And there is change

With a traveling bookstore, there’s always change. It might seem after a long enough period of time, certain changes become the norm, and this shifts the sense of change to the sense of normalcy. Like the books I have on the shelves are constantly changing, but after ten years in the business, I assume there are always books on the shelves and they are books you’ll want to read. With the traveling aspect of the bookstore, there are always going to be different places. Last week Sacramento (California), and this coming weekend Portland (Oregon). The bookstore has set up in South Dakota and in Mississippi, in Nebraska and in Arkansas, in Baltimore and in Seattle. Different places, yet the traveling is a constant. Sort of.

This bookstore tour has been different because the van broke down. Now that happened before but it was a more singular experience. It broke down in April 2023, was repaired and then continued for a year. Then there was a small fuel leak in April 2024 before I left home which was fixed, and I assumed it would be a repeat of last year’s experience where once repaired, I’d go on for another year or so.

Except on this tour, that isn’t what happened. The van was repaired in Eureka (Montana), then had to be towed to a mechanic’s while in Boise (Idaho), fixed, and then towed again in Dixon (California). I realized this change required a change from me. And that was a good reminder, although a hard one. Because we are surrounded by changes whether the climate or what’s happening in government or people in our lives (babies born, daughter going off to college, a neighbor moving, a friend dying). Some changes we welcome, some we try to ignore, and some we actively fight. Some changes are certainly easier than others. Some are truly hard.

I wanted to think changing from one van to another couldn’t be that hard. I mean deciding on what kind of van took some effort, but then I found one (thanks to Ron DuPratt Ford in Dixon for having it on their lot, ready to roll). But then realized the lovely shelves in the old van wouldn’t fit in the new one which has different dimensions. And what to do with everything in the old van because there I was in Dixon, California and still had bookstore gigs in Port Orford (Oregon), Portland (Oregon) and Libby (Montana) before getting home where the Master Shelf Maker could build new shelves. Lots of changes – some remarkably easy and some painful.

Fortunately during this period, I was reading a collection of essays by Brian Doyle, One Long River of Song. That man’s writing is so smooth, so clear, so deep. I marvel at his language and ideas. I cry at the places he takes this reader. I mourn we lost him too soon, and I am thankful his writing was published. Between getting everything moved from one van to another, arranging to have shelves built, logos put on the sides of the van, getting insurance and wondering how to set up in Port Orford, Portland and Libby without a bookstore that customers can enter, but a van that is a lake of boxes, bags and a general mess of books, there were a lot of changes going on. But Brian Doyle’s writing was a constant, a golden constant that made those moments when I sat reading, a refreshing moment, a nourishing moment.

I hope you have books in your life like this one, because no doubt you are dealing with your own set of challenging changes. Reading the right book at the right time is therapeutic.

Of course it is about stories

Driving around the US with a van full of books acknowledges the value of stories. All those volumes in the traveling bookstore, all those stories waiting to be shared. There are also stories from people I cross paths with on these trips and their stories. Telling me about their place, about their travels, about children, about grandparents. There are brief stories when I stand with someone by the bookstore. A woman tells me how she has a camper van so she can visit all sorts of festivals now that she is retired. A young man wants to buy a book for his new-born nephew because he really wants the nephew to experience the joy of books. A man at dinner wants to hear traveling bookstore stories. The mechanic offers me the story of how he came to be a witness for Jesus. The place I stayed the first day on the road this trip has stories going back thousands of years, and stories that were written down more recently.

This is our history. Whether it comes between two covers with an ISBN, or whether a friend tells you over morning coffee what her life was like fortysome years ago. Stories shape who we are. When a young woman visiting the bookstore tells me about the novel, The Nix (2016) by Nathan Hill that she feels I definitely must read, or someone asks if I have a copy of “The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity (1992) by Julia Cameron – these stories shape their lives as well as mine. Our stories intersect. We talk about mothers, we talk about art, we talk about someone they know in Reno because they see that’s a stop on this bookstore tour.

When someone you haven’t seen in decades, reappears in your life, stories of those other times come rushing back. Forgotten stories come to the surface, like bubbles from the ocean depths. And those stories that come to us in dreams and we wonder where those stories are from? Or stories someone tells us that seem unbelievable? Was that a story from their dream? Or a story shaped by their pain? Or a story created to sow seeds of discontent? Regardless of a story’s genesis, it has power. I sometimes feel the bookstore glowing with the power of the stories it contains.

And those conflicting stories? No, it didn’t happen like that – it happened an entirely different way, don’t you remember? There are stories we doubt. Stories we will fight for. Stories we scream are lies.

What a way to start a Monday morning in Boise, Idaho. Thinking about stories – the amazing variety, the people who write them, the skilled storytellers, the wonder of all the stories that shape our lives. If you happen to see this and you are in the Boise area, stop by to share some of your stories with me. The traveling bookstore sets up today (4/22) at Westside Drive In at Parkcenter, and tomorrow at Mother Earth Tap Room.

It started with a book

Book bench by Sarah Anderson featuring works by Montana authors

Anthony Doerr, author of All the Light We Cannot See and Cloud Cuckoo Land, is an author I enjoy reading. Actually it is in a realm beyond just enjoy. So it shouldn’t have been a surprise when a book of his short stories (Memory Wall) that recently came into my life, completely ensnared me. One of those reads that even when I’m not reading, the words, the story(s) rumble about in my head. And then I remembered Doerr is from the Boise area which is on my list for the upcoming Spring 2024 Bookstore Tour! Feels like a treat to visit his town, like a surprise stop for ice cream when driving on a hot summer’s day.

I realized this is yet another advantage of a traveling bookstore. Of course, brick-and-mortar bookstores invite authors in for readings. Announcements of all sorts of wonderful events are put out on social media from Red Emma’s Bookstore, Auntie’s Bookstore and others. Big metropolitan bookstores like Powell’s Books and Strand Books have author readings nearly every day! That must certainly be a wonder to host authors for readings or to hear them answer questions in person about their writing. But I like to think being in an author’s home town is also quite special, to get a sense of the air, the buildings, the trees, the sidewalks, the vibes that are part of their daily life, that shape their writing.

The first stop on this upcoming traveling bookstore tour is Missoula, Montana where Debra Magpie Earling lives and whose books, Perma Red and The Lost Journals of Sacajewea are remarkable, both reaching deep into your heart and soul. And then there’s a stop in Salt Lake City for a couple days, the home of Terry Tempest Williams, author of Refuge: An Unnatural History of Family and Place among her other books urging us to seriously consider our place, and this planet. Another stop on this tour is the Bay area. San Francisco is home to Rebecca Solnit. There are too many of her books to list but I’ll mention A Field Guide to Getting Lost (an ideal one for a traveler), Men Explain Things to Me, and her wonderful atlases. Obviously having a traveling bookstore lets me be a fangirl, drinking up experiences in places some of my favorite authors call home.

One more week and the spring tour begins! Still trying to squeeze more books into the van. Still trying to predict the weather assuming it will be different between Salt Lake City (altitude 4,300ft/1300m) and Port Orford, Oregon (altitude 43ft/13m). And what to bring besides books and bookstore accoutrements? Certainly the typewriter. All the stops on this tour are special in their own way, but the one in Berkeley holds promise for community art making. The traveling bookstore will collaborate with Collab Art Lab, a Berkeley Commonplace program, developed by artist C.K.Itamura. This collaboration is part of the Travelogues Project which is very much a hands-on event happening May 4 from 11am – 5pm in conjunction with the opening of the Round Table Collaboration Postal Collage Project No.13 exhibition at the Berkeley Art Center. If you happen to be in the Bay area that weekend, stop by Live Oak Park in Berkeley (across from the Berkeley Art Center) to make books, talk books, and maybe buy a book or two. We can also talk about place and authors and travel. Another stop on a traveling bookstore adventure.

Never Too Soon

Yes indeedy, the weather last week in Montana was tough with temperatures down to -35°F/-37°C, and a fair amount of snow. It was the ideal weather for this bookstore owner and voracious reader to stay inside reading and to start working on the Spring 2024 Bookstore Tour. Those of you who have been following these adventures for a while, know the drill. Line out which cities and towns to visit which all need to be within a comfortable driving distance from each other, then find ideal places (safe and legal) where the bookstore can set up, and once that is all in place, somewhere I can stay for the nights I’m in those towns.

I always get excited about a tour the moment I begin putting it together which is very good because otherwise I’d have to find another line of work. This upcoming tour starts out April 19th, then setting up in Missoula, MT (4/20), on to Idaho, Utah, Nevada, California and Oregon, finally looping back up to Montana, finishing at the Libby, MT farmers market in mid May which will be in full swing by then and is one of my favorite farmers markets. It does sound exciting, doesn’t it? As I start sending out emails and making phone calls, exploring places online, reaching out to friends, friends of friends and families of friends to help, there seem to be countless possibilities. A tour like this gives me opportunities to visit places I’ve set up before and thoroughly enjoy like King’s English Bookshop in Salt Lake City, Temple Coffee in Sacramento, and the public library in Port Orford. Of course, bookstore tours like this also give me a chance to reconnect with good friends along the way.

And setting up a long distance traveling bookstore tour, encourages me to try new places and meet new people. This tour has stops in Boise, ID and Reno, NV – both cities where the bookstore has never set up before – where I need to find places to accommodate a pop up bookstore business and also people willing to host me. There are towns like Missoula and San Francisco where the bookstore has been before but the venues where I’ve set up aren’t options for this particular tour, so it is a bit like starting from scratch. Some days doing this feel like a BINGO game as I color the dates green once I have them lined up. There is that encouraging visual image that eventually I will have the whole tour in green and be ready!! Other days it’s like working on a jigsaw puzzle, the kind you wish your friend hadn’t given you as a gift. More frustration than joy. But as it is only January now and I have until mid April to back the bookstore out of the driveway and hit the road, there is time. After ten years of doing this business, I remain optimistic Boise, Missoula, Reno and San Francisco will fall into place. 

As part of this tour, I’ve been in contact with the owner of Portneuf Valley Brewery in Pocatello. I set up there once before and so enjoyed it – the town, the brew pub, the conversations – that I put it on the list for this tour as well. When I reached out to Penny who owns Portneuf Valley Brewery, it seems the brewery is temporarily closed as she mulls over what she wants to do with it going forward. That turned out to be a very good conversation to have as we are both individuals who like to line things up and get impatient when details aren’t tidy. An excellent reminder the process is as important as the destination. Will certainly keep you posted as the remaining pieces fall into place. And please don’t hesitate to reach out if you have thoughts about Missoula, Boise or Reno.

Other venues confirmed at the moment include King Cong Brewing (Sacramento), Mr Ed’s Underground Pub (Port Orford) and Extracto Coffee Roasters (Portland).

Meetups

It isn’t surprising that many traveling bookstore customers pass through my life only once. Of course, when set up at regular gigs like the Eureka farmers market or the Libby farmers market, I see some of the same people often, carry on conversations we began the week before, hear how they enjoyed the book they bought last month, or meet a cousin who is visiting them from Colorado. When the bookstore is on the road returning to places like Black Tooth Brewery in Sheridan, Wyoming or the library in White Sulphur Springs, Montana, I look forward to reconnecting with folks although the bookstore might only get there once every year or two. But all the new places that get added each year, although there are great conversations, individuals I would enjoy having a long leisurely meal with to talk books and life, but interactions are typically brief and then we each move on. I remain thankful for even these brief discussions though and sometimes they morph into more of a connection. A customer from when the bookstore set up at Portneuf Valley Brewing (Pocatello, Idaho) a few years ago, recently got in touch as she is downsizing her household and has books to contribute to my inventory. I remain in frequent contact with a writer I met while in Brookings, South Dakota for a book festival.

When traveling without the bookstore as I am now, there are individuals who pass through my life even more briefly, and yet who also make an impression. I’m now in Tangier (Morocco) where I wrote too many postcards trying to capture the beauty, mystery and kaleidoscopic life of this city to share with friends. You can find racks of postcards to choose from and I made some of my own postcards to send, but getting stamps proved problematic. Then walking through the medina, we saw a very small jewelry shop that had a sign indicating “stamps.” I went in and asked the man if he had stamps, pulling the pile of postcards from my bag. He immediately laughed at how many I had (yes, I tend to overdo sending postcards but I believe it is a way of sharing the good fortune of my travels with friends and family), indicated he didn’t speak English, and pulled out stamps. 

For those of you who are used to self-adhesive stamps, I will say before these were invented, it was required to lick the back of each stamp to stick it on the postcard or envelope, or use glue. In some places, there are glue sticks available or small dishes with a damp sponge to save one from licking stamps. But in the jewelry store, there wasn’t a glue stick or a damp sponge. The man smiled and taking half the postcards and some of the stamps, began licking them to put on the postcards. So I did the same and in a short time we had all the stamps attached. Using his hands, he gave directions to a mailbox up the street. I thanked him for his help, gathered up my postcards and headed out only to find he was behind me, then in front of me, showing me the way to the mailbox in person.

If you’ve ever walked through the medina, you know how the very narrow streets (sometimes not even large enough for a car) twist and turn, go up stairs, end in even smaller alleys. Most places I chance upon in Tangier, I figure I will never find again because truly it was fortune that brought me there the first time. And thus when I had deposited my stamped postcards in the mailbox, and went on, I thought I will never find that particular jewelry shop and kind man again. But I will remember him. He eased my life and I hope going forward I am able to ease the lives of strangers who come into my bookstore, even those who don’t share a language with me, or aren’t buying books.

Two wonderful bookstores in Tangier: Les Insolites and Librarie des Colonnes

Books I read/am reading on the trip:

Celeste Ng’s Our Missing Hearts

James McBride’s The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store

Emi Yagi’s Diary of a Void

Remember

Just heading back to Montana after finishing up a traveling bookstore gig in Portland, OR. Everything went so well there – from the set up at Cathedral Coffee, to gracious help from Jennifer who brought among other things a typewriter with green ribbon, and then all the individuals who stopped by. There was a family who home schools who appreciated the books available for young people, a man from Hawaii visiting Portland for the first time, a librarian who had curated the Faux Museum in Portland, and a couple who happened to be in town from Arizona. Some Portland traveling bookstore fans dropped books off and we talked about life in Oregon and Montana. A bookseller from Green Bean Books stopped by and we mutually enthused about our favorite bookstores around the US. Miraculously it didn’t rain during the entire time the traveling bookstore was open, and Cathedral Coffee just happened to have sweet potato quiche on the menu that day which was a delight.

After heading out of town to start the trek back to Montana, I stopped off in The Dalles, OR. When looking for a place to easily park the bookstore, ended up near that town’s City Hall. The alley there had a mural of Eleanor Borg, a remarkable individual who was originally from the east coast, had polio as a child, later learned to dance and became a New York City Music Hall Rockette. After getting married, she relocated to The Dalles where she taught dancing and horseback riding to young people for many years. Obviously the community appreciates what she gave by commemorating her with this lovely mural.

Seeing the mural immediately brought to mind Bernice Ende. For those of you who aren’t familiar with this woman, she wrote a book, “Lady Long Rider: Alone Across America on Horseback,” which is available through independent bookstores. Driving the bookstore on from The Dalles, without a passenger or sound system, gave me plenty of time to remember Bernice and lessons I learned from her. Bernice taught ballet to young people, and then became a long rider, riding horseback across country and throughout the west. Her death came too soon. Perhaps that is one of the lessons, to appreciate those in our life while we have them, to accept and appreciate them for who they are, and what they have to give.

Westbound

Sturgis, South Dakota

Pocatello, ID

Heading west with a few more stops on the way home. Today setting up in Sturgis at Red’s Grill. Something of a snafu as Red’s changed their schedule recently due to staffing shortages. I was scheduled to set up there all day but with the restaurant closed, and after speaking with the owner, I decided to open just in the morning and hope for the best. Red’s kindly put out info about the traveling bookstore on their social media so I hope to get customers.

Then into Montana! The bookstore sets up in White Sulphur Springs (population 979) at the public library on Wednesday. I’ve been there before and it was a treat – both getting to hang at the library between customers and then the customers who came to the bookstore. The last time I was there with the bookstore, I remember intense wind all day that felt totally disconcerting. But now coming from Brookings where the bookstore nearly blew away, I think I am adapting to the plains and the weather on this side of the Rockies.

There is so much I want to tell you. And I want to share the depth I feel. Often I’m overwhelmed with the stories and the individuals, the spaces where I set up the bookstore and the sense of place. So I find myself offering lists that don’t capture much but I do want to give you an idea of the scope of these tours.

Traveling the way I do not only affords opportunities to set up in a variety of interesting places (from a brew pub in Pocatello, ID to an art studio in Lincoln, NE; the book festival in Brookings to Red’s Grill here in Sturgis), but it also gives me an opportunity to see friends and meet new people as typically I stay in households while on the road. Alan and Bonnie in Pocatello walked me around the neighborhood, telling me about architecture, stories of people who have lived there, the texture of the town which Alan’s family had been part of for generations. Christiane in Salt Lake City graciously introduced me to her friends who, like Christiane, relocated from France to Utah as young adults. It felt like international travel to have dinner with them – delicious food, long conversations encouraged by bottles of wine, French and English interchanged, no hesitation to bring up politics.

In Denver I had three days with Connie who gave me a glimpse of life in a 55+ community – the camaraderie, the laughter over pool volleyball, the thoughtfulness with one person dropping off a loaf of zucchini bread to us, another bringing me a bag of books. The sense of people having time to listen to each other, offers to help out. And Connie worked the bookstore with me both days that I was in Denver (what a treat!), and then helped me navigate Denver streets/traffic with the bookstore so we could pick up dinner from what is considered the city’s best Thai restaurant.

Lincoln, NE was an opportunity to stay with Hana and her family. Hana and I were colleagues at Masaryk University in Brno, Czech Republic. Now I drive a traveling bookstore around the country and Hana leads Czech Studies at the university in Lincoln. Besides snippets of conversations with her two daughters and husband amidst their flurry of school, work and swim classes, Hana invited me to one of her classes to engage with her students – answer their questions about my life, and ask my own about theirs. Hana recommended the Sheldon Museum of Art at the university which was the perfect place to spend an hour when temps were heading to 100 degrees F. She also told me about the International Quilt Museum which was another treat to take in on this trip.

In Brookings, I stayed with a couple whom I hadn’t met before but we immediately found numerous topics to discuss, ideas to share. Of course, I was in Brookings to set up at the book festival which meant long days, but the moment I returned to Phyllis and Jihong‘s house, we would dive in where we had left all.

Before this trip, I had not seriously considered spending much bookstore travel time in the Great Plains and now, as I head back to Montana, I already think about when I might return.

Inspiration

In the traveling bookstore business as well as in my personal life, I search for that ever elusive balance. What combination makes things work well? On the very first transcontinental bookstore trip from Montana to the Brooklyn Book Festival in New York in 2016, we made the trip across in four long days thinking speed was the answer. Obviously it wasn’t and we arrived exhausted and uninspired. Was staring at a highway eight to ten hours a day really what a traveling bookstore was all about? No! Following trips were much better planned with numerous bookselling stops to refresh and remind one that a bookstore isn’t about speed, but about engaging with people. Now planned cross-country trips usually take two weeks one way with stops in interesting places to talk books.

On a recent trip (without the bookstore) to visit friends in Central Europe, I was inspired by conversations, art exhibits, theater performances, and concerts. And it was a delight to take in urban offerings while in an environment where the majority of people practiced good public health wearing masks, showing proof of vaccination to go into places like restaurants and theaters, and offering easily available Covid testing.

But as with all holidays, my time ended there and I came back to my rural Montana community. Yes, of course there are people here to discuss things with, and this week I help a friend hang a lovely exhibit of woodblock prints she did of jazz musicians. At the end of the month, a local nonprofit brings in a wonderful concert (Bridge & Wolak). But it feels different. There isn’t the spark of a different culture, listening to music in a hall built in the 1870s, walking through a carefully curated exhibit that introduces me to new artists. Which means figuring out what does work to maintain inspiration. I know taking the bookstore cross-country requires time (not speed). And hopefully I can identify where inspiration comes from at home.

Inspiring bookstore discovered: Dlouhá Punčocha

Inspiring performance: Circa

Inspiring luthier: Red Bird Instruments

Inspiring inflight film: Soul

Coerced

Recently, the word coerced seems to weave through many conversations. As in, “I don’t want to be coerced.” People say they don’t want to be coerced to get a vaccine. They don’t want to be coerced to wear a mask when inside public spaces. They don’t want to be coerced to take a test to see if they are ill. I try to put this in context as I travel. While in the tourist mode, I read an article about the alarming escalation of violence on planes, people’s response to not wanting to be coerced to wear masks. The Atlantic recently did an article, “What’s Really Behind Global Vaccine Hesitancy.” It was disheartening to realize the vaccination rate in my northwest Montana county is equivalent to the rate in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. I want people in both places to be healthy. Is this really too much to ask?

All sorts of reasons are given for refusals, or to explain what coercion means in the time of Covid. Distrust of medical science, distrust of governments. Someone posted on social media, “The letter ‘i’ is not in the word team, but is in the word independence.” It is a challenge to understand individuals making choices for themselves, when they don’t see the need to make choices within the context of their community.

It feels like an onion with more layers than I can possibly manage (I so admire Heather Cox Richardson), because there is also the political context. I noticed myself breathing easier in Berlin where Covid testing was available and free in many places, and proof of vaccines as well as negative test results were required to go into theaters and museums. Visiting friends in the Czech Republic, I hear that yes, restaurants ask to see proof but it is easy to provide false proof that allows you in. And reading the news, I follow the controversy where a legislator in the US proposed unvaccinated patients pay their own hospital bills – which is a rabbit hole we don’t need to go down. At the same time, I want hospital beds to be available for people with heart attacks or appendicitis, broken hips or C-sections. I don’t want healthcare providers to be exhausted.

It isn’t easy. Not for me (traveling with valid proof of vaccine), nor for those deciding not to get vaccinated, and certainly not for those who don’t have access to vaccines. The other day I saw an exhibit at the Moravian Gallery in Brno. The installation, “Demon of Growth” by Kristof Kintera , captures this time. All sorts of balls from golf balls to beach balls, Christmas balls to children’s balls, some beat up, some shiny. All connected. If only.

“Be Kind: You Can Make the World a Happier Place” Naomi Shulman (2019)

“Nicky & Vera: A Quiet Hero of the Holocaust and the Children He Rescued” Petr Sis (2021)

“The Tree Who Set Healthy Boundaries” Topher Payne (2020)

Dumping pieces

This post doesn’t offer answers. Rather it serves as a way for me to get the pieces on the table. The way you start one of those 1000-piece jigsaw puzzles. Open the box. Dump out all pieces and turn them over so the printed sides are facing up. Gradually sort pieces that have straight edges, and the blue ones that surely are part of the sky, and the ones that show they have trees or tiny windows or are part of a boat. Only then can the puzzle start to be assembled.

At this point, in the midst of political chaos and COVID-19, headlines about the stock market, countries closing their borders, people thankfully worrying if children who aren’t going to school will get lunch, and Italians singing their national anthem from balconies, I think about social distancing. I must admit I wasn’t familiar with the term until a few week ago. Now I think about it often.

I was traveling in New Mexico, a trip planned months ago with two friends. When we left Montana by train on February 28, we weren’t concerned. By the time we were in New Mexico, we began to think about it and wash our hands compulsively. On the return trip this past week, we seriously considered our actions and interactions.

Social distancing. Don’t shake hands or hug. Don’t attend large gatherings. Cancel the restaurant reservation. The sort of social distancing techniques which is part of particular socio-economic groups. As the train pulled into Los Angeles, and left again following the Los Angeles river, the meaning of social distancing took on a different meaning. Miles of homeless encampments along the tracks. A young woman sitting in the rain next to a pile of garbage. A man washing himself in the river. Some areas had been bulldozed with only a few plastic bags left to signify the tents and belongings which had been hauled away. This is America.

There is certainly social distancing between the individuals who try to survive living in these tents in urban encampments and my window on the train. I suspect residents perched in houses on the California hills also have a significant social distance from those living in these encampments. And the constant reminders in the news to wash our hands frequently? I don’t see evidence of hand washing facilities at these camps. I suppose individuals can go to the river but do they have soap which we are told works well when used properly?

Some political leaders find ways to get those children lunches who aren’t in school, or find alternatives where parents work and children need care during the day when schools have closed. Who resolves issues for the homeless when our attention is focused on the latest broadcasts about COVID-19? How does one stay three to six feet away from people when you are living on the street in Seattle, San Francisco, Portland? How do you get groceries delivered when you don’t have a street address? How do you wash your hands when there isn’t soap?