HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, CARNEGIE CENTER

On September 11, the Carnegie Center will celebrate 15 years of bringing light and learning to the lives of Central Kentuckians. Community members weigh in on what the Carnegie Center means to them:

by 2007-2008 Kentucky Poet Laureate Jane Gentry Vance (excerpted from a speech delivered at the Carnegie Center on 4/14/07)

When I was a child living at Athens, where there was, of course, no library, this building, then the Lexington Public Library was an almost holy, certainly magical, place. Here I first found, for myself, the pleasures of words. My mother brought my brother and me, and I can still feel how it felt to climb, on 4-year old legs, that long flight of marble steps that led to the children’s book room. And what a stomach-dropping experience it was to peek through the railing around the hole in the floor upstairs, to the hushed grown-up area far below. In this building, for me, as for many others who grew up in Lexington, the love of books took root and became the taproot of my life, as it has for many of you.

This building, the library long gone, has never been desanctified. For the past fifteen years the Carnegie Center for Literacy and Learning, first under the visionary guidance of Laurie Bottoms, and for twelve years under the passionate leadership of Jan Isenhour, has worked to serve individual readers and writers, becoming part of the soul of Lexington, creating within it a closer community of lovers: lovers of words, dedicated to language as the great connector of hearts and minds. There is such great power in this: the power of literacy at all levels to transform lives for the better.

by Lori-Lyn Hurley, Lexington:

When I returned to my hometown of Lexington after ten years in New York, I missed the supportive environment of my graduate program and I wondered where I would find my community. When I first walked into the Carnegie Center, to attend a workshop with a writer I’d long admired, I was instantly and unabashedly welcomed. It was evident that there was much more going on inside those walls than I’d imagined, and it only took a few moments for me to understand that the Carnegie Center truly is a home to writers, wordsmiths, dreamers, booklovers, students, teachers and journeymen and women of all ages, ability and experience.

The Carnegie Center gave me the opportunity to share one of my loves, blogging, with an audience of sometimes skeptical, energetically willing, interesting and unique people. Of course, it was I who came out the other side of my classes changed for the better.

The Carnegie Center also gave me the opportunity to study writing with one of my personal heroes, do writing practice and share my work with an astounding group of men and women who quickly became my heroes, and count myself among them to define myself as a writer again. I found a landing strip and a launch pad, picked up my misplaced calling and continue to meet lifelong friends because of the Carnegie Center and its giant heart. Sometimes, during my workday, I stop in for a moment just to breathe, listen and remember what’s true.

Serving the Public
by Phyllis MacAdam (Retired) Assistant Director, 1992-2003:

The mission of The Carnegie Center is to serve the literacy needs of the community. Over fifteen years the staff has served many unique patrons. Here’s a sampling:

Mr. H., aged 80+, arrived each morning wearing the same musty, three-piece suit, heavy coat, and sweat-stained hat, his pockets stuffed to overflowing with snippets of war memories and a supply of plastic rain hats which he generously distributed to the staff. He eventually learned to use the computer and even read his memoir at a Community Reading.

V. was convinced that ‘important people’ were after her. She spent her days moving from window to window behind the study carrels in the Arnow Room, peering through her camera lens at “enemies” on the sidewalk. The truth, she promised, would come out when she finished writing her exposé! At some point V and her exposé mysteriously disappeared. We sort of missed her lurking presence.

That was not the case with S., who carried on high-pitched, chirping conversations with herself, alternating with long naps on the upholstered couch near the main desk. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t make conversation with staff members who kept explaining, “You can take a workshop, but you can’t sleep here!”

Still S. was a delight when compared the “refrigerator bandit” who regularly stole frozen dinners from the basement refrigerator, adding a whole new meaning to serving the public. Finally he got bolder and arranged to enter at night via a jiggered back door. Police responding to our security alarm served him in jail instead.

My memories are enriched by these unforgettable characters and many other readers, writers, learners, and, yes, eaters, who have visited the Center over the years.

by Sherry Chandler, Lexington:

Classes offered by the Carnegie Center have been the making of me as a poet. Beginning with a workshop with Tony Crunk, proceeding through a Master Class with James Baker Hall, out of which grew the Mosaic women’s poetry group, and culminating in a long series of advanced workshops with Leatha Kendrick, I have received the most valuable training of my career. All very reasonably priced.

by Sara Holcomb, Former Executive Director, Explorium of Lexington:

Dear Sarah: I came to the Carnegie Center when I was switching careers from a full time artist/potter to an arts administrator. I never used the computer in my pottery business, which I ran from 1983 to 1994. I went to the Carnegie center to learn how to use a computer when I was almost 40 years old. It was a great experience and now I use it every day!

by Anne Robbins, Bluegrass Writing Project:

Dear Carnegie Center,
Although I’ve heard many tales of sitting on steps in the old children’s library and people coming in here, I never visited you as a library. In fact, I didn’t even know you had been the old library until way after you closed. I’m really sorry I didn’t know you in those days. I’m sure as much as I loved my small town library in the Brown Pusey House, I would have cherished your walls then as much as I do now.

I’ll bet back then you had an old maid librarian in frumpy clothes and black square-heeled lace up shoes who wouldn’t much let people talk within your walls. I did in E’town. She was exactly this way; however, she did love people who liked to read. And I spent lots of time there—so she let me in the secret room where her desk was. She found me books to read. I’ll bet your librarians have done the same for kids. In fact, I once wrote about some of those children who probably came here in their frilly dresses and Little Lord Fauntleroy pants and shirts when you first opened or in their daddy’s white oxford cloth shirts and rolled up blue jeans in the 50’s.

Now your grand walls house people from all walks of life. They teem, not with shsh’s, but with laughter and groups and kids or old people and people in between. Their common bond is a love of language and a desire to better use it. Do you remember the grand opening when Scotty Baesler, Laurie Bottoms and Barbara Bush were here? What a great day! I’ll bet you quivered as your doors opened once again. As you again offered a haven to central Kentucky.

You don’t have as many books as you did then, but you do have books. Your tables now hold volumes published by Carnegie Center writers and self-published writers who write within your sanctuary or anthologies published under your name. And there are shelves and shelves of books and magazines people have donated. Are you proud of these published writers? Do you mind giving up fewer volumes for more footsteps? Are you proud when people stop to look at the covers of your books?

Always there is a poster in your lobby announcing a short story or poetry contest or some other writing contest. Or a flyer about a film writing workshop at the library or an art exhibit or gallery walk. Or a reading challenge or DEAR or a celebration in Gratz Park like May Fest. When you opened, did you ever in your wildest dreams think so many people would ever want to read and write? Aren’t you proud of your part in Lexington’s literacy?

Now your walls hold classes. Classes for learning French and Spanish, for learning to speak English. And you teach adults to read and write. You provide space for people who want to come to write. Sometimes there isn’t a nook or cranny that isn’t taken up by people doing something with books or writing. Why just yesterday as my writing group met I watched in Arnow (all your rooms now have names of Kentucky writers, did you know?) as four different tutoring groups met. Didn’t you just feel the energy as these young adults met with struggling readers? I’ll be you could feel the chairs wiggle on your floors worn smooth by footprints, age, and polishing. Did you hear the excitement?

Aren’t you excited on family fun night as your walls teem with kids and their parents laughing and playing games or reading? You provide models and activities to promote literacy and learning for families less secure in their ability to adequately support their children. You tutor kids all year. Hundreds of kids over the years have improved their skills and gained confidence in their ability to read, to write, to explore their worlds in a safe surrounding.

You can do all this because caring and gentle souls—mostly women—welcome and nurture all who come in your doors. No matter who it is, they treat all with respect and dignity. They lovingly tend your guests as well as your building. No task seems too small or menial to these Carnegie Center angels: from answering the phone, or directing a lost soul to writing a grant, scheduling a host of classes, dealing with an unruly patrons or stocking bathrooms. All tasks are done with competence and love by these people who respect you and all who come here.

Carnegie Center, for about fifteen years, you have provided me a retreat every time I visit you. Your angels smile and greet me. You put me in another century. Your nooks and crannies give me uninterrupted space to think, to write, to sort out. And each time I leave your wide steps remembering what I value. You remind me of the importance of respect and dignity and time.

Yours truly,
Your friend, Anne Robbins

by Julie Grigsby, Lexington:

Pardon the cliché:  home is one place you’ll go where they always have to take you in.  And so it is with the Carnegie Center.

I swung open the hinges of those massive front doors for the first time a little over ten years ago.  In the midst of going through a difficult time in my life, I so wanted to bond with people, people who shared my passion for words, people who were authentic, people with whom I could connect. I have never been disappointed. In early summer, or it may have been late spring, I went to a writing workshop there, and the start-time of the workshop was poorly communicated between the Carnegie Center staff and the workshop participants.  As a result, I showed up fifteen minutes late. The following week, in the mail, I received a handwritten note from Jan Isenhour, Executive Director, apologizing for the mix-up, explaining how it was her fault, and her fault only, the mix-up, and would I please accept her most sincere apology? As I held the stationery in my hand, I thought, “This is the kind of thing that builds respect.” And so it is with the Carnegie Center. Ten years ago, when I was participating in a writing workshop there, I met a woman whose name I can no longer remember.  She lived in Danville, in one of those two-hundred-year-old houses that scream of women sitting on the veranda, sipping mint juleps, watching the sun go down. She invited me to her home, once. There were no mint juleps that night:  only her husband Bill, who may have been sipping bourbon, straight out of a flask, but that was a long time ago, and the details are a little fuzzy to me now. At any rate, Bill sang a rendition of Ol’ Man River, that night, on the patio, in his pajamas, while this woman, whose name I can no longer recall, and I, sipped our iced tea, silently, incredulously even. Let’s face it:  Bill was slightly off-key. Alright, Bill was mostly off-key.

But, the image is etched, forever, in my mind, just the same. And to think:  I met these characters, first, at the Carnegie Center.

Happy Fifteenth Birthday, Carnegie Center:  you’ve given a lot of people a place to call home. I would never miss your party.

by Jean-Marie Welch:

The Carnegie Center is a true touchstone for me. As a girl of ten I rode my bicycle to the old public library and spent endless summer afternoons in the sun- drenched Children's Room, which is now the Banks Writing Center. Then, five decades later, I came full circle and opened those heavy red doors to one of the most welcoming and nourishing adventures of my adult life. As a retiree, I found a place to truly re-invent myself- learning computer skills, then moving on to writing practice groups, classes in fiction and poetry, evening readings by notable Kentucky authors-- and the annual Women Writers Conference. These elegant (but soft) rooms feel like home. They provide a refuge from the noise and pace of daily life, a place to write away from home when my surroundings feel cluttered, a place of stillness and retreat, musing and meditation. And perhaps most important of all, a place to connect with and feel nurtured by some of the most talented teachers, mentors and literary artists of our time.

by Emily Lane, former Carnegie Center Intern:

My earliest memories of the Carnegie Center are visiting the building when it was a branch of the Lexington Public Library. It was a special occasion for my mother to take my sister and me downtown to the “big library” – we would run through Gratz Park, try to get in the fountain, and frequently see mounted police. I was awed by the building itself; the large marble staircase with wrought iron banister, window dome, and the security dogs that I for some reason believed lived in the basement.

Many years passed before I returned to the building, now the Carnegie Center for Literacy and Learning, as an undergraduate intern working on the Women Writers’ Conference. I was still awed, but this time not at the building but what happened inside the building. People of all sorts gathered in this place to learn –a homeless veteran working on a book, Ladies who Lunch learning French, ESL students who needed some extra help, middle school aged kids excited about forensics and photography at Camp Carnegie, adults building work-related skills and college students and community members tutoring eager learners.

I stayed with the Carnegie Center as a literacy tutor and a few years later became a Development Intern as part of my graduate program. I helped to research and write grants and solicit businesses to help the Carnegie Center continue its important work. And it is important work – literacy is not a luxury, it is not just curling up with a good book for entertainment – it is life skills of all kinds that all people need to be successful, to be happy, and to be whole. The Carnegie Center serves these needs through their numerous programs and through their partnerships. If you’ve been touched by the Carnegie Center or touched by these stories I urge you to consider volunteering your time or making a donation. Great things can happen in this community, but they can’t happen without community support.

by Janet Holloway, Executive Director/Co-Founder, Women Leading Kentucky; Columnist for Business Lexington and womentrepeneur.com:

When I moved to Lexington from New York in 1990, I brought along boxes and boxes of photos, family stories, snippets of a tough Appalachian upbringing, and a passion to get them on paper. I visited the Center often, attended a class here and there, wrote sporadically while working full- time. Finally, in 2006 and in a new career, I made the commitment to work on the stories. I began with the Non-Fiction Writing Class and still remember my fear of reading my first family story. Could I say these things about my manic-depressive mother? Would the class see the love behind the tough, survival behavior of my grandmother? Not only did the class appreciate the story, they could relate to it, and encouraged me to write more. And so I do. I credit this class and the instructors with freeing me to tell these stories and recognizing I am not alone. My life stories resonate in so many ways with others. What a joy!

by Linda Angelo, Lexington

About 10 years ago, a community poetry reading happened to be scheduled on prom night in Lexington. A lovely young poet, date in tow, began her evening with a stop at the Carnegie Center to read her work! One poem involved a radioactive apocalyptic vision in a janitorial closet, if my memory serves me. The whole scene inspired me to write my own poem:

PROM NIGHT by Linda Angelo

Softly glowing golden-beige, her escort a black counterpoint, She moves nervously through the rows to read her poetry.

No Polaroid stills to start this night.
Rather, lips almost kissing the microphone
Her words flow breathlessly in a surprising rich sweet murmury voice
Images so commanding we stop breathing too.

In between, her voice turns 16 again.
“Sooo, that was that one, here’s the next one.”
We follow her quick breath and move right on, like we’re 16 too.

Her end-of-the-world poem stays with me.
I see her in glowing champagne gown, throwing aside formal gloves for long yellow rubber ones
Maybe a purple streak in that angelic hair if time allows
Sticky fingers catching the thin pages of her Bible.

I say No. This world can’t end before she gets to hold it.

by Marie Hochstrasser, CCLL student:

When the Carnegie Center for Literacy and Learning opened 15 years ago, I was totally computer-illiterate. But then I was able to sign up for a beginning class in how to use the computer. I recall my first major success was in shaping and printing a formal letter to former Mayor Pam Miller regarding a zoning issue. I was so proud of myself for how respectable the letter looked. Little did she know how long it took me to accomplish it. Now it’s 15 years later, and I’ve come a long way. Thank you, each and every one of you, for helping me be more professional and launching me on the vast Internet.

by Sally Sue Brown, former CCLL Assistant Director:

It was a chilly November morning when I first knocked on the Carnegie Center’s front door. The big red door had not yet been unlocked so I had the chance to stand on the grand porch and admire the tall columns, interesting sculptures and leaf covered lawn. It was then that I learned this was a back door kind of place. You know, the houses where the only people who come to the front door are the ones who just haven’t been introduced yet. After your first experience with the Carnegie Center you are considered part of the family, a back door guest of sorts. The Carnegie Center is home to a diverse and non-traditional family that includes readers, writers, artists, children, retirees, immigrants, working parents, business executives, and even a few stray animals at times. The command center of the phone in the central atrium was a testament to this. People from all walks of life would call with all types of questions and often someone in the building could be of assistance. It is that welcoming and helpful spirit that makes the Carnegie Center such a vibrant place.

As a staff member from 2004-06, I was forever enriched by the Carnegie Center. It was a place of amazing opportunity where anything was possible. A good idea was always well received and the opportunity to see it come to life was often as close as the next season’s brochure. There was no hierarchy or red tape to struggle through, just connecting the right people to the Center’s mission to make things happen. Never was this more apparent then in the planning of a Family Fun and Learning Night. One day we would be sitting around a desk brainstorming ideas and the next every corner of the building would be filled with people of all ages. Every day was different. Classes, conferences, art shows, camps, readings, book signings, puppet shows – sometimes even all on the same day! One measure of the usefulness of a space might be quantified by how many times the furniture gets moved around. And as any staff member can tell you, at the Carnegie Center that is a constant. We all got plenty of exercise moving those tables and chairs, sometimes up and down stairs, to accommodate the many functions the Center performed on a weekly basis.

My fondest memories will always be of the individuals who for a time and place epitomized what the Carnegie Center is all about. The mom re-entering the workforce and coming to take my resume class, the college student coming in the afternoons to tutor, the recent graduate coming in for an interview about a life changing VISTA position. Working on the documentary video “Lifelong Learning for All”, I had the chance to hear many of these people express in their own words the meaning of the Carnegie Center in their lives. It was especially rewarding to be a part of a place that made such a personal impact in the community. The memory that I will probably remember most vividly over the years is getting out of my car early on a hot summer morning and looking across Gratz Park to see a 12 year old boy walking from the bus stop with his nose buried in a Harry Potter book he had won the day before in a camp essay contest. The bus schedule didn’t match up with the 8:30am camp start time so he was very early. No worries though, he was content to cozy up in a cushiony chair in the reading room waiting for another exciting day of camp to begin.

by Thomas Boysen, husband of founding Director Laurie S. Bottoms:

I remember the day well in October 1992 that the official ceremony was held on that grand stage of the front porch of the Carnegie Center. As Commissioner of Education, I had been out at Bourbon County High School that day visiting classrooms and just got back in time to take a front row seat held for me. The main attractions on the stage for me were my wife, Laurie, and the President’s wife, Barbara Bush.  At that time the presidential campaigns of George H.W. Bush and Bill Clinton were nearing their zeniths.

 

Laurie was beautiful and gracious as ever and Barbara Bush was her elegant, down to earth self in what she said about literacy and the warmth and confidence with which she said it. After her remarks, Laurie presented her with a copy of the relatively recently issued History of Kentucky by Tom Clark of UK who might also have been in attendance. Laurie said to Mrs. Bush, “I know that you will enjoy this book and keep it in the White House Library (pause) or wherever you wish to. (The pause was Laurie’s realization that she might be interpreted as taking a position in the presidential race. Therefore, she ended the sentence in a clearly neutral way.)

 

Barbara received the book warmly and informed that crowd: “I can assure you that this will be kept in the White House Library”, which brought a friendly chuckle from the audience.

 

I have copied below a poem about writing that captures the courage and hope it takes. The last words, “But look, here we are still writing” are inscribed on the beautiful copper sculpture fountain erected at the Milken Community High School where Laurie was Assistant Head of School at the time of her death. The fountain and Laurie’s legacy still flow sweetly there as well as at the Carnegie Center.

  

PUSHING A PEN

But haven’t we always known
that pushing a pen across
paper would be death defying,
that facing the emptiness of a blank
page made us half sick
and aren’t we amazed to be
doing this at all not
sure we even have anything to say
more often sure we have nothing
to say but look we are still
writing and haven’t we always
known we couldn’t go on and can’t
go back and haven’t we kept moving
this pen anyway all the time we
weren’t sure at all and haven’t
we always been afraid we may have
come all this way for nothing.
But look, here we are still
writing.

              

            Laurie Shaffer Bottoms, 1983M

Want to share your Carnegie Center story? Email Sarah: svacombs@carnegieliteracy.org