Proper Noun Blog – Books. Music. Libraries. Minneapolis.

Discovering St. Paul

When I moved to Minnesota I landed in St. Paul. I lived in a tiny but adorable apartment a couple of blocks off grand avenue. I didn’t have a job, and I wanted to conserve my savings, so I spent my days wandering my new neighborhood. I walked up down and around the streets of my city looking for whatever I could find.

I discovered a gentle kind of bustle that I hadn’t had in the Chicago area suburb where I had lived before. There were always people out during the day. Walking, exploring. Just like me. Yes, St. Paul goes to bed early. But the days were magical.

Later I found a similar vibe in the Highland Park neighborhood when I moved there, though by that time I had a job and found my days were too busy to explore quite as much as I had initially. Still, I grabbed every bit of discovery I could find. I walked to the bookstore when I could. I found my favorite Chinese buffet that has yet to be topped all these years later. The whole time is a fond memory for me.

But perhaps my favorite St. Paul memory are the stairs. I discovered the stairs when I moved back to the grand Avenue area but this time I was closer to downtown. It wasn’t the hip part of the street, but I lived with my then-partner in the first floor of an old Victorian home turned into a duplex. It had three fireplaces and vintage wallpaper, and we entertained often. Why not, we thought. It was spacious and charming, so we filled it with friends as often as we could.

Just down the street from us was a set of stairs going from grand avenue up to a park I can’t remember the name of all these years later. It became a destination. For my partner and I. For our friends when we needed a change of scenery. But more than just that. It became a reset button. Whenever we were feeling like we needed to move or shift or just reset, one of us would say, “want to do the stairs?” And we would go climb the stairs. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow. Sometimes it was about getting to the top just to feel your heart beating and other times it was about the view. Taking it all in and discovering something new.

Thanks to the Public Staircases of Saint Paul booklet I purchased from the Twin City Sidewalks store, I now know that my old stairs are the Lawton Avenue Steps, built around 1911. I had no idea there were so many other public staircases around the city. I just may have to do some more exploring.

It’s okay to ask

I explain my arm about a hundred times a day. I work with kids, and kids are curious. I always tell them that it’s normal to be curious about differences, and I mean it when I say that. It’s okay to ask.

However.

Questions can be tricky. Sometimes it’s not the right time to ask the question. Sometimes the question is too personal. Sometimes the question can be a bit rude. I’ll always answer the question, but sometimes the answer is “let’s talk about that later” or “that’s personal” or “that’s not a kind way to express your curiosity.” Kids are still learning, and I respect that.

My prosthetic arm with planets and space stickers on it

I have always said that I would rather people ask than have them make assumptions. That is still my philosophy even after all these years of answering questions from curious folks young and old. But the truth is that, despite my commitment to being a Teachable Moment for kids, not every disabled person feels that way. I get that. It can be exhausting to answer the same questions again and again or to have kids not understand the answers. Sometimes I feel exhausted too. But I am more tired of kids seeing disabled people as villains, as unapproachable or scary than I am of answering any question a kid might have. I want to normalize disability for the next generation because it is. Disability is a normal part of the human experience, and we don’t get to normal by shushing questions or shutting down curiosity.

What Happened to You? by James Catchpole

So I stand by books like It’s Okay to Ask and Just Ask because I believe in the message that we can talk about differences to make them seem less different. That said, I respect the message in books like What Happened to You because it’s true that you don’t need to know someone’s story to accept them. Sometimes you don’t get to know. And that’s okay. Kids need to have that teachable moment too.

I hope that parents are reading all of these books with their kids and having conversations about them so that they have some context for people like me. Because people like me exist and that’s important to acknowledge. Maybe even before you meet someone like me. But the truth is that I hope parents are also reading books like Baking Up a Storm by Jessica Parham where the child has a limb difference that isn’t part of the story because that’s important too. Stories are, perhaps, the strongest way to normalize differences. They create background knowledge for kids who are still figuring out what normal can look like. I hope they know it can look like me.

Storytime as a journey

My storytimes are a journey.

Welcome to storytime! I love being able to use the big screen with my group, and I’m a Unicorn by Helen Yoon has been a great storytime book.

When I first started doing storytime I started with the theme. I would search out books, songs, and activities for each week that fit just right. But eventually that started to feel not-quite-right. Maybe it could be different, I thought, if we weren’t learning new songs each week. If I didn’t find myself trying to force a book to be a storytime book just because it fit the theme. Because if I am being real, not all picture books are storytime books.

We always play a game in my stortimes. The game pictured is a rhyming game with pets that we played after reading Best Day Ever by Marilyn Singer.

It took some trial and error, but I think I’ve hit on a storytime structure that works for me. It means we rotate through the same two or three songs each week during the series. Songs we get to know as the weeks go on. It means I start with a book I want to read and build around that rather than starting with a theme and shoehorning in whatever books seem to fit. It means that I am more concerned with flow than I am theme.

F is for fly! Fly Firefly took us to the ocean. The animal baby matching game let us get all the babies back to their families. And My Ocean is Blue looked at the ocean in a new way.

For example, I recently started with the book Fly Firefly. After we read about the wayward firefly being reunited with its family, we sang if you’re happy and you know it. I like this song because everyone knows it, and it’s a chance to talk about how the story made us feel. Then we played a game matching baby animals to their grown ups. Once all the babies were happily together with their families, it was time to pretend to be animals with our movement cards. Hop like a frog, flutter like a butterfly, etc.

What other animals can we pretend to be? I asked the group as I cued up our dance song. Let’s see if we can be fish in the ocean with Goldfish by Laurie Berkner. Do fish ride bicycles or brush their teeth? No! This kind of silliness is always a hit with the storytime crowd.

“Has anyone ever visited the ocean? Or how about a very big lake”, I add because this is Minnesota after all. Let’s see what the ocean is like in one more story, I said and we read My Ocean is Blue. I pointed out that the girl in the book uses crutches to move as she explores the beach. We all move in ways that feel right to us. Animals have wings to fly or fins to swim. We all get around differently, even people. (I admit I probably bring up disabilities/differences more often than most people do. Makes sense considering my own difference.)

A few inside of the book My Ocean is Blue where we can see a young girl using crutches.

The two books have nothing to do with each other really, and that’s okay. It is all part of the journey.

Read more about theme vs. flow in storytimes in this post from Jbrary or in this post on the ALSC blog.

Pirate stories are for everyone

There’s something about a pirate story that always seems to hook me in.

I’m sorry about that. I had to say it once I thought of it. Back to being serious.

Me looking very pirate-like with my prosthetic hook

Maybe it’s because the only adults I saw growing up who looked like me were pirates. Maybe in the back of my kid-mind, I figured I could be a pirate because you can definitely do that job with a hook for a hand. (As an aside here, as a teen I met an amputee librarian at my local library, so maybe that’s how I ended up in this career.) Maybe it’s just that pirate stories are generally great adventures in a world where anything can happen. Either way.

Somehow I’ve found myself drawn to pirate stories lately. And not just pirate stories. Magical pirate stories. How do you make a pirate adventure even better? You add an element of fantasy. If that adds up for you as much as it does for me, I would recommend Tress of the Emerald Sea (for adults), The Mermaid, the Witch, and the Sea (for teens), or The Voyage to Magical North (for kids). There’s something for everyone in this very particular sub-genre, it seems.

Tress of the Emerald Sea by Brandon Sanderson

The Mermaid, the Witch, and the Sea by Maggie Toluca-Hall

The Voyage to Magical North by Claire Fayers

Perhaps when I retire from librarianship, I’ll take to the seas. It’s good to have a plan for these things.

If you like Bridgerton

Everyone is talking about Bridgerton these days. Myself included, if I’m honest.

I haven’t read the books, but I’m enjoying the world that the show has created. I’ve always appreciated a good historical drama, but that’s not what Bridgerton is. It’s more inspired by history than it is truly historical, and that’s part of the charm.

If you are looking to recapture some of that charm, might I suggest My Fine Fellow by Jennieke Cohen. It is an inspired-by-history sort of story that explores the role of women and race in 1830s England. There are secrets and lies as well as a bit of romance. It is well worth reading for historical fiction fans looking for something a little different. Something that asks “what if it had been like this?” If you’re like me, the several pages of Historical Notes at the end will be just as riveting as the story. But then, I’m a bit of a nerd.

Or check out this list from my local library that includes all sorts of historical selections for those of you who just can’t get enough.

Monday Morning Music with Sakura and Kero

I have been a fan of Cindy Ivy since Kloey. Back in the late ’90s, her powerful voice sang out in the lo-fi, twee that was Kloey. I loved it. Both Kloey records played on repeat for me for a long time. Later she fronted the shoegaze band HighTV and the feminist garage twee group Puff Puff. Now she’s back with an experimental electronic album with her partner under the name Sakura and Kero.

The ambient music mixed with Cindy Ivy’s thoughtful, reflective–sometimes confessional–lyrics are well worth the listen. For me, the last song on the record, Getaway Car, is the one that grabs me the most. The groove might make you want to dance a bit. Enjoy.

Discovering the Stories in Paper

June is still.

The June page of my Nikki McClure calendar on the wall

I flipped the page on my Nikki McClure calendar to see a field dancing in sunlight. This will be a good month, I thought.

I have long been fascinated by what can be done with a piece of paper, and Nikki McClure’s paper cutting art is among my favorites. There is something particularly beautiful in the way that taking small pieces away creates a work of art.

Her stories are simple, in the best way. Few words on the pages let the art tell the story in a way that makes the book something more than simply a book. It’s an invitation to look at what’s around us and ask questions, to discover what we’ve been missing, and turn pages when we are ready to move forward.

Cover of Mama, Is It Summer Yet? by Nikki McClure

Her work has me asking myself, “What will these hands make?”

Cover of What Will These Hands Make by Nikki McClure

Perhaps June will be still. Perhaps it will dance.

Monday Morning Music with kids

The summer and fall of 2007, I went to as many live shows as I possibly could. I was pregnant, and I assumed that once the baby arrived, that would be the end of late nights, live music, and life as usual. So my baby’s father and I saw every live show that seemed remotely enticing to us. Some highlights were Arcade Fire, Low, The Flaming Lips, and a huge handful of local bands that I can’t even remember now. I have a particularly vivid memory of seeing The Rentals at First Avenue when I was quite pregnant and feeling like, while I still loved the music and seeing this band I had loved for years play live, all I wanted in the world was to sit down. Still, it was exciting. And mournful.

Once the baby arrived, there was, of course, a seemingly long period during which late nights were at home rocking a baby rather than rocking out, if you will. But eventually, we just started taking the little one with us whenever we could. We toted our toddler to see Hot Ashes and David Bazan at the now defunct Apple store in Uptown. With a little ear protection, any show at a venue that would allow a kid became kid friendly for us.

I was known to say at the time that it was just a matter of being prepared. A set of crayons and some paper usually satisfied my little one for a good while. I suppose it should be no surprise that they eventually chose an arts high. But at the time, I was thinking more about keeping them occupied than about encouraging an interest in the arts. I wasn’t even particularly thinking about encouraging an interest in music really. Though my now teenager does, in fact, choose to listen to a fair number of the bands that their dad and I introduced them to. Low, The Flaming Lips, and Arcade Fire, for example, are just as likely to show up on their playlists as they are mine.

I was thinking about this recently thanks to a Facebook memory from 2016 that popped up for me. There was a photo of my then 9 year old sitting on the ground with drawing supplies around them in a collage of photos with bands that I loved at the time, Fort Wilson Riot and Bloodnstuff. Perhaps not the most kid-friendly situation for a nine-year-old. And plenty of people were probably annoyed at the presence of a child–or judgmental of us as parents. But we paid it no mind. For good or ill, we were there.

I’m glad we were. Because now, for all that I still love live music, I don’t get out much. I’m much more likely to stay in with my book than I was back then. Which is saying something, since I spent a lot of time at home with a book back then too. These days, though, I’m tired. Late nights are rare. Live music is a treat for special occasions. It’s a natural shift, though I admit I find myself nostalgic for the days when I dragged my pregnant self to shows or convinced my small child that going to this event would be fun but maybe they should bring their crayons just in case.

These days my music with kids is on their level. At storytime every week at the library, I play music that is actually kid like Laurie Berkner, Ralph’s World, etc. The closest my child ever got to kids’ music was Koo Koo Kangaroo.

No regrets, really. I do wish I’d known about some of the legitimately decent children’s music that existed when my kiddo was little. I might have made a more intentional effort to include those artists in our rotation. But I must say that I really treasure the memories I have with my little one as they started discovering the music that had always been in the background of their lives. Like when we saw Catbath at Indeed and Superorganism at First Avenue.

Now, of course, my kiddo is a teenager and introducing me to music. I just added a couple of Chappell Roan songs to my Spotify Liked Songs. It’s all part of the journey.

Highlight from a Bookish Week

Not all librarians are Book People. But a lot of us are. A lot of us are A LOT. Myself included.

My favorite part of my job is sharing books with people. Especially with kids. I love the individual reader’s advisory I get to do on the regular at the library, but there is something special about getting to visit a school to booktalk. This week I was invited to do just that at an elementary school in my library community, and it was magical. No exaggeration.

I admit, I probably overthought my selection of titles. I wanted to include something for everyone. Realistically I know that isn’t really possible, but I gave it my best effort by hitting on as many genres as I could in the time I had. Highlights included Ghost Book by Remy Lai, which I read because one of my regular library kids recommended to me so enthusiastically that I had to read it even though I don’t usually read scary books (not even scary children’s books. Because wimp.), The Many Mysteries of the Finkel Family by Sarah Kapit, which was a last minute inclusion because I loved it that much, and not one but TWO books where kids go to magic school (Rise of the Green Flame and The Marvellers) because everyone loves magic school.

As much fun as it was to share those books (and it was really fun in and of itself), the real reward was that today, a kid came to my library, greeted me by name, and asked for one of the books I had talked about yesterday. I excitedly handed it to him with the advice, “It ends on a bit of a cliffhanger, you might want to place a hold on book two now.”

What I’m really saying is… it’s been a great week.

Monday Morning Music with Ida

I didn’t see or talk to my mother yesterday. Mother’s Day just isn’t something we do. Or I suppose, it is more accurate to say, it isn’t something she does. I enjoyed brunch with my teen. We talked about music and romance in the beautiful sunshine. A bouquet of brightly colored flowers adorns my dining table now. My Mother’s Day was quite lovely.

I did think about my mom yesterday. I thought about how she’s always up for anything. She’ll go to a movie just because you suggest it without knowing a thing about what she’s about to watch. Sometimes that doesn’t work out so well, but it hasn’t deterred her. In particular, I was thinking about the time I popped into my parents’ house one random weekday evening and asked my mom to drive to Madison with me to see a band. My friend I was planning to go with had bailed last minute, I explained. I asked around a bit, but no one else wanted to drive two hours and back in the same day for some band. You want to? I asked, and of course she said yes.

The funny part is that my mom didn’t say yes for the chance to see live music. She couldn’t care less about that. I grew up with country radio playing in the background, but neither of parents were fans of any particular artist. They rarely seemed to pay much attention to what was playing. It was background for them. For me too, I suppose. But once I started paying attention to what was playing, I was hooked. I started with the country radio that I knew, and eventually I discovered my own music. Indie bands. Local bands. Seeing live music became paramount.

Ida was an early favorite as I discovered the world beyond country radio. The folk influences, gentle harmonies, and sparse sound seemed like it might be mom-friendly. Or I hoped it would be. So we hopped in the car and went off on our adventure. Me, to finally see one of my favorite bands play live. My mom, along for the ride. Because why not?

They played all my favorite songs. By the time we walked out of the coffee shop to start the two-hour drive back home, I was walking on air. “What did you think? Did you like it?” I eagerly asked my mom. “When I could understand what they were singing,” she answered. Matter of fact. For me, it was anything but fact. The night was full of feeling. It was adventure. It was romance. It was everything I truly loved in the world. Or perhaps I was being dramatic in my youthful way. It’s hard to say now all these years later.

I can say that I’m glad my mom taught me the value of adventure. Of saying yes and seeing what happens.