Library 91! The John Woodruff Simpson Memorial Library in East Craftsbury was the 91st stop on my quest to read, write, and knit in all of Vermont’s public libraries.
I read: books by Natalie Kinsey-Warnock, a local author who I met at the library by coincidence.
I wrote: details about this library that will not fit in this post but that I hope I remember
I knit: a fingerless mitt
Miss Jean.
If this general-store-turned-library were ever renamed, it would be Miss Jean’s Library. It was kind of her to name it after her dad (why not your mom, Miss Jean?), but it is clear that this library is thanks to her. It is also clear after visiting this library that she left an indelible mark on this town.
Craftsbury has one of the most distinct personalities of all Vermont towns in my imagination. In my head, Craftsbury is made of the colors of soil and old fabric, and also neon. It is peeling white paint on wooden signs and siding. It is art and culture. It is queer. It is farms and it is drag. To me, it is quintessential Vermont. Every time I visit this gem of the Northeast Kingdom, something memorable happens.
This time, it was the library. Miss Jean (in the black and white photograph, taken by my colleague John Miller) was a well-connected human who married a Vermonter and moved here from NYC to “bring the world to Craftsbury.” She hosted Shakespeare theater camps and the Girl Scouts (her uniform is still hanging on door to the ping pong room). She saved letters her family received from local neighbors, as well as those from Queen Victoria and Winston Churchill. She was a collector. Of experiences and things and stories.
Two notable humans I met at this library were Kristin (director, storyteller) and Natalie (author, neighbor, storyteller). They are working to archive Miss Jean’s relics. The attic is full of Shakespeare costumes from summer theater camp, so Kristin is learning about archiving textiles (librarians: if they don’t know how to do it, they learn). Many of the tiniest items are already organized into glass cabinets and catalogued in a type-writer written binder. My favorites: a dried potato someone kept in their pocket to heal rheumatism, and bits of ruins from Pompeii.
This museum is a slice of Miss Jean’s experience in the world, preserved. Although Kristin and Natalie are adding their perspectives as curators, what Miss Jean chose to save and write down is now part of what East Craftsbury calls history. Librarians do this in their work— they make history.
I enjoyed learning that Miss Jean was a gamer. She stashed and stored games in benches and drawers and shelves. She invented a game called “The Game of Sliced Animals” (I looked at this; it’s not as bad as it sounds). My wife and I play games. We say that we have a “game-based relationship,” and we are always aware of who’s winning (it’s currently Lisa). We document our scores and the friends who played with us in messy dated composition books. We’ve played Wingspan 1600 times on our dining room table since it was released (and have not met anyone who has played this game more times than us; maybe one couple in Norway). Perhaps Miss Jean, like us, appreciates the unique way games help us learn about our friends and each other, without the need to ask direct questions.
I would like to have played a game with Miss Jean.
Maybe not the Game of Sliced Animals.
Listening to Kristin and Natalie get giddy about a photograph, story, or artifact gave me a crisper vision of the labor that goes into organizing the world’s knowledge. I used to envision it all in warehouse stacks, labeled neatly, and catalogued online. I had no image in my head of the curiosity and creativity that goes into making history.
Now my image of this labor is of Kristin and Natalie exchanging stories while looking at photographs over the cabinet of dried potatoes and Pompeii remains while I knit a fingerless mitt nearby.
To see this in action, and to hear thirteen good stories you didn’t know you needed to hear but you will be so glad you heard, this is a good place.
This is also a good place to play ping pong with a librarian.
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