I was often led around places and into situations as a kid not knowing what to expect. When I recall going on a class trip to the library for a story time reading I was just doing what I was told. I had no idea where I was or who this woman was perched on top of the tiered seats, a book in hand and watching all of us file in. I remember observing everything and interpreting that she was a librarian and she was going to read to us, but I had no idea why and thought it was strange that we were pulled out of school for it. After all, we had a library at school, why did we have to get on a bus to go here?
The woman introduced herself, I can't remember her name or even what she looked like, but I remember the book she held in her hands very distinctly. When she held it up and said she was going to read it aloud, I was struck by the simple black and white illustrations on the cover. It portrayed an elderly gentlemen feeding some birds, presumably from his front doorstep.
I was the type of child who went into every situation curious, but also skeptical. Despite my inner judgements about where we were and what we were doing, I was open to the story: 1) Because I loved stories and books were one of the vessels to share them, 2) The old man on the front of the book reminded me of my own grandfather. My grandfather loved birds. When I visited, we would often sit by the bay windows where the bird feeders were right up next to the glass and watch them as they went about their bird business. We would identify their types, genders, and mimicked their sounds as they flitted about outside. On pleasant days, we would walk around the yard and refill their feeders, all while chatting and sharing our stories.
I find it interesting that this librarian decided to read this book, especially since the story itself has to do with a difficult subject. It is about Old Hark who has a special bond with the birds that he provides for, and as his time on earth draws to an end he is visited by a mysterious figure that you come to realize is Death himself. Old Hark and Death enter into a wager in order to allow him to stay on earth one more year to feed the birds. Death asks him progressively difficult questions about his life, daring him to remember memories that eventually should have stumped him. How he ends up making Death agree to coming again in the spring is lovely because the birds end up saving him. It is beautifully done in more ways than one and left a distinct impression on me.
My own grandfather was unable to strike up a bargain with death, but despite this I still think of him every time I see, read, or think of this book. It is a reminder that books are more than just for entertainment or information, but are also powerful parts of how we think and feel. That story has stuck with me ever since then, reminding me how important it is to pay attention to life's every day moments, and most importantly, to be kind and thoughtful to the small creatures in this world. My grandfather was known to be harsh and angry, but with the birds he was as gentle as a breath of air.
I still have this book and it is now on my daughter's bookshelf, awaiting the day I crack it open and read it to her. I am waiting for her to be a bit older so that she can understand some of what is going on in the story, but I hope that she can come to appreciate it just as I have. Maybe not in the same capacity, but my hope is that she develops her own sense of understanding from reading the story and that the time we spend together will be fruitful in some way. It is one reason why libraries are so important. They allow anyone to walk in and find a book, perhaps with the intention of sharing it and, in that way, benefitting the people around them. I'd like to think that this eventually shapes the world we live in, and hopefully for the better, just as this book did for me.
Miss you, Grandpa Willard, but you live on in me.
