Wanting to do something quintessentially Florida, a friend and I recently headed to a former home of Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings (that's kin-ANN, by the way, for those of us in the know), author of the Pulitzer Prize winning novel The Yearling. I didn't know a lot about her, but it turns out that she spent a good portion of her life right down the road from Gainesville, and I love checking out historic homes and learning about the lives of those before us. Even when I'm in museums viewing art, I'm drawn to the portraits, wanting to know the life stories of the people I'm seeing and what brought them to have their portrait taken. I like to think I'm being intellectually curious. Some just call it being nosy.
Either way, one bright Saturday morning, we headed down to an area called Cross Creek near Hawthorne, Florida. It was beautiful--and hot, muggy, and full of bugs. Rawlings farm is now a state park, and the cracker-style house--along with its orange grove, barn, garden, and chickens and ducks--are maintained by the Friends of the M.K. Rawlings Farm, Inc. We walked through the same orange grove that Marjorie cared for during her time,
where we arrived at the barn and listened to a ranger explain how Marjorie came to Florida and fell in love with the orange blossoms.
It was accidental, really. Marjorie was born in Washington, D.C., and her path to becoming a journalist and writer took her to Madison, Wisconsin; Louisville, Kentucky; and Rochester, New York. She and her first husband visited his brothers in Cross Creek, and they sorta kinda fell in love with it. There was something about the people there, native Floridians known as "crackers," that she found fascinating, and she and her husband thought it would be a great place to focus on their writing beyond newspapers. With an inheritance, they bought some land seen only by her brothers-in-law. It was primarily orange grove, with a dilapidated house on the property. They weren't particularly interested in growing oranges but saw it as a means to the end of supporting their writing. And so, in 1928, Marjorie and her husband moved to Florida.
For a while, they barely got by. Marjorie sold some stories, and as each little pot of money came in, she used it to fix up some part of the house. It was years before it was even painted. One of the most interesting things about seeing her house was hearing about the process of bringing it to what it is today. When she arrived, there were only two rooms. Total. And no bathroom. Over time, a bedroom "wing" was built, two bathrooms were added (the first inspiring a party celebrating its inauguration complete with red roses from Marjorie's uncle in the toilet). For many years, there was no electricity, and when it finally came, Marjorie created light fixtures using some bowls she had on hand and hanging them upside down from the ceiling. There still is no air conditioning or heating, which is why there were beads of sweat running down our backs entire time we were in there.
Marjorie saw inspiration and beauty in her surroundings, coming to love the smell of the orange blossoms and developing close relationships with her neighbors. A lot of the setting and culture can be found in her writing, and she even stayed with a moonshiner in Ocala for a while to add realism to her work. Her husband, however, was not as enamored of Florida, and they soon divorced. As far as I could tell, this seemed to be fine by Marjorie, who spent her days writing on the front porch at this very table and typewriter, surrounded by her oranges, chickens, and ducks. According to the ranger who toured us through the house, she ate her breakfast on the porch, staying out there all morning to write, so intensely that the neighbors passing by the main road in front of the house knew not to stop and chat. The porch is even furnished with a bed on the opposite side from the writing table so she could nap through the afternoon heat.
The volunteers who manage the house have worked really hard to maintain it in the style that Marjorie put together over many years (right down to the closet that became a bar). They continue to grow oranges and take care of the garden she kept outside her kitchen window. Her second husband allowed them to use much of her original furniture, right down to this adorable juicer in the kitchen. The beds are hers as well, and we were told some fascinating stories of the people who slept there while visiting Marjorie, including Zora Neale Hurston, Margaret Mitchell, and Robert Frost. They said that Gregory Peck also stayed there, but if you saw the length of that bed in the guest room, you'd share my serious doubts. Her cast iron stove also remains, and in the winter, the rangers and volunteers cook recipes from Marjorie's cookbook, Cross Creek Cookery. A copy of the book is propped open in her kitchen to a recipe of hers the volunteers like to make for an "utterly deadly southern pecan pie," which I've already decided I must return to the farm for in December. There's another, supposedly less-deadly, recipe on the facing page, but why would I be interested in that? There's another porch off the kitchen facing the side of the house, where Marjorie often received visitors of prepared food on its way into the kitchen. There was a very cool icebox out there, filled by trips to Hawthorne for fresh ice. I will add refrigeration to my list of things to appreciate about the time period in which I live.
The house itself is darling, with a kitchen window overlooking the garden and a dining room table overlooking the outhouse (which explains, the Ranger told us, why she always sat at the head of the table, refusing to let anyone else sit there at her dinner parties--she didn't want them to have to eat with a view of the outhouse).
It took years for Marjorie to pull all this together, buying and improving things a little at a time as she sold her work. But she was this close to having to throw in the towel when she sold The Yearling. Oh, she wrote other novels and many stories, but The Yearling won a Pulitzer Prize for fiction in 1939 and was made into a movie a few years later, earning her a permanent place in literary history. Only then was she financially comfortable on her farm. And what a beautiful farm it is.
Marjorie certainly wasn't any more perfect than the rest of us. She had a long-time companion named Idella Parker she called "the perfect maid," but theirs was a complicated relationship, despite how much she decried the state of race relations among Southerners. When Zora Neale Hurston visited Cross Creek, she was made to stay in the tenant house with Idella. Marjorie was sued by a friend she made the very day she arrived in Florida, Zelma Cason, for the way she described Zelma's son in one of Marjorie's stories. Her second husband, who owned a hotel in St. Augustine, didn't much care for Cross Creek, and Marjorie didn't much care for his hotel (which is now home to Ripley's Believe It or Not Museum). So they pretty much lived apart half the year and used a place she'd bought at Crescent Beach as their "permanent home." No, she wasn't perfect but she certainly was interesting.
Our tour ended back outside, and we walked around the property a little bit. It really is beautiful. Marjorie lived life a little hard and eventually, it caught up with her. She spent much of the last years of her life at a place she bought in New York where she completed what turned out to be her final novel. She was back in St. Augustine, distraught over the recent death of her editor and friend, Maxwell Perkins, getting ready to start a new book she she died of a cerebral hemorrhage. She left the farm at Cross Creek to the University of Florida to be used as a writer's retreat, but I can't imagine anyone was surprised to find that college students don't take the same care with historic places as other folks, and eventually, it was given to the state and turned into a state park.
Visiting Rawlings' farm made me feel like I was truly getting a taste of something that was uniquely Florida. That might seem odd, considering she wasn't from Florida, but her fondness for native Floridians and their land is reflected in her writings, and visiting the farm made me a part of it.
Many libraries around the country participate, in their own way, in a Battle of the Books program. It usually involves teens reading a few selected young adult books and then competing in some way to see who knows them better. There are judges, time keepers, and coaches. The kids really take this seriously (not to mention their parents), and it can be a very intense event.
The Alachua County Library District held it's annual Battle of the Books tournament this past weekend. Seven teams, each representing their home branch library, competed to see who could correctly answer the most questions correctly about:
All of these are excellent books that could be enjoyed by teens and adults alike. The teens in our branches have spent the summer reading these books and studying them, with librarians serving as coaches. They've quizzed each other, created flash cards, done dry runs...there's no doubt these kids are out to win. Oh, and they have fun, too.
A couple of months ago, my boss asked me if I might be able to help bring in a children's or young adult author to speak at ACLD in order to spend out some funding by the end of our fiscal year. I am lucky and grateful to know the adult library marketing folks for the major publishers, and I'd talked to some other librarians at a recent conference about how to make an offer to come speak appealing to your favorite authors. Maybe I could use some of these connections and techniques to convince a youth author to come to Gainesville, at which time our fantastic and incredibly creative children's staff would take over the planning.
I once again have to send virtual flowers to the fine folks at the Macmillan Speaker's Bureau, who responded to my query with a list of possibilities. Several were intriguing, and I was rather impressed that I might actually have a chance to meet some of these awesome writers. I showed the list to our youth services manager, who immediately pointed to one. "Oh, look," she said casually, "Marissa Meyer. She'd be my choice. You know, with Battle of the Books coming up."
I paused. How did I miss this? Of course! How amazing would that be? To have the author of one of the Battle of the Books actually AT the battle? OMG. But could we actually pull it off? The battle was only about six weeks away. Bringing in an author involves contracts and money and arrangements at the local bed and breakfast during wedding season. I wasn't sure we could do it, but it was definitely worth a try.
And sure enough, it worked. Marissa graciously agreed to come cheer the kids on during the afternoon of August 2. I had the great pleasure of telling the staff member coordinating Battle of the Books that Marissa would be attending, and even better, seeing the lit up face of a teen she was working with at the time, get the news. These kids were going to be SO excited, and it's thrilling to be a part of that. Several of us poured over flight possibilities, as Marissa was coming all the way to Gainesville from Seattle, and she needed to be back the afternoon after the contest. The Macmillan folks were fantastic, turning over paperwork and arrangements immediately. Erin, the youth services manager, agreed to drive an hour and a half to Jacksonville to pick her up from the flight that ended up working best. Contracts were signed, brunch with the teen librarians was had, and Marissa arrived for the battle with a huge smile on her face.
Her smile is truly the first thing you notice about Marissa, as it's big and wide and genuine. It didn't take long at all for the kids to start crowding around her, asking for autographs and pictures (in fact, she signed the back of a couple of the teens' team shirts). Booksamillion sold books, and the rep ended up leaving early because he'd sold everything he brought. Marissa mingled for a while as we talked with a couple of reporters and got everyone signed in. She asked if I'd put her purse away somewhere, to which I readily agreed, only to spin around in a circle trying to decide the safest place to store it. Finally, I decided to take it back down to my office. Walking past the children's desk, I caught the attention of the one chidren's staff member not upstairs and pointed at the purse. "It's Marissa Meyer's purse!" I mouthed, pointing to the bag in question. She nodded, no doubt agreeing that this was exciting, but possibly wondering why a purse was the most important part of this visit.
I made my way back up to the conference room, where Marissa began a presentation to the teens. It can be hard to engage teenagers, but these guys and their families were at full attention. Marissa had prepared a PowerPoint presentation in which she described the process she went through to get to a place where she had a completed novel she was proud of and thought could be successful. It seems that Marissa pretty much always wanted to be a writer, and despite being certain she could be published and making money off her writing by the time she graduated high school, she showed us a long list of novels she started but which, for various reasons, weren't completed or weren't something she wanted to submit to an agent. It was a great message for the teens to hear that, when you really want to do something, it's worth continuing to try and learn to do it better but not let failure stop you from trying again.
And then the competition began! I was serving as one of three judges, and I'm not sure I wasn't at least as nervous as the teens. I found myself wishing I could be sitting with each team, giving them advice, making sure they understood what the question as looking for. Marissa helped us with some pronunciation, and how many people can say the author herself told you how to say letumosis? After each round, we took a break. We had planned that Marissa would make her way to each team's table to chat with them personally, but I don't think she actually made it to any of them because they all came to her first. She was quite generous and animated with the teens, parents, and staff members who were all having fan-reader moments.
But the end had to come, and when the final numbers came in, our team from Tower Road branch came in first. They, and the second place team, won signed copies of Marissa's newest book in the series, Cress. Truly, all the teams were great, and it was a lot of fun to see them talking so intensely as they agreed on the answer to write down. If there was a favorite, it might have been the team of one, who chose not to join up with another team, but worked diligently through the whole thing, holding her pen over her answer board thoughtfully before finalizing each answer. Her mother told me she was a little shy, but I saw her getting to talk to Marissa, and I can only hope that's a memory she holds on to for a long time.
The end of the day was filled with last bits of signing and picture taking, including this one of all the participants. I had walked around to each table, taking pictures and asking the teens which of the three was their favorite books. And even after I pushed back at them a little disbelievingly, they all said the same thing: Marissa Meyer's Cinder.
The
title of this entry might lead you to believe I'm finally saving a date
to write in my blog. So let me start with a slight aside and say
that, it's true I've had a bit of a break, but I've got lots of stuff to
write about, and a bunch of pictures to show you (some of which are slightly more embarrassing than others), and if you'll forgive it being a little out of order, I'm
ready to try to catch you up. 
So what does Save the Date refer to? Fans of Mary Kay Andrews will immediately recognize this as the title of her most recent novel, released in June. Mary Kay came to my library a few weeks ago to speak and spend an afternoon talking about and with sassy, southern women. Wait? What? Some of you are thinking, you did this already, right? Didn't Mary Kay come to speak at your library about ten years ago? Are you sure you're not mixing the libraries up? Well, yes, yes she did. But one engagement with Mary Kay is not nearly enough, so I put in a proposal with the too-wonderful-to-be-true folks at the Macmillan Speakers Bureau to bring her to my current library, too. I may or may not have stalked her just a little bit until she said yes.Mary Kay Andrews is a pseudonym for Kathy Trocheck, who wrote ten
critically acclaimed mysteries about a house cleaner named Callahan
Garrity back in the 90’s. As Mary Kay Andrews, she’s turned to writing
about sassy southern women who I’ve often wish could be my best friends
(I would wish I could be those sassy women themselves, but they tend to
get into a lot of trouble, and I think I’m safer on the sidelines). Ladies Night,
which takes place in Bradenton, FL, starts out with a splash when Grace
Stanton discovers her husband has been cheating on her, and in a
perfectly understandable reaction, drives his convertible into the pool.
Anyone who’s enjoyed a bottle of Cheerwine, made in the small town of
Salisbury, NC, will love spending time in Mary Kay’s fictional town of
Pascoe, NC, home of the Quixie Beverage Company, where, in Spring Fever,
Annajane Hudgins thinks she’s over her ex-husband...until she attends
his next wedding. And no one can call herself a Mary Kay Andrews fan
until she’s tagged along with best friends Weezie and BeBe (whose
mother, exhausted from having had eight previous children in ten years,
had settled upon the name BeBe with the French pronunciation of Bay-Bay
for her ninth child) in Savannah Blues, Savannah Breeze, Blue Christmas, and Christmas Bliss. Andrews’ newest book, Save the Date follows wedding florist Cara Kryzik as she tries to
save her business and a budding new romance. These funny, sharp titles,
along with Summer Rental, Hissy Fit, Little Bitty Lies, and Deep Dish, are great beach reads.
I first met Mary Kay (and I'm going to call her Mary Kay because, even though her real name is Kathy, I'm easily confused and need to pick one and stick with it) about ten years ago when I worked as an adult
services librarian in Raleigh, NC. I knew I had to invite her to speak
to our readers when I heard her on NPR answering a phone caller’s
question of whether or not men can have hissy fits with the obvious
answer: of course they can. They’re called conniptions. She
gracious agreed to come to my library, and she was as delightful a
speaker as she is a writer. I ran into her again a few months ago at a
national library conference (where, incidentally, she ended up sitting
at a dinner table with my boss and a bottle of wine while I was in the back of the room).
When I finally fought my way up front, she said she would be thrilled to
come to Gainesville, and by the way, would we have time to visit any
antique stores? Mary Kay is a lifelong “junker” who claims to know the
location of every thrift store, flea market, and junk pile in the
southeastern United States, and a few parts of Ohio.
The process of bringing Mary Kay to Gainesville was fraught with paperwork but eventually came to be. The only part that made me nervous was the fact that I was picking her up at the airport at 10pm on a Saturday night, and anyone who knows me knows that this is dangerously close to bedtime for me. To make it a little easier, I stopped by the fabulous Sweetwater Inn Bed and Breakfast to check her in so that all she would have to do on arrival is go on up to her room. I briefly considered barricading myself in Julia's room (because gorgeous bed and breakfast suites must have a name) and refusing to come out, sending Mary Kay home to share a bed with Sasha, but I eventually persuaded myself to step away from the hardwood. With the slight exception of her plane having to be towed in the last few feet to the gate, Mary Kay's arrival was smooth and we chatted amiably as I took her to Sweetwater.
The next morning, I picked her up, ready for a short tour of Gainesville before plans for Sunday brunch with some book club members. We'd not gotten three blocks before Mary Kay called out "Stop! Yard sale! Stop!" After a couple of circles while we debated which way the arrows were pointing, we made a quick visit to a local yard sale that had pretty much already been picked over. But it is with great pleasure that I can say that I went to a yard sale with the best junker outside of HGTV.
We made it to brunch at Leonardo's 706, a fantastic local restaurant offering a choice of a buffet or brunch off the menu. They also have this great fresh orange juice with nutmeg and a ton of other fancy stuff, except that I also had to order a mimosa to get the other fancy stuff I wanted. I had invited members of my book club and my boss's book club to join us, so we spent an hour gabbing about favorite books and the merits of Amazon. The food is fabulous, and we spent a good bit of time comparing the buffet to the entrees off the menu. My five cheese omelet was going to need to be split in half and provide dinner as well. A great time had by all, we took some pics and headed for our Millhopper branch, where Mary Kay was scheduled to speak.
We were a little unsure of what to expect in terms of attendance. We had high hopes, of course, and were quite optimistic for a good turnout. We'd done a lot of publicity, including a local NPR radio show on Friday afternoon. The Millhopper branch meeting room holds about 100 people, and the goal was to fill it without "going over." Walking up the sidewalk to the entrance, I peeked under the blinds to see a flurry of feet walking around the meeting room. Woo hoo! Good numbers, judging by the shoes. We made our way in, and I stopped for a moment to give huge thanks to our Millhopper branch and Facilities department staffs, who had prepared the room, put out lemonade, and generally gotten set up so that Mary Kay and I could enter like the princesses we are. Looking around, I saw that most of the chairs were full, so I started to snag one for our guest of honor. "Would you like to have a seat before we get started?" I offered.
Mary Kay waved her hand. "Oh, no, honey, I want to talk around and talk to these lovely people!" And off she went, talking with patrons, even questioning one gentleman as to whether he'd gotten lost and found himself in a room full of women. We pulled in a few more chairs from the children's area (it's okay, they were more colorful than they were short) and watched as people filled the room. Many lined up to purchase Mary Kay's titles from a local BooksaMillion, so there were happy faces all around.
When the time came to introduce Mary Kay, I explained that our patrons were in for a fun afternoon but they couldn't necessarily believe everything they heard. "You know, Mary Kay was on NPR on Friday and told the interviewer she was almost a Gator, coming here to UF [insert cheers here], but her dad said it was too wild, and he didn't want her to go to a party school, so she went to UGA instead." I paused. "When I picked her up at the airport last night, I told her that I went to the University of Georgia, too, and she didn't have me fooled for a minute." Mary Kay took the floor, describing the process she went to transition from a journalist who'd covered the trials serving as the basis of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil to a novelist. Her protagonists are strong southern women, and Mary Kay shared that she writes books in which they create homes. These women are decorators and chefs and vintage connoisseurs who make a place in which they belong. Mary Kay is a proud mom and grandma, and the worlds she writes are full of these kinds of women--mature, capable, and occasionally just a tiny bit dysfunctional.
Despite having been speaking and answering questions for more than an hour, Mary Kay moved to the sales table and signed books. A few book clubs attended and got their picture taken with Mary Kay. We counted and realized we'd had 109 people attend, a good number on any day. Our patrons genuinely had a good time, chatting with Mary Kay, each other, and in one instance, the shelver who came in to help restack the chairs. On the ride back to the airport, we chatted like old friends. Mary Kay had actually had a speaking engagement earlier in the day prior while her family held a yard sale, flew to Gainesville while they took the remainder to the thrift shop, and was coming back to continue the process of selling her house and moving into a house around the corner. I guess my expression asked "Around the corner?" because she quickly said it was a long story but would be a wonderful new house with a yard for the grandkids. I dropped her off at arrivals and watched Mary Kay Andrews (OMG, Mary Kay Andrews!) walk into Gainesville's three gate airport.
I truly cannot thank Mary Kay enough for coming to hang out with us on a Sunday afternoon. She's absolutely delightful, and it's a rare event to get to meet one of your favorite authors.
