Remembering the tiny details
Earl Grey, Babe Ruth, and other memorable gifts of being seen and known
I’m thinking about how we love each other in specific ways. We learn the details of each other’s lives, get to know the exact tastes of our loved ones, while also leaving room for growth and evolution over time.
My friends text me “sky alert” photos- of full moons, sunrises, sunsets, and any particularly beautiful clouds. There was a lovely sunset as I wrote this-the sky was golden, with purple and blue clouds ringed with pink. I kept pausing to watch the progression, as the sky darkened, my heart full of awe at the beauty of our world.
At a family gathering, my mom brought me a cup of tea the exact way I like it: Earl Grey, the tea bag barely steeped, just dipped for a moment or two, with skim milk and no sugar, and my cousin, sitting beside me on the couch, watched this with quiet wonder. “Wow, she murmured, “what a gift to be loved like that.”
Someone who loved me bought me a stuffed corgi, because he knew I hope to have a real one someday. I don’t have many memories of my maternal grandma, who died when I was a toddler, but I know her taste in treats-marzipan, Mounds bars, Florentine cookies, stories and recipes passed along from her children.
My 7th grade teacher, who moved away at the end of the school year, sent our class a gift the following fall, in October 2004, when the Red Sox won the World Series for the first time in decades. She mailed us an envelope full of Babe Ruth bars to celebrate the win, with a separate little package of fruit candy for the one student who had a peanut allergy. I remember being so moved by her thoughtfulness.
My friend and I have a tradition of going to shops on Independent Bookstore Day, the last weekend in April. This year, I wasn’t up to going in person, so she did a video call with me from the store and asked the owner of the shop to wave and say hi. There was a scavenger hunt with a prize of a free tote bag, so she asked for an extra one for me. Afterward, my friend came and visited on my back porch and brought me a bag of bookstore treats. We both got a mystery book to unwrap, and she knows what types of books I like, so it was a perfect match. What a gift to be loved like that.
At the prison program, I work on wish lists and what we call “special requests.” When people ask for unusual topics, which would not be found in our library of donated books, those requests will get set aside for me. Then, I’ll choose a book or two for that person, and put it on the online wish list. When the book is purchased, we send it to the reader, with a note telling them that the book was bought especially for them. Special requests range from specific religious material, health resources, languages and cultures, and job training skills like raising goats, or starting a food truck. It means a lot to our recipients that we made the extra effort to find the exact title or subject people want to learn about. Our donors also enjoy the personal connection of buying the exact book that someone asked for.
There is an incarcerated man named John who always asks for just one thing--books about pigeons (no other birds). He has written once or twice a year, for five years running. John has read every book we have sent him-eight in the past few years, including nonfiction, memoirs, and historical fiction about messenger pigeons during wartime. It turns out there aren’t a ton of books about pigeons, so I’m running out of options for the next time he asks. Now, pigeons make me think of this man I’ve never met. “John would like this place”, I think, as I watch pigeons surround a group of small children throwing French fries on the beach sidewalk. I look at these under-appreciated city dwellers with new eyes, because of John’s interest in them.
Early in the pandemic, I did outreach to the 40 people on death row in Mississippi. I wanted to let them know about our program and to send a message that they aren’t alone. One of the men who responded to my letter was KJ. He wrote: “I taught myself to read and write here (in prison). I’m going to speak of a book I want badly. The lady that wrote this book, Jo Jo Moyes, I’ve read all her books but one. There’s a book that was written before this one called Honeymoon in Paris. This is the one I want! Everybody tells me they can’t find it or it’s too much (money).” He explained that he had read every other book by that author and he keeps the books that he likes, including a whole set of Jo Jo’s books.
I decided I needed to track down this one book, so I set to work. First, I wrote to the publisher, who told me it was only published as an ebook and audiobook in the US and is now out of print. I tried printing off a copy online, but the prison returned it for having too many loose pages. Finally, I ended up buying a used paperback copy from Germany. I shared this story on social media and was amazed that the author saw the post! She wrote: “Every now and then, you get a message that hits hard. This was one of them for me. I hope KJ enjoys the book.” I wonder which meant more to him-the book itself or knowing that someone made a real effort to attain it. That story still stands out to me of the magic of connection, and I couldn't believe I got to be the one who linked KJ to the book and to his favorite author, who read about his story.
Do you have a story of how someone showed up for you in a small but memorable way? Share in the comments.
Wishing you the kind of love that sees you for all your particularities. Let’s show up for ourselves, for each other and for the collective in specific and tangible ways.
In solidarity,
Katie
P.S. If you’d like to donate the exact book someone asked for, check out the prison program’s wish list at a local bookstore. Until May 14, every book purchase will be matched!
Katie, your work for Prison Books is a wonderful benefit to people who have few. It sounds like it requires patience and thoughtfulness and attention to detail - no wonder you are uniquely good at it.
This is just luminous, Katie.