A brief word on Madeleine, Censorship, and White Christian Nationalism

by Charlotte Jones Voiklis

Dear Ones,

Today marks the beginning of Banned Books Week, and so it feels appropriate to share some thoughts that have been brewing about Madeleine and this topic  for some time. According to the American Library Association, throughout the 1980s and 1990s, A Wrinkle in Time was one of the most challenged books in the United States. Driven by fundamentalist Christians who reviled her less literal interpretation of the Bible and her vision of a God that welcomes questions and calls us all to love each other no matter our professed faith or categories of identity, the violence and vehemence of the book challenges shook her. Her response was to lean into what she felt was a calling to challenge those forces back. She continued speak at churches and Christian colleges where she wasn’t always welcomed with warm hospitality. (Sarah Arthur has written eloquently about what Madeleine’s message and presence meant to and did for a generation of students and seekers in those worlds in her book A Light So Lovely: The Spiritual Legacy of Madeleine L’Engle).

Madeleine Preaching ca. 1990. Location, photographer unknown

The recent wave (tsunami, really) of organized book challenges is again driven by conservative, white Christians who are threatened by ideas and by visions of a world that includes people that don’t believe as they do. Most of the individual books challenged in 2021 and 2022 have dealt with LGBTQIA+ content, and there has been a separate but related push to censor and limit what can be taught in public schools and elsewhere about the cruel history of slavery and ongoing racism in this country.  A Wrinkle in Time is no longer one of the most challenged books, but while it was, Madeleine had some responses that I think might be helpful to consider in our current moment.

In 1983 Madeleine gave a talk at the Library of Congress called “Dare to be Creative.” (The Marginalian has a great essay about it), In it she says:

We all practice some form of censorship. I practiced it simply by the books I had in the house when my children were little. If I am given a budget of $500 I will be practicing a form of censorship by the books I choose to buy with that limited amount of money, and the books I choose not to buy. But nobody said we were not allowed to have points of view. The exercise of personal taste is not the same thing as imposing personal opinion.

My mother and her siblings can attest to the fact that there were certain kinds of books that were not allowed in the house (comic books!), and I have a strong and stinging memory of my grandmother being disappointed (to put it mildly) when she learned that I had written about Flowers in the Attic for an eighth grade book report.  But again, “the exercise of personal taste is not the same thing as imposing a personal opinion.” My mother gorged on comics at friends’ houses, with no argument from her parents. What could they say?

Madeleine was horrified at institutions and movements that try to limit free will and choice, that have such a small-minded vision of God that they are afraid of questions and demand certainty. “It is the ability to choose which makes us human,” Madeleine wrote in Walking on Water. People must be free to choose, even if they sometimes choose badly or wrongly. Others cannot make those choices for someone else. It is bad enough when individuals or institutions vigilantly guard their borders: “When we censor out most of the world in order to protect our own little version of it, we are creating a kind of hell.” (Penguins and Golden Calves); it is worse when that little version becomes the basis for violently imposing on others. A growing field of scholars like Kristen DuMez, Philip Gorski, Samuel Hall, and Andrew Whitehead have begun to document and expose a movement that seeks to impose through legislation and judicial rulings a very narrow vision of the United States as a theocracy (White Christian Nationalism), where choices of all kinds are proscribed and state violence as well as vigilantism are enshrined in law.

If Madeleine were alive today, what would she be doing? Where would she be speaking? To whom would she be called to minister? I’m not exactly sure, but I do know that she is still at work through her books that continue to be read, and that she is always on the side of more curiosity, more compassion, more choice.

 

Photo by Don Hicks.

Charlotte Jones Voiklis is Madeleine L’Engle’s granddaughter and executor of her estate. She is the co-author with Jennifer Adams of A Book, Too, Can Be a Star (October 2022), a picture book biography illustrated by Adelina Lirius; and, with her sister, Léna Roy, of Becoming Madeleine (2018), a biography for middle grade readers. Charlotte has also written and spoken of her grandmother’s work to a variety of audiences. With a PhD in Comparative Literature, Charlotte’s work experience includes teaching and grant making. She is a volunteer mediator.

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Guest Blog Post: If You’re Paying Attention

by Jessica Kantrowitz

Well, dear ones, 2022 has been a bit of a year already, hasn’t it? I’m not going to write, here, about all the things that have been going on, in the world, in America, in my own small circles, but I will say that it is a lot. I don’t know anyone who isn’t reeling from the steady stream of bad news—epidemiologically, politically, and otherwise. It’s overwhelming and exhausting. Many of us are burnt out, or well beyond burnt out. Many of us are angry and outraged. Anger is an entirely rational, appropriate response to so many of the things happening in the world right now.

But it’s not the only appropriate response.

If you’re like me, you’ve probably heard the expression, “If you’re not angry, you’re not paying attention.” It’s so ubiquitous these days that my Googling attempts to find the original author just came up with pages and pages of unattributed quotes. (But let me know if you know!) And if you’re here at the Madeleine L’Engle blog, you’re most likely familiar with the quote from A Wrinkle in Time:

“Stay angry, little Meg,” Mrs Whatsit whispered. “You will need all your anger now.”

But is anger the only byproduct of paying attention? I don’t know. I think paying attention can trigger all manner of emotions and reactions. Fear, overwhelm, sorrow, hopelessness—even joy and hope. Anger is a useful motivator, sure, but all our feelings tell us something, give us insight into ourselves and the world around us.

If you feel angry—that’s appropriate! If you feel despair—that makes sense. If you feel joy because you’ve worked so hard to heal your mental health and are finally in a good place, and cannot let yourself be pulled into that pit again, even by national crisis—that’s valid. Joyful people can work for change, too. Sad people can make a difference in the world. Angry people can use their anger as fuel—but there are other fuels, too.

When Mrs. Whatsit told Meg to stay angry, that was because that was Meg’s particular weakness-turned-strength. It was what she told Meg the first time Meg went to Camazotz, and it was in contrast to what her principal, Mr. Jenkins had said to her when she got in trouble at school:

“Try to be a little bit less antagonistic. Maybe your work would improve if you were a little more tractable.

If you’re not familiar with the somewhat old-fashioned word tractable it means, “easy to control or influence.” This, Mr. Jenkins said, would help her get along at school, but it was the exact opposite of what she would need to resist the mind control of the evil being IT. Meg’s anger and intractability were seen, by her teachers and herself, as faults, but Mrs Whatsit gave them back to her as a gift:

“Meg, I give you your faults.”

“My faults!” Meg cried.

“Your faults.”

Meg’s anger, her antagonism, her intractability (all things, incidentally, that women are told much more frequently than men are their faults) were her gifts.

But those were the gifts given to Meg, not to Calvin, or Charles Wallace, or to Mrs. Murry or Mr. Murry, or the twins. Calvin was given his ability to communicate, and Charles Wallace was given the resilience of his childhood. Mr. and Mrs. Murry, and the twins Sandy and Dennys weren’t explicitly given gifts, but we see them play out in the series: Mrs. Murry’s quiet patience and trust, Mr. Murry’s willingness to risk his life for what he believes in, Sandy and Dennys’ loyalty and dependability. You and I might be given something else, a particular talent, or hard-won wisdom, or a different fault-turned-strength. Anger at injustice is a gift, but there are other gifts. Perhaps the most important thing we can do is acknowledge our feelings without judgment, to let them tell us what they’re there to tell us.

Author and therapist Krispin Mayfield recently tweeted:

“In unhealthy families, certain emotions aren’t allowed. We have to choose between connection with our parent OR expressing anger, sadness, worry (whatever emotion isn’t allowed). The same often happens in churches, & with good reason, we end up believing the same about God.”

But what if all emotions were allowed, and even welcomed, in our families, in our communities, in our churches and mosques and synagogues? What if our weaknesses were our strengths, both individually and because we supported and complemented each other in community?

When Meg goes to face IT for the second time, to save her beloved little brother, Mrs Who quotes the King James Bible (1 Corinthians, though she doesn’t give a reference):

But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty; And base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are.

The more we pay attention in our lives, the more we realize this to be true, that the weak things have strength the mighty things don’t understand, that when we look for where God is moving, where the energy and hope is, we have to look among the marginalized, among the despised, among those left out and forgotten, and not among those with power and privilege. We pay attention and we get angry, or we pay attention and we get sad, or we pay attention and we feel numb and overwhelmed, or we pay attention and we compartmentalize and allow ourselves to be renewed by hope and joy. We pay attention, and we let ourselves feel what we feel.

And then, angry, scared, grieving, joyful, overwhelmed, hope-filled, despairing, intractable—we work together to make the world a better place.

 

Jessica Kantrowitz

Jessica Kantrowitz is the author of several books of prose and poetry, including The Long Night and 365 Days of Peace, and the creator of the Finding Your Voice Writing Workshop (next one starts October 7!). She lives in Boston in the fall (and in the other seasons, too, but fall’s her favorite). More at www.jessicakantrowitz.com.

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At Home in the Universe: Madeleine L’Engle and the James Webb Space Telescope

When the first pictures from the James Webb Space Telescope were released by NASA last week, I, along with the rest of the world, was enraptured by the significance of what they captured: evidence of the incomprehensible size (space and time) of the universe our planet inhabits. And its beauty.

There have been several articles and op-eds about the science and implications of the images and the many millions of galaxies that we can now see: the span of time they represent (13 billion years) and the decades of scientific research and engineering that made it possible. A couple that have helped me understand the context and the questions that other people are asking are Jaime Green’s July 13 essay for Slate’s Future Tense “Surely There Must Be Someone Out There In All That Space, Right…?”, and Sharon Stirone’s July 12 op-ed in The New York Times “Gawking in Awe at the Universe, Together.”

Stirone gives the sense of scale: “if you could hold a grain of sand at arm’s length up to the sky, that speck is the size of the view. It is one minuscule sliver of our universe, filled with thousands of galaxies, each with billions or trillions of star systems and each of those with its own planets.”

Stirone also says that one of its missions is to look for evidence of life outside of our solar system. Jaime Green balks at this idea, suggesting that our wondering about the existence of alien life is simply a way to make a strange universe more familiar. She quotes the Anthropologist Lisa Messeri: “When we’re confronted with these awesome, hugely scaled images, we want to try to understand—we want to tame the awesomeness.”

Green asks us to do something else. “But sit with another possibility: What if we are alone? What if there’s no other life at all? What is the value and meaning of all these galaxies and almost uncountable stars, still, then?”

As the images were released, I posted them on Madeleine L’Engle’s social channels with quotes from some of her books. Madeleine loved the stars and the night sky and they figure in her fiction and non-fiction.

 

“I didn’t mean to tell you,” Mrs Whatsit faltered. “I didn’t mean ever to let you know. But, oh, my dears, I did so love being a star!” A Wrinkle in Time

 

“I know those distant galaxies to which Meg Murry went with Charles Wallace and Calvin. [….] I also believe in the planet Uriel, with its beautiful flying creatures, and also in that other planet where are found the unicorn hatching-grounds.” Walking on Water

“They moved through the time-spinning reaches of a far galaxy, and he realized that the galaxy itself was part of a mighty orchestra, and each star and planet within the galaxy added its own instrument to the music of the spheres.” A Swiftly Tilting Planet

 

One of Aunt Beast’s tentacled arms went around Meg’s waist again. “They are very young. And on their earth, as they call it, they never communicate with other planets. They revolve about all alone in space.” “Oh,” the thin beast said. “Aren’t they lonely?” A Wrinkle in Time

 

Madeleine’s first memory was of the night sky, and that memory and the feeling of belonging to something beautiful and vast and mysterious was something she never let go of, and when it began to fade, the night sky brought her back to it. The night sky awakened her curiosity and creativity.

For Madeleine, the stars and imagining other worlds was both a metaphor and a heuristic device. She says, “to think about worlds in other galaxies, other modes of being, is a theological enterprise.” Messeri and Green’s conversation about alien life and why it’s a reflexive question comes to mind, and is a blog post for another time. It’s not the answers, it’s the questions.

“The discoveries made since the heart of the atom was opened have changed our view of the universe and of Creation… The universe is far greater and grander and less predictable than anyone realized, and one reaction to this is to turn our back on the glory and settle for a small, tribal god who forbids questions of any kind. Another reaction is to feel so small and valueless in comparison to the enormity of the universe that it becomes impossible to believe in a God who can be bothered with us tine, finite creatures… Or we can simply rejoice in a God who is beyond our comprehension but who comprehends us and cares about us.” The Rock That is Higher: Story as Truth

A Book, Too, Can Be a StarIn October, FSG is publishing a new picture book biography of Madeleine, A Book, Too, Can Be a Star, written by me and Jennifer Adams, with illustrations by Adeline Lirius. It begins with Madeleine’s first memory, what she called her “first moment of glory” and tracks her connection to the stars and what they meant and did for her. The title comes from her Newbery Award acceptance speech “The Expanding Universe.” Referencing Fred Hoyle’s theory that matter is continuously created, and borrowing from Bertha Mahoney Miller’s description of a bookstore’s stock in trade, she ends her speech with “A book, too, can be a star, “explosive material, capable of stirring up fresh life endlessly,” a living fire to lighten the darkness, leading out into the expanding universe.

What the images from the JWST confirm is that the universe is vast and old and that our tiny planet and human lives are small. That does not make them insignificant. Madeleine explored and used this information in different ways. She experienced the knowledge of the expanding universe as an opportunity for a sense of proportion:

“If I’m confused, or upset, or angry, if I can go out and look at the stars I’ll almost always get back a sense of proportion. It’s not that they make me feel insignificant; it’s the very opposite; they make me feel that everything matters, be it ever so small, and that there’s meaning to life even when it seems most meaningless.” A Ring of Endless Light

She also was struck by the idea that size doesn’t matter.

“Time isn’t any more important than size. All that is required of you is to be in the Now, in this moment which has been given us.” A Wind in the Door

Small or large, young or old, what matters is that we are here and that our task is to love each other. Madeleine knew that the universe was immense and beautiful and that each and every one one of us belongs to it. I struggle to know this, and the recent images from the JWST help.

Charlotte Jones Voiklis is Madeleine L’Engle’s granddaughter and executor of her estate. She is the co-author with Jennifer Adams of A Book, Too, Can Be a Star (October 2022), a picture book biography illustrated by Adelina Lirius; and, with her sister, Léna Roy, of Becoming Madeleine (2018), a biography for middle grade readers. Charlotte has also written and spoken of her grandmother’s work to a variety of audiences. With a PhD in Comparative Literature, Charlotte’s work experience includes teaching and grant making. She is a volunteer mediator.

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May virtual mini and October in-person 2-day retreats

Dear ones,
Sarah Arthur and Sophfronia Scott are excited to announce important updates about our in-person Madeleine L’Engle Writing Retreat this fall! Mark your calendars for ALL DAY Friday and Saturday, Sept 30-Oct 1 at Wisdom House in Litchfield CT, mere miles from MLE’s beloved Crosswicks. Madeleine herself regularly led retreats there, with its lovely chapel, grounds, accommodations, and meals, and they are happy to host this first-time event!

Illustration by Sarah Arthur

On-site housing will be on a first-come, first-served basis, so be sure to register for the May 7 “Madeleine Morning” virtual mini writing retreat (10 AM – 2 PM) to be among the first to receive the fall registration link. There will also be a commuter option.
Facilitators will include MLE’s granddaughter Léna Roy, retreat co-directors Sophfronia Scott & Sarah Arthur, plus others as registration numbers allow.
The fall retreat is very close to the publication date of A Book, Too, Can Be a Star, a picture book biography of Madeleine by Charlotte Jones Voiklis and Jennifer Adams, and we hope to share a sneak peek of this beautiful book.
Stay tuned. Any questions about the retreat can be directed to: LEngleRetreat@gmail.com
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Happy Birthday, Madeleine! New Merch Store to Celebrate

Dear Ones,

November 29 is Madeleine’s birthday and to celebrate we’ve launched a Red Bubble store for Madeleine merch. It’s a work in progress and we hope to add more designs and items, but for now, there are five designs on a variety of products. Two to highlight:

  1. Stay Angry. Profits from this design will be donated to organizations working in voting rights, women’s rights, and literacy.
  2. After Annunciation. This poem by Madeleine is a popular around Christmas time, and if you haven’t gotten your holiday cards yet, or want to stock up for next year, take a look.

A word about this store: We wanted a storefront that supported a variety of designs and products and would handle the inventory and shipping (Red Bubble is responsible for the merchandise, quality, shipping, returns, etc.). Unfortunately they are not fully size-inclusive and I’m still learning the interface so it’s not perfect and we’ll see how it goes! We’re open to suggestions and designs.

Courage,

Charlotte (Madeleine’s granddaughter)

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A Next Door Neighbor Remembers the Franklins #5

“With the Compliments of the Publisher”

An author’s perk with each new book is a box of them arriving on the doorstep “with the compliments of the publisher.” I still remember the thrill opening my ten copies of Hudson River Catastrophes, Contests and Collisions thirteen years ago.

In the Franklin’s kitchen one afternoon in summer 1962, my mother was arranging Grandma Camp’s hair before helping her dress for dinner.

“UPS coming, Tom,” summoned my mother. I went through the garage hearing Vivaldi’s violins with Madeleine’s clattering typewriter keeping time from behind the Tower door. “This is a very heavy box of books, son,” said the driver “Let me carry them in for you.”

Madeleine was already in the kitchen to sign for them having seen the truck from her window.

“Mother, Clara, Tom, we are in need of tea!” she declared.

“None of your mice in a mug, Daughter” was her mother’s reply. “I want a proper pot and cup.” She disdained those heavy, large individual mugs with the brown soggy teabag sitting in the bottom, its accompanying string and label hanging over the side. This was more of their banter, like Mrs. Camp referring to her as “Daughter” every time she was called “Mother.”

Madeleine put a battered teakettle that no longer whistled on the glowing coils. A milk pitcher and sugar bowl were set on a tray beside rounds of “Walkers Shortbread” shoved from their sleeve to lay at attention on a plate. In true English fashion, she tipped a little boiling water into the pot, swirled it three times before dumping in the sink. Two teabags torn open had their contents shaken in ahead of the merrily boiling water. Three cups and saucers from the dishwasher completed the ceremony.

I smiled. In our house, my mom also heated the pot, put in two Red Rose teabags and let it steep four minutes before filling china cups, each with its matching saucer. Madeleine wanted her mother to have the full experience with tea leaves in the bottom of her cup as it had always been done in her mother’s day

Tea brewing, we attacked the box of books. The tape’s thick nylon threads rendered the paring knife useless. A drawer revealed amid a bevy of wine corks a miniature hacksaw. Giving it to me, she proceeded pour the tea and hand them each a cup with their choice of milk and sugar which she added. Then she offered them the sweet crumbly butter cookies

The saw successful, she folded back the flaps, leaned over the box and took a deep breath, “That’s the smell of hard work.”

A Wrinkle in Time had not found ready acceptance. The cream of New York’s publishing houses rejected it citing among other reasons “children having to confront evil,” “phantasmagorical characters,” “time travel.” All questioned its suitability for children’s bookshelves.

Original cover of A Wrinkle in Time, designed by Ellen Raskin, 1962.Farrar, Straus and Giroux children’s book press, Ariel, took a chance. Sixty years later, there have been 16 million copies in 40 languages. It has been made a movie twice and a graphic novel. In May 2022, I am to enjoy it as a theatrical production by the Goshen Players in the Old Town Hall. But we were not to know any of this.

It looked as disturbing then as it does 59 years later.

Madeleine pried out a copy, took it to the kitchen island and rattled through a heavy glass of pens to find the one she wanted. Its spine creaked as she opened, thought a moment, wrote at length, closed and handed it to me. Inside, in a heavy felt tip she wrote:

To Thomas Allison:

Words are written in colour not black and white,

Your neighbour,

Madeleine L’Engle

“Thank you, Madeleine. This is my first autographed book.”

“I expect it won’t be your last, Tom”

Contemplating what it meant, my reverie was broken by Grandma Camp’s impatient voice from the window corner, “Well, Tom what did she write?”

In my bookcase, it had pride of place. By college, the collection of a young teenager’s Hardy Boys mysteries, Weekly Reader young people’s novels, and my first history books were dismissed to the attic. In their place were more adult choices. When a fire in the town library two decades later initiated a call for books, my mother donated all my juvenile volumes.

Only in the 1990’s did I find them gone. In a sale of discards, the library offered a copy of Wrinkle, but it was not mine. In 2008, a first edition of the 41st Newberry Medal winner sold at a PBA Galleries’ auction for $10,800. Most of Madeleine’s dedications say “Tesser  well” or something else from the book. We shall never know how much a very personal complimentary copy could bring on the auction block .

In September 2021, Ebay offered me a late printing of a first edition in good condition with dust jacket bearing a Gold Newberry Award sticker for the modest price of $24.50. Unwrapping it, I knew it was not mine, but I still experienced a tesser back to that Connecticut kitchen.

Tom Allison is a retired Congregational Minister living in Albany NY.  Rehabbing a house once owned by a Hudson River Steamboat Captain inspired his looking into that history culminating in Hudson River Steamboat Catastrophes Contests and Collisions (History Press 2013) available Barnes and Noble and Amazon.  Since 5th grade he has enjoyed offering to the public illustrated history lectures. Among the 40 plus have been American Cookbooks,  plumbing,, transatlantic steamboat travel in the golden age, Litchfield Connecticut: America’s most historic mile and  A neighbor remembers Madeleine L’Engle, (for the 100th anniversary of  her birth)  to name a few. He is pictured here at Crosswicks, with the typewriter Madeleine gave him on the occasion of his high school graduation.

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“Madeleine Mornings” mini-retreats, with Sarah Arthur and Sophfronia Scott

Dear Ones,

Sarah Arthur and Sophfronia Scott are hosting a series of three “Madeleine Mornings” mini-retreats on select Saturdays over the next 12 months. These virtual mini-retreats are designed to spark insight, foster connections, deepen your reading, and lend structure to your writing and spiritual life.

On select Saturdays via Zoom from 10 AM to 2 PM Eastern. Each retreat is self-contained but unique so you can attend one or several or all three. Facilitated content and group interaction will be interspersed with solo writing time for a rich and generative experience. If you can’t attend live or wish to watch a given retreat again, registration includes a link to the recording.
Oct. 16, 2021
Jan. 29, 2022
May 7, 2022

The cost is $69 per mini-retreat. You can purchase one or two or all three.

The first 50 people to register for all three Madeleine Mornings by Oct 16, 2021 receive 10% off registration for A Circle of Quiet: The Madeleine L’Engle Writing Retreat tentatively scheduled for Oct. 7-9, 2022 at Camp Washington, Lakeside CT. (In-person retreat dates & details subject to change. More info TBA.)

You can register here. Please address any questions to LEngleRetreat@gmail.com.

Additionally, those who sign up for all three Saturdays are entered to win a book and bling giveaway. Here’s Sarah to explain:

Madeleine Mornings Give-Aways

 

Sarah Arthur is the author of numerous books, including A Light So Lovely: The Spiritual Legacy of Madeleine L’Engle. In 2019 she co-directed the first ever Madeleine L’Engle Conference in NYC.

Sophfronia Scott is the founding director of the Alma College MFA in Creative Writing and author of numerous books, including The Seeker and the Monk: Everyday Conversations with Thomas Merton. She was a workshop facilitator at the 2019 L’Engle Conference.

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A Next Door Neighbor Remembers the Franklins #4

Madeleine L’Engle in her “Tower,” her writing room above the garage where she wrote A Wrinkle in Time, circa 1959.

A Tour of the Tower, Part Two

by J. Thomas Allison

 

Given an empty space the size of a two car garage, sloping walls with headroom of 7 feet, Herb Gubelman worked his creative magic. When you ducked so you wouldn’t hit your head, you found yourself in a most comfortable room.  On your  left was  a door to a “Barbie” size full bath with a toy tub/shower, vanity and commode.  On the same wall, which concealed the chimney for a boiler below, he installed a beautiful antique Franklin Stove of elaborate black cast iron  and large brass finials. Wonder of wonders, the door could be removed revealing doll house size andirons. There was a little fence to keep  tiny burning logs restrained and a woven wire screen to stop sparks.

Best of all, was a real English “fender.”  You could push up any one of the oversized overstuffed chairs, put your heels on it and sip a cup of tea. On top of the stove was a little copper tea kettle and small teapot so you could brew it before your eyes.

The south facing sloped roof he raised with a dormer and eyebrow sash windows. Below them, as the roof slanted out anyway, he made an entire wall of bookcases. Every author needs those. Madeleine was to fill them with rows of three ring binders containing onion skin carbon copies of her life’s work.

On the west “A” frame he did the same but installed the three largest sash windows that would fit. From these was a prospect across hay fields sweeping down to woods then the summit of Mohawk Mountain. Throughout the year, every clear evening, without fail, the setting sun filled the room with the last light of day.

Though a large house, there was no place for a guest room. Upstairs were three bedrooms and an odd room made into a kitchen in the 1880’s complete with iron sink. The “Eyrie,”  perhaps, might be called into service but only for the young of heart and limb. It had a steep staircase and no facilities were possible.

No problem for Herb. On the sloping north wall, a double bed could be pushed under the eaves. A hinged half wall with sofa cushions made a comfy couch. If you need a guest bed,  behind  was a little linen closet complete with sheets, blankets and down pillows.

Madeleine brought in her father’s early 19th century partners desk. On this she set an electrified antique student lamp with two

yellow shades.   Two corpulent  upholstered chairs offered hospitality to the invited and you did not go up there unless invited!  The couch offered an ample flat surface for one suffering from the disease of “pernicious horizontal file-itis,”  an affliction not solely claimed by authors.

Pushed in the corner between the desk and the sofa was a plain metal typewriter table. Here she set her father’s dark green portable Royal. Shelves behind it held reams of white typewriter paper, tissue thin “onionskin,” envelopes of carbon paper and boxes of typewriter ribbons

In the 1950’s, you had to make your own copies. You could make two if you had a heavy office model and strong touch typing skills. But with a portable, it was one at most, using carbon and the thinnest of second  sheets.  And….if you made a mistake, it was rolling the packet up and correcting. It always smudged and looked sloppy.  If you were careless rolling it back, you would misalign your work. Everything would be overtyped.

The first time only, you undoubtedly would put the carbon in the wrong way and your work appeared in reverse on the back. Accuracy in thought and fingering reduced rewrites and corrections.

Madeleine soon replaced her father’s companion with a baby blue Olivetti. In 1965 she bought an IBM Selectric with the bouncing ball. The feature of this machine was she could replace the fonts with the largest available. Just printing capitals made it easier to read as her eyesight had started to give problems.

She hated the whir of the motor found on all electric typewriters.  The foot tapping, arms folded, glaring expression of the unmistakable hum meant you weren’t writing anything!

The table faced into a corner. There was no chance of a distraction from the awesome panorama out the windows. A swivel office chair, probably found cast to the curb in the city, had seen better days forty years ago. Her  “cubicle.” was complete.

Her distraction did come from a  built in turntable and speaker. There was a sizable collection of  long play classic vinyls she called upon while working. The strains of Bach and his buddies behind the shut door at the foot of the stairs was an audible “Do Not Disturb.” If you chanced ascent, the music was replaced by a loud sharp “Get Out.”  No polite “please” followed.

Here she was to labor over and give birth to A Wrinkle in Time while in the country. She christened this retreat  “The Tower” of course.

 

Tom Allison is a retired Congregational Minister living in Albany NY.  Rehabbing a house once owned by a Hudson River Steamboat Captain inspired his looking into that history culminating in “Hudson River Steamboat Catastrophes Contests and Collisions” (History Press 2013) available Barnes and Noble and Amazon.  Since 5th grade he has enjoyed offering to the public illustrated history lectures. Among the 40 plus have been American Cookbooks,  plumbing,, transatlantic steamboat travel in the golden age, Litchfield Connecticut: America’s most historic mile and  A neighbor remembers Madeleine L’Engle, (for the 100th anniversary of  her birth)  to name a few. He is pictured here at Crosswicks, with the typewriter Madeleine gave him on the occasion of his high school graduation.

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A Next Door Neighbor Remembers the Franklins #3

A Tour of the Tower, Part One

 

by J. Tomas Allison

 

Every writer needs a designated sanctuary separate from the hurly burley. For Madeleine in Goshen it had been the old pantry as I described in the previous blog. When the family moved back to New York, she found that sanctuary …literally…in the Library of the Cathedral of St John the Divine. It offered solitude at the end of a brisk walk from their apartment on 105th Street. Oliver, her gentle giant  black and white collie was her daily companion.  It was heaven!

A Winter’s Love, her fourth book, had been published in 1957 and she was now a recognized author. But a real sanctuary in Goshen wasn’t going to happen easily. The windowless basement with walls of local stone, dirt underneath,  overhead floor joists of  tree trunks with the bark still on them  and a rumbling boiler do not a sanctuary make.

The attic was an option.  Picture a 1750’s “A” frame, one window each end with 12 over 12  tiny panes of bubbly  wavy original  glass.  It was charming but hardly an eyrie .   If  that had been the choice, it would have been christened “The Eyrie”  which is  the lofty nest for a bird of prey (such as a hawk or eagle).  If the basement chosen, it would have been christened  “The Eerie.”

Long time friend from New York now transplanted, Herb Gubelman, suggested making over the upstairs of their garage. Herb, Martha and their family Nash and Gretchen were now full time Goshen residents. He had built their home on Bartholomew Hill, the most elevated place in town except for Ivy Mountain far to the east. Its views rivaled their own at Crosswicks thanks to the wall of windows Herb had installed. He had been their designer/ builder and understood the beauty, allure,  quirkiness and unique possibilities found in 18th  century Yankee architecture.

The upstairs of the garage offered an existing space. The structure had been Goshen’s first General Store. Uri Hill from Wallingford built the house in the 1750’s  with  a separate structure to one side.  It was still sound, shifting a bit with wind and age. It was finally replaced with a larger three car/guest suite in the next century.

Before Thanksgiving, we had a real four day blizzard. Meteorologists refer to winter cyclones as a “bombogensis” with snow

The author, Tom Allison.

instead of rain. But to Yankees it is a “Nor’easter”   After the town snowblower went through, my mom and I went up the street with my Kodak 20 to record the event. Herb had gotten stuck  a hundred feet from the drive and left his convertible VW Bug in the road. That was the perfect place to record the snow depth with a 10 year old boy’s “stick em up” pose.

Herb had shoveled the drive several times and down to his car in the course of the storm hoping to get it into the garage.  That night the wind came up and it was buried. Two days later, he heard the approaching roar of the blower. He used one of the poles the town annually put up defining the sides of the road to mark his car. He pushed it through the canvas roof.

Over the course of the winter, Herb daily drove the three miles to transform what earlier generations had used as a chicken house. Herb was a genius at optimizing space. He could not sacrifice the more valuable garage for a proper stairway, so he created a narrow steep flight of steps. Tight against the north wall, they turned to the left as they reached the floor. If Madeleine were to go up there, she would have to duck, but so would everybody else. Thank God, Goshen did not (yet) have any zoning regulations.

Part Two to come!

 

Tom Allison is a retired Congregational Minister living in Albany NY.  Rehabbing a house once owned by a Hudson River Steamboat Captain inspired his looking into that history culminating in “Hudson River Steamboat Catastrophes Contests and Collisions” (History Press 2013) available Barnes and Noble and Amazon.  Since 5th grade he has enjoyed offering to the public illustrated history lectures. Among the 40 plus have been American Cookbooks,  plumbing,, transatlantic steamboat travel in the golden age, Litchfield Connecticut: America’s most historic mile and  A neighbor remembers Madeleine L’Engle, (for the 100th anniversary of  her birth)  to name a few. He is pictured here at Crosswicks, with the typewriter Madeleine gave him on the occasion of his high school graduation.

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“Madeleine Mornings” with Sarah Arthur and Sophfronia Scott

Dear ones,

At long last, my colleague Sophfronia Scott and I are pleased to announce that registration is now open for MADELEINE MORNINGS, three virtual mini writing retreats on select Saturdays in 2021-2022!

Inspired by Madeleine L’Engle, these retreats are designed to spark insight, foster connections, deepen your reading, and lend structure to your writing and spiritual life. Facilitated content and group interaction will be interspersed with solo writing time for a rich and generative experience.

We’ll meet via Zoom from 10 AM to 2 PM Eastern on Oct. 16, 2021, Jan. 29, 2022, and May 7, 2022. Each retreat is self-contained but unique so you can attend one or several or all three. If you can’t attend live or wish to watch a given retreat again, registration includes a link to the recording.

The cost is $69 per mini-retreat (nonrefundable), and you can purchase one or several or all three. HERE’S THE FUN PART: The first 50 people to register for all three Madeleine Mornings by Oct 16, 2021 receive 10% off registration for “A Circle of Quiet: The Madeleine L’Engle Writing Retreat” tentatively scheduled for Oct. 7-9, 2022 at Camp Washington, Lakeside CT. Yay!

Want to be among the first to receive this kind of info? Be sure to sign up for our mailing list.

Finally, major thanks to our in-kind sponsor, MadeleineLEngle.com for helping get the word out. We couldn’t do this without your encouragement, wisdom, and support. Any questions, please direct them to lengleretreat@gmail.com

Tesser well!

Sarah Arthur

Sarah Arthur — Co-Director of “Walking on Water: The 2019 Madeleine L’Engle Conference” and author of A Light So Lovely: The Spiritual Legacy of Madeleine L’Engle

Sophfronia Scott — Founding director of the Alma College MFA in Creative Writing and author of The Seeker and the Monk: Everyday Conversations with Thomas Merton

P.S. Missed the link for more info and registration? It’s here: https://bit.ly/3CJQ45q

#madeleinemornings

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