For 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).

Frustration

Yesterday 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.
Then I burned my finger. No big deal, I ran my finger under cold water.
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.
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.
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.

"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.”
“But I don’t know the product number!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
“You’ll figure it out.”
Oh.
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 Patience, then Courage – try something new, and most importantly: Planning – if this doesn’t work, then what? 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.”

Smells Like a Bindery

Over 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 smells like David’s down there. It smells like a book bindery. I wonder if someday I’ll smell like the bindery??

Bookbinding Day Two

Today 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.

Bookbinding Day 1

Bookbinding – Day 1
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 start sometime, so September 1 sounds good to me. I felt like a kid on the first day of school this morning. I got up on time, 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.

Tribute to Becky Walpole

This 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!

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.