My trip to Bloomington over Spring Break was entirely rejuvenating. I left quite early in the morning and arrived in sleepy little Bloomington at about 7:45am. Elizabeth was up and ready for me, loyal and trusty friend that she is, and upon my arrival made me fresh espresso and we had some scones I had brought her, with fresh whipped cream and lemon curd. A perfect moment, really: scones and espresso and all things lovely and fresh, with my friend whom I miss so much and so often. Visiting with Elizabeth (no matter which one of us translocates—and I must admit, it’s usually her) is like coming home. It’s like recharging a dead battery in my mind and my heart. I love the way Elizabeth thinks; independent, kind, wonder-filled, a bit tragic. In fact, I actually sort of think of talking to Elizabeth as talking to Virginia Woolf reincarnated. Elizabeth is my Reina Elisa: she is a queen, and all that issues from her is intelligent, regal and luxurious. It’s a gift to speak to her. I know Elizabeth doesn’t view herself this way; she thinks she bumbles and trips and is quite self-conscious. She ought not to be, but it is an understandable extension of a poetically introspective life. C’est la vie en poésie.
After breakfast, we drove to town and walked around Indiana University. I had never really experienced IU’s campus on foot, so she gave me a bit of a tour. We, of course (for reasons of shared passion about all things related to books and their collections), visited the Lilly Special Collections Library and the main library on campus. The Lilly was quite elegant and well maintained, with dark wood bookshelves to the ceiling, surrounding a stone fireplace in the meeting hall, gentle sunlight streaming in from the high windows. The wallpaper in the Lincoln room was actually silk, with an embroidered pattern that made one feel one ought to be wearing gloves and an evening gown. In another room were personal letters from Ezra Pound and TS Eliot (among others), behind glass cases and soft light. It was quiet—actually sleepy—as we were first in the door at 9am on a Saturday, when all the other townies were asleep or at the Bakehouse, and the students were all on Spring Break. In fact, the Lilly is so lovely that if you wanted to take a tour yourself, you could utilize the website they have created and take an online tour of the place: http://www.indiana.edu/~liblilly/tour.shtml . Go!
The main library, named the Herman B. Wells, was precisely the opposite in ambiance to the Lilly. There were in fact people about despite the early hour, but the building itself housed none of the charm or elegance of the former place. From the outside it appeared more like the Ministry of Love from George Orwell’s 1984, a huge stone box that seemed to angle outward toward the top. The shape of it was almost comical in its exaggerated hugeness, as if it were meant to be some ironic, postmodern silent joke on a piece of modernist architecture, like so many constructions are these days. I believe it was not a tongue-in-cheek sort of moument, however, as it was built in the 1960s and lacking that final bit of over-exaggeration or flippancy. Instead, I decided it was meant as a paean to modernism, all geometric and pure from feeling or human touch. It was disgusting to my eyes: almost funny, but falling just short of laughing at itself, and so really rather disturbing. (I should insert here that my own university’s library is also hideous, and so I do not intend to speak with condescension, but only bafflement and architectural/artistic apprehension.) Inside was not much different, either, from my mental construction of the Ministry of Love: the 11 or 12 floors were all the same (with the exception of the ground floor): cramped, darkish, overfull, labyrinthine, deserted, overly clerical. The ground floor was the most interesting bit: a wide lobby with art-deco accents that made one feel as if one were standing in a 1930s bus or train terminal. There were shabby couches about and I could swear I noticed an ashtray or two, but perhaps that’s my mental superimposition of a train terminal upon the library lobby. (see photo below)
After IU we spent the remainder of the morning at Soma Coffee and the vintage clothing store above it, among a few other stores. Soma had a lovely T-shirt (too expensive, though, at $17) that said “Soma” on the back and on the front, “No corporate after-taste.” I loved that so much. Elizabeth and I mulled over our various love, family and career situations and futures, not really coming to any conclusions. I was relieved to simply share my emotional meanderings with someone else of like mind and spirit who neither judges nor attempts to fix; she just listens. Qué bendición.
We later visited the Monroe County Public Library where Elizabeth works. It is a beautiful place, full of light and activity, white and wood. I told her it reminded me of a children’s museum; I think that pleased her for some reason.
We lunched at Esan Thai, a new restaurant in Bloomington apparently, which I can recommend with gusto. Quite spicy and good and filling, for about $8. We returned to her house and I thumbed through her books, perused her walls filled with photos and magazine clippings, posters and other incidental information. Later, after a snack of Girl Scout cookies and Twizzlers (classic Elizabeth fare), we drove north of Bloomington to Oliver winery and took a wine tasting session, selected a few bottles for purchase and then walked about the peaceful grounds under the sun and the breeze, which at that time in March still left a chill after it.
After we felt our heads had re-grounded themselves after a stomach full of wine and Twizzlers, we returned to Elizabeth’s and climbed up to her roof, where there is a deck and some Adirondack chairs. We sat up there, looking out over Bloomington and the cemetery close-by, and we drank sweet blackberry wine and relaxed (or, as Bernie Mac would say, “chillaxed”). I don’t remember much of the conversation's particulars (heh...), but I remember Elizabeth walking right alongside me in the lane of conversation the whole time, which is not how I oftentimes feel when talking to others. It’s such a blessing to have someone to talk with who is “with you” all the time. After a while, we went to a Mexican restaurant, se llama "El Norteño," for dinner; I returned to Louisville shortly thereafter.
‘Twas a good, good day. Thanks for loving me, Elizabeth. It was the most ideal Spring Break I could’ve imagined.
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