Run, Don’t Walk!
I had the great privilege of going to the National Yiddish Book Center in Amherst yesterday. Even though I have lived in the Valley for 18 years, it was my first visit. May I just say, if you haven't been there, run, don't walk. I am not Jewish, but as my friend Lou Cove, their former VP said as we walked around, it's not just about being Jewish, or speaking Yiddish, or books even. It's about making sure the stories of marginalized people are not erased. In this case, the incredible stories of Jews around the world, and one beautiful language, and books: both translations to Yiddish (Harry Potter, All Quiet on the Western Front, for two) and books (and songs and plays) written in Yiddish, are elevated exquisitely so we can celebrate them. The Yiddish Book Center is also so much about place; about finding/designing a home, in this case for these incredibly special books and making the space itself a reflection of the importance of storytelling.
The whole place, from the books on the shelves, to the wooden beams holding up the Shtetl inspired roof, speaks volumes. And then there's the meandering garden dedicated to writers, the tiny theater whose boards are calling to be trod upon, and a gift shop of curiosities, all so thoughtfully laid out and so inviting. The whole experience is a dreamlike, spiritual, humble retreat. I cried more than once listening to the stories that brought this unique little gem of an archive into fruition in the middle of a Hampshire College apple orchard (get it? fruit?) because of one young man who felt a keen sense of responsibility to give an endangered language covering millions of dusty, beloved pages, from so many survivors whose stories were their most prized possessions, a beautiful, permanent home.
One other detail that really made my heart sing is that many of the books donated to the Center had things tucked in them, so interesting in themselves that a whole exhibit was made up of those items, including a letter from Albert Einstein. Cool or what?
What books or stories will you pass down? What flower or love note or grocery list might be tucked in their pages? What book, from an (your?) oppressed people, would you rescue and put on a safe and sound shelf for eternity? It's something to think about, you know?