or maybe because there are so many people to choose from, but you can start small. Just think of one person you’d like to say hello to, and let them know you’re thinking about them. I’ve discovered that time spent connecting with friends or family is time well spent, and it’s way better for my spirit than doom scrolling.

Anyhow, I’ll see you again when the moon is full. Until then I wish for you to have plenty of good food, good sleep, a few good belly laughs, and time to do something that brings you joy.

With love,

Teresa

Here’s the song “Stuff that Works” by Guy Clark to leave you with. Somehow it feels just right, right now.

If you’d ever like to reach me personally, you can email me at tsundmark@protonmail.com.