The Bookless Club: Do you have a Little Free Library in your neighbourhood?
Vancouver has 22 civic libraries. Victoria has 12. The streets of these two cities, however, have well over 1,000 unincorporated 'little libraries'. You've seen them, of course. Those quaint little bird-house structures, placed along sidewalks, usually with a glassed-in front to keep the contents safe from the elements. Inside these little boxes there is always the oddest selection of books, and almost always something that will pique your interest.
Victoria, in particular, seems to have taken to this citizen book exchange idea in a big way. I was recently in that city and took dozens of photos of these creative little structures. Clearly, it's not enough to just stick a box on a post — you've got to bring some imagination to the task … and certainly some carpentry skills, too. Many of these mini lending libraries are made to replicate the exterior of the houses they sit in front of. Some take their inspiration from literature itself — say, a Hogwarts theme, or Tara from Gone With The Wind. I lost count of the number of little libraries, but Greater Victoria Place-Making Network shows a map of their LFL — Little Free Libraries — and the unofficial count is in the range of 1,000. The network even offers a LFL Bingo card where the task is to find things such as a Danielle Steele novel, anything in French, a textbook, or a LFL made from old furniture.
None of this existed at the turn of the century. The LFL movement began in 2009 in Wisconsin, as a son's tribute to a book-loving mom. Todd Bol's mother was a teacher. When she died, he built a model of a one-room schoolhouse and filled it with books, then put it up on his front lawn. The lending principle was, 'Take a book. Leave a book.' People loved his little lending library, so he made several and gave them away to friends and family.
Shortly thereafter, a professor from the University of Wisconsin saw an LFL and contacted Bol, suggesting that they expand the idea. They took as their inspiration Andrew Carnegie, the Scottish philanthropist who set out to create over 2,500 free libraries for the English-speaking world. The goal of the LFL was to match the number of Carnegie's libraries by the end of 2013. Well, by early 2012, Bol's humble project leapt well beyond that target, a year and a half ahead of plan.
The Little Free Library idea grew into a global movement. Bol would die in 2018 from pancreatic cancer, but not before the organization he created celebrated the landmark 75,000th Little Free Library. Shortly before his death, he restated the mission behind his novel idea: 'I really believe in a Little Free Library on every block, and a book in every hand. I believe people can fix their neighbourhoods, fix their communities, develop systems of sharing, learn from each other, and see that they have a better place on this planet to live.'
So, that's the back story behind those darling little houses you see perched on posts on sidewalks … and isn't it grand?
Jane Macdougall is a freelance writer and former National Post columnist who lives in Vancouver. She writes The Bookless Club every Saturday online and in The Vancouver Sun. For more of what Jane's up to, check out her website,
janemacdougall.com
Question: Do you have a Little Free Library in your neighbourhood? What's the story behind it?
Send your answers by email text, not an attachment, in 100 words or less, along with your full name to Jane at
thebooklessclub@gmail.com
. We will print some next week in this space.
Question: What were the backyard games in your neighbourhood?
• In my childhood in Tehran we played a game called Donkey. It was a little complicated, but you needed two teams, and one side would back up blindly and the other side would jump on their backs. Part of the fun was that you would have to hold the other person up for as long as you could. It was so very much fun.
Valentin Yersian
• Our game was called Relievo. It was a take on Hide And Seek. You could sneak up unseen and tag the power pole home base to relieve those already caught. This went on in the back alley and on the hill behind our houses for hours. Great fun for neighbourhood kids of any age.
Joan Kowalenko
• This game starts with two people. It can be more, but you only need two to make it work. Each person gathers 10 rocks. One person says to the other, 'I'm going to guess how many rocks you have in your hand.' The other person can put one, none or 10 in their hand, but the person has to guess the amount. If they are right, they get the rocks. If they're wrong, they have to give the other person the amount that they were wrong by. The winner of the game is who ends up with 20 rocks. If playing with more people, when you run out of rocks, you're out of the game.
This game was started at the beach by my mother who was trying to teach three little girls counting and patience. I now play it at the lake in Nakusp with my grandchildren, who all loved it.
Judy Toffolo
• My best friend, Gilles, and I were the oldest kids on our block. When our large group of young children gathered together, we had to keep the little ones entertained. It was a challenge to keep them from getting bored, so we put on plays. I had a patio on the back of our house that doubled as an outdoor theatre. Admission to our plays was one clothespin. Once we got over the quarrels over who was going to be in the play and who would be the audience, we began. The young ones' favourites were our comedies, especially the two carpenters. Gilles and I played inept carpenters who would keep messing up our projects. My mother had to step in and halt the play when I swung a two-by-four, narrowly missing Gilles every time.
E. Drieling
• Yes, Red Rover was lots of fun because all different ages could play together, although us littler kids would sometimes get knocked about. Same goes for Tag, or Hide And Seek. The girls used to do a lot of rope skipping (Double Dutch!) and have Dolly Tea Parties. We boys spent many summer hours playing at Livestock Management Technicians and Indigenous Warriors. Sometimes we would hop on our bikes and raid the tea parties if there were cookies to be had. And lots of exploring on our bikes — neither mom nor grandma seemed obsessed with knowing my whereabouts, as long as I turned up on time for lunch and dinner.
Bruno Bandiera
• Red River Rover. We call such and such over. That's what we sang in Kamloops around 1955 or so. Besides, 'Red Rover, Red Rover' just doesn't have a sing-song quality. Other games we played were marbles, skipping, jacks, and civil war, plus Pigs and Wolf — my favourite.
Sheila Humphrey
• Growing up in East Van, no one seemed to mind that we played '500' or 'Cherry' with a baseball bat and ball, hockey with a tennis ball and our coats as goals, or 'Yards', throwing or kicking a football, 'Kick the Can' and 'Night Tag' on 30th Avenue by Fraser St. No one shouted at us to get out of their yard or not hit their parked car or to keep it down. I recall getting trapped on a neighbour's back porch while playing tag one evening, so I simply opened the back door and proceeded to walk through the main floor of the house. 'Hi, Mr. Holmes. Hello, Mrs. Holmes' as they watched TV, and then I skedaddled out their front door. Times were much simpler in the late-1960s.
Dirk van Renesse
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Vancouver Sun
2 days ago
- Vancouver Sun
The Bookless Club: Do you have a Little Free Library in your neighbourhood?
Vancouver has 22 civic libraries. Victoria has 12. The streets of these two cities, however, have well over 1,000 unincorporated 'little libraries'. You've seen them, of course. Those quaint little bird-house structures, placed along sidewalks, usually with a glassed-in front to keep the contents safe from the elements. Inside these little boxes there is always the oddest selection of books, and almost always something that will pique your interest. Victoria, in particular, seems to have taken to this citizen book exchange idea in a big way. I was recently in that city and took dozens of photos of these creative little structures. Clearly, it's not enough to just stick a box on a post — you've got to bring some imagination to the task … and certainly some carpentry skills, too. Many of these mini lending libraries are made to replicate the exterior of the houses they sit in front of. Some take their inspiration from literature itself — say, a Hogwarts theme, or Tara from Gone With The Wind. I lost count of the number of little libraries, but Greater Victoria Place-Making Network shows a map of their LFL — Little Free Libraries — and the unofficial count is in the range of 1,000. The network even offers a LFL Bingo card where the task is to find things such as a Danielle Steele novel, anything in French, a textbook, or a LFL made from old furniture. None of this existed at the turn of the century. The LFL movement began in 2009 in Wisconsin, as a son's tribute to a book-loving mom. Todd Bol's mother was a teacher. When she died, he built a model of a one-room schoolhouse and filled it with books, then put it up on his front lawn. The lending principle was, 'Take a book. Leave a book.' People loved his little lending library, so he made several and gave them away to friends and family. Shortly thereafter, a professor from the University of Wisconsin saw an LFL and contacted Bol, suggesting that they expand the idea. They took as their inspiration Andrew Carnegie, the Scottish philanthropist who set out to create over 2,500 free libraries for the English-speaking world. The goal of the LFL was to match the number of Carnegie's libraries by the end of 2013. Well, by early 2012, Bol's humble project leapt well beyond that target, a year and a half ahead of plan. The Little Free Library idea grew into a global movement. Bol would die in 2018 from pancreatic cancer, but not before the organization he created celebrated the landmark 75,000th Little Free Library. Shortly before his death, he restated the mission behind his novel idea: 'I really believe in a Little Free Library on every block, and a book in every hand. I believe people can fix their neighbourhoods, fix their communities, develop systems of sharing, learn from each other, and see that they have a better place on this planet to live.' So, that's the back story behind those darling little houses you see perched on posts on sidewalks … and isn't it grand? Jane Macdougall is a freelance writer and former National Post columnist who lives in Vancouver. She writes The Bookless Club every Saturday online and in The Vancouver Sun. For more of what Jane's up to, check out her website, Question: Do you have a Little Free Library in your neighbourhood? What's the story behind it? Send your answers by email text, not an attachment, in 100 words or less, along with your full name to Jane at thebooklessclub@ . We will print some next week in this space. Question: What were the backyard games in your neighbourhood? • In my childhood in Tehran we played a game called Donkey. It was a little complicated, but you needed two teams, and one side would back up blindly and the other side would jump on their backs. Part of the fun was that you would have to hold the other person up for as long as you could. It was so very much fun. Valentin Yersian • Our game was called Relievo. It was a take on Hide And Seek. You could sneak up unseen and tag the power pole home base to relieve those already caught. This went on in the back alley and on the hill behind our houses for hours. Great fun for neighbourhood kids of any age. Joan Kowalenko • This game starts with two people. It can be more, but you only need two to make it work. Each person gathers 10 rocks. One person says to the other, 'I'm going to guess how many rocks you have in your hand.' The other person can put one, none or 10 in their hand, but the person has to guess the amount. If they are right, they get the rocks. If they're wrong, they have to give the other person the amount that they were wrong by. The winner of the game is who ends up with 20 rocks. If playing with more people, when you run out of rocks, you're out of the game. This game was started at the beach by my mother who was trying to teach three little girls counting and patience. I now play it at the lake in Nakusp with my grandchildren, who all loved it. Judy Toffolo • My best friend, Gilles, and I were the oldest kids on our block. When our large group of young children gathered together, we had to keep the little ones entertained. It was a challenge to keep them from getting bored, so we put on plays. I had a patio on the back of our house that doubled as an outdoor theatre. Admission to our plays was one clothespin. Once we got over the quarrels over who was going to be in the play and who would be the audience, we began. The young ones' favourites were our comedies, especially the two carpenters. Gilles and I played inept carpenters who would keep messing up our projects. My mother had to step in and halt the play when I swung a two-by-four, narrowly missing Gilles every time. E. Drieling • Yes, Red Rover was lots of fun because all different ages could play together, although us littler kids would sometimes get knocked about. Same goes for Tag, or Hide And Seek. The girls used to do a lot of rope skipping (Double Dutch!) and have Dolly Tea Parties. We boys spent many summer hours playing at Livestock Management Technicians and Indigenous Warriors. Sometimes we would hop on our bikes and raid the tea parties if there were cookies to be had. And lots of exploring on our bikes — neither mom nor grandma seemed obsessed with knowing my whereabouts, as long as I turned up on time for lunch and dinner. Bruno Bandiera • Red River Rover. We call such and such over. That's what we sang in Kamloops around 1955 or so. Besides, 'Red Rover, Red Rover' just doesn't have a sing-song quality. Other games we played were marbles, skipping, jacks, and civil war, plus Pigs and Wolf — my favourite. Sheila Humphrey • Growing up in East Van, no one seemed to mind that we played '500' or 'Cherry' with a baseball bat and ball, hockey with a tennis ball and our coats as goals, or 'Yards', throwing or kicking a football, 'Kick the Can' and 'Night Tag' on 30th Avenue by Fraser St. No one shouted at us to get out of their yard or not hit their parked car or to keep it down. I recall getting trapped on a neighbour's back porch while playing tag one evening, so I simply opened the back door and proceeded to walk through the main floor of the house. 'Hi, Mr. Holmes. Hello, Mrs. Holmes' as they watched TV, and then I skedaddled out their front door. Times were much simpler in the late-1960s. Dirk van Renesse
Winnipeg Free Press
5 days ago
- Winnipeg Free Press
Finding the right touch
With their latest original stage production, opening tonight at Prairie Theatre Exchange, Sick + Twisted is inviting audiences not just to look and to listen, but to feel. Before each performance of Neither Here Nor There, up to eight guests will have the opportunity to be led onto the Cherry Karpyshin Mainstage for a 'touch tour,' allowing low-vision, blind and sighted audience members alike to experience the set and gain an understanding of the production's non-traditional geography. Playing on a traverse stage, also known as a corridor or alley, the company's adaptation of the legend of the blind seer Tiresias places audiences on either side of the action, says director Debbie Patterson. BROOK JONES / FREE PRESS Tyler Sneeby (left) and Vivi Dabee star in Neither Here Nor There. With the stage bisected by a sheer curtain, the audience can only see half of the show clearly, the other blurred by the barricade. The staging and the touch tour play into the trailblazing company's commitment to disability esthetics, using lived experience with disability as an opportunity for exploration and discovery rather than a barrier to experience, says Patterson. 'When you can't walk across the room, every other way becomes available to you,' she says. One of the production's three blind actors describes their experience with vision loss as one of 'limitless possibility.' 'We embrace the barriers we face as potent catalysts for discovery and innovation, so the esthetic choices in this production have been arrived at through this process, giving us this utterly new approach to making theatre. No one else is making theatre like this,' says Patterson. By decentring vision as a prerequisite for participation, the company was able to emphasize theatre as a complete sensory experience, with a script that expresses every action with a corresponding audio cue, designed by Dasha Plett, who was just nominated for a Toronto theatre award — a Dora — for her work in Buddies in Bad Times' production of Roberto Zucco. 'All the props are mimed, but the sound effects are hyperrealistic,' Patterson says. Created and performed by a team of blind and transgender artists, Neither Here Nor There had its start during the pandemic when Patterson sought to create a work developed by members of both communities. 'One participant wrote a song about how being blind felt like being neither here nor there, and that idea of being in an in-between really resonated with some of the trans artists,' Patterson says. The show's cast includes Lara Rae as the production's hostess, a cross between a Greek chorus and a standup comic who periodically comments on the action. Tyler Sneesby, a.k.a. DJ Hunnicutt, plays Zeus. Plett and Gislina Patterson (We Quit Theatre) also appear, as do Vivi Dabee as Tiresias and Vivian Cheung as the character's modern counterpart, Ti. Making their stage debut is m patchwork monoceros, who also designed the set. BROOK JONES / FREE PRESS The stage is split by a sheer curtain so the audience can only see half of the show clearly. 'My character is a person who has vision, who can see the future, who understands trends, but because she knows so much, she keeps herself small, experiencing a type of loneliness no one else can understand,' says Cheung, a blind actor, triathlete, author, graphic novelist, accessible yoga instructor and Dora-nominated theatre creator from Toronto performing in Winnipeg for the first time. 'Oftentimes, when a person lives with a physical disability, they have to explain themselves repeatedly until they're heard, and that gets very fatiguing. I can't stress enough that we need more listening in this world, more quiet participation and quiet leadership.' Weekday Evenings Today's must-read stories and a roundup of the day's headlines, delivered every evening. That's what Cheung says she found working with Sick + Twisted, which implemented her insights into the way the production took shape. The script calls for Ti to make a stir-fry in her home kitchen, but when the actor pointed out that if she were holding a cellphone while doing it, it would end up in the wok, the team quickly decided with Cheung to mime all of the cooking actions instead. 'Now our sound designer Dasha is choreographing the sound to support my cooking. It's become a duet in cooking between miming and movement, with the stage manager timing the sizzling and the sounds of vegetables going into the wok,' says Cheung 'It's a collaboration in every sense of the word.' Ben WaldmanReporter Ben Waldman is a National Newspaper Award-nominated reporter on the Arts & Life desk at the Free Press. Born and raised in Winnipeg, Ben completed three internships with the Free Press while earning his degree at Ryerson University's (now Toronto Metropolitan University's) School of Journalism before joining the newsroom full-time in 2019. Read more about Ben. Every piece of reporting Ben produces is reviewed by an editing team before it is posted online or published in print — part of the Free Press's tradition, since 1872, of producing reliable independent journalism. Read more about Free Press's history and mandate, and learn how our newsroom operates. Our newsroom depends on a growing audience of readers to power our journalism. If you are not a paid reader, please consider becoming a subscriber. Our newsroom depends on its audience of readers to power our journalism. Thank you for your support.
Winnipeg Free Press
30-05-2025
- Winnipeg Free Press
Immediate support offered to evacuees: Kinew
As 17,000 Manitobans flee for their lives with little more than the shirts on their backs, some take shelter in hotels and motels, arenas or with family and friends. Where they end up depends on what they need, Premier Wab Kinew said Friday. 'The first principle is that this is one Manitoba,' Kinew said at a wildfire briefing Friday as the threat worsened. The province offered Emergency Social Services support for the mandatory evacuees right away rather than expecting municipalities or local authorities to support their residents for a minimum 72 hours, as guidelines dictate. MIKE DEAL / FREE PRESS 'It's important that people register as an evacuee if they have been told to leave their community,' Premier Wab Kinew said Friday. 'Given the scale of the situation here, the department of families has decided to waive 72-hour period, and we're going to help people immediately,' Kinew told the legislative assembly on Thursday. Emergency Social Services are provided on a short-term basis 'to preserve the emotional and physical well-being of evacuees and response workers in emergency situations.' The province's first priority is to ensure accommodations and food are provided to people fleeing a disaster. For those who don't stay with family and friends, staff are focused on accommodations in congregate facilities where food and shelter is provided, a spokesman for the provincial government said Friday. 'Many evacuees have already been receiving support, and as people register, the province is working with the Canadian Red Cross to ensure everyone receives supports,' he said without providing numbers or details. 'It's important that people register as an evacuee if they have been told to leave their community.' They can register online or at a reception centre. 'The reception centre I was at (Thursday) had folks who were coming from the city of Flin Flon but also Pukatawagan Cree Nation,' the premier said Friday. People from First Nations would get federal support and others, including Flin Flon residents, would get provincial support, Kinew said. Sent weekly from the heart of Turtle Island, an exploration of Indigenous voices, perspectives and experiences. 'There's just one desk where people are checking in, getting registered and getting assigned supports. When we get to who's staying with friends and family that's effectively self-selected.' He said a lot evacuees are going to head to congregate shelters. 'The hotel rooms in the province are very, very hard to come by right now and that's because of the previous evacuations, because of other folks just having their business conferences, vacations,' the premier said. 'Where we do have access to hotel rooms is being prioritized for medical patients and (those with) accessibility issues and for who staying in a cot in a congregate setting might be a challenge.' Carol SandersLegislature reporter Carol Sanders is a reporter at the Free Press legislature bureau. The former general assignment reporter and copy editor joined the paper in 1997. Read more about Carol. Every piece of reporting Carol produces is reviewed by an editing team before it is posted online or published in print — part of the Free Press's tradition, since 1872, of producing reliable independent journalism. Read more about Free Press's history and mandate, and learn how our newsroom operates. Our newsroom depends on a growing audience of readers to power our journalism. If you are not a paid reader, please consider becoming a subscriber. Our newsroom depends on its audience of readers to power our journalism. Thank you for your support.
