Full Speed Ahead: My Journey with Kit

I can see Kit is thinking hard about how to connect people to the books. Suddenly, her face lights up. If people can’t come to the books, maybe we could bring the books to the people.

I tilt my head in questioning. I’ve seen mobile libraries. We have a bookmobile at home. It’s the size of a school bus. There’s no way it could get around all the steep and narrow mountain paths.

Kit already knows the answer: Serena. If Miss Myrtle will let us, we can fill her saddle bags with books and magazines. Then we can go from house to house. Just like the way the mailman brings letters and packages. I try to warm up to her idea, but my feet ache at the thought of walking all around the mountain with a pile of books.

We both look at Aunt Millie to see what she thinks. I expect her to say that Kit’s idea is impractical. But instead, she says that the plan sounds like a fine, Depression-fighting idea.

When we get home, we find Miss Myrtle has returned with Serena. Buddy rushes up to Serena, frisking around her playfully. He seems to think of Serena as a very big dog. Serena cocks one long ear at him, and then ignores him. Kit explains her idea to Miss Myrtle, who listens with full attention. Finally, Miss Myrtle says that Serena would be honored to help. And she can stay home taking care of Buddy; it’d be too rough of a trip for a little pup like him.

I ask if it’ll be a long, hard route. I’m trying not to whine, but I fear I’m not succeeding. Aunt Millie nods her head. It’ll be nearly twenty miles all told, with buggy streambeds and steep and stony trails. And we’ll have to cross Troublesome Creek.

Miss Myrtle asks if I’ll be okay. I hesitate, but Aunt Millie snorts and says that we won’t let a few rocks and insects get us down. We’re made of sterner stuff than that. Kit smiles widely. I smile weakly. I bend down to cuddle Buddy. I wish me and Miss Myrtle could trade places, but I can’t let Kit down, even if I’m not a fan of her book delivery idea.

The next morning, I try to avoid Serena’s front end and back end as we fill her saddlebags with books and magazines. She has big, yellow teeth and a tail like a whip. But she does stand quite still as we load her up. She even manages to look determined and dignified with bulging saddlebags hanging from either side of her. But just as I’m beginning to think she’s not so bad, she swings her big head around and looks at me with a knowing glint in her eyes. She hee-haws, and I can swear that she is laughing at me!

As we begin our long walk, Aunt Millie walks next to Serena’s head, leading her by holding the reins loosely, and Kit and I walk behind. I jump every time Serena swishes her tail. At first, the footing isn’t too rough. We walk along a dirt road that Aunt Millie says is called the “haul road” because lumbermen use it when they haul trees down the mountain. When we reach Troublesome Creek, Serena crosses it without a murmur, picking up and putting down her feet rather delicately as she finds her way through the rushing water. Kit, Aunt Millie, and I are less graceful. We wobble as we leap from stone to stone. When we get to the far side, Serena needs a bit of pushing and prodding from Aunt Millie and Kit while she struggles up the slippery bank. I don’t want to touch her, so I help by standing on top of the bank and calling out to her to try to encourage her up the bank.

After we cross Troublesome Creek, the haul road turns into a twisty-turny, rocky path that’s only a hair wider than Serena’s rump. We trudge single file, dodging thorny branches and brushing off bloodthirsty bugs. As usual, I look like a gourmet meal to the mosquitos. Soon I’m measled with red bites, and knowing my luck, some of those spots are probably poison ivy.

At last, up ahead, we see a crooked little cabin. It’s all gray except for a beautiful green vine that twines around the porch posts. Aunt Millie reminds us that the McCorkles’ don’t have anything to spare—not food, energy, nor time. So we’ll offer books to loan and get on our way.

As we get closer, a tall woman comes out onto the porch. Aunt Millie greets her and briefly introduces us. To my surprise, Mrs. McCorkle smiles and invites us inside for a cup of sassafras tea. She says the children are working in the vegetable patch. They were so sad when the school closed. She says that young Robert would love to show Aunt Millie his memorized Shakespeare poem.

Aunt Millie smiles and politely refuses the offer. She says we’re traveling librarians today, so we can’t stay long. But we did bring books from the schoolhouse for the family. Kit adds that we have books about cowboys, detectives, and faraway places. I chip in that we have comedies, romances, and ghost stories.

Mrs. McCorkle’s smile stiffens. She has no time to read useless claptrap. And it’s crop month, so the children shouldn’t be distracted from their chores, especially by outside influences.

Say what? I can tell by Kit and Aunt Millie’s surprised expressions that they are as dumbfounded as I am. Why would anyone say no to a book? It seems as if the traveling librarian idea is a non-starter. And I feel even more discouraged as I smack another hungry mosquito and get a look at how polka-dotted my arm is. I can’t help but give my arm a good scratch, and somehow I end up also using my foot to scratch my other calf.

Mrs. McCorkle asks me what’s wrong, and I tell her the mosquito bites just itch like crazy. Mrs. McCorkle tells us to wait here, and she disappears inside. When she returns, she’s holding a stoneware jar of ointment. It smells like pine needles, and when she rubs some on my skin, the ointment feels cool and soothing. Miraculously, the bites stop itching.

I thank her gratefully. I ask Mrs. McCorkle what medicine it is. She says she makes it herself, from an old family recipe.

Kit’s face lights up. She pulls out the Waste-Not, Want-Not Almanac and hands it to Mrs. McCorkle. She explains that family remedies are exactly the kind of thing to go in the book. It’s got lots of Aunt Millie’s smart ideas about how to beat the Depression. Maybe Mrs. McCorkle can write her remedy in the Almanac.

Mrs. McCorkle smiles and says she’d be glad to. It’s clear that she is pleased to have something to give us. And I can tell Aunt Millie and Kit understand, too. We offended Mrs. McCorkle’s pride when we offered her something for nothing. Just like Mrs. Littlefield, Mrs. McCorkle has a strong sense of dignity. The people living on this mountain don’t have much, but they do have too much pride to take handouts.

I notice a quilt draped over the porch railing. It’s colorful and beautiful. Fabrics are my obsession, and the scraps of cloth in the quilt are gorgeous. I ask Mrs. McCorkle if I can draw the pattern for the quilt in the Almanac. Mrs. McCorkle flips through the pages of the Almanac. Finally, she says the pattern has been handed down in her family for years. She’d be pleased to have it in a book like this.

Mrs. McCorkle opens the door of her cabin and says we can come inside. It’ll take a while to write the ointment recipe and draw the pattern.

As we drink our tea, all the McCorkle children come in. They look shy but pleased to have guests, and very, very happy to see their teacher, Aunt Millie! Every child comes up to her and asks how she’s doing. Robert recites his poem while I sketch the quilt pattern on one page of the Almanac. Mrs. McCorkle writes the ingredients of the anti-itching ointment on another page. When Robert finishes reciting, we clap and Robert blushes and bows.

When it’s time to leave, Kit and I thank Mrs. McCorkle for her hospitality. But Aunt Millie has another idea. She tells us that she’s not at peace. It doesn’t sit right to her to take something for nothing, especially in hard times like these. Mrs. McCorkle nods. That’s why she didn’t want to borrow books at first. It didn’t feel right to take without giving.

Kit places a small book on the table. Maybe we can leave the book of Shakespeare poems for Robert?

Mrs. McCorkle laughs. That seems like an even trade.