library ladders and a good writer

I just read a delight­ful piece in the times. I had­n’t real­ly been cap­tured by one of the CITY arti­cles quite like this one. The writ­ing con­jured up sounds and smells that made me feel quite warm inside, like a silky bit­ter hot cocoa. The piece was writ­ten by Car­o­line H. Dworin whose oth­er work can be found at her web­site. You should read her work, because as she so sim­ply says, ” She is a good writer, and she means well.”

This sto­ry remind­ed me of the moments in Har­ry Pot­ter where he goes to Mr. Olli­van­der wand shop. Mr Olli­van­der climbs a lad­der and reach­es around many card­board box­es look­ing for Har­ry’s wand. I also thought of the numer­ous fab­u­lous art stores with wood­en floors and lad­ders to reach stores of lith­o­g­ra­phy inks and papers.

This is just one of the glo­ri­ous insights into a place where time stands still and qual­i­ty of mate­ri­als and prod­uct are part of what defines the Put­nam culture.

This floor is an orphan­age of bro­ken lad­ders, the bleak­er ver­sion of those below. Gregg still res­cues lad­ders from clos­ing busi­ness­es, and some­times even buys them back for $25 or $50. Once, while hav­ing din­ner in a down­town restau­rant, he spied one through the win­dow of a clos­ing book­shop, and wrote a let­ter to the own­er ask­ing to reclaim it. His friends and fam­i­ly are mys­ti­fied by this abil­i­ty to pick out his lad­ders from a dis­tance, as if respond­ing to some low-fre­quen­cy cry.

Most­ly I thought of this mag­i­cal way that the lad­ders still speak to their makers.

You might want to order a lad­der while you still can. Who knows how much longer they can hold off progress.

Blogged with the Flock Brows­er

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