Breakfast in Scarborough

Located inside East York Community Recreation Centre, Todmorden Room is the smallest branch of the 98. With a maximum capacity of 33 people, the modest size of this facility gave it extra charm, a welcome throw-back to a friendlier, slower era before automated check-out desks and big city anonymity.

The main desk of Todmorden Room was directly in front of the entrance, and my husband Stewart was struck by how the librarian greeted each incoming patron by name. Even though there were only eight people in the library (including two staff members), we kept tripping over each other as we moved up and down the two short aisles.

The only multilingual resource I noticed was a Spanish learning kit with a CD, and the ESL collection had fourteen books (hardly the fault of library with so little space to spare).

As at Woodside Square and Bridlewood, the romance genre was well-represented at Todmorden Room, and it included a couple of titles that caught my fancy: “Kidnapped by the Cowboy” and “Outback Boss, City Bride.” I hope the city bride and the cowboy’s love hostage brought their feminist theory texts with them to the countryside.

As I exited the room, I noticed a cream-coloured locker beside the check-out desk, possibly a hand-me-down from the gym down the hall. I liked how the library seemed to be a well-integrated part of the community centre, which also offered swimming and martial arts classes. The librarian told me that families often coordinate their trips to the library around activities at the centre. Way to go, plucky Todmorden Room!

(Note: the text of this post dates to my first visit in 2009, but the photos were taken in 2012)

The collages pictured here are the first in a series that takes inspiration from eleven letters written by my hometown friend Eric Canuteson. He wrote the first one in 1986, and the last one I received arrived in 2002 before e-mail took over as our means of correspondence.

Last December, I was devastated to learn that Eric suffered an untimely death at age 43. I had trouble believing that the teenager I had passed notes to during Greek and Roman History could be gone. His friendship meant a great deal to me, and I wanted to honor his memory with an art project that incorporated actual text from the letters and images, people, and places he described.

Preserving examples of Eric’s handwriting feels really important to me.  Messy, scratchy, sprawling – I love the way he always wrote his name in really huge letters at the end. He also was a great one for circling or putting boxes around important phrases and doodling in the margins.

The following collage takes its theme from the first letter Eric ever sent me. He had just started his freshman year at Colorado College and I was in my last year in high school. Postmarked September 24, 1986, it describes his classes, first term paper, and grades. He also asked me to pass on some messages to his former teachers, including a tongue-in-cheek summary of his political views.

Eric’s Excellent Intellectual Adventure, Collage by Catherine Raine 2012

Eric’s Excellent Intellectual Adventure, Collage by Catherine Raine 2012

I used the actual postmark from the envelope for this collage. The postmark and the political figures Eric mentions place our friendship in historical context, providing an example of how letters are both cherished personal souvenirs and valuable documents that give us a snapshot of an era. It seems an obvious point, but it still blows my mind that Eric’s first letter existed in a world before South African apartheid ended, before the Berlin Wall fell, before Clinton (sandwiched between the elder and junior George Bush), before 9/11, and before Obama.

Eric’s Excellent Intellectual Adventure, Collage by Catherine Raine 2012

I am a Liberal and always have been one.

Reagan Sucks.

Rehnquist Sucks (Rightquest)

Death to Fascism.

Daniel Monion is a joke. (It took me awhile to figure out that Eric was referring to Daniel Moynihan. It didn’t help that I didn’t remember who he was).

Support the ANC!

I hate Republican business majors.

There aren’t any here, thank God.

Eric’s Excellent Intellectual Adventure, Collage by Catherine Raine 2012

I really like how he put the title “Mr.” in quotation marks next to his name. At age 18, maybe he didn’t quite feel like Mr. Eric Canuteson yet, so he left the “Mr.” outside the box he drew around his new contact details.

Eric’s Excellent Intellectual Adventure, Collage by Catherine Raine 2012

Moving on to the next collage, one of Eric’s 1988 letters mentioned a college field trip to The Grand Canyon, and since I happened to be in Arizona recently, I raided the tourist leaflets at the Phoenix airport, gathering as many images as I could to illustrate a letter dated March 8th. I couldn’t bear to tear up the actual letter, so the text you see in this collage comes from a photocopy dyed with instant coffee.

Eric’s Grand Canyon, Collage by Catherine Raine 2012

Eric’s Grand Canyon, Collage by Catherine Raine 2012

Tomorrow I leave for a trip to the Grand Canyon.

Eric’s Grand Canyon, Collage by Catherine Raine 2012

I’d like to see you if possible . . . Catherine. Don’t be depressed or alienated. I really care about you.

Eric’s Grand Canyon, Collage by Catherine Raine 2012

The Grand (Canyon) is . . . amazing place. . . . Love exists.

Eric’s Grand Canyon, Collage by Catherine Raine 2012

Love, Eric     Give me a call.

I’ve reached the point in my library blog talk where I have invited the audience to create a post with me. A few minutes ago, there was mention of refreshments, so I’m also thinking about the possibility of tea and Dad’s oatmeal and chocolate chip cookies. My audience is eligible for these refreshments because they love libraries and came out to hear the talk.

Here are some of their impressions and memories of the Toronto Public Library:

“I’ve been coming here with my young children for thirteen years. We love sitting by the fireplace and reading, especially in the winter. It’s very cozy. My daughter is sitting out there by the fireplace right now.” (Dawn)

“I’ve been coming since the original structure was still in use. I remember the Taylor House. On the far side, there was a round conservatory. That’s where they had the mystery books and the stained glass window at the top of the stairs. When the new building was built, they installed the original stained glass window. This branch is a memorial branch and will revert back to the Taylor family if the library doesn’t have enough funds to sustain it.”  (Heather)

“If it wasn’t for my great-grandfather, I’d never be a librarian. He lived across the street from Locke Library. He never had a chance to get an education, so the library was very important to him. When I was nine, he said to me, “You like books. You should be a librarian.” (Andrew, Librarian-at-Large)

“My grandson Cy and I visited 90 TPL libraries so far. His favourite is S. Walter Stewart. I like it because there are 10 A. Y. Jackson oil paintings there. I like libraries for different reasons. I love the panels at Dufferin/St. Clair that they uncovered. I’m also fond of Beaches. I worked there for 19 years. One of the squares on the community quilt there is mine.” (Darlene)

“It was my first job and my only job.” (Despina)

“The garden (at Taylor Memorial) was a joint effort between Maureen and me (Sally). We met at the afternoon book club. She designed the garden. The library bought some shrubs, but most of the plants were donated. It’s nice because we have a patio. Lots of people sit out on the patio with their laptops and books, enjoying the fresh air. We have tea and books there in the summer. Sometimes the authors join us as well.” (Sally)

“The Thursday evening book club is one of the longest running book clubs in Toronto. It’s been running since 1991. This club has read approximately 200 books. Heather was one of the original members.” (Heather and Despina)

It has been a true pleasure to gather these stories from my attentive and knowledgeable audience. I asked if I should add “good-looking” to the description, and Sally said, “Why not? This isn’t television!”

I’m tickled pink to be part of this April’s Keep Toronto Reading Festival. My contribution to the literary celebration will be an illustrated talk about the very blog you are reading now, Breakfast in Scarborough.

The presentation will describe my pilgrimage to all 98 Toronto Public Library branches and what I saw and experienced along the way. I’ll provide some background information about the origins of the blog, present selected pictures, and then create an interactive post with the audience on the spot.

My hope for this talk is that it will encourage TPL library patrons to venture beyond their home branches and discover the beautiful diversity that the entire system has to offer.

On a more personal level, I also aspire to be an example of what can happen when you ignore the inner critic who says things like, “Get a life, nerd! Nobody will read this obscure blog!” If I had listened to that voice, I would never have had the pleasure of proving it wrong.

Breakfast in Scarborough has now enjoyed over 17,000 views, and I have been interviewed by The Toronto Star and appeared on Matt Galloway’s CBC Metro Morning radio program. Hooray for nerdy projects! May they prosper all over the land!

My last visit to Steeles was quite awhile ago, but some of my observations still hold true: “Located on the left side of a concrete walkway leading to the mall, Steeles was very compact, and the homey impression created by its lime green walls was taken up a notch by the presence of several stuffed creatures on top of a high shelf: a gorilla, Tweety Bird, and Marvin the Martian.”

These stuffed entities lined the south wall of the library, not far from a reading corner for youngsters. A padded bench along the east wall was situated under a bank of windows overlooking the covered walkway.

I think small readers would really enjoy this bench. Sheltered beneath the windowsills below eye level, they would be undetected by mall shoppers who come and go outside.  (Heh heh! I’m reading here and you don’t know it!)

Desipite Steeles’ limited size, it was possible to find areas of expansiveness, including some restful views of trees and parkland from the north windows. I even saw a bird on a branch!

The program room floor was a carpet of stars and planets, a reminder of the limitless world of imagination contained in books. Where else could a cat share a swing with birds, an alligator watch a mouse’s cooking demonstration, and a frog dress up like a tourist?

As I prepared to leave the library, I took a moment to admire how busy the library was at 10:30 on a Friday morning. Just as I noted three years ago, there was “an enthusiastic crowd of library-users, with nearly every chair occupied by a reader. It made me happy to see so many folks consuming words instead of mall-products.”

Steps away from the exit, an extensive diagonal length of bike rack pointed the way to some open recreational land behind the mall. I love how the same sense of openness and possibility fills the deceptively small confines of Steeles Library!

Yesterday I found these three treasures at Book Ends South, the second-hand bookstore at the Toronto Reference Library. The volunteers who took my seven dollars teased me about having expensive taste because two of the books I chose were three dollars instead of one!

“Desolate Yet All Undaunted” Collage by Catherine Raine, 2012

The raven is curious about the eclipse but not overly concerned. He stands his ground without fear.

“Desolate Yet All Undaunted” Collage by Catherine Raine, 2012

I’m sending this raven piece to an art magazine that is calling for submissions on the theme of Edgar Allen Poe. (The title comes from Poe’s 1845 poem, “The Raven”). Wish me and the raven luck!

This Russian doll is on a wild stagecoach ride to an unnamed destination!

Matryoshka Doll on a Stagecoach Ride, Collage by Catherine Raine, 2012

Collage materials include colored paper, stickers, and a postcard.

Matryoshka Doll on a Stagecoach Ride, Collage by Catherine Raine, 2012

Matryoshka Doll on a Stagecoach Ride, Collage by Catherine Raine, 2012

Matryoshka Doll on a Stagecoach Ride, Collage by Catherine Raine, 2012

Matryoshka Doll on a Stagecoach Ride, Collage by Catherine Raine, 2012

There she goes!

Today I’m feeling so grateful for the end of two weeks of labour disruption at the Toronto Public Library. I hadn’t realized how much I counted on the libraries’ well-being for my own peace of mind. During these two weeks, I felt a vague sense of unease, disturbed by the darkened and empty branches. I’ve learned that for this nerd, libraries are one of my important existential substructures!

I last visited Goldhawk Park in 2009, and my original write-up included Steeles and Bridlewood branches as well. This time I’d like Goldhawk Park to have its own post. It deserves it!

Goldhawk Park’s most salient attribute is its restful park setting, and I loved how the library’s wide windows made the most of the views.

I was also very impressed by a group of elderly T’ai Chi devotees who were performing liquid moves in a courtyard on the north side of the library.

The indoor seniors were equally impressive. I noticed one man reading a newspaper with a large magnifying glass, soaking up the sun beside a window.

While the morning sun warmed the backs of senior readers, it scattered lattice shadows everywhere I looked. A quiet library transformed into a solar art gallery!

Even the books seemed brighter, and I enjoyed selecting volumes to model for Goldhawk Park’s multilingual collection.

Perhaps Smile

My second visit to this calming branch felt like an affirmation of sunshine and spring! Thank you, Goldhawk Park, for your trees, your light, and your peace!

I finished reading Maggie Helwig‘s Girls Fall Down almost a week ago, and I still find myself thinking about it. Girls Fall Down is a frighteningly plausible story about contagious fear and urban breakdown, but it’s also a beautifully complicated love story about two isolated souls, Alex and Susie-Paul, connecting and re-connecting with each other.

Helwig’s omniscient yet empathic vision of Toronto really impressed me, the way she brought to life an impersonal municipal geography by close observation of hundreds of personal details. Here’s an example: “The boy with the box of evil sat in the cafeteria of his high school, the box on the table beside him, eating a hamburger and feeling unusually cheerful. He . . . didn’t know that a security guard had phoned in an alert while he was on the (subway) train, though it would have made him happy to know this” (26).

For me, the most moving part of the book is when Susie-Paul finds her twin brother Derek living in a tent under a massive bridge. Derek is schizophrenic, off his medication, and starving. However, these facts are not the whole truth about Derek. Maggie Helwig directs our attention to the man’s “raw courage . . . . His hard-won choice to continue living, when so many possibilities to stop are offered at every hand, the cars on the highway, the trains on the tracks, an end to the daily loss. None of this represents Derek’s soul, scraped bloody, howling, fighting always to hang on, a solitary superhuman ordeal, unacknowledged by the world, unrewarded” (149-150).

When I see Derek through the author’s compassionate lens, I become a witness to his courage and his suffering. For this reason alone, I highly recommend Girls Fall Down. The book is also a fully engrossing read, all the more pleasurable for readers familiar with Toronto’s streets, and the Zephyr Antique Laid paper makes turning the pages a tactile as well as visual delight.

Thank you for picking a winner, Toronto Public Library!

Petunia is a souvenir of my recent trip to Nova Scotia, for I finished the detail work during some down time in the hotel. To make a cloth creature like Petunia, you’ll need a sock, a rubber band, a sash, some beads, some miniature crochet flowers, and thread.

Petunia doesn’t mean to be impolite when she sticks out her blue tongue at you. It’s just part of her ironic sense of humor.

Dancing Bird Woman, Collage by Catherine Raine 2012

Dancing Bird Woman is here to remind me to dance, be fiery, and enjoy wearing flares!

Dancing Bird Woman, Collage by Catherine Raine 2012

 Dancing Bird Woman, Collage by Catherine Raine 2012

To close the post, here is a bookmark that I think Dancing Bird Woman might like to pick up with her beak:

Coins and Flowers, Bookmark Collage by Catherine Raine 2012

My first visit to Richview Library in 2009 was a very different from my recent one earlier this week. When I compare the two, I notice that a rainy Saturday in October has changed into a sunny Monday in February, a blogger has expanded her skills to include photography, a new exhibit has arrived in the upstairs gallery, and 2010 renovations have brightened the main level.

As I was updating the original Richview post a few days ago, I realized that my light-filled pictures would look incongruous in a post that contained the word “rain” in the title. This motivated me to introduce Richview, the Sequel.

In addition, Creative Village Studio‘s vibrant exhibit for February 2012 provides a compelling reason to devote extra blog space to Richview branch. If I had added Monday’s photos of the exhibit to the first post, it would have been misleading, for I mentioned an entirely different artist in that piece. Richview’s gallery has even more layers of significance for me now because it was the site of my first public art exhibit last September, Maps of Loss: Rivers, Ruins, and Grief.

Finally, Monday’s visit yielded a new discovery, a blissful expanse of sun-drenched windowsills on the second floor. I really liked how a patron had converted this warm ledge into a newspaper prop, even though he blocked my view at first. Channeling his inner cat, the man rested his paper in a pool of sunlight as he read in a standing position. (I wish the library could invest in a team of cats to snooze beside these east-facing windows until midday).

Thank you Richview for offering a rich new perspective with every visit!

I’ve never tried yogic flying, but this is what I imagine it could be like with the assistance of a crazy quilt:

“Yogic Flying on a Crazy Quilt” Collage by Catherine Raine, 2012

“Michelle’s Doily Frogs,” Collage by Catherine Raine 2012

I have a friend who likes frogs, so I thought she might enjoy a collage that featured her favorite amphibians gussied up with doilies. The frogs pulled off the look with dignity.

And to round out the post, here are some bookmarks I collaged recently!

During my grandmother’s lifetime (1911-2008), she never owned a yoga mat or experienced a guided visualization led by a shamanic woman at a spa in Ontario. Nevertheless, Grandma was with me last May when the shaman asked me to close my eyes and descend deep into the earth, deep within deep, down to the cave of the grandmothers.

“Shine” Collage by Catherine Raine, 2012

Drawn by the firelight and the chance to see Grandma again, I went into the cave. Grandma gave me a heavy object wrapped in a gray cloth. Resting inside the cloth was a stained glass ornament that used to hang from Grandma’s apartment window. When it caught the bright Missouri sunlight, it released streams of green, lavender, red, and blue. I used to love looking at those ribbons of light, and when my niece Emma saw them as a baby, she loved them, too.

I took the gift reverently and gave thanks for its rainbow message, the loving command to let myself shine. It called me to allow the light to both pass through me and beam from within me. It called from a cave as deep as the grandmothers’ mythical one, but just as real and powerful.

The gift was a verb. Shine. Be the stained glass. Transform clear light into personal pigment. Manifest the light into words, art, kindnesses, movement, and love. Don’t be opaque. Be clearly colorful, openly bright, unabashedly shiny, embody the light.

The gift and its invocation have come at the perfect time to help me fight the dark grief shadows that cover, shield, withdraw, and dim. Grandmother Raine’s present encourages me to flood my being with light, to surrender to radiance, to shine, shine, shine, and shine.

“Shine” Collage by Catherine Raine, 2012

In my travels throughout the Toronto Public Library branches, I have admired the Rita Cox Black and Caribbean Heritage Collections at York Woods, Malvern, Maria Shchuka, and Parkdale. This morning I had the good fortune to observe the legendary Ms. Cox tell stories to a large group of children at Queen and Saulter Library.

She began her program at 10 o’clock with an interactive street rhyme, explaining the call and response structure. It went something like this:

Rita Cox: Did you milk my cow?

Children: Yes, ma’am.

Rita Cox: Will you tell me how?

Children: Yes, ma’am. (Children make milking motions and sounds of milk swishing into a pail).

Rita Cox: Did you milk her good?

Children: Yes, ma’am.

Rita Cox: What did you feed her?

Children: Corn and hay.

Rita Cox: Did my cow die? (Very sorrowful voice).

Children: Yes ma’am.

Rita Cox: How did she die?

Children: Aaaaack. Aaaack.

Rita Cox Did the buzzards come to pick her bones?

Children: (sadly) Yes, ma’am.

(end)

The next two stories were equally interactive but contained cheerier endings. One was about a funny little man who lived in a funny little house and spent his day playing hide and seek with a neighbour. When the funny little man looked up and looked down, Ms. Cox raised her arms and lowered them, encouraging the audience to mimic her movements. The other short story featured hand signs and gestures to illustrate important objects for baby: a ball, a hammer (!), soldiers, and a cradle.

Three entertaining longer stories rounded out the hour-long event. My favourite one was an island version of Little Red Riding Hood in which a little girl foils the dangerous Gunny Wolf by singing him to sleep as she picks flowers. Her tune contains the words “coom-qua-keen-wah,” the perfect combination of sounds to induce lupine drowsiness.

When the Gunny Wolf wakes up, he chases the girl, making the noise “unk-cah-cha” with his giant paws as he runs after her. (Rita Cox sang the girl’s flower-picking song gently but slapped her thighs with fierce wolf-claw hands when she imitated the running animal).

At the end of the story, the girl returns home safely and the Gunny Wolf complains that there’s nobody to sing him to sleep.

Cox asked the kids if they would like to sing him to sleep, and there was a chorus of “Yes!” However, one dissenting child said, “No!”

It was very warm in the large room with wooden floors above the Queen and Saulter Library, and after half an hour of listening to the storyteller’s wonderful voice, many of the kids had shifted from sitting on their jackets to reclining on them.

Responsive to the needs of the audience, Cox decided everyone had most likely had enough stories for the time-being, and around quarter to eleven, the children’s caregivers called for a water break and a stretch.

After a round of “Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes,” Cox led the group in another energizing chant:

Rita Cox: (spreading arms wide) I have a large and funny hat and glasses on my nose. (Here, she curled her fingers into circles in front of her eyes). I have a long and furry beard that reaches down to my toes. (Mimes length of beard and then touches her toes).

I was sorry to miss the last ten minutes of the program, but I had to get back in time to go to work this afternoon. It was a privilege to observe a gifted educator in action as she enriched our morning with stories. Thank you Rita Cox and Queen and Saulter Library! I take my large and funny hat off to you!

Fairview Library looks like other concrete-heavy TPL branches built in the 1970′s, such as York Woods (1970), Albert Campbell (1971), and Albion (1973). Some folks might shy away from Brutalist architecture, but I really liked the solid unpretentiousness of Fairview’s interior. It was like sailing on the deck of a freighter ship, its hold packed with international literary cargo.

It could be my Midwestern sensibility that pushed me to find beauty in Fairview’s jolie laide building. If Carl Sandburg were alive, I think he would write a poem about it. And if he didn’t feel like doing that, he could at least marvel at the diverse languages represented at the branch: Arabic, Armenian, Chinese, French, Gujarati, Korean, Persian, Romanian, Russian, Spanish, Tagalog, Tamil, Turkish, and Urdu.

I admired the intense energy of Fairview. On my previous visit, I wrote: “Every chair was taken, every table space utilized, its two levels humming with life — study groups, individuals in private study rooms, newspaper readers, and family groups. A truly vibrant branch — to visit it is to be inspired by all those patrons following their dreams.”

Every single study room was spoken for during my first trip to Fairview, and this time I could only find one free study room to photograph. Despite being an older district branch under pressure from so many enthusiastic patrons, Fairview still managed to offer these pockets of serenity.

As I walked by the occupied rooms, I noticed how each inhabitant seemed to take full physical ownership of his or her study haven. Positive possession radiated in the air inside their glass doors (and a few feet outside of them). Bent over their work, the studious patrons’ body language said: “This quiet scholarly homestead is mine and I’ve earned it!” There was no need for keep-out signs, for who would want to disturb such private intensity?

After I admired the work ethic of the study room occupants, I raised my eyes to an immense ceiling. In my view, the exposed ducts added active interest and grubby industrial chic to the atmosphere. They presided over the plants, patrons, and shelves with matter-of-fact grandeur.

Sheltering in the northeast corner of the mighty Fairview vessel was Noah’s Ark II. As I approached the ark to take its picture, I could hear some voices coming from the interior of the boat. I couldn’t see anybody at first, but when I got close enough to photograph the animal porthole portraits, I discovered two teenagers scrunched up together against the hull working on a school assignment. (It was really clever of Noah to stock his ark with two flirtatious teens).

Not far from the ark, I spied some colourful books about Chinese New Year and hurried to check them out so I wouldn’t be late for my class. The disembodied hand on the Express Check-Out screen pointed to the larger world outside this welcoming concrete fortress of learning.