Choosing Well

Wetlands near my home

The pond was smaller than we expected, not much larger than a baseball infield, and could be reached only by climbing over ancient fallen trees around its edges. Hidden as it was, isolated by swamps and inconvenience, it seemed never to have been fished. It seemed to be trembling with quickness. 

 

We maneuvered over the tangled lots until we reached open sunlight at the edge of the water. If we had slipped from the logs we balanced on we would have fallen into bottomless muck. Gray skeletons of trees stood upright around the shore, and lily pads grew in the shallows. Damsel flies hovered delicately. A trio of turtles dropped, in sequence, off a silvered log.

 

-      Jerry Dennis, A Place on the Water

 

That was the book I selected from my home library for bedtime reading on Wednesday, and I could not have made a better choice. As I read the words, I could see turtles plopping, one by one, damselflies hovering, and even hear the whine of mosquitoes (without the “inconvenience” of slapping at insects myself), and after an evening spent pushing a lawnmower and supervising dog play, I was glad of a pillow vacation before sleep. Armchair travel, you know, so why not pillow vacation? Makes sense to me. 

 

Bedtime is cozy time.

Thursday I was up and out early, on a mission to buy more plants, planning to come home from the bookstore later to get them into the ground and into pots. It was a pleasant day in the bookstore. Door open, genial browsers and buyers, good conversations. I put up a new blog post and took delivery of the first half of this week’s new book order, too. 

 

Five o’clock closing and a short stroll down to the parking lot, I was getting in my car when a text came from my sister. “Verdict in. Guilty on all counts.” 

 

My plans for the evening did not change. One group of Americans was all for breaking out champagne and dancing in the streets, while another was donating massively to the former president’s campaign (or so we are told) and swearing revenge, and I imagined that few, if any at all, would be changed by the verdict. Nevertheless, my dianthus needed to get into the ground … bacopa needed to be potted … tomatoes and barely emerging beans needed to be watered … and Sunny Juliet needed (in her opinion) to get outdoors and chase tennis balls and ground squirrels.

 

Morning light

It was late when I cleaned up after an evening of gardening and settled down for the night with my dog and book. Reading of the time Gail, Jerry’s wife, had an experience of fishing euphoria reminded me of a rainy day in the Upper Peninsula, the Artist splashing happily upstream and crying out, “I get it! I get it!” I have always enjoyed casting with a fly rod, but other than that, in general, I am more like the pre-euphoric Gail: Being out on or near the water, appreciating the plant life, and watching fish I can see underwater means more to me than catching fish. One day long ago, on Wolf Lake west of Kalamazoo, I looped the end of a stringer around my toe while the Artist continued to fish. Every now and then his fish on the stringer would tug at my toe, and my consciousness joined with that of the fish, wet and wordless.

Branch of Fox River

The next morning Sunny and I were outdoors just before sunup. There had not been an overnight frost, but to be on the safe side I sprayed my baby tomato plants before the sun’s rays hit them, then went back to this spring’s ongoing brick project, hauling another half-dozen up from the buried pile to the front yard where I’m putting together a path. Preview of the project almost completed, soon I’ll remove the bricks from their temporary placement, carefully level the ground, and put down a layer of sand before replacing bricks in final configuration. 

Vegetable garden at evening

 

Rough draft (explanation in text)

Here's the thing: I had zero celebratory impulse when I heard the verdict. I thought what a sad day it is for our country when a former president is proven a criminal – and I say that while also believing it was a sad day when he was elected president and, before that, a sad day when the once-respectable Republican Party (my parents were Republicans) gave him the nomination. But on top of all that sadness was also the depressing awareness of deep divisions among American citizens, in families, between friends. Those who hate him see his supporters as idiots and psychopaths, while his supporters see the haters as Communists and perverts. That is not judgment but demonization.

 

Friday. Another day. Busy, very social day in the bookstore. Serious, appreciative customers. Then an evening of mowing grass, a job that used to take me two evenings to complete and now takes me three, even though I’m leaving more areas unmowed. Then folderol with dogs. Finally, bedtime – and an essay on Jerry Dennis’s meeting with legendary Michigan author John. Voelker, a.k.a., Robert Traver.

 

I was invited to ride in the fish car with Voelker…. The vehicle was the latest in a succession of fish cars, a Jeep wagon only four years old but which had already logged nearly 170,000 miles. Virtually all those miles were driven in the central Upper Peninsula. All his life Voelker was a prodigious traveler of back roads and timber trails, a trait common in the U.P., where families often spend weekends exploring the seemingly endless network of old two-tracks.

 

My satisfaction with this book is so deep I can barely find words for it. Look at a map of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, locate Sault Ste. Marie, and then follow the shoreline of Lake Superior west to Munishing. Drop south and follow the north shore of Lake Michigan east to the Straits of Mackinac. That is my U.P., territory the Artist and I explored off and on for years, the images as bright in my mind as are my immediate physical surroundings. 

Mackinac Bridge in the rain

But I can also imagine someone unfamiliar with Michigan, maybe someone from Maine or Vermont, reading A Place on the Waterand being transported by the sorcery of the author’s word paintings, as have often been reading of places I've never visited in person. This is what makes a perfect bedtime book, a perfect pillow vacation after a day of work and the day’s background buzzing (like a fly trapped in the window) of political events.

Make no mistake -- I do not advocate ignoring politics or failing to vote. There too it is important for us to judge and choose wisely, not only for our personal peace of mind but for the common good and the future of our country. 

P.S. Food for thought: "Ten senators said they would not do the federal jobs they were elected to do because private citizen Trump was convicted in a state court by a jury of 12 people in New York, a jury that Trump’s lawyers had agreed to. The senators attacked the rule of law and the operation of the federal government in a demonstration of support for Trump. A number of the senators involved were key players in the attempt to overturn the 2020 presidential election.”

And this: "MAGA Republicans confidently predicted yesterday that the stock market would crash if the jury found Trump guilty. Today the Dow Jones Industrial Average gained almost 600 points.”

- Heather Cox Richardson, 5/31/2024

Below: Northport on Saturday morning, first day of June 2024 --

 

Bedtime Books

Iris time

 

May and June are when those of us who make our living chiefly thanks to summer tourism are gearing up for July and August, and at the same time we are busy at home – outdoors, that is – mowing grass and putting in and tending gardens, because this is the time it must be done. I can put off painting a hallway but cannot put off planting my summer garden.

Not looking like much so far,

but I hope there will be a lot to see a month from now.

So for me right now it’s gardening and errands in the morning, bookstore during the day, more gardening and mowing grass in the evening, dog work and play morning and evening – and who has time (or inclination) for housework? Come the end of the day, it's time to collapse into bed with a book. 

Morning: between errands

 

During the day in my bookstore, between customers, I’ve been reading a couple of very unsettling books. One by Naomi Klein, The Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism, contains much that I knew in vague outline but with nightmare details and repetitions and seemingly endless repercussions throughout the world, all so infuriating that I can only read a few pages at a time before I need to set the book aside to protect my blood pressure. The other is Diane Foley’s story, told by Colum McCann and titled American Mother. Seven years after her journalist son, Jim Foley, was kidnapped, held, tortured, and finally beheaded by ISIS, his mother had an opportunity to meet with and have conversations with one of the men convicted of Jim’s murder. (Reading The Shock Doctrine has influenced the way I read or hear any world news, and it had affects how I’m reading American Mother, too.) Both Klein’s and Foley/McCann’s are important books for anyone who cares what the U.S. does in the name of American citizens; I don’t think I need to explain, though, why I do not consider them “bedtime books” and why I wouldn’t want to read either of them right before falling asleep.

 

So last night I opened A Place on the Water: An Angler’s Reflections on Home, by Jerry Dennis, a copy signed by both Dennis and his illustrator, the wonderful Glenn Wolff, a copy I had given the Artist (a.k.a. the River Rat) for Christmas in 1993. Do not trust Publisher’s Weekly when they say that “home” for Jerry Dennis is the Upper Peninsula. It is not. Dennis grew up in the greater Traverse City region. Take Macmillan’s word for it, however, that this book published under their St. Martin’s Press imprint is “a passionate and eloquent exploration" of the natural world. It had been years since I’d read it, but the first page satisfied me that I had chosen the perfect bedtime book after a long evening of mowing and dog play.

"Can we go outside again? It isn't dark yet!"

This morning, reflecting with satisfaction on my reading of the night before, I thought about different categories of what I consider bedtime books. There are light or genre fiction novels (genre conventions can be soothing, even with dead bodies, as long as the story doesn’t get too graphic); books of serious literature so familiar to the reader that they can be opened anywhere and re-read over and over (Jane Austen; James Joyce's Ulysses; Thoreau; Proust); memoirs and travel books (other people’s lives and explorations); and, for me, essays, that last group often overlapping with the second, as with A Place on the Water.

 

How do you feel about essays, or are you put off by the name of the category? If you haven’t fallen in love with them already, try a few. Here are a few wholehearted recommendations from yours truly: 

 

High Tide in Tucson, by Barbara Kingsolver (Arizona)

Mountain Time: A Field Guide to Astonishment, by Renata Golden (Arizona)

Anything by Adam Gopnik (New York; Paris)

Anything by Kathleen Stocking (Michigan and beyond)

Anything by Jerry Dennis (Michigan)

Anything by Fleda Brown (Michigan)

Flesh and Stones: Field Notes from a Finite World and Slow Learner: Essays, by Jan Shoemaker (Michigan)

 

That’s only a starter. Maybe some of you have suggestions?

Roadside splash of color

It's the Party Time of the Year

As the event planner, publicist, hostess, and bookseller at Dog Ears Books, I frequently don't get time to do as thorough a job as photographer as I'd like. Such was the case on Saturday, when Jerry Dennis and Glenn Wolff came out to Northport from Traverse City with their brand-new, updated and revised,  "Indie Bookstore Editions" of It's Raining Frogs and Fishes and The Bird in the Waterfall. The refreshment table was set up next door in David Grath's art gallery, with books stacked on the sales counter and Jerry and Glenn sitting at big desks in the front of the bookshop where customer-friends, fans, and bookstore supporters (the assembled multitude admirably filled all those roles) could visit at leisure with our guests while having purchases inscribed and signed. It wasn't until quite late in the event that my camera claimed me for a few minutes, and I was able to catch Glenn in serious conversation with Laura from Lake Leelanau and Jerry sharing stories and laughs with Dan from Omena.

Northport, Leland, and Cedar also sent "representatives," and we felt it was a good turnout for Jerry and Glenn and for Big Maple Press. Once again, I neglected to get a picture of myself, the invisible bookseller, with my deservedly visible guests. Oh, well! The goals of fun and good times and bookselling were all met.

Artist and writer and bookseller stayed on past the end of the event, visiting with a late arrival. An interesting conversation, with the drop-in speculating about the future for virtual books while we other three nearly lapsed into temporary shock, which I warded off by reminding our visionary, "You're talking to material people here. We are not 'virtual' people! Paper, canvas, paint, ink!" Good-natured laughter ensued. But seriously, I take Big Maple Press, with its Indie Bookstore Editions,  as a visionary endeavor -- innovative and downright radical.

Traditional publishers, small and large, are all heroes in this bookseller's personal book, but don't look for Big Maple books on the online behemoth's site or at big box or chain stores. The place you will find them is at real bookstores -- and if your local real bookstore doesn't yet carry them, consider becoming an advocate. Advocate for independence!

A Few Miles Away

Because of our own event at Dog Ears Books (and because it was, after all, Saturday), we missed the Grand Re-Opening of Landmark Books in Building 50 at the Grand Traverse Commons, but we made up for that on Sunday with a trip into town.

Bookcases in the hallway alert you to the new location of Landmark Books -- and what a great spot it is! With almost double the floor space, in a series of small rooms connected by lovely old brick arches bookseller Paul Stebleton has created attractive displays and cozy corners. It's beautiful! Paul's typewriters and publicity posters add further personal touches to the space. He really has the gift, and I hope all my friends living in or visiting Traverse City will take the time to seek him out.

Holiday Shopping Reminder

And remember, if you haven't finished your holiday shopping -- give adventure, ideas, knowledge, laughter -- give books! Books are not "just stuff"!

The Speech I Should Have Given

On October 7, author Jerry Dennis and artist Glenn Wolff came to Dog Ears Books for the Leelanau County launch of Jerry’s ninth book, The Windward Shore: A Winter on the Great Lakes. I decided almost at the last minute to combine the book signing with a birthday celebration for Dog Ears. (The bookstore turned 18 on July 4, but there was no time to stop for a bookstore birthday party in the middle of summer.) After the event, Jerry asked if I was pleased, and I realized I was only disappointed in myself, for not giving a gracious speech introducing my guests of honor and reflecting briefly on my bookstore’s long life. So here it is now, the speech I should have given.

Welcome, friends, on one of the most beautiful fall afternoons ever in northern Michigan, and thank you for joining us indoors on this occasion. I know it isn’t easy to come inside on a day like today! I do, however, offer you the best of reasons, and that is to welcome as guests to Dog Ears Books author Jerry Dennis and artist Glenn Wolff from Traverse City. Our primary reason for gathering here today is to celebrate, honor and welcome Jerry’s ninth book, The Windward Shore: A Winter on the Great Lakes, illustrated by Glenn Wolff. Jerry and Glenn will be happy to sign books for you, with personal inscriptions if you like, and we also have prints of Glenn’s illustrations on hand available for purchase. It is so exciting to have them here! Three cheers for Jerry Dennis and Glenn Wolff!

A second cause for celebration is that Dog Ears Books turned 18 years old this past summer. I’d like Dog Ears to get to 20 years and beyond, but why wait to celebrate? We’re here now! And as the man says, “Life is uncertain--have dessert first!” I hope you will have a generous piece of birthday cake--chocolate or coconut or both--made by David Chrobak of the Old Mill Pond Inn.

People ask me all the time what I think about the future of books and bookselling, but no one knows the future ahead of time. Will electronic reading devices kill books? Somehow I doubt it. Will Internet selling kill bookstores? I don’t think so. But then, on this lovely October day in 2011, no one knows what future years will bring.

When newspapers first appeared in the 1600s, London booksellers feared that newspapers would put them out of business. It didn’t happen. When television took over the United States in the 1950s, many people predicted the end of reading. That end didn’t come about.

I could go on for a long time about printed, bound books and e-readers, but this is a party, and we have guests of honor, and I want you to spend the evening visiting with them. I do want to say that eighteen years ago, in the little shed down Waukazoo Street next to Woody’s Settling Inn--the shed now completely gone, as Woody’s is also completely gone—I never imagined, in my wildest dreams, that Dog Ears would grow and flourish as it has. I never imagined having as guests in my bookstore writers and artists of the stature of Jerry Dennis and Glenn Wolff and others I have had this year and in recent years. The generosity of creative people overwhelms me, and the public response gratifies me.

And as I thank you all for being here today and thank Jerry and Glenn for coming to Northport, there are two other people who deserve very special thanks. One is my husband, artist David Grath. He has been, in his own words, a “donkey for literature” for all the years Dog Ears Books has been in existence. He has schlepped and hammered and advised on decor and arrangement and done whatever needed to be done. This bookstore would never have been born in the first place without his “perfervid imagination” and hard work. So three cheers for David!

The other angel of Dog Ears Books, for well over a decade now, is Bruce Balas. Bruce began volunteering in the bookstore back on the corner of Mill and Nagonaba. He and my son, Ian, helped David and me move from the corner into 102 Nagonaba, now the home of Dolls and More. He is a reader, a book collector, a tireless and unfailingly cheerful assistant, and without him I would never have a day off all summer long. As David always says, “What would we do without Bruce?” So three cheers for Bruce Balas!

Steve Jobs wasn’t around to give me advice 18 years ago, but somehow I must have intuited the advice he would have given, which boils down to “Stay hungry, stay foolish.” Bookselling has not given me wealth, but it has given me a very rich and rewarding life. Dog Ears Books has been very, very good to me.

Thank you all again for being here.

This was to be my one-thousandth post of Books in Northport, but for some reason the number is now at 999. Whatever! I am calling this Post #1000 and give thanks to anyone reading it for visiting. Thanks for regular followers for reading and commenting since 2007. Sarah would thank you, too, if she knew how. If she had the concept. If she had a clue.