In this time of crisis, we are missing those everyday things that we once took for granted: hugs, smiles, spontaneous dates, toilet paper. It has taken me a while, but I now realize I am longing for meaningful words as well. Yes, Zoom interactions have been in abundance. News stories flash over our devices, but there is a shortage of substance and intonation—a sudden sigh or peal of laughter—and conversations that take a turn and lead us elsewhere.

I am grateful that my immediate family has gathered at home. My older daughter returned from Northeastern University. The other is finishing up her Senior year of high school in a very unusual way. Still, it is difficult connecting with friends and family members through a screen. The feeling one gets while lounging in a beach chair, asking a best friend to pass the chips, then laughing as a wave creeps onto the blanket is missing. We have lost that personal touch in our current “Let’s Plan a Zoom Chat at 7 pm” lifestyle.

I know. This is temporary and serious, and there are lives at stake. Truly, we need to hunker down to keep our loved ones out of harm’s way. That said, this has been a trying time in a very different way. I realize I am on the hunt for language that is inspiring or empathic or kind or insightful. I treasure the power of a few words, wherever and whenever I find them.

It turns out during COVID-19 however, I have discovered words in the most amazing places. You, too, might have spied uplifting thoughts like these by the side of the road: “This Too Shall Pass” or “Have Hope” or “First Responders Give All for Us.” Or a marquee such as this one that I found online from Cahaba Heights United Methodist Church: “What’s Not Cancelled… Nature, Puzzles, Chalk Drawing, Love, Hope.” These words of hope draw me in.

As soon as I heard Governor Charlie Baker’s recommendation to “get some fresh air and exercise” while keeping a six-foot distance from others, I began hitting the walking trails. Ironically, my girls first recommended the path around the Medfield State Hospital, originally the Medfield Insane Asylum. This rather haunting setting has a solemn history. At one time the facility housed over 2,000 patients. Now these grounds are now open to the public from sun up to sun down.

What does this have to do with words, you might ask? Well, I found a few surprises on State Hospital’s walls—there were poems! As part of the Poetry Project, the Medfield community created an installation of poems which are painted or posted on the sides of the old buildings. There I discovered a haiku written by Nancer Ballard that spoke to me: “Aunt Kate’s favorite chair/wears a dress of fringed velvet/stuffed taut with secrets.” And this one (author unknown) made me smile: “Nightime smells like fire/Embers glow, marshmallows melt/ Chocolate giggles.”  

On another rainy day, I took a walk through the Walpole Town Forest. I must give a huge shout out to The Trustees of Reservations. Discovering their beautiful paths has been a game changer. Inside a canopy of trees, all anxiety dissipated. When I looked down, a painted rock with a smiling sun stared back at me. Around another corner, a perfectly flat stone had the words “I Love Pizza” on it. “I do, too!” I thought. In the middle of this majestic woods, I had stumbled upon more words—messages–and their impact profound. Long before COVID-19 was a thought, someone had been here before me and had cared enough to leave encouragement for all.

Another place of solace has been my own book shelves. Sure, I can read books on my cell phone, but I have turned back to the printed word in my hand. Mostly I’ve been drawn to shorter readings of poetry and picture books. I started with Mary Oliver’s compendium entitled Devotions: The Selected Poems of Mary Oliver. My favorite poem, “The Summer Day,” asks that striking question at its end: “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” The significance of this even when “normal life” is at a standstill struck me anew.

In Li-Young Lee’s book, The City in Which I Love You, his poem “This Room and Everything In It” is also fitting at this time, considering our confined places of late. These lines relate to finding so much of one’s life in a single room:

The sun on the face
of the wall
is God, the face
I can’t see, my soul,

and so on, each thing
standing for a separate idea,
and those ideas forming the constellation
of my greater idea.
And one day, when I need
to tell myself something intelligent
about love,

I’ll close my eyes
and recall this room and everything in it . . . 

Likewise I highly recommend revisiting some picture books, even without any children in sight. With few words, they capture so many emotions, often leaving us with a smile. I Am Human by Susan Verde (Illustrated by Peter H. Reynolds) is a great reminder that we are all in this thing called life together. One line I love in particular, “A bad day can become a GREAT day with kindness.”

For a belly laugh or two while you are cooped up be sure to check out book titles from Josh Funk’s Lady Pancake and Sir French Toast series. You can find his book trailers here. After all, doesn’t a maple syrupy situation appeal to every reader? I believe the answer is YES!

And if you’re looking for some “quiet” reflection, I recommend Deborah Underwood’s story, The Quiet Book. Through these sweet, childlike observations, we find there are many kinds of quiet in the world. The contrast between a “Making a Wish Quiet” and “Top of the Roller Coaster Quiet” is poignant, especially with Renata Liwska’s illustrations. With Underwood’s help, I have been thinking about my own versions of quiet—like a “walk in the woods quiet” or “waiting for news from a loved one quiet.”

During this unprecedented time you, too, might be longing for those choice words that bring hope and sanity and security. If you take the time to look around you, you will be sure to find them. I guarantee it!

Nancy Ling is the Outreach Librarian at the Morrill Memorial Library in Norwood, MA. Look for her article in the May 7, 2020 issue of the Transcript and Bulletin.

The wisdom limned in the biblical book of Ecclesiastes – “To everything there is a season and a time for every purpose under heaven” – is common enough to be known outside of religious circles. Through the thousands of years that mankind has been engaged in agriculture, we understand that there is a time when we plant seeds, a time to harvest, and even a time when the ground is resting, fallow.

Nobody I know put the precept of a time for every purpose into practice more than my mother. She was a science teacher and was deeply dedicated to the job. During the school year she would often follow a full day of classes by offering after-school help, then grade homework, tests and lab reports in the evenings. Yet she was also an outdoor person at heart who delighted in summer breaks when she could work in the yard, cultivating her own wonderland of florae. On rainy days when we were stuck indoors she made good use of her time, bustling around the house and getting chores done. All the while she’d cast glances out the window, waiting for her chance to resume playing in the dirt. If just one fraction of the gloom lifted, she would take notice of it and utter a favorite and oft-used phrase: “Looks like it’s brightening up out there.” This habit said a lot about her. She was the type of person perpetually waiting for things to get better so that she could celebrate that circumstance and share it with others.

While I haven’t yet achieved my mother’s level of optimism or productivity I keep after it, even now. The midst of a pandemic might seem like a counterintuitive time to look on the bright side. We’re isolating ourselves from others, donning masks and gloves to go to the market, wondering about the availability of basic supplies like toilet paper and holding our collective breath to see just how bad the repercussions of COVID-19 will be. There is a lot to endure. Yet focusing time and energy on the negative aspects of our current situation doesn’t help. So why not put this seemingly fallow time to use? In a world that’s been turned upside down, couldn’t we also turn on its head the notion that seasons of growth and stillness are separate? We might feel limited right now, but it could also be viewed as a time of opportunity.

For my part, I’m trying to balance some of the adversity of this time with positive changes. Working from home has been a challenge, complete with mastering new technology to tackle tasks remotely while we try to create a virtual library to tide people over. Yet it has also imparted new insight about workflow processes, and encouraged me to explore online resources and learning opportunities that I hope will increase the knowledge I have to offer patrons. With the closure of nonessential businesses in March I realized how much time I wasted browsing, but not buying, in stores. Instead of taking that bad habit online, I’m using the time to chip away at projects on my to-do list. During this imposed renaissance of home-cooked meals, and in spite of the extra work and dishes, I’m reminded how much I like cooking and baking. It has been like encountering an old friend and having such fun you’re not sure why you fell out of touch. On the topic of reconnecting, I’m meeting weekly for a video chat with a group of college friends scattered from LA to the UK; I’ve also spent hours on the phone with loved ones. Daily walks help keep my spirits up and my weight down. I don’t know that these habits will survive our return to normality, but I hope so. They’re serving me well.

While we are stuck at home, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with binge-watching a few worthy shows. I’ve dabbled in a bit of that, myself. Yet there’s only so much TV I can watch. I also understand that a lot of people are pressed for time, working from home while parenting kids out of school, and are more likely to be looking for a nap than a self-improvement project. They might be better served by the short but sweet task of practicing gratitude. Why not take a minute to notice the things, however small, that make you happy – and then be grateful for them? I am no longer surprised to find that every day I’m thankful for something. In a time of huge uncertainty, it’s funny how tiny joys have taken on a magnified importance for me. I try to relish those moments I feel positive; they help offset the inevitable dismay brought on by the news. Much of my recent happiness is related to the weather, partly because of its impact on my daily walks. I’m grateful for a bright sunny day when I can walk the quiet streets around my house listening to the cheerful chatter of birds, and for feeling not so alone when I exchange waves and greetings with fellow walkers even as we cross the street away from each other to comply with distancing. If the day is dreary (and many of them have been) I cast frequent glances out the window watching the sky for signs of improvement, for the slightest lifting of gloom so that I, too, can observe, “It looks like it’s brightening up out there.”

Those interested in virtual resources for personal growth or entertainment will be delighted to hear that the library is launching a new suite of digital content including Acorn (British Film & TV), Learn it Live and The Great Courses. Among many others, The Great Courses features subjects such as baking, cooking, yoga, tai chi, mindfulness, birding, and even dog training. Visit the library website and check them out!

Kirstie David is the Literacy/Outreach Librarian at the Morrill Memorial Library in Norwood, Massachusetts. Look for her article in the April 23, 2020 issue of the Transcript and Bulletin.

When I was going to college, I worked part time in an independent bookstore. I loved being surrounded by books and meeting interesting people (like my future husband), and most of my paycheck went right back into the store. At the time, I was really only interested in reading fiction. I spent most of my money on fantasy novels – anything by Alice Hoffman, classics I never read in school, young adult books, things suggested by customers, and more. I bought graphic novels, and huge art books (that I didn’t always read), poring over the images with appreciation. With a 35% discount, I felt like I needed to take advantage and stock up.

At the time, nonfiction seemed boring. It reminded me of a school assignment. But one day when I was shelving books, a book cover caught my eye.

Them by Jon Ronson, was a pretty unassuming book. The cover was red, with lots of text, and a picture of a guy who looked uncomfortable, his posture apologizing that we even had to look at him. I must have looked at it in passing ten times before I finally picked it up. What about this book was getting to me? Obviously the red cover stood out, but lots of books have bright colors and more interesting illustrations. I finally took the time to read the full title and blurb – Them: Adventures with Extremists, “a story of an investigative reporter who tries to follow up on the claims made by various extremist and conspiracy groups that there is an elite, secret group who really runs the world, known as the Bilderberg Group.” I looked at this nerdy, self conscious guy who was apparently brave enough to meet with some strange and dangerous people, and I was intrigued. Who was this guy? What did he find? I had to make an exception from my usual purchases and find out.

Instead of slogging through the book like required reading, I found it more fascinating than fiction. How could this stuff be real?! I was in my early twenties, and though I knew generally about conspiracy theories around the moon landing being fake and others, I hadn’t yet discovered the true scope of strange ideas out there. Ronson meets with David Icke, a former English football/soccer player, who travels the world lecturing on his findings that many world leaders are actually lizard people in disguise. He talks with people from militias, religious radical groups, and American white supremacists, who all believe that there is a group of powerful men who are pulling the strings to affect world events.

Ronson doesn’t make these people out to be cartoonish villains. He tries to take them at their word to start off with, sincerely following them down various rabbit holes. Ok, Ronson implies, if there is this group of global elites running the world, then who are they? What do they want? Where do they meet? He asks for leads and evidence, and then sets out to see what he can find. Remarkably, he does end up at some private, exclusive meetings attended by some of the Bilderberg Group. Are these people really the masterminds that those groups believe them to be?

Part of Ronson’s empathic charm is his ability to find humanity in everyone, while also admitting when he thinks they are totally full of it. He is not a Hunter S. Thompson, gonzo style reporter with little to no fear. He fully admits his panic attacks and nervousness when interviewing his subjects, particularly antisemitic racists who believe in a plot for world domination by Jews, all the more troubling for Ronson, as he is Jewish himself. His anxiety and apprehension about this and other prejudiced canards are palpable in his writing.

I have become a fan of his, and have read most of his other works throughout the years. You may have heard of The Men Who Stare At Goats, another investigative piece about the US military using psychic warfare, that was turned into a movie with George Clooney and Ewan McGregor. The Psychopath Test is a book that looks into the idea of psychopathy, in particular who decides what a psychopath is, how do they do it, and how should society handle these individuals?  So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed is about online shaming and bullying, and Ronson has other books that are collections of his articles from various publications.

At this point, deep dives into the stranger parts of human thought and subculture are certainly not the only kind of nonfiction books I read, but Them: Adventures with Extremists, was one of the first books that made realize reading about things that really happened can be just as interesting as, or stranger than fiction. Jon Ronson helped me see that.

Nicole Guerra-Coon is the Assistant Children’s Librarian at the Morrill Memorial Library in Norwood MA. Look for her article in the April 16, 2020 issue of the Transcript and Bulletin.

When this article is published, I will have completed nearly 4  weeks of staying at home during the COVID-19 global pandemic, all while working and parenting full-time. This time hasn’t been easy for anyone. These rapid changes in the way we live, while necessary, have left so many of us anxious, lonely, and pretty claustrophobic. I think I truly understand the sentiment of that old commercial where the overwhelmed woman cries out, “Calgon, take me away!”

In addition to all the concerning news, so many of us have been transitioning to working from home. While the library is closed to the public, the staff are doing our best to provide virtual services and programs for Norwood residents. Reference librarians are currently answering questions via the new RefChat feature on our website. Located on the lower right corner of the library’s website, this new service allows our patrons to connect with librarians to ask questions virtually while the library is closed. RefChat is live Monday through Friday from 9:00 AM to 5:00 PM. If you use RefChat during off-hours, don’t worry! An email will be sent to our librarians who will reply back to you.

Reading has been one of my main coping strategies during this time of upheaval. I’ve been using my Kindle and scouring the library’s Overdrive and Hoopla apps to find ebooks I can escape to before I go to bed, and audiobooks I can listen to while typing away on my home computer. Recently, the library has increased the number of items patrons may check out in Hoopla to 20 titles. Hoopla is a streaming service with ebooks, digital audiobooks, digital graphic novels, movies, and music available for Norwood residents with their Minuteman Library Network card, while Overdrive is a service that allows users to check out ebooks and audiobooks like regular books on our shelves.

For me, this is not the time for gritty realistic fiction or grim murder mysteries. This is a time for escapism. Fantasy and humorous writing are my preferred genres to transport myself somewhere else from the comfort (confinement?) of my home or transform my mood when I need a pick-me-up. I recently finished New York Times bestseller Sarah J. Maas’ House of Earth and Blood, a contemporary fantasy that incorporates magic, danger and hot romance into one rollicking read. Main character Bryce Quinlan is a half-human, half-Fae seller of rare antiques who gets drawn into the Crescent City’s underworld to solve the murder of her best friend. The plot races along and requires readers to suspend a lot of disbelief, but the magical setting and characters are so enjoyable that readers forgive some of the quirks of Maas’s writing style.

Vita Nostra, a Ukranian import by Marina and Sergei Dyachenko and recently translated into English, is often described as a dark, Russian version of Harry Potter. While this story does feature a young woman who attends a special school and discovers she has extraordinary abilities, the similarities end there. Sasha Samokhina meets the mysterious Farit Kozhenikov, the man in sunglasses who demands she perform strange tasks for gold coins. Sasha finds out she’s been accepted to the Institute of Special Technology, an unknown school in a backwater town where the lessons are obscure, the books can’t be read, and teachers punish students for the lack of effort by threatening their families with physical harm. Sasha figures out how to survive in this bizarre environment while excelling at her schoolwork. In the end, readers are left wondering if Sasha’s abilities are only magical or can actually re-shape the foundations of reality. This is fantasy for readers who need a change of pace from predictable genre tropes and are willing to power through Russian names and a complex, thoughtful plot.

If fantasy isn’t your thing and being stuck inside with family is starting to get to you, perhaps stories featuring dark humor will get you through staying at home. No one loves to poke fun at his family more than the irreverent David Sedaris and Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim is a collection of hilarious stories featuring his dysfunctional siblings and parents. Nothing remarkable usually happens during the course of his stories but his observations about his family members’ charms and imperfections are always funny but painfully relatable. Even if you are not an audiobook person, listening to Sedaris read his own work is a treat that should not be missed.

Where’d You Go Bernadette by Maria Semple is a short, absurdist take on suburban upper middle class America and what happens to a woman when she gives up one dream for another. On the surface, Bernadette seems like a typical stay-at-home helicopter mom. She obsesses over her brilliant daughter, shuttles her from activity to activity and holds down the fort while her husband works for Microsoft. Except Bernadette has never recovered from tragedies in her past and is practically agoraphobic. She secretly loathes her life in suburban Seattle and eventually escapes after a PTA disaster. Her family has to follow her clues to find out what happened to Bernadette, past and present.

Books allow you to travel without leaving your home. If you would like to use the library’s online resources but don’t have a library card, you can fill out this application for an e-card and get instant access. The library is also facilitating the Together, Apart book group, an online book group where people can join a Zoom meeting to discuss the books they love and what they are reading. In a time when we must isolate ourselves to protect ourselves and others, we still can go beyond our four walls and connect with each other through books.

Kate Tigue is the Head of Youth Services at the Morrill Memorial Library in Norwood, MA. Look for her article in the April 9, 2020 issue of the Transcript and Bulletin.