Remembering Tony Hillerman

I can't remember when I read my first Tony Hillerman novel, but I was hooked and read every one as soon as it came out. I'm proud to say that I even have two autographed books of his. Thanks to him, I know so much more about the Southwest and its cultures than I would have merely driving through. He wrote good stories with characters I care about and taught me about my neighbors' ways.







In spite of all his acclaim
and failing health in later years, he continued to help new writers and was always a gentleman.

My former workplace, an academic library, celebrated his 80th birthday with a special display in the foyer. We had a card at the check-out desk for people to sign. One student wrote that Hillerman had saved his grandfather's life back in WWII. We sent the card to Hillerman's publisher and soon after received a reply. Hillerman remembered the incident differently. In his typical, humble way, he refused hero status and thought maybe it was the student's grandfather who had saved Hillerman.

A friend who worked in Oklahoma when Hillerman was beginning his career says proudly, "I knew Tony Hillerman before he was Tony Hillerman!"

Though the world will miss Tony Hillerman's physical presence, I'm thankful that his view of life and love of the Southwest will live on in his books.

Read the New York Times' story here, the University of New Mexico story here, and a story from the LA Times Book section here.

The Transformative Power of Reading

Luis Soriano, a teacher from La Gloria, Columbia, packs his two burros with books to lend to villagers in the area. His "biblioburros" are much awaited and open doors to both the outside world and the world within. He has witnessed the "transformative power of reading" as a teacher and as a lender of books. Paul Coehlo's books are the most popular, but people read a vast array of fiction, non-fiction, and poetry. He started the project himself. It has grown into a 4,800 volume collection thanks to donors. He has suffered physical injury and threats. Yet he continues because he knows that books and reading change people's lives. Read the New York Times story about Soriano here.



His story reminds me of author Margriet Ruurs' award-winning book for children, My Librarian is a Camel. Its text and photos show the unusual ways children receive books around the world. It also shows children's eagerness to read. See more about the book here.

We take for granted our ability to read and our access to print and online materials. Give thanks for the ways reading enriches our lives!

Bending Over Backwards

Trees grow and endure under all kinds of conditions. Sometimes harsh conditions or difficulties cause trees to take more interesting shapes than their unstressed counterparts. The same can be true for people. Unlike trees, we have a choice in the way we respond to troubles. Living through difficulties can make us stronger, more compassionate, and more human. Choosing bitterness and vengeance does not enrich us.

I call this photo, taken at nearby Beaver Creek Nature Area, "Bending Over Backwards." What titles would you give it?

Go Big or Go Home

Previous posts attest to my fondness for South Dakota's Black Hills. Young adult author Will Hobbs found it such a compelling place he set his latest novel, Go Big or Go Home, in Hill City. It's an exciting story about a teenage boy, Brady, who has a meteorite crash right into his bed! A consultation with a scientist at the Hill City museum reveals that the meteorite originated on Mars and may contain dormant life forms. The title is taken from extreme sports, and both of the main characters get into some extreme situations. I won't reveal more of the plot except to say that it is a fun read containing astrobiology, geology, astronomy, biology, family & friends, enemies, disease, history, recreation, teen scenes, humor, and more. As usual, Will jam-packs his books with facts in such a subtle way that readers don't know they are learning. Also as usual, he does extensive research, and South Dakota readers appreciate that he got the Black Hills exactly right.

Will and his wife, Jean, live in Durango, Colorado, and I was pleased to meet them several years ago. Our paths still cross from time to time, including this week in Chamberlain at the South Dakota Library Association Conference. It was a special audience for Will, as the librarian at Lead helped inspire the story.

Find out more about Will and his books here.

Advice from a Wagonmaster

An historic trail ride was re-enacted this summer to commemorate the 100th birthday of the Ft. Pierre to Deadwood Trail. This trail from prairie to mountains served as a freight-hauling route from 1874 to 1908. Some passengers arrived in Deadwood via this route, too, as stagecoaches clattered across the land.

The trail today is marked with signs, but even without them wagon ruts are visible in the prairie grass along the highway. This summer, a maximum of 300 people per day rode horses or drove wagons in pioneer style to experience the approximately 200-mile trip in a non-motorized way. After 17 days, the wagonmaster and his followers arrived in Deadwood. A participant told me that it was fun, but she was glad to get back to the comforts of home. I'm guessing everyone gained a new respect for the early settlers and appreciated our modern conveniences more than ever. In respect to copyright, I'll direct you here to see pictures.


Before they began their journey, the wagonmaster spoke to the participants and those gathered to send them off. He cautioned them that many things could go wrong. Inconveniences, potential injuries, insects, varmints, and bad weather could befall them. Traveling with a lot of people and animals is not an easy task, and they would get in each other's way at times. "Patience and courtesy," he admonished, would get them through. "Patience and courtesy."

Seems to me that society as a whole could benefit from the wagonmaster's advice and make the world a tad more civil.

For more about the trail and the trail ride, click here.

? for President

The poltical conventions are upon us, and we will be even more deluged with political news, views, previews,and reviews until after the elections. Let's take a deep breath before we dive into all this and lighten up for a minute.

I loved ShelfTalker's blog post (bookseller Alison Morris) from August 6. What fictional character would you want in the White House? Read the post and comments below the post, then post your own comments here or to me on email. Choose running mates and an entire cabinet if you like. Have fun and let the voting begin!!

Might I suggest:

Left to right: Secretary of Defense, Secretary of State, Vice President, President

Of Wormholes and Life

When a group of 13 intrepid hikers set out on Doc's Super Hike in the Black Hills, we had no idea how challenging it would be. This unmarked hike was developed years ago by a man who liked to squirm through small spaces he called "wormholes." This hike was up, down, over, under, and through granite, creeks, bogs, sheer cliffs, fallen trees, and slippery pine cones. By the time it was over, we all felt we'd accomplished something. Many of us had scrapes and bruises to prove either the difficulty of the hike or our lack of coordination.

The wormholes our hiking guide took us through were each different--rock passageways so small as to be unnoticeable to the average passerby. A person can fit through there? A friend said that in New Hampshire these places were referred to as "lemon squeezers," an apt name considering how the granite grated our skin!

Each wormhole along the trail posed its own challenges. Some were easier for tall folks, some for short. Some tested balance and coordination more than others. We all made it through--not to go through would have been even more difficult!--with the help of the others. Helping hands, boosts, pulls, grabbing packs, and giving directions made us a triumphant team by the end of the journey.

One wormhole was especially difficult because I couldn't see where I was going. My head was above the rock and my shoulders squeezed and twisted through the opening. My arms struggled to hold me up while my feet sought purchase on rock below--if there WAS rock below! Was it far? Would I fall? If I fell, would I be okay? Could I breathe going through the tunnel? How badly would I get scraped? Finally, like the hikers before & after me, I let myself go, found the foothold, and scrambled out into daylight.

Our guide remarked that the wormhole was a test of faith. He's right. I have learned that in wormholes--and in life--in the darkest of times, if I keep going, the light will come.