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Taken from "A River Runs Through It" in A River Runs Through It and Other Stories by Norman Maclean, copyright 1976 the University of Chicago, and used by permission of the University of Chicago Press.
Contributed by Larry Brown of San Francisco. Read by Thelma "T.L." Ridges: "This piece reminds me of my mother offering and helping others. For me, offering help is what is expected." Thelma is a long-time resident of Anchorage and a Social Skills teacher and theater/choir director at William Tyson Elementary. She is also a strong advocate and member of The Links, Incorporated.
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In "A River Runs Through It," Norman Maclean and his father try to help his brother, Paul:
'"Help," he said, is giving part of yourself to somebody who comes to accept it willingly and needs it badly.
So it is ... that we can seldom help anybody. Either we don't know what part to give or maybe we don't like to give any part of ourselves. Then, more often than not, the part that is needed is not wanted. And even more often, we do not have the part that is needed. It is like the auto-supply shop over town where they always say, 'Sorry, we are just out of that part.'"
"We are willing to help, Lord, but what if anything is needed?"
... "It is those we live with and love and should know who elude us."'
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Posted At : February 5, 2009 1:00 AM
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Fiction
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Taken from Middlemarch by George Eliot.
Contributed by Mark Zimmermann of the Washington, D.C. area. Read by the Rev. Beatrice Hitchcock, Interim Minister of the Anchorage Unitarian Universalist Fellowship. As a U.U., she appreciates the search for "the belief that helps you most."
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In Middlemarch by George Eliot, Dorothea is speaking to Will about her simple life:
"'...I should like not to have so much more than my share without doing anything for others. But I have a belief of my own, and it comforts me.'
'What is that?' said Will, rather jealous of the belief.
'That by desiring what is perfectly good, even when we don't quite know what it is and cannot do what we would, we are part of the divine power against evil -- widening the skirts of light and making the struggle with darkness narrower.'
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'Please not to call it by any name,' said Dorothea.... 'You will say it is Persian, or something else geographical. It is my life. I have found it out, and cannot part with it. I have always been finding out my religion since I was a little girl. I used to pray so much -- now I hardly ever pray. I try not to have desires merely for myself, because they may not be good for others, and I have too much already....'
'What is your religion?' said Dorothea. 'I mean -- not what you know about religion, but the belief that helps you most?'"
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Posted At : February 3, 2009 1:00 AM
Related Categories:
Fiction, Alaska
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Taken from The Trap by John Smelcer, published by Macmillan.
Contributed by Jane Baird. Read by Karen Keller, Director of the Anchorage Public Library. Karen has over 20 years experience in the public library and private sectors. She is a passionate advocate of the role of the public library in the community and, as an avid reader, a tireless promoter of reading. |
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Anchorage Public Library is presenting a Community Read through mid-March for the whole family -- a selection of books about Alaska Native culture. In one of the books, The Trap by John Smelcer, the grandfather speaks:
"They say the People of the North have a hundred names for snow. This may not be completely true, but anyone who has lived any time on a frozen land knows that snow has more than one name.
There is sleet, and hail so big around that the sound of it falling on a tin roof is deafening. There are dry, soft flakes that fall gently without hurry or anger, like the lazy flakes in a Christmas-card scene. There is wet snow that sticks to the branches of trees, turns to ice, and breaks their limbs when too much has gathered. Some snow falls straight down, some slant-wise, and some from everywhere, even from beneath as if the freezing earth itself is storming.
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Only the foolish would say there is one word for snow. Anything that lasts so long and buries a world must be many-named."
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Posted At : January 28, 2009 1:00 AM
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Fiction
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Taken from The Wide Window, A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket, published by HarperCollins.
Read by Valerie Oliver: "I'm a retired elementary librarian and a lover of books. I think Lemony Snicket's Series of Unfortunate Events is a deliciously wicked tale of misfortune and sorrow." In these trying economic times, Valerie thinks Americans have a priceless jewel in their public libraries. She currently works for the Alaska State Library, helping to secure funding for basic phone and Internet services for public libraries and schools across the state of Alaska.
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In The Wide Window, from A Series of Unfortunate Events, the Baudelaire orphans are desperate after reading the supposed suicide note of their aunt.
"'I'm not sure,' Klaus said, looking over the note one more time. 'I might have begun figuring something out. Something that could help us. But I need more time.'
'But we don't have any time!' Violet cried.
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'Then we're going to have to make some more time somehow,' Klaus said determinedly.
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'How can we make more time?' Violet asked.
'You're the inventor,' Klaus answered....
'But you can't invent things like time,' Violet said. 'You can invent things like automatic popcorn poppers. You can invent things like steam-powered window washers. But you can't invent more time.'"
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Posted At : December 31, 2008 1:00 AM
Related Categories:
Fiction
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Taken from Out Stealing Horses by Per Petterson, translated from the Norwegian by Anne Born, published by Graywolf Press.
Contributed and read by Sherri Douglas: "I still have an image in my mind of a lynx track I saw one day, years ago." Originally from the Land of Lincoln, Sherri is a 25-year resident of
Anchorage, where she lives with her husband, daughter and dog, Rosie.
She spends her days working with youth in the Anchorage Public Library
and her nights mostly reading. Sherri would like you to look at Charity Navigator. |
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In the novel Out Stealing Horses by Per Petterson, Trond Sander has just been run off the road by an aggressive truck driver. He sits in his car, recovering:
"I saw the lynx brightly outlined only fifteen metres in front of the car. I had never seen a lynx before, but I knew what it was that I was looking at. The evening was perfectly still around us, and the lynx turned neither to right nor left. It just walked. Softly, not wasting energy, filled with itself. I can't recall when I last felt so alive .... Everything that was me lay taut and quivering just beneath my skin.
Next day at the shop I told them about the lynx. It was most likely a dog, they said. No-one believed me..., but I saw what I saw, I have the image of the big cat somewhere inside me and can call upon it whenever I like, and I hope that one day ... I shall see it again. That would be great."
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