Friday, March 4, 2016

Time Passes


Time Passes

It’s the hands.

Looking at the hands,
  seeing the creases and folds that
  came on slowly
  and into focus suddenly. Swollen,
  giving in to arthritis and gravity,
  knobs and knots
  as if they belong on trees.

It’s not any different
  than looking in the mirror,
  really,
  except that seeing the face
  requires a conscience commitment
  or, an accidental passing. The hands, though,
  are right there, in plain view

  all day and always.                          
3/11/14
 
3/9/15  I happened upon a file of writing bits and pieces today, a year after writing this, about my old and wrinkled hands. Another year has passed. Knobs and wrinkles.

3/4/16  Weird--I am going through pieces of writing again today, another year later!




Mrs. Rafferty


“Create Your Own Story @ Your Library” is the perfect theme for National Library Week, at least in my opinion!  One of my strong interests as an educator is teaching writing, and what better way could there possibly be to engage students in writing than to ask them to write about what they know best – themselves -- to create their own stories.

A little piece of my story that seems just right to share for National Library Week, one that influenced my life forever, has to do with the library in my hometown, Spring Valley, Minnesota. Like the old St. Peter library on Minnesota Avenue, my childhood library was a Carnegie library, made of red brick and trimmed with dignified columns. I spent many, many long and contented hours there, and I came to know the librarian well, a woman who loved the look and feel of books as much as she loved the words inside them.

White-haired, tiny, and seemingly ancient, Mrs. Rafferty was the Spring Valley Public Library librarian. She wore navy blue crepe dresses with little dots, a tasteful cameo brooch, and sturdy black shoes that reminded me of my grandmother’s. The air around her was scented by the delicate lilac cologne she used, and even now when I smell lilacs in May, I think of her.

Mrs. Rafferty checked out books to her patrons from behind a tall, old-fashioned oak desk. I remember standing next to that desk, watching her competent veined hands hold my library card, bending it ever so slightly between her first and second fingers. Her thumb steadied the card while she penciled the expected return date in the DATE DUE column. After sliding my card into the stiff yellow paper pocket inside the book cover, she’d close the book and hand it to me with a smile and a comment, such as “I know you’ll enjoy this one, Jill,” or, “Isn’t it fun reading ‘Sue Barton’ books?” Her gentle encouragement felt like an invitation to read what I was interested in, and  to my heart’s content. Which I did, and still do!

Jill Potts
Member, St. Peter Friends of the Library
2011
Minor revisions 10/13