The Library of Congress
The Main Reading Room
“A room without books is like a body without a soul.”~Cicero
You're never too old, too wacky, too wild,
To pick up a book and read with a child.
You're never too busy, too cool, or too hot,
To pick up a book and share what you've got.
In schools and communities,
Let's gather around,
Let's pick up a book,
Let's pass it around.
There are kids all around you,
Kids who will need
Someone to hug,
Someone to read.
Come join us March 2nd
Your own special way
And make this America's
Read to Kids Day.
I promise to read
Each day and each night.
I know it's the key
To growing up right.
I'll read to myself,
I'll read to a crowd.
It makes no difference
If silent or loud.
I'll read at my desk,
At home and at school,
On my bean bag or bed,
By the fire or pool.
Each book that I read
Puts smarts in my head,
'Cause brains grow more thoughts
The more they are fed.
So I take this oath
To make reading my way
Of feeding my brain
What it needs every day.
bookswim (snail mail library)
Hiawatha's Childhood
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I spent kindergarten and 1st grade at the old
Longfellow Elementary School
in St. Paul.
I was in Mrs. Harvey's 4th grade class,when we
memorized the small portion of the much longer poem:
By the shores of Gitche Gumee,
By the shining Big-Sea-Water,
Stood the wigwam of Nokomis,
Daughter of the Moon, Nokomis.
Dark behind it rose the forest,
Rose the black and gloomy pine-trees,
Rose the firs with cones upon them;
Bright before it beat the water.
Beat the clear and sunny water,
Beat the shining Big-Sea-Water.
There the wrinkled old Nokomis
Nursed the little Hiawatha.
Rocked him in his linden cradle,
Bedded soft in moss and rushes,
Safely bound with reindeer sinews;
Stilled his fretful wail by saying,
"Hush, the Naked Bear will hear thee!"
Lulled him into slumber, singing,
"Ewa-yea! my little owlet!
Who is this, that lights the wigwam?
With his great eyes lights the wigwam?
Ewa-yea! my little owlet!"
Many things Nokomis taught him
Of the stars that shine in heaven;
Showed him lshkoodah, the comet,
lshkoodah, with fiery tresses,
Showed the Death-Dance of the spirits,
Warriors with their plumes and war-clubs
Flaring far away to northward
In the frosty nights of winter;
Showed the broad white road in heaven,
Pathway of the ghosts, the shadows,
Running straight across the heavens,
Crowded with the ghosts, the shadows.
At the door on summer evenings,
Sat the little Hiawatha,
Heard the whispering of the pine-trees,
Heard the lapping of the waters,
Sounds of music, words of wonder;
"Minne-wawa!" said the pine-trees,
"Mudway-aushka!" said the water.
Saw the fire-fly Wah-wah-taysee,
Flitting through the dusk of evening,
With the twinkle of its candle
Lighting up the brakes and bushes,
And he sang the song of children,
Sang the song Nokomis taught him;
"Wah-wah-taysee, little fire-fly,
Little flitting, white-fire insect,
Little, dancing, white-fire creature,
Light me with your little candle,
Ere upon my bed I lay me,
Ere in sleep I close my eyelids!"
Saw the moon rise from the water,
Rippling, rounding from the water,
Saw the flecks and shadows on it,
Whispered, "What is that, Nokomis?"
And good Nokomis answered:
"Once a warrior, very angry,
Seized his grandmother, and threw her
Up into the sky at midnight;
Right against the moon he threw her;
'Tis her body that you see there."
Saw the rainbow in the heaven,
In the eastern sky the rainbow,
Whispered, "What is that, Nokomis?"
And the good Nokomis answered:
"'Tis the heaven of flowers you see there;
All the wild-flowers of the forest,
All the lilies of the prairie,
When on earth they fade and perish,
Blossom in that heaven above us."
When he heard the owls at midnight,
Hooting, laughing in the forest,
"What is that?' he cried in terror;
"What is that," he said, "Nokomis?"
And the good Nokomis answered;
"That is but the owl and owlet,
Talking in their native language,
Talking, scolding at each other."
Then the little Hiawatha
Learned their names and all their secrets,
How they built their nests in summer,
Where they hid themselves in winter,
Talked with them whene'er he met them,
Called them "Hiawatha's Chickens."
Of all beasts he learned the language,
Learned their names and all their secrets,
How the beavers built their lodges,
Where the squirrels hid their acorns,
How the reindeer ran so swiftly,
Why the rabbit was so timid,
Talked with them whene'er he met them,
Called them "Hiawatha's Brothers."
Stanford University's A Tale of Two Cities help guide
photo by Branislav Kecman
Good-bye old Vroman's, I'll always miss you.
In the '60's, a favorite past time for me was to go and
hang out in the upstairs poetry and literature section of the old
Vroman's Bookstore, in Pasadena.
It was just just the right size.
The shelves went from reachable heights to the floor.
Wood floors.
I remember walking trying to walk lightly up the stairs to
the second floor, hoping to not
start them a'creaking.
My memory tells me that newer books were downstairs, along with
paper products.
Eaton Stationery.
Museum quality art posters.
Mostly of the old west.
Frederick Remington & Charles Russell.
Now why would I specifically remember those two artists?
Old Vroman's
What a treasure.
Recently, we've driven past the new Vroman's on Colorado Boulevard, and
have never seen the Hastings Ranch Vromans's.
but who'd want to?
Kathleen Kelly (Meg Ryan in You've Got Mail
"When you read a book as a child, it becomes a part of your identity in a way that
no other reading in your whole life does."
Then I ran across this story.
Just an old guy whose journey led him into
old Vroman's history:
Odo B. Stade
What an interesting life.
Yesterday morning I woke up to read about
Book Soup's financial woes.
Godspeed, Book Soup.
I hope Vroman's lets you stay put and grow old.
It hurts my heart to see indie bookstores fading away.
