The Bright Lights Book Project:
Making Connections with Appreciative Readers
Contributed by Alys Culhane
The Bright Lights Book Project: Making Connections with Appreciative Readers
Reading is somewhat of a solitary activity. Somewhat. We read to ourselves. Reading is also a social activity. We read to others. Lucky the child who has a parent, brother, or sister to read to him or her.
Books contain stories. We speculate about the characters, their intent, as well as the plot and setting and endings. Stories about books also abound. We’re often compelled to talk about how we acquired a specific book, as well as our response to it.
I along with several other Bright Light Book Project volunteers, salvage, clean, sort, and distribute books on a daily basis. Every volunteer has a task they most like to do. Me, I do all the project-related tasks, but I most enjoy distribution. You’ve seen me: I’m the one who hovers by the three bookcases in the Koslosky Center Building lobby, books in hand, poised to get them onto one of the three hallway shelves.
Distributing is when I’m most apt to make connections with other readers. In other words, I’m waiting for the shared ‘ahh haa’ moment.
I remain quiet as patrons browse the shelves. After a bit, I move in and ask them if there’s anything in particular that they’re looking for? Some say yes, some say no, some say nothing in particular.
My question often sparks further conversation. This was the case late one Friday afternoon. I’d just finishing distributing books locally; my stops had included the Bugge Park Library, The Department of Motor Vehicles, the Mat-Su Borough Building, the Pioneer Home, Car Quest, The Sunrise Grill, and lastly, the Koslosky Building. I was standing beside our newest bookcase, the one that now holds crafts, cooking, gardening, and Alaskana books.
Head Salvager Bill Schmidtkunz had done the early morning distribution and I was doing the late afternoon distribution.
On this particular day, clusters of readers were checking out the books in all three bookcases. I waited until two people were left, a father and his son, then sidled up next to the father. I didn’t say anything; rather, I put a gardening book on the topmost shelf of the new bookcase.
“You put these books here?” the man asked. I nodded. He was short, stocky, had bushy brown eyebrows that looked like caterpillars. The man told me that his brother was building an airplane, a Piper Cub, and so he was wanting to learn to fly. He was holding three pilot manuals. “These books will come in handy,” he added.
I looked over at the man’s son, who was examining the books in the second bookcase, which is the one containing memoirs, history, and how to books. Smiling, the child, who I estimated to be about 12 years old, pulled forth a book on home repair.
“You don’t need that book!” his father said.
“Yes I do!” the son replied.
“If you want that book, take it,” I said.
“Thank you,” the boy said.
“Oh, all right,” the father said.
The boy held the book close to his chest as his father resumed browsing.
“Just wait here,” I said to the boy. The father and son continued to browse as I raced out of the building, in the direction of my book-filled car. I lifted the rear hatch and pulled forth what I’d been looking for.
I raced back to the waiting pair and handed the boy what I held in my hands, a world atlas. This was no ordinary copy. It was thick, like a city phone book, and twice as large. The cover featured a photo of the planet earth, taken from a considerable distance.
“This book is brand new!” I exclaimed.
The boy handed the home repair book to his father and took the book out of my outstretched hands.
“It’s heavy,” I said.
“Very heavy,” he said.
“Are you sure you want this book?” the boy’s father asked.
“Yes.”
“And the home repair book?”
“He can have them both. There’s no limit on the number of books you can take with you,” I said.
The father and the son then headed in the direction of the Vagabond Blues café. I finished distributing, walked over to the doorway, then peered inside the near empty café. What I saw made me laugh. The pair were seated, and their finds were piled on the table in between them. The father was thumbing through the home repair book and the son was flipping through a pilot manual.
