Yesterday morning I went to breakfast with some friends. We talked of my travels, especially to Morocco. Afterwards it was my plan to pick up my little niece and have a fun day together. The sunshine charged my positive mood meter to the full and I thought that it was a good day to go somewhere. I had been wanting to visit a particular city since I heard about it in the spring.
I listen to NPR (National Public Radio) as often as I can. On April 16th this year I tuned in to listen to All Things Considered with Ari Shiparo. The story of the day was about a bookstore in Ann Arbor, Michigan called Literati.
Hillary and Michael Gustafson (husband and wife) opened the bookstore in April 2013 basing their name on a Literati typewriter. Ann Arbor is a college town, the University of Michigan met us as we rolled in to town. The bookstore is located in the heart of downtown. The top floor is a coffee shop with room to sit down and chat or read with children's books located in the middle or the room. The street level is where all of the fiction is located and in the lower level is books on travel, history, gardening and cooking. But most of all the typewriter is there. It is old and sits on a small table with a chair for the patron to sit comfortably and leave a message. Thousands of messages have been left over the few years that the store has opened.
Michael Gustafson and Oliver Uberti put together a book called, Notes from a Public Typewriter, taken from the many notes that patrons wrote on the antiquated typing machine in the basement. They call these notes, "Diary of a town happening in a bookstore."
I searched for the book locally and ended up ordering it on line. The day I received the book, I read it from cover to cover. It's funny how some books butt in line demanding to be read right then and there like rude people do cutting in front of you hoping that they will not be noticed. But you do.
Below are a few of my favorite quotes:
Maybe were were brought here
to explore other worlds.
Reading allows us to do so.
I just want to push your buttons.
I spent 22 years telling her
to do great things. Now that she has
gone to do them I am sad.
Avoid identity theft. Use a typewriter.
They are much harder to hack.
I picked up my niece and we headed to Michigan. The weather was cool and windy with lots of sunshine when we left. The trip took two and a half hours. The further north we traveled the colder it became and rain settled in like an unwanted friend. My camera was safely tucked into the trunk, hoping that the rain lets up so that I can take some pictures.
When we arrived it was 38 degrees and the rain was pouring down. I was not about to let this get me down. After the fiasco with the parking meter (not wanting to read my credit card) we went inside to wander around. After picking out a book for my niece we headed downstairs. The typewriter was located directly at the bottom of the stairs. By the time we arrived the page was nearly full with notes.
My niece sat down and contributed to the nearly full page of writing. I, too, tried to leave my message but the keys kept sticking and eventually I gave up. The thought of just being there was satisfying to me. It is like seeing a place in pictures but when you experience the place for yourself it takes you to another level. Maybe I am too philosophical and try to make things what they are not supposed to be. After all it was just a bookstore. Or was it?
There were quotes taped to the door just past the typewriter.
Eventually the rain eased enough to be able to allow us to venture outside. One of the walls have a few of the quotes painted on and my niece decided to pose in front of a couple of them.
On the way home, we laughed, sang songs, and most of all a memory was created on not such a beautiful blue sky kind of day in a not so ordinary bookstore. When my niece asked to live with me. I knew that I had accomplished what I set out to do.
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