| Lookout
Point
Puppet performances continue through decades
As
a child, Sue Danielson attended puppet shows at the Ishpeming Carnegie Public
Library (ICPL). Now, after twenty-two years in the Ishpeming public school system,
she’s back at the ICPL keeping the tradition going, with the help of a little
twenty-first century innovation.
Danielson became the children’s librarian
in June of this year. Before that she made the difficult choice of retiring from
her job as K-4 librarian at Birchview and Central elementary schools.
“I
wasn’t going to retire unless I had something else,” Danielson said.
Then, one day as she was jogging, she swung by the library to return a book
and overheard Cindy Mack, library director, talking about the need for a new children’s
librarian. At first, Danielson thought the job would be good for her daughter,
a laid-off kindergarten teacher.
“I thought maybe, just until she was
back into teaching, she’d be interested,” Danielson said. “So I
go off jogging and I’m thinking, ‘That was my answer. That was for me.’
So I turned around and went right back.”
Although Mack was very pleased
that Danielson was interested in the job, there were twenty-five other applicants,
so Danielson didn’t make the final decision to retire from the school system
until she was sure she had the job.
“I let them know I was going to retire
and it was OK with everybody, but they said ‘can you work with us here and
get something going together?’” Danielson said.
So it all worked
out for everybody.
“Our schools are trying to get more into writing,”
Danielson said. “Our writing scores were way up and then they came down a
little bit, and we want to keep them way up. Our teachers really work hard with
that. I talked to them and they want us to get it so the kids can write their
own plays and puppet shows, so we can get some writing in the after-school program.
I’m going to go into the schools and talk about it so we can work together.”
Danielson
and the schools hope to work together with the after-school book clubs to engage
all age groups with the preschool story hour, the after school programs and the
teen room upstairs at the ICPL.
“As far as the teen room, I’m not
really involved up there, so I’ve asked the teens to come down here to help
out,” Danielson said. “They love that. If they can put on the plays
and help with the plays, and, be like the big brothers and big sisters to the
young kids, they just eat that up.
“I grew up here with the puppet shows
and never forgot it. I did quite a bit with puppets at the school. Mostly hand
puppets, not the kind you have a stage for (like the stage used with the marionettes
at the ICPL). Just about every story we had had a puppet or some kind of antic
I’d put with it.”
Marionettes are new to her and she’s working
to define what the shows will be.
“Some of the old fairy tales are a little
bit scary,” Danielson said.
Danielson is working with high school kids
and third, fourth and fifth graders to rework some of the old tales.
One play
she and the elementary kids had success with this summer was The Ham Family, a
rewrite of the three little pigs in which the big bad wolf wasn’t so bad.
In fact, he was a vegetarian just looking for new friends, and the pigs were raised
by a single mother who sent them off to college before they returned to build
their various houses.
“[The kids] made up a really good play and we put
it on this summer,” she said. “We had a really big crowd for it. In
the story, the mom just said it was time to go. But the kids said they should
be going off to college, so they all went off to college deciding to be different
things.”
The kids had the brick house pig become a teacher, the stick
house pig wanted to be a cook and the straw house pig decided to run a video arcade.
The kids went on to create this version with the wolf being the pig’s helper.
“They
just did a great job,” she said.
After twenty-two years with kids, Danielson
still loves working with them, which is why she took the job.
“It’s
a little less commitment time-wise, plus I still have all the things I love,”
Danielson said.
When she told the kids she wouldn’t be returning, they
were sad, but she invited them to come see her at the ICPL, and they did. So she
told them to come back and they would put on a play. So they kept coming back;
mostly fourth and fifth graders wrote The Ham Family.
“Mary-Ellen Martin
was one that really, she gave it the name, ‘The Ham Family,’ and she
really got into it,” she said. “And we had some second graders on through
fifth graders acting and putting it on.”
This month, the Ishpeming Carnegie
Public Library will resume its long-running series of Saturday afternoon puppet
shows. The shows begin at 2:00 p.m. starting October 3.
The shows featuring
marionettes, many handmade locally, began in the ’60s.
“The shows
have remained a staple in our library programming ever since,” library director
Cindy Mack said. “We average about twenty-five puppet shows a year and we
have about 700 attendees.”
The ICPL is one of sixty-one Carnegie-funded
libraries in Michigan. The City of Ishpeming has had a library of its own since
1874 and the Carnegie library was built in 1904 at a cost of $30,000.
“We
have a beautiful building—Roman Doric columns in the front, terrazzo marble
floors, glass floors on the second story and a stained glass skylight, and a great
deal of the facility’s original woodwork and trim,” Mack said.
Danielson
is adding a readers theater and family craft time to the program.
“I
miss my readers from the school library,” she said. “This is an invitation
to them and other interested schoolers, potential actors, authors or anyone wanting
to have some fun at their library. On Fridays, we will have our after-school play
and puppet show practice for Saturday’s Readers’ Theater performances.
We will have various plays and puppet shows, from traditional fairy tales to our
own versions of the classics.”
“The Ishpeming Carnegie Public Library
puppet shows have been a part of the life of the library since I was a small child,”
Paul Olson, ICPL board president, said. “I remember attending the puppet
shows as a kid, and it was a real treat to be able to bring my own daughter to
them as well.”
“Imagination is critical for children because it is
the first step toward reading comprehension. That is, if you cannot picture what
you are reading in your mind as you read the words, you will never be able to
comprehend the text. Puppets seem to engage a child’s imagination in a way
that nothing else does.”
“Danielson is well known by many area children
and is developing some great children’s programming,” said ICPL board
member Kathryn Geier.
“The library staff is doing an excellent job of
serving the community, even though budget constraints have stretched personnel
resources to the limit,” Geier said.
Mack said that over the last three
years, library use has increased by twenty percent, computer use has increased
twenty-five percent, programming has increased thirty percent and circulation
has increased twenty percent.
“These increases are even more interesting
when you take into account this was with a reduced number of hours and fewer staff,”
Mack said.
The Ishpeming Library is much loved by people who grew up in the
area.
“It has the charm and uniqueness of a Carnegie library that’s
been around for over 100 years, but it’s also a twenty-first century library
providing public access to high speed Internet and a wide variety of resources,”
Geier said.
Summer activities wrapped up in September with the Teddy Bear Picnic
at Old Ish. Fall events include the puppet shows, ’Twas the Night Before
Thanksgiving with Tiny Turkey, The Fancy Nancy Tea Party and Social—kids
bring a grandparent or other special person—Family nights and the Halloween
Ball. More information on these and other activities is available at the library
and the City of Ishpeming Web site.
This year the library launched its “Preserving
Our Past, Ensuring Our Future” fundraising campaign. The project will raise
funds for building maintenance and upkeep. The goal is to raise $100,000 over
the next two years.
“It is a pretty large undertaking,” Mack said.
“There are no plans to do infrastructure changes, just maintenance and repairs
in our building. Our goal is to maintain the library’s historic integrity.”
Funds
will be used to paint, repair chipped plaster, install energy efficient windows,
update the electrical system and add Internet outlets.
Contact the library
at 486-4381 or ckariniemi@uproc.lib.mi for details or to make tax-deductible donations.
—Larry
Alexander
Tipi
life offers unique rewards, challenges
Looking up, my gaze is involuntarily
funneled to an oblong patch of sky beyond an opening high above me. The silky-smooth
blonde surfaces of the poles erected in the shape of a cone have a way of guiding
the eye upward as effortlessly as smoke. I am standing in a tipi, a reality that
no longer seems out of the ordinary.
Deciding to work at Dancing Crane Farm
for the summer satisfied two pronounced passions in my life. First, lending a
hand would enable the farm to reach its full potential to make a difference in
the health of the community I called home. Second, spending time living cyclically
and realizing the true reason for every season would teach me my place among all
the elements that provide for my existence.
So began my search for housing
options in Skandia. Possibilities came and were rejected. Some were too far away
from the farm and others took too long to construct. A serendipitous listing on
craigslist decided my future as a tipi dweller, and it was an experience in simplistic,
although not simple, living from there on out.
With the hand-sewn canvas cover
for the tipi purchased sans the polls for the frame, I set out to cut the necessary
trees in early April. A week later, I had my twenty-three fifteen-foot poles cut,
stripped and drying with snow still on the ground as well as many sticky, stubborn
sap blotches covering my skin. By the end of the month, each pole was carefully
sanded and the process was complete. From the beginning, the labor-intensive work
insured my attachment to and pride in what would eventually become my home.
In
mid-May the tipi was raised, a process said to take a single adept Native American
woman only twenty minutes. For three amateurs, it took most of a day.
The
poles had to be crossed in the correct pattern and tilted at the correct angle
to accommodate the canvas, a feat harder to accomplish than to say. Then, the
inner lining that creates a kind of wall—originally used to prevent casting
shadows on the outer wall that enemies could target—had to be hung and secured
with rocks at the base.
When the outer canvas was finally erected, I sat alone
in the center with the last warm rays of softly diffused evening light filtering
in, foreshadowing the tranquility that would be found by living in such a space.
The
first few weeks in my new home yielded cold nights reaching lows of twenty-five.
My little homemade barrel stove valiantly roared with determination to warm its
territory. Most late evenings found me nestled among blankets and pillows against
my willow-rod backrest contentedly watching the firelight flicker warmly on the
canvas walls. Holding the fire all night was a different story, and I quickly
learned the value of an ozan, a kind of fabric drop ceiling that helped to keep
the heat in the sleeping space.
At the same time, work on the farm was getting
off to a frustrating start with hard frosts in June threatening to destroy the
previous two months of seed starting. Days ended with covering seedlings in the
greenhouses using double layers of remay. The volatile nature of the Upper Peninsula
growing season was becoming clear to me.
The arrival of spring is never more
tangible than it is when living in a Native American tipi. Everyday another bird’s
arrival added depth to the morning serenade I was treated to when no thick walls
separated us. Leeks and fiddleheads comprised an edible landscape of which I partook
on a daily basis, and subtle fragrances from emerging cherry and apple blossoms
found their way into my home. As the weeks passed, the deer grew accustomed to
the tipi as part of the landscape—and I would hear them snorting just outside
the canvas at night and eyeing me curiously as I emerged in the morning.
Rain,
the abundance of which I sincerely appreciated on behalf of the farm, was both
welcome and dreaded. It is suffice to say that repeated soakings of all your belongings
is frustrating and makes for an unsatisfying, wet, cold night’s sleep. Consequently,
were I to call the tipi home again, I would sacrifice the magnificence of the
long poles shooting skyward for the shorter utilitarian version that can be covered
with a rain cap.
When summer came, it brought with it a sense of urgency to
get plants and seeds in the soil. The fields were filled, row-by-row, plant-by-plant,
and I soon realized there would be no square inch of the two acres under cultivation
that I would not know intimately. I celebrated the soil on the soles of my feet
and the palms of my hands that proved my direct connection with the vegetables
that would feed me.
The namesake cranes of the farm flew into my view from
the tipi often, walking with their families through the field and calling in long,
low waves of otherworldly purring.
Other smaller creatures like caterpillars
and spiders began to share my home, and I had to rethink the socially ingrained
attitude that they did not belong in my space. With the warmer weather, the stove
could be moved outside, freeing up the center of the sixteen-foot diameter living
space.
At the peak of harvest, I carried in armloads of Bright Lights Swiss
Chard, Rainbow Carrots, Candy Onions and Dragon’s Tongue Beans with the pride
of a squirrel that had put in its time collecting and would now reap the benefits
in the dead of winter. Three meals a day could be had entirely from the bounty
of the farm.
Douglas William Jerrold said, “If you tickle the earth with
a hoe she laughs with a harvest,” a reality I delighted in firsthand every
time I sat down to a meal and secondhand when I passed along the laughter to customers
at markets.
Farming and tipi life are similar in their ability to incite pointed
examination of life. Neither hides its mechanisms behind sterile facades for the
sake of ease or comfort, and I found this to be satisfying on a physical and spiritual
level.
Gone were the neatly packaged bags of “baby” carrots, but
they were replaced with the full-bodied flavor of purple varieties just popped
out of the ground. No more did I have water at the turn of a handle to waste at
my leisure. Hauling it illustrated the unnecessary depth of my consumption, and
I soon wondered why I had ever used so much.
Simplistic living meant more
of my time was spent providing for myself than ever before, but I felt more alive,
happy and healthy as a result.
Now the end has come all too soon. The glade
where the tipi once stood is empty as I pack up to head out on a 100-day adventure
in India. The circumstances of my life are not likely to find me living in a tipi
on a farm again, but I always will be able to draw from the experience. No matter
where I live, my newfound sense of responsibility to lead a conscientious lifestyle
will forever serve me well. Fresh food and simple living are at the heart of a
good life, and I feel lucky to have made that discovery.
—Hannah Lantz Patience,
technology and our lives
There is one word in our language we have lost
touch with over the years. A word so simple it only takes a brief moment to sustain
it—that’s if we know how to use it. We learn the word through others,
like our parents or siblings or neighbors and most likely a teacher. We define
the word over the course of our life.
Patience is the quality of being patient.
We have to do this without complaint, loss of temper, irritation or apparent frustration.
Simply, it is a word that defines the world we are not living in.
With computers,
cell phones, the Internet, GPS systems and self-serve checkout lines, we wonder
whether we even have the slightest avenue available to make this word happen.
Think about all the things you depend upon right now that are technology-related
and all the little gadgets that process information; the same information our
brains could be processing, machines are processing.
If we lived for one minute
without the aid of technology, could it be done? Maybe not. You see people who
have gone over the edge now, the addiction level showing in public places, the
idea that one needs to be “connected” all the time, no matter where
the place. This driving desire to connect with information and with people has
become a blueprint for the next generation of technology users.
Our thirst
for technology does not end there. New words like “texting,” “twittering,”
“face-booking” and “e-mail” are slowly replacing basic human
interaction. There once was a time when two people would meet face-to-face—even
that has been replaced by an Internet meeting over a cable or phone line.
All
of this technology pressures us daily and has pushed patience aside. For instance,
the need to respond to an e-mail has now become a priority. When the cell phone
rings, there is the need to answer it. When your car says something to you, there
is the need to consider the problem it has pointed out. There is no “turn-off”
switch for technology; it runs 24/7 and never stops. We become immune to how this
technology has wrapped itself around our thoughts, emotions and feelings; it is
squeezing the life out of us. Others, however, don’t know there is a problem.
They just follow the instructions technology gives to them and go about their
day.
For a moment, let us not forget the generations before us. They used patience
as a way to deal with daily conflicts, stress and living conditions. People in
that time could be put into any situation, and they had this edge to look beyond
the bad and find good in something. The world was not “on-demand” or
“have-it-your-way.” The world had people who cared and had real feelings
and emotions.
We must try to find the balance again. The problem is we keep
letting technology interfere with daily living and survival. For example, the
computer is supposed to be a helpful tool; instead, it has grown into a massive
problem. The world now has people who can type a sentence, but not run a mile.
People have become addicted to their computers, cell phones and the Internet.
There are cyber-crimes that try to steal our identities and harm our children.
And even when we reach the top, there will be another piece of technology to stress
our minds.
How do we teach the next generation what this all means? What message
can we get to them that they will understand? Do we have to propose it through
a computer, a cell phone or twitter it? Whatever it takes—that’s the
mentality we need.
We start by admitting there is a problem and pledge to make
a difference to solve it. It would be easy for us just to say it and never do
anything. Even taking a walk in the park or riding a bike without a gadget around
is a step in the right direction. But even that might not be able to take us there.
We have to show the next generation what patience is all about. By practicing
“less equals more mentality,” we could change the world in small ways.
We could get control of the world we have lost.
It’s in these steps we
show people it isn’t technology that drives our world—we do. Try these
steps to learn patience:
• Look something up in a book: a word, place,
artist, author, history, facts or fiction.
• Take a map and go some
place you have never gone before. Use your imagination and thinking skills to
bring you there.
• Talk to others—in person.
• Spend
time reading at the library.
• When you’re happy, go to someone
and describe what happened.
• Tell a story to someone you don’t
know.
• Take something that is broken, figure out what is wrong and
try to fix it with your own hands.
• Try to spend one day without
the aid of a gadget being around you. No cell phones or computer. Just you.
We
can take back what is ours. The idea is to start somewhere; we have to find balance
in our world. The balance all comes from our efforts to maintain a healthy relationship
with ourselves and the technology that surrounds us. If we keep things on strict
terms, we may live a better, more healthy life, and be able to communicate in
a way that lets others know we are happy and content about the world at hand.
It will take patience, and plenty of it. We have our whole lives to redefine this
word and have it bring new meaning to our lives.
—Brian Maki, computer
technician |
