tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86334378299168827822024-03-14T01:30:40.599-07:00Beagle BooksBeagle Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12380891336179135165noreply@blogger.comBlogger40125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8633437829916882782.post-28005076401834735402011-03-24T07:26:00.001-07:002011-03-24T07:29:39.754-07:00WingshootersSometimes when I finish a book, all I can do is sit and let the story settle into me. This happened last night after finishing Wingshooters by Nina Revoyr. Wingshooters is set in Wisconsin in the 1970s. It’s an adult novel, but told through the eyes of a child, Michelle (“Mike”). In the narration, Mike is grown and recalling her childhood. Mike was born in Japan to a Japanese mother and white father, much to her paternal grandparents disappointment. When Mike is 8 years old, her family moves to the United States and disintegrates. Mike is left in the care of her paternal grandparents while her parents roam separately. Despite his racist nature, Mike’s grandfather, Charlie, and Mike grow very close. When a black couple moves to their all-white (with the exception of Mike) community, Charlie and his friends work to dissuade them from remaining in the community, blind to the parallels between the black couple and Mike. For those of you who crave authentic voice when you read, you’re going to love this book (think <span style="font-style:italic;">Mudbound</span> or <span style="font-style:italic;">The Help</span> for excellent voice books). Additionally, the author does not back down from a theme that is avoided by most writers: just because a person physically survives does not mean s/he ever heals. This is one of those books that is so complete – the story itself, the plot, is great and the pacing of it is perfect. Plus, the writing is fantastic – it contains sentences that I re-read just for the pleasure of good writing. (One of my favorites compares stepping into a woods where the autumn leaves have just fallen to a woman stepping out of a colorful dress). Best of all, the author knew how to end this book. How many times have we read a book and enjoyed the first 9/10 of it and then cringed as the author fumbled through the ending? This is not one of those. I have other books I need to read, but for the moment, I’m letting this one simmer in my soul.Beagle Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12380891336179135165noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8633437829916882782.post-12770982255399611592011-03-05T08:07:00.000-08:002011-03-05T08:11:29.385-08:00Come on in and loiterRecently, a customer came into Beagle and said, “I’m just going to browse today, is that okay?” We told her, “Sure.” Then she said, “Is it okay if I <span style="font-style:italic;">loiter</span>?”<br />“Yeeeeeeeeeeees, that’s why we have chairs,” I told her.<br />Apparently, she had recently been in another bookstore, a chain store, and was appalled by the signage that no loitering was allowed and that customers were limited to 10 minutes per aisle.<br />To be honest, my first reaction is to chuckle or smirk. 10 minutes per aisle? Is someone with a stopwatch employed to enforce such a rule? My second reaction is one of sadness. Bookstores, no matter if indie or chain, should be (in my opinion) welcoming, inviting places. In particular, I want bookstores to be welcoming to children. That doesn’t mean they can run amok and not be respectful of inventory, but at Beagle, I’ve honestly had very little problems with this. Between kids playing at our kids table and petting the dog, there isn’t really time to be naughty.<br />I understand that you may not buy something every time you set foot in Beagle. But when you do need a book (or eggs or a calendar, etc), it is my hope you will buy it from Beagle (or Sister Wolf). In the meantime, browse, chat with the bookseller, pet the dog, and for heaven’s sake, <span style="font-style:italic;">loiter</span>.Beagle Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12380891336179135165noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8633437829916882782.post-25073255327218318212011-02-18T07:08:00.000-08:002011-02-18T07:11:22.782-08:00BordersI've always written these blog entries myself, but today's is a re-posting of the American Booksellers Association's statement regarding Borders. It is not all that long and is a statement we feel is important for our customers to read. Please take the time to read it. (To go directly to the statement, go to: http://news.bookweb.org/news/aba-statement-borders%E2%80%99-bankruptcy-filing ) <br /><br />ABA Statement on Borders’ Bankruptcy Filing<br />Created 02/16/2011 - 2:59pm<br />In response to the news on Wednesday, February 16, that Borders Group Inc. had filed for Chapter 11 protection and will close about 30 percent of its stores nationwide in the coming weeks, the American Booksellers Association issued the following statement:<br /><br />Though Borders is not a member of the American Booksellers Association, we are always saddened when any bookstore closes. The industry – whether independent bookstores, publishers, or readers – does not benefit from the diminishment of places to browse, discover, and buy books.<br /><br />However, despite the doom and gloom expressed by some about the future of full-service bricks-and-mortar bookstores – and, while we don’t underestimate the challenges that lie ahead – ABA believes that the indie bookstore model is well positioned for the future.<br /><br />ABA membership numbers have stabilized; the vast majority of ABA members are coming off the best holiday season they have had in years; and, we’ve partnered with Google to allow our members to offer e-books through their websites.<br /><br />As book buyers and readers are facing a skyrocketing number of books vying for their attention – with more and more demands on their time – our members’ customers are telling us that, now more than ever, they appreciate the care independent stores take in choosing the titles to stock, and that the curated selection in our stores can’t be found elsewhere.<br /><br />In addition, more and more consumers appreciate the fact that our members are locally owned and have long-standing and close ties to their communities. They understand that by shopping in an independent store they are making sure that far more of their spending dollars recirculate back into the community. Shopping locally supports the small businesses that are creating jobs, directly fuels local growth, and helps preserve the special things that make each American community unique.<br /><br />Looking ahead, we know that indie stores will have to continue to work hard and stay nimble and innovative. No matter what may appear in the headlines today, and understanding that the circumstances leading to the current situation facing Borders is very different than those of independents, we believe that our members will continue to offer their customers a unique shopping experience they can’t find anywhere else.<br /><br /><br />--------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />Media questions should be addressed to ABA Membership and Marketing Officer Meg Smith [1].Beagle Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12380891336179135165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8633437829916882782.post-38636130284360444952011-02-16T08:23:00.000-08:002011-02-16T08:24:16.901-08:00A Lovely V-Day GiftThis past Valentine’s Day, I had one of the loveliest V-Day moments I’ve ever had. Tom and I gave Megan, our 9 year old daughter, a card that did not have any hearts on it. Nor did it have cute animals or sparkles. It was a bookmark card. The quote inside the card (and on the attached bookmark) was one from Barack Obama, who Megan has been very interested in this school year: We are all meant to shine. For those of you who know my daughter, you know this was the perfect card for her even though it lacked hearts, cute animals, or sparkles. It didn’t even contain the words “Happy Valentine’s Day”. When Megan opened the card, she read the quote, then read who supplied the quote and her face lit up, “Barack Obama!” But here’s the part I love – the part I hope I remember to my dying day, “Barack Obama wrote this for my Valentine’s Day card??” Oh, love! How incredible that she would even entertain that thought. It’s true that kids are, by nature, self-absorbed, but I’ve seen so many children with so little self esteem. Not this kid. Love starts with the self and by golly, I think she nailed it.Beagle Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12380891336179135165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8633437829916882782.post-64534919650069738592011-02-08T06:57:00.000-08:002011-02-08T07:27:13.060-08:00How I Met You (sort of)It’s no secret that I am a Facebook junkie. I do spend some time there promoting Beagle Books and keeping up with community events. But sometimes, I’m just plain goofing off. I was delighted last Friday to log on to Facebook and see the following post from my friend, Angela:<br />Angela Scaletta wants you to comment on this status about how you met me. But I want you to lie. That's right. Just make stuff up. After you comment, copy to your status so I can do the same. Bonus points for creativity!<br />Right away, my wheels started spinning – what’s the most outlandish thing I can come up with??? Throughout the day, I read (and laughed) my way through my friends tales of how we all met. We were being silly, goofing off for sure, but we were also engaging in one of my favorite things in life: storytelling.<br />Here’s some of the stories I told:<br />For Angela (who got me started on this): It still makes me tear up when I think about that day I was mountain climbing, slipped, and you broke my 1500 foot fall. What a gem you are. Anyone else would have stepped to the side and pretended not to notice me, but not you. I feel guilty however that you spent the rest of your honeymoon in the hospital. I owe you, really.<br />Another of Angela’s friends, Amy B, was typing at the same time I was, but she hit enter a moment after I did. Her story is better than mine and I’ve never been trumped so fast. Here’s Amy B’s: It was circus camp. I fell off the tightrope and landed on the lion, whose mouth you had just stuck your head into. When I say that nobody would ever know that your left ear is a prosthetic, it's not the guilt talking. I really mean it.<br />For a friend who has a daughter the same age as mine: I was canoeing on a river one day and heard this incredibly beautiful yodeling up around the bend. Of course, when I came around the bend (we all do at some point), there you were with your Nude Harmonica & Yodeling club, practicing for a performance at the Annual Talent Contest. I stopped to chat and well...we've been friends every since.<br />For an artist friend: We both tried out for the lead role in Madame Bovary. We sang so bad we were bounced out the back door into an alley. That wouldn't have been so bad except for the mentally-impaired gentleman who had gone off his meds got the urge to knife us. Even though you were wounded (both emotionally and physically), you fought him off, subdued him, then dragged him to the hospital and using his knife, pinned him to the wall of the ER lobby. It was so incredible, I couldn't resist forming a friendship with you :)<br />For a co-worker of my husband’s: Good grief, how many years has it been now since that comet hit the ice in front of me at the fishing derby, I fell in the hole it created, and you fished me out of the icy waters?? Everyone else kept their head down, eyes on their holes, with visions of new pick-up trucks on their minds, but not you. You just handed your pole to [your daughter] Sam and saved my life. Thanks ;)<br />For a former babysitter (all grown up now!): I was down in the Amazon rain forest, collecting bugs. I was knocked unconscious when something hit me in the head. Turns out it was your water bottle - you dropped it from the rope bridge you were crossing above me. We've been friends ever since! :)<br />For a friend in the medical field: We were both on that chain gang up in Baudette. I wanted to make a break for it and swim to Canada, but you pointed out that the last guy in our gang would probably drown because he couldn't swim. Thank goodness you saved me from murder! Now I'll only be in prison for 20 years, rather than life, whew!<br />I’ve saved the best for last. This tall tale was written by my friend Angela Scaletta: I was touring the west coast with my flea circus, you kept playing the same venues the next night with your flock of plate-spinning poodles. It took you years to figure out the source of the infestation that ended your act (hard to keep those plates spinning when you have to scratch all. the. time.) but by that time you already owed me over a quarter-million dollars from your Jello mold competition betting losses.<br />What stories do YOU have??Beagle Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12380891336179135165noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8633437829916882782.post-50561191672903862362011-02-03T06:52:00.000-08:002011-02-03T07:01:24.201-08:00The TrifectaThe third Thursday of the month, Park Rapids downtown businesses host a variety of artists for Arts Downtown. Typically, Beagle Books participates in this, but in January, we took the month off. This meant that for the first time, I was able to attend Arts Downtown rather than act as a hostess. Since I rarely get the chance to see our friends Deane Johnson and Jennie Anderson perform with their quintet, I opted to sit in on the quintet’s set at Bella Caffe, along with my 9-year old, music-loving daughter. We had a marvelous time. The quintet performed in Bella’s solarium, which made the set an intimate experience. We sat so close to the musicians we could practically touch them (and we weren’t even the closest). When we climbed the steps to the solarium, Megan spotted one of Beagle’s regular customers, Mike, and his wife, Jacque. Without hesitation, Megan bounded over and asked if we could join them. We ate Bella’s beer cheese soup, chatted with people around us, and thoroughly enjoyed the music. The quintet included a bassoon player. Megan had never seen nor heard a bassoon, so it was fun to witness her new music experience. Other children were in attendance so the quintet played a number of “kid-friendly” pieces such as the theme from Pink Panther and The Teddy Bear Picnic. They also performed a Magic Flute piece (my favorite of the night) and an arrangement of Fiddler on the Roof songs (Megan LOVES Fiddler on the Roof). When the 45 minute set was over, Megan asked, “That’s it?” We bundled ourselves into our coats, hats, and mittens. We shuffled out to our car in -20 temps and headed home. Later, I thought about what had made it such a wonderful evening. Was it the music? The food? The relaxed and friendly atmosphere? It was all those things, but the really impactful thing for me was the sense of community. We were in a familiar, cozy setting with people we knew. We didn’t know every person in the room, but we did know most of them. Here we were, in a small town in northern Minnesota on a cold night in January. We chose to leave our warm homes, televisions, computers, and all the rest (well ok, probably most of us had our cell phones with us) to treat ourselves. How fortunate am I that I live in the country – and I do mean the country, more mornings than not I see deer cross my path as I drive up the driveway, yet I can spend an evening enjoying music and sharing that experience with other people. I could imagine people all over the world, in all sorts of communities, coming together to share music. As far as I know, every culture has enjoyed music as a community event. What else is universal to all communities, I wondered. The obvious came to mind first: food. We love to feast, to share together in a meal. Stories. How long have people shared stories? We are fortunate, to my way of thinking, to have written stories, but there is something special about stories shared verbally. We cherish those who possess storytelling skills. Music, food, stories. Hey, if that’s the trifecta, then I have the trifecta right in my own home. (Megan = music, Tom = food, Jen = stories). But to share those things with my community, that’s where the wonderful really fills my soul.Beagle Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12380891336179135165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8633437829916882782.post-79957380593442980382011-01-28T08:41:00.000-08:002011-01-28T08:43:15.225-08:00Dog Train to the RescueNo matter where a person chooses to live, there are pros and cons to that place. For our family, one of the drawbacks to living in the north woods is driving our elementary-aged daughter, Megan, to a bus stop where she will be picked up at a reasonable time and endure a fairly short bus ride. We could plant her at the end of our driveway (even that is a ¼ mile), but she would be the first stop of the bus route and have a much longer ride. Since it’s hard enough getting Meg up at a reasonable time, there’s no way we’re opting for anything earlier. So, every school day morning, I drive her to the bus stop. On the way, we listen to an audio book of her choice. Today, however, we were in a pinch. We’ve listened to the last of the discs she received for Christmas and the audio we requested at the library hasn’t come in yet. That leaves us two options: (well, ok, three if you count sitting in silence – but for those of you who know Megan, you know that isn’t really an option) talking or listening to the radio. Talking in the morning for Megan and I is a bad idea. Megan is not a morning person and I am a morning person*. What is a morning person*, you ask? A morning person* is someone who is willing to get up early in the morning but only if no one talks to her. That leaves the radio. Here again, there is trouble. Megan likes country music (like her dad), and I like everything but country. (For the record, Alison Krauss is folk). Nonetheless, we turn on the radio and hope for the best. When the scan function stops on a country station, I vigorously shake my head no and Megan sighs. She presses the button again. Talking. Presses the button again. Talking. Talking. Talking. Finally, she hits on some music and it’s Blues Traveler! A band I love, yay! But that won’t be good enough, so I do some quick thinking and I tell her, “Hey, this is a band that’s on your Dog Train CD.” For those of you who don’t know, Sandra Boynton, a fabulous children’s author who mostly writes board books aimed at pre-schoolers has released four CD/books. Each has a different theme. The lyrics are pure, silly Boynton accompanied by a book with Boynton illustrations. The songs are performed by well-known musicians (from the Bacon Brothers to B.B. King to even the beloved Alison Krauss). It’s a brilliant combination because the songs and illustrations are silly and fun enough to capture kids attention, but the songs don’t drive adults crazy. Upon learning the band singing out of the radio was one known to Megan, she settled back and enjoyed (she probably would have enjoyed it more if I hadn’t sang along, but one can’t have everything in life). I couldn’t help sending a silent THANK YOU to Sandra Boynton – maybe I have a shot at influencing Megan’s music interests after all (doubtful, she’s been a daddy’s girl since the moment she entered the world). If nothing else, I can tuck a Blues Traveler CD in the car (or what the heck, the Sandra Boynton CDs) for the next time we’re in a pinch. Whew!Beagle Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12380891336179135165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8633437829916882782.post-70115035064457989592011-01-12T09:59:00.000-08:002011-01-12T10:05:00.818-08:00Finally!Finally, finally, FINALLY! Yesterday was the day I got to go back to the Bindery. Where have I been? Selling books like crazy in December for the holidays. I'm not complaining, but I had been craving to get back to book binding. Yesterday morning for me was like a kid waking up on his/her birthday. Er, wait. Maybe not exactly. The intial wake-up was like every other morning, hit the snooze, burrow down deeper... until I realized, IT'S BACK TO THE BINDERY DAY!<br />Once I got my chance to return to the bindery, I felt like running in circles, touching everything (some things carefully, of course.... there's the guillotine...) I picked up the latest project I'd abandoned a month ago. Turned on the exhaust fan, turned on the hot stamping press, opened the curtain to the electrial room (which is where the guillotine is) & turned on the lights.<br />Ahhhhhhhh......home again :)Beagle Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12380891336179135165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8633437829916882782.post-32105670561693600632010-11-11T14:45:00.000-08:002010-11-11T14:48:50.329-08:00Pictorial Manual = Idiocy curedI’m an idiot. Sigh. I am. I won’t go into the details, but I had forgotten a small but enormously important step in bookbinding. Thankfully, although embarrassingly, someone is looking out for me. I recently visited my local printer to pick up bookmarks. While there, the owner (who is rarely seen in the front) came out and exclaimed, “Oh! I have something for you!” She scurried off and then returned with a book. “I’d like you to have this,” she told me and handed me the book: Pictorial Manual of Bookbinding. It includes photographs and excellent illustrations of the steps in bookbinding. When I began to look through the book, I discovered instructions for the aforementioned forgotten step. The only thing more obvious would have been if David had dropped the book on my head. Oh, David – I was paying attention to your lessons, I promise. I stand with my head bowed, tail between my legs. I will get better, and you can bet I will never ever forget this step. Ever.Beagle Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12380891336179135165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8633437829916882782.post-21389373110307909252010-11-02T07:19:00.001-07:002010-11-02T08:44:06.955-07:00Fly High Lil PineIt is with great sadness that I write today that Lil Pine has died. She was 14 years old, and was in good health for most of those years (which isn’t bad for a collie mix – most dogs that size live about 10 years). In early December of 1996, my then-fiancé (now husband) Tom and I were driving home from my job at a bakery when Tom noticed a little creature dart across a road and huddle under a little pine tree. He thought it was a fox and stopped to take a closer look. It wasn’t a fox, but a puppy. She was alone and there was no one around, so we scooped her up and brought her in our vehicle. She was adorable, fluffy, and hungry. I had with me some finger bread from the bakery, so I tore off a chunk and fed it to her. In her hunger, her sharp little puppy teeth scraped my fingers – it was the first and last time I ever felt her teeth that way. Over the next couple days, we tried to find who the owner of the puppy was, but the most likely candidate was shady (to put it nicely), so we kept her. Tom named her Little Pine (or Lil Pine) since we found her under a little pine tree. We knew she would grow to be a sizeable dog because her paws were so big (she reminded me of a baby egret). At the time we brought Lil Pine home, we also had a two year old Staffordshire terrier named Dexter. The three of us raised the puppy. We also had two cats, but Lil Pine was the baby of the family until our daughter was born in 2001. My mind is filled with memories of Lil Pine today. As a younger dog, she was very shy and incredibly sweet. She was the kind of dog that if someone stepped on her or sat on her, she never complained. At most, she would wriggle out of the way. She shed her shyness after Dexter died in 2007, but she remained incredibly sweet to her very last day. Thank you to all of you who gave her so much love at Beagle Books. She loved being at the bookstore and it was because Beagle customers were so good to her. It saddened me to stop bringing her, but she had difficulty breathing, occasionally had accidents, and towards the very end lost a lot of weight (she was being eaten by cancer). I was afraid her condition might frighten our children customers. This isn’t a very coherent entry, but it’s hard to be coherent in grief. Please forgive me if I occasionally burst into tears. Please give your own pets as much love and attention as you can, and again, thank you for all the kindness and love you showed Lil Pine during her stay with us here on Earth.Beagle Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12380891336179135165noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8633437829916882782.post-83005622342307011712010-10-30T07:15:00.001-07:002010-10-30T07:15:54.838-07:00The Oops DrawerOne of the first times I met with my bookbinding mentor, David, he opened a drawer and pulled out what he called his “oopses” – book covers that didn’t fit the intended text blocks quite right. “Take these home, take them apart, and see how I constructed them,” he told me. I did, and hadn’t thought much about it lately. Until Thursday. On Thursday, I finished the construction of a book cover that I was quite pleased with – front and back boards were identical with 90 degree corners. The spine was spaced just right between the boards. The fabric covering was tight and smooth. I took the text block for which the cover was intended, inserted it into its new cover and discovered the cover was just a little short on width. Oops. Sigh. As a distraction (before starting over on a new cover), I opened up the oops drawer, and just for kicks, I counted David’s oopses – 41! Now there’s 42 in the drawer.Beagle Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12380891336179135165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8633437829916882782.post-92154837276466077062010-10-09T10:48:00.000-07:002010-10-09T10:49:51.510-07:00Bindery ToursRecently, Beagle Books (& Bindery!) hosted the After-Hours Chamber Event. Basically, it’s a party by the hosting business, open to the public, but targeting other business owners in the area to come check out the host’s business. In the literature the Commerce of Chamber sent out about this event, mention was made that tours of the new book bindery was available to interested folks. I wasn’t really sure anyone would want a “tour”, and if not, no big deal. One of the first attendees was a friend of mine who asked for a tour. I told her, “Sure, I can practice my spiel on you, if you don’t mind.” By the time we reached the top of the stairs to descend into the bindery, three more people had joined the tour. I lost count, but I think by the end of the party (2 hours), I gave the tour six times. Sometimes it was a small group, only two people, but still! The next day, two people who had attended the event brought me books to repair! Why am I still surprised by the interest in book binding? If I was interested, why wouldn’t others be too? One of the books brought to me for repair is a book of poems, passed from family member to family member. The book has been signed to someone so many times, the family is out of room to keep passing it on (don’t worry, I’ll remedy that). What a treasure! And the person who brought the book to me has entrusted it to me, what an honor!<br />I admit it hasn’t been a worry-free ride. I’m struggling to learn to repair corners to an acceptable standard of quality. My mentor is no longer on this Earth, and even though I routinely ask him questions, the answers come slowly and not in the traditional way. But still, how blessed I am!Beagle Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12380891336179135165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8633437829916882782.post-56291009893879742842010-09-16T08:04:00.000-07:002010-09-16T08:06:11.173-07:00Response to a recent questionI’m giving everyone (except me) a break from the bindery today. I recently received an email with a good question. Below is the email I received:<br />I just finished <em>The Book Thief</em>, and I can't remember when I've cried that hard. And the prose! Well, I suppose the prose was why I was crying, because everyone was so real and so beautiful (or not, as the case may be.)<br />Why is it that so much of the best literature these days is written for young adults? OK, <em>I Capture the Castle</em> was written in the middle of the 20th century, but it was re-released now. Nobody can put down the <em>Hunger Games</em> series once they start, and teens are not the only ones mesmerized by the <em>Twilight</em> books. Granted, that's not so much great literature as a conjunction of attributes that make it a phenomenon, but it's still something special. And then there's <em>Harry Potter</em>, of course. Maybe the great saga of recent years.<br />Anyway, what is it about literature for young adults?<br /><br />Here’s my answer (and admittedly, I think some of this answer may have come from a conversation I once had with staff member Cindie):<br />Young adult authors are FORCED to come up with really fantastic story ideas (PLOT), whereas sophisticated adult readers are more interested in the quality of the prose. But- I think a number of YA authors have figured out that well-written YA books appeal to 2 audiences: kids and adults. Kids could care less about the writing, they just want a good story.<br />I read a lot of YA myself.<br /><br />If you’ve got your own answer to this question or a question of your own, please share!Beagle Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12380891336179135165noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8633437829916882782.post-81879508677283346372010-09-14T09:00:00.000-07:002010-09-14T09:11:34.599-07:00For Real!On Saturday, a man stopped into Beagle Books. "You're getting into bookbinding, right?" he asked. I replied, with complete calm (of course), that I am. He had planned to take a couple books over to Detroit Lakes and have David (my mentor) repair the books, but he waited too long. When he saw the article in the Nevis paper about my taking over the binding business, he decided to come on in. (YAY!!!!!!!) He gave me his name and phone number (while I commanded my hand: Don't shake, don't shake, don't shake), and said he would return in the next couple days with the books. When I stopped in at Beagle on Monday, there were two books in need of repair waiting for me! I was elated! Then I looked closer, one of the books, a dictionary, is five and one-half inches thick - HOLY &*!@! It must be an unabridged dictionary including slang, prefixes, and a few other things. But what the heck, why not start with a challenge, right? (But pray for me anyway, please. PLEASE).Beagle Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12380891336179135165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8633437829916882782.post-56569446626706823012010-09-10T10:32:00.000-07:002010-09-10T10:42:40.333-07:00FrustrationYesterday I finally had friendly feelings towards the hot stamping press (whenever I used this machine at David’s, I dreaded it, the hot stamp press and I were NOT friends). My lettering didn’t come out perfect, but it wasn’t too bad. The tricky thing about this machine is that it’s hard to teach another person how it feels when you’re using it right. When David taught me, he showed me the basics: the on knob is here, turn it up to 8, wait for the temperature to reach 150 degrees, place your letters in like this, tighten here, place your fabric underneath the press like this, pull the handle down like so for this long. Then I’d do it and the letters would barely be legible on the fabric. “Well, hold it longer,” David said. I did, the letters came out fat and thick and unreadable. “Not so long”…. “a little pressure here…” and on and on. I realized it’s one of those things you just have to learn how it feels.<br />Then I burned my finger. No big deal, I ran my finger under cold water.<br />Then I worked on trimming a piece of lettered fabric. I cut the word in half. Rats. I found another piece of lettered fabric and trimmed that instead to my almost-satisfaction.<br />Finally, I was ready for the LAST step of a book I had done pretty much on my own from the start. I had begun the work at David’s, but like a child who has recently learned a skill and now turns her shoulder to her parent screaming, “I DO IT!”, I kept David at a distance as I worked. So it was time to put the text block in its new cover. I sprayed glue on the cover, set the text block’s spine on the cover’s spine and folded up the sides. The end papers bubbled. I tried again, and again, and again. I stomped around in my mind trying to figure out why I was remembering this step wrong. Then I turned out the lights and literally stomped out of the building, my eight year old in tow. We drove nearly two miles when I realized I had forgotten a box of books and a file folder I was planning to deliver to Sister Wolf Books. I turned around, headed back to Beagle Books. As I physically turned around, something turned around in my mind and I recalled EXACTLY what I’d done wrong. The spine doesn’t go in first! Duh! I was tempted to re-do the book as soon as I got to Beagle, but I waited until today.<br />Today, I cut the above-mentioned book out of the cover. I re-did it right this time, and what do you know, it looks a lot better! It’s not perfect, but it’s better than a book with bubbled end papers that I would never show another person. It seems every day I work down in the bindery, another piece slides into place. So sometimes I’ll burn myself, make a wrong cut, or just totally do something wrong. That’s ok. I’m sure David burned himself, made wrong cuts, and bungled things too.Beagle Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12380891336179135165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8633437829916882782.post-81459681217327089992010-09-09T10:42:00.000-07:002010-09-09T10:43:35.188-07:00"Go get more"As I (we) have been unpacking the book bindery equipment from David’s and setting it up in Beagle, I’ve been on the lookout for a can of spray adhesive that David told me is ABSOLUTELY CRITICAL. I knew the brand name and knew the product had a two digit product number, but couldn’t quite remember the number. I realized no cans of spray adhesive had moved to Beagle. There is a tote of various glues, another for tapes, but no spray adhesive. I began to panic. I called my dad (what else is a 35 year old girl to do?), “There’s this spray adhesive I absolutely HAVE to have and I can’t find it anywhere and I wasn’t worried before that I didn’t remember the product number because I figured I would get an old can from David and then just replace it someday but I don’t have any from David and-” At this point, I was forced to breathe and my dad in his calm, I-have-a-PhD-in-Chemical-Engineering voice said, “Go get more.”<br /> “But I don’t know the product number!!!!!!!!!!!!!”<br /> “You’ll figure it out.”<br /> Oh.<br />Well, ok. So I called the local hardware store, found out they do carry spray adhesive, and I headed there to “figure it out.” As soon as I saw the can, I knew (it’s 77, for those of you if I don’t reveal it will go crazy). I bought my very own can of spray adhesive. I raced back to Beagle Books, down the stairs, and even though it wasn’t technically “bindery time”, I couldn’t wait, I just HAD to glue something (and no, I don’t have any sniffing addiction problems, but thanks for your concern). I grabbed a book that David had started work on and I had nearly finished. I set up a spray area, sprayed the outside cover, jammed the text block into it, and, well, it looked terrible. I stepped into another room, breathed in and out a few times. Slow down, I told myself. I re-entered the room with the spray adhesive, and carefully took the cover back off the book. I let myself flounder until I remembered the proper steps: trim the end papers, etc. I glanced at the list of bookbinder traits David had made me and my eye fell on <em>Patience</em>, then <em>Courage – try something new</em>, and most importantly: <em>Planning – if this doesn’t work, then what?</em> Ok, David’s with me. I know what I’m doing and if I don’t, I’ll try again until I get it right. I just need practice, and I just have to “go get more.”Beagle Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12380891336179135165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8633437829916882782.post-31489686035451979962010-09-08T08:17:00.000-07:002010-09-08T08:18:22.847-07:00Smells Like a BinderyOver Labor Day weekend, my dad and I did more work in the bindery. We put up the racks that hold rolls of fabrics and mounted a peg board to hold tools. I have to admit, once the peg board was up and I started arranging the tools on the board, I had a flash of understanding for “garage putterers”. You know who I mean, those people who spend hours in the garage doing who knows what. Well I think I know what, they’re in love with their space, tools, and the potential. I am too. The best part of the weekend was the moment I stood at the top of the stairs (the bindery is in the basement of Beagle Books), about to descend and realized it <em>smells</em> like David’s down there. It smells like a book bindery. I wonder if someday <em>I’ll </em>smell like the bindery??Beagle Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12380891336179135165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8633437829916882782.post-56294050904613449372010-09-03T08:55:00.000-07:002010-09-03T08:59:37.657-07:00Bookbinding Day TwoToday will be Bookbinding Day TWO. I had to be bookstore manager all day yesterday. Day One was back-breaking and magical. I felt a bit overwhelmed by ALL the tools I didn’t know…. And then, I came upon a knife I used many times with David. I knew EXACTLY what it was for (scraping the old glue off bindings). To be honest, I expected David to be a bit more present than he was, but upon finding that knife, it felt like he was telling me, “I’m here, I’m not going to do everything for you – you have to do that yourself, but I’m here.” Ok, fine. My other concern was being able to get set up fast enough that I can start working on products to put on the sales floor. I found a box with books that David repaired and were ready to sell. It’s not a lot of books, but it’s enough to put out for sale. Again, I think David will help, but he’s certainly not going to do it all for me. Day One began at 2:00 and ended at 5:00. At 2:00, I thought to myself, “It’s not enough time!!” By 4:48, with an aching back, I thought, “What was I thinking? This was too long for Day One.” So here comes Day Two….wonder what treasures I’ll find today.Beagle Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12380891336179135165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8633437829916882782.post-85884327992420733152010-09-01T05:48:00.000-07:002010-09-01T05:49:43.216-07:00Bookbinding Day 1Bookbinding – Day 1<br />I’ve chosen September 1 as Day 1 of serious official bookbinding. The equipment is not exactly organized and ready to go. The guillotine is still in my garage. But I have to <em>start</em> sometime, so September 1 sounds good to me. I felt like a kid on the first day of school this morning. I got up <em>on time</em>, did my morning routine (feed the dogs, get coffee, eat breakfast, read, shower, etc) and got out the door. I needed to be in Park Rapids by 8AM this morning for a meeting. I arrived at 7:30. No small feat for a habitually late person. I feel antsy. I want to run downstairs, roll up my sleeves, and get my hands on paper, boards, and glue. I have to wait. I have a schedule. 8:00 meeting, work the bookstore sales floor from 8:30-12. Eat lunch and do office work from 12-2, THEN I can go downstairs, change clothes, and get to bookbinding. I’m not sure I can wait, but on the other hand, I’m not entirely sure what I’ll do once I get down there. I’m counting on David (my bookbinding mentor who “got his wings” in July) to guide me.Beagle Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12380891336179135165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8633437829916882782.post-91438097506480360212010-08-19T12:54:00.000-07:002010-08-19T12:56:07.053-07:00Tribute to Becky WalpoleThis piece was written to honor Becky Walpole, the (now) former branch manager of the Park Rapids Library. Good luck in your new adventures, Becky and we'll so miss you!<br /><br />Once upon a time, in a land called Minnesota, in the town of Park Rapids, at the house of books and magic (otherwise known as the library), there came a young book princess. She was smart, beautiful, kind, sincere, and generous. She was not the airy, fairy sort of princess. She was the sturdy, hard-working, dependable sort. Her name was a grand, majestic, time-honored name: Rebecca, but she never answered to that name, only to "Becky". Becky came to the library as a volunteer, the rare sort of creature who will work for the pleasure of the work. No doubt Becky was paid in generous amounts of magic: time spent with children and books. Becky was the sort of princess that drew in children like butterflies to a flower. She listened to their stories, asked the right questions, and gave hugs freely. In time, the library came to realize the power of Becky: she strengthened the magic of the library itself and kept children coming back for more magic. And so, Becky stepped across that great line of monetary compensation and began to work as an employee of the library. Becky steadily grew the attendance of the children's story hour. Together, Becky and the children shared stories, sometimes from books and sometimes from imagination. Together they created crafts, laughed, and sometimes spilled. The parents and child providers looked on with admiration and relief. They patted themselves on the backs: they had done a good deed by bringing the children to the magic of books and Becky and the library. In more time, the library came to need a new queen, someone who could rule with a steady, gentle hand and yet keep the magic alive and well. With the former queen on her way to another domain, Becky graciously accepted the library's throne. Being the queen meant more hours and more pay, but a lot more work: meetings, responsibility, meetings, management of staff, meetings, management of events, meetings, and most of all, meetings. Although a bit overwhelmed at times, Becky held tight to the magic of the library and worked hard. She kept her crown atop her head, but could still kneel to meet the eyes of the children. Once Becky had comfortably settled into her reign, her prince came to her and said, "My dear, sweet princess, we have had a good life here in the town of Park Rapids, but alas, I am being called to another town, still in the land of Minnesota, but two hundred miles south of here. Won't you please come away with me?" Of course Becky would leave Park Rapids with her prince, but it was with tear-filled eyes that she surveyed the Park Rapids library. She had spent the last fifteen years here in this magic-filled place. She had come here as a novice princess, the mother of babies, and now her babies were nearly grown. She had moved from one library castle to another during her time here. The library staff, volunteers, and children wept for the leaving of Becky, but knew that Becky would move on to another place to instill her magic there while leaving a bit of her self, her magic to reside forever at the Park Rapids Library. With heavy hearts and tear-filled faces, they bid her adieu saying, "May you live happily ever after". The end.Beagle Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12380891336179135165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8633437829916882782.post-49907892912745382872010-06-22T14:20:00.000-07:002010-06-22T14:26:25.652-07:00The Future(?) SaleswomanMany of you are aware that I have an eight-year old daughter named Megan. (If you’re not sure, then you didn’t know – no one who’s met Megan forgets her). Megan has one of those bright, loud personalities that baffles her somewhat introverted parents. At restaurants, it’s not unusual for Megan to turn to the people in the next booth and announce, “HI. I’m Megan, this is my dad and this is my mom.” She’s done this since she learned to talk. (Typically, my husband, Tom, and I turn red in the face, nod, then hiss, “Megan, sit down.”). Even before she learned to talk, Megan once insisted a fellow patient at the medical clinic pay his attention to her rather than to the friend with whom he had been chatting. In addition to loving attention, Megan, like many children, loves money. So really, it was only a matter of time before she hatched the idea to set up a lemonade stand. What could be more fitting for a talkative, money-seeking girl? Tom and I decided to make the most of this and turn the idea into an economics lesson (we are, after all parents, and it’s our job to make fun things a little more mundane and practical). We explained to Megan that she needed to spend her allowance to buy the necessary materials for a lemonade stand. If she spent $10 on materials, she would need to sell $10 worth of lemonade to earn her money back. Anything beyond that would be <em>profit</em>. We made a trip to the grocery store, and the debate over what to buy began. Real lemons? This was quickly dismissed since we don’t own a juicer. Powder? Frozen? Pink? Yellow? Raspberry? We compared unit prices on plastic cups. We hemmed and hawed over ice bags – 5 pounds or 20? At one point, Megan stopped me in the aisle and said, “Wait. What if I don’t sell enough to earn back what I spent?” Welcome to business, honey. Anyone who ventured down 3rd Street in Park Rapids on the afternoon of June 21st likely heard a girl calling, “LEMONADE! ONE DOLLAR PER GLASS!” (If a person happened by at the right moment, s/he could have heard/seen Megan look her grandmother in the eye and declare, “<em>Some </em>people have tipped me.”). Determined to maximize her <em>profit</em>, Megan refused to vacate her stand until she had sold 50 glasses of lemonade (she had bought 50 plastic cups). When she got down to 3 cups, Tom was sorely tempted to buy them up, but he resisted the urge. To be honest, Megan and I butt heads a lot. (I say this is Megan’s fault, and when I do, Tom gives me <em>the look</em>). There was no butting heads yesterday. How could there be? My baby put her best skills to the test and came out a winner. Now if I could get her to sell fifty books in four hours…plus tips…hmm…Beagle Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12380891336179135165noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8633437829916882782.post-6197279482995931152010-06-16T06:41:00.000-07:002010-06-16T06:43:49.216-07:00Stone Soup RevisitedIt’s less than a week before the CSA boxes begin their regular arrival for those of us signed up for the Morgans’ CSA program. For those of you unfamiliar with CSA, it stands for Community Supported Agriculture. My family bought a share of the farm for the summer and so we will receive a share of the harvest for the summer. I can’t help but think about the summer when we did the Stone Soup project at Beagle Books. For eight weeks, a group of us gathered at Beagle to discuss Barbara Kingsolver, Steven Hopp, and Camille Kingsolver’s book, <em>Animal Vegetable Miracle</em> and to explore the many opportunities we have to indulge in locally grown food and drink. We took two field trips to the CSA farm (one at the beginning of the season and one later in the season) and were blessed with visits from local food experts including Forestedge Winery, Bill Maki (wild ricing), Chef Tom (morel mushroom hunting), Donna Ludwinksi (bread making), Sari Mabbett (cheese making), and more. We ended the summer with a feast of local foods. It was a summer of exploration and change for me, and I hope for others. Maybe we should have a Stone Soup reunion. I wonder if the other participants still think about choosing local foods when making their food choices. Do they pause when discovering a desired food traveled here from another continent, consider the food miles, and put the item back? I hope so. My mantra that summer was, “start small.” I encouraged my fellow Stone Soupers to make one small change, make it a habit, and then make another small change, etc. Have the others done this? To be honest, I myself have not made a new small change in some time. To my credit, though, I have stuck with the habits I created that summer. I still buy raw milk from a local farmer, eat local meat, buy a CSA share every summer. I avoid bananas. I buy wine produced by my local winery. I pick strawberries at Keskes Farm. I’ve noticed one of the grocery stores in Park Rapids makes a point in their ads to highlight local items available. Has a change for the better occurred right here in the small town of Park Rapids? I hope so. I credit the Kingsolver/Hopp family – their experiences eating only local foods for one year recorded in a book for the rest of us is invaluable. That is truly the power of a good book.Beagle Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12380891336179135165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8633437829916882782.post-81921044984775552112010-06-08T14:32:00.000-07:002010-06-08T14:33:15.000-07:00Public Displays of Affection at Beagle BooksHave you heard that there’s been a sharp increase of public displays of affection at Beagle Books? Well, it just so happens that it’s true. Don’t be surprised during your next visit if you either witness a hugging or you yourself are the target of a hugging. This is the time of year when we are reunited with so many dear people we lose every winter. Many of our customers of course head south to Arizona or Florida, but the largest migration, believe it or not, comes from Nebraska. (Being raised in Oklahoma, this has taken some adjustment for me to be polite to Corn Huskers – there is a serious football rivalry between Nebraska and Oklahoma). I picture Nebraska in the summer as a sort of empty landscape with the sound of crickets chirping (which of course begs the question, if no self-centered person is around to hear the crickets chirp, do they still chirp?) Once upon a time, it was my understanding that hugs between retail workers and customers was only marginally acceptable. Now I’ve decided that what the public really wants in an independent bookstore is passionate, caring, interesting (even eccentric) booksellers. Why else are we able to get away with wearing funky socks and dangly earrings? Really, hugging has re-gained acceptance. In some cases, I daresay it would be <em>rude</em> were I not to greet a customer who’s been gone for many months with a hug. So come on in, get your books, cards, music, and of course, hugs.Beagle Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12380891336179135165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8633437829916882782.post-49661965094325348302010-05-05T08:57:00.000-07:002010-05-05T08:59:10.284-07:00Weakness?So often I hear customers in the bookstore say, “Oh, books are my WEAKNESS!” What? Weakness? If you mean that our selection, knowledge, and passion makes you weak in the knees, then THANK YOU! If you mean that indulging in books is somehow bad, like eating too much sugar or drinking too much alcohol, then, I don’t get it. With our children, we do all we can to encourage them to read. It’s unheard of for a library (school or public) to not have incentives for kids to read through reading programs. We know that the more our kids read, the better prepared for life they are. Not only does it help on their path of their studies: the more a person reads, the more his/her comprehension expands; the more a person reads, the faster s/he reads which aids in test taking; but it a great source of entertainment. Reading isn’t just for kids though, it’s good for all of us. Sometimes I hear customers say, “I just don’t know what to do with books after I’ve read them.” Here’s a few ideas for the books you’re not going to shelve at home and treasure forever: re-gift them (aka give them away to people who will enjoy them), donate them to your local library or women’s shelter, or trade them in at a bookstore which sells used books (like Beagle Books or Sister Wolf, for example!). If indulging in an activity that keeps one’s mind active, is enjoyable, models desired activity to others, and has the potential to engage one in meaningful discourse makes one a weakling, then be weak, I dare you.Beagle Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12380891336179135165noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8633437829916882782.post-53975879961793173112010-04-23T07:55:00.000-07:002010-04-23T07:57:27.274-07:00Thanks to Second Graders!My daughter's second grade class added 19 leaves to our Poet Tree with their favorite poems! In thanks, I wrote them this silly poem:<br /><br /><u>Mrs. Thompson’s Second Grade Parade</u><br />Dressed like President Abe is Gabe!<br />On a ball, Alyson is balancin’<br />Cole calls, “She’s on a roll!”<br />Two girls juggle: Bryanna with bananas and Kaia with papaya<br />Chance does a dance<br />In a clown car, Devan and Kevin are revvin’<br />Morgan plays the organ<br />“Let’s sing,” Megan’s beggin’<br />Cora wears flora<br />Chase runs a race<br />Luke’s dressed like a duke<br />Here comes lively Ivy<br />Dressed as the invisible man is Liam – see him?<br />Running a bit late is great Nate<br />Logan’s dressed as Hulk Hogan<br />Marching with honor is Connor<br />At the end, Kolin is stallin’Beagle Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12380891336179135165noreply@blogger.com0