A Twenty-First-Century Historian’s “Day-Away” Kit 

On November 1st, I officially started my 8-month sabbatical. Unlike my first research leave in 2013/2014, when I literally hit the road on day one, this time my “start” has been more nebulous. Because of short staffing within my library system, I stayed on campus for most of the fall to help ensure that “kids get taught and books get bought.” From late August through the end of October, I sprinted to deliver a semester’s worth of library orientations and purchase a year’s worth of new books within just 10 weeks. That work completed, I am now spending the first week or two of my leave on end-of-year reporting, revising/resubmitting an article manuscript that was rejected earlier, and tying up other loose ends. Ideally, I would have had everything related to my sabbatical in place by now, but, as a Kurt Vonnegut character would say of other farcical or tragic situations, “so it goes.”  

Despite being unable to launch my research on the exact date I had hoped, each day I’ve done something constructive. Today, for example, I took a look at my “day-away kit” —a cheerful paisley LeSportsac bag that I use to carry research supplies to nearby sites. I hadn’t touched it in at least 5 years—not since COVID-19 closed libraries around the world and many historians, myself included, turned toward digitized primary sources on DPLA, HathiTrust, and Newspapers.com. As it happened, I had already cleaned my bag out thoroughly, though some remaining unopened packs of ruled index cards and a fistful of pencils, pens, and highlighters made me smile wistfully.  

My "Day-Away" Bag

In April 2014—the last time I lugged my kit to a research site—my methods were much more “analog” than they are today. So much so, that packing required a substantial checklist of items for a typical day trip. Besides notecards and writing implements, I routinely carried rolls of quarters for parking meters and photocopiers, a Pennsylvania atlas, and printed driving directions. Certain creature comforts were necessary too, including bottled water, snacks, Advil, lipbalm, and menstrual care items, including a spare pair of underwear, and single-use packets of Biofreeze and Hot Hands to alleviate body aches and cramps. After about a month on the road, I added a pair of silicone-tipped kitchen tongs—helpful for plucking books from the highest library shelves and nabbing prints from copiers that were situated behind service desks. In addition, I packed a stapler (as perennial discussions on Reddit, librarian blogs, and other professional venues attest, every library-owned stapler has been broken for 50 years). I also added a small roll of toilet paper, because it seems that no matter when I use bathrooms in public buildings, the odds are only 50-50 that they’ll have something I can use to wipe my ass. I threw in a book of crossword puzzles to keep boredom at bay when unexpected waits occurred. Although I always brought my cell phone, too, at that point in my career I used it primarily for communication and entertainment. At the time, I didn’t consider a laptop essential research equipment, so I rarely brought one with me.  

A decade and a hysterectomy later, so many things on my checklist are irrelevant now. While it’s true that my current focus on mid-late 20th-century state policy will place me mostly in Harrisburg and require less travel, there are various once-essential items that I no longer need in any case. Sure, I am planning to bring my phone, laptop, and charger—in fact, I rely heavily on those now. But 1 pack (not 4 packs) of notecards and 1 or 2 pens (not a fistful) should be enough of a backup for digital notetaking. The spare change in my car should suffice for parking decks that don’t have a downloadable app. Even though it doesn’t seem that Pennsylvania’s rural wireless coverage has improved much in the past 10 years, I feel OK about relying on Google Maps for driving directions. Pain killers, food, beverages, and toilet paper are still essential, but the rest of the pharmacy can stay at home. Comparing my almost-50-year-old self to my 36-year-old self, tomorrow I will seek out hand-held and sheet magnifiers to add to my bag, put a spare pair of eyeglasses in my glove box, and buy an inflatable backrest/butt cushion in case any library’s seating is god-awful. 

Because, at my age, most seating is god-awful. 

On the technological side, I’ll need to do more thinking about equipment, and I don’t doubt that further ideas and needs will arise once I scope out the State Library and my other research sites. Public libraries are often situated in century-old buildings that don’t have convenient power outlets, sufficient scanners, and other necessities for digital researchers. To start myself off, I will carry charging cords in several lengths and a couple of USB drives. Instead of filling a 12-drawer office credenza with photocopies as I did in 2013/2014, this time I created a file structure on OneDrive, as well as a new project folder in Zotero (my citation management program). Next Monday, when I start looking for relevant scholarly research, my first step will be to cuddle up on my couch and use online databases (Library Literature, LISTA, ERIC, WorldCAT, etc.), rather than driving to a library. It’ll certainly be a different vibe from 20+ years ago, when I started my library history journey, Penn State didn’t have as good access to LIS journals, and background research involved printed indexes and a stack of paper-based interlibrary loan forms!   

There’s a significant part of me that’s grateful for computers, digitized materials, and other advances that make historical research much easier than it used to be. However, not having as much of a “day-away kit” makes the treasure-hunt feel like less of an adventure. Maybe I need to reconceive what “adventuring” is. Instead of driving to a site and grappling with all the logistical and physical challenges that a strange new place can entail, maybe there will be different issues—boredom? social isolation?—to cope with. Perhaps, instead of new libraries being my main adventure, my lunch breaks will involve walking some new rail-trails, trying new lunch spots, and uncovering underappreciated points of interest close to home. Instead of deriving joy from changes of scenery, maybe I will encounter different types of rewards, such as more time with loved ones, a more relaxed space, and unexpected means of personal growth.  

And away we go! 

Catching up after 12 years

This morning, I was about to begin a library orientation for a graduate-level Psychology course taught by one of my favorite colleagues. Gina Brelsford and I are about the same age and she came to Penn State just two years after I did, so we usually reach career milestones at the same time. When she arrived in my computer lab, we hugged and inevitably the conversation turned to things that 50-year-old women care about (and things we don't). "I heard you're going on sabbatical this year," she said with a megawatt smile. "It's about time!" 

How true. In August, I started my 22nd season at Penn State, but I've only taken a sabbatical once. Some in our cohort, on the other hand, are now applying for their 3rd leaves. I was eligible in 2020, but we all know what happened *that* year. Even after the pandemic "ended," I continued to postpone taking time off because my library system remained chronically shortstaffed. Also, at Harrisburg campus, 3 librarians were on the tenure track and I didn't want them to be burdened with any of my duties while they were trying to establish themselves. Last year, however, the newest of my colleagues earned her promotion. At about the same time, my level of burnout became unbearable. So, shortly before the application deadline, I decided that the ongoing staffing problem was due to other people's decisions and wasn't my continuous responsibility to bear. The newbies weren't "new" anymore and could fend for themselves. I filed the requisite paperwork, and, gratefully, it was approved. My 2nd sabbatical starts on November 1st and I'll be away for the rest of AY 2025/2026. Eight months! 

Whereas my prior research focused on the history of Pennsylvania public libraries from their colonial-era beginnings through World War II, this time I am investigating the 1950s through the 1990s -- the era when the federal government started to allocate funds for library construction, special projects, and technology, and Pennsylvania's state government began to provide operating money for municipal libraries. I foresee a story that is more political and public-policy oriented, which is new territory for me. I'm excited about that!

Blogging about my first sabbatical was such a rewarding experience that I've decided to revive In Search of Pennsylvania Library History for my upcoming project. In addition to giving me opportunities to pre-write for my book, blogging provided space for a lot of "outtakes" -- anecdotes and primary sources that didn't fit a larger narrative, but were fun to write about. I wasn't expecting it, but the blog also commemorated some of the interesting people I met, some of the life-wisdom I learned, and some hilarious stories about my experiences on the road. I hope that blogging will be a similar wellspring for me in the coming months. 

It's been thought-provoking to re-read some of my old posts from 2013-2014, reminding myself of the person I used to be. That year was a quarter-lifetime ago and I was just 36 years old. Since then, entire relationships, professional ventures, and habits of life have come and gone. Shortly after I returned home from sabbatical, my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer and I was her primary caregiver until she died. My father and half of Mom's siblings have also passed away. My oldest nephew, who was in preschool back in 2013, is driving now, and his "baby" brother is soon to follow. Several people who were only faint glimmers on my horizon a decade ago are my closest friends now, while I've parted ways with a couple of folks that I used to care for deeply. 

Things have evolved considerably on the professional side, too. During COVID, I was partially redeployed to Penn State's main campus to support the Education Library. While 25% of my time is still devoted to the School of Behavioral Sciences and Education at the Harrisburg campus, much more of my daily work is done at home and revolves around supporting PreK-12 teachers throughout Penn State. My research and service activities have changed, too. Because of my mother's illness and being overburdened with day-to-day library work, published results from my sabbatical were long in coming, but I finally produced a book in 2021. To better align with my new duties, I have turned a casual interest in picturebooks into a new scholarly agenda and I have written several articles pertaining to that. These led to my recruitment for ALA's Sibert Committee, which gives an annual, national medal for the best children's nonfiction titles. Taking on new roles in the PreK-12 arena required me to dial back in other places. As of 2013, I was serving a second term as chair of the American Library Association's Library History Round Table, but now I am something like a senior stateswoman who just chronicles the round table's history and serves on awards committees from time to time. Between sabbaticals, I also co-founded and edited LHRT's scholarly journal, but I recently stepped down. Instead, I am hoping to mentor more authors in the realm of children's literature and the history of children's library services. Even though I still research library history (that's what my new sabbatical is all about), it's not the main intellectual contribution I make anymore. 

The biggest changes I notice as I revisit my old blog, though, are personal. Because my much-loved father died just last year and I'm still settling his estate, he looms large in my emotional landscape. Back in 2013, my mother was still living and her demanding personality filled every room. Daddy was largely her quiet partner, a part-of-the-furniture presence whom I seldom talked to. After she passed away, though, my relationship with him flourished. Once or twice per week for almost a decade, we enjoyed Wednesday and Sunday dinners together, followed by listening sessions from his vinyl collection. During those nights, for the first time in my life, I developed an understanding of him as his own person -- his origin stories, his internal philosophy, his proudest achievements, his hobbies and tastes, his thoughts on current events, and his insecurities. He became one of my best friends.

Besides my father's fascinating personality, and the debates he and I had about different musicians' talents, I miss the mirror he sometimes held up which helped me better understand myself. More than once, Daddy said that he admired my ability to "reinvent" myself. The word is a bit of an overstatement, said with respect for the wider range of countries I've visited and hobbies I've tried, that no one else in our family has broached. But the word rings in my ears now as I consider who I was in 2013/2014 and compare that to who I am today. Back then, my marriage was in a difficult place, and being immersed in research was something of a release. I spent 2-3 weeks every month on the road, and I typically stayed in state park cabins or in cheap motels that served workers in Pennsylvania's agricultural and fracking industries. I spent many nights knitting while listening to music, or silently reading whatever I could find in public library book sales. Twelve years later, however, one of the reasons I chose a public policy-oriented project is so that I'll be based at the State Capitol in Harrisburg, where Mike now works. I'm looking forward to having lunch with him from time to time and being at home with him and our cats most nights.

Other personal interests have changed, as well. I am still an avid reader, writer, and music lover, but some of the specifics are different. A decade ago, I was into poetry (both reading and writing) and country music; lately, I do more with children's and young adult fiction and prog rock. My physical activities have evolved considerably. Back then, when I wasn't elbow-deep in research, I was often hiking trails in state parks or taking long walks alone on country roads. For almost 20 years, in fact, that was my favorite pastime. But recently, arthritis in a once-broken, many-times-smashed knee ended to my long mornings on hilly and uneven ground. This summer, I switched to swimming, and I can already see the resulting changes in my physiology. I have less muscle and stamina in my thighs and calves, but more firmness in my arms, shoulders, and chest. The skin on my feet is softening and my complexion is lightening. In time, perhaps the only vestige of my decades outdoors will be the constellations of sunspots on my left cheek and on my forearms, from the times I forgot to reapply sunscreen while I foraged for wild raspberries and walnuts on the LVRT. 

Nursing my mother through a grisly illness and seeing her life cut short also gave me a greater appreciation for fleeting beauty, including my own. Years ago, I kept my hair cropped short, seldom wore makeup, perfume, or jewelry, rarely got mani-pedis, and owned few if any dresses, all out of financial and workplace practicality. But the poignancy of watching chemo rot my mother's hair and fingernails, and seeing her spend her final weeks in the same 2 hospital gowns, motivated me to try and enjoy new styles while I can. For about a decade now, I've had an inverted bob that makes my graying, wavy hair look like a rockstar's in the right light. I rediscovered that I like getting "dolled up," and I do it when I have a good excuse.

Age has influenced me in other ways, too. It is said that we inevitably become our parents, and while I can't say whether I resemble my mother or my father more, each day proves me to be more like the older generations. For example, I eat BLTs, and when I'm on the road, I use public restrooms whenever I have an opportunity, even if I don't have to "go." I have Advil, Beano, Lactaid, and the rest of CVS pharmacy in my purse. I have 3 pairs of trifocals that I keep around the house so I'll never be without them. I bitch about grocery prices and I write complaint letters to all kinds of companies and government officials. I just about died when I realized that Jon Bon Jovi is old enough to collect Social Security. On the brighter side, I have a long list of things I no longer care about, and that's freed me to focus on the things that matter: friendships, laughter, hobbies, doing my bit to make the world a better place, and making sure the people I love *know* I love them. I'm a member of the League of Women Voters, though I do try to be less intrusive and more hip than the "save the clocktower!" lady from the Back to the Future movies. I spend more time sending cards and letters, underlining the most heartfelt words in them as my grandmothers used to do. I weave baskets and make ornaments out of stained glass, and gift them affectionately to my friends. 

Reading my blog, I am amazed at how tough I was back in the day, and I'm a little sad that the 48-year-old me isn't nearly as hearty. During my first sabbatical, I aimed to visit more than 20 libraries throughout Pennsylvania, but I didn't win enough grant funding to cover leisurely hotel stays. So I set a grueling pace, typically arriving as soon as the libraries opened and staying until 7, 8, or even 9pm. I researched on weekends too, when I could. Twelve years later, there's no way my body can take that kind of abuse, even if the older, wiser me who wants to savor more of life wanted to go through with that again. This coming year, I'll consider 5-7 hours a good day's work. I'm also going to be kinder to myself in terms of where I live while I'm traveling. During my first sabbatical, I mainly stayed in cabins that were built by the CCC in the 1930s and hadn't been upgraded since. That unlucky winter also happened to be one of the coldest and longest in recent memory, with Harrisburg's nighttime temperatures plunging into the 30s by mid-October and staying below that until the end of April. I added two ceramic heaters to my away kit, but more times than I can count, I cocooned in my pajamas, gym sweats, bathrobe, winter coat, and several blankets, while single-digit temperatures turned the water in my fireplace bucket to ice and high winds howled outside. In 2025/2026, I am only planning to visit 8 research sites, half of which are easy commutes from home. I am more affluent than I was 12 years ago, and I'm springing for Airbnbs for the faraway sites that I'm planning to visit. No more fireplace heating, no more cooking on hotplates!    

Roughing it can make for memorable adventures, so my 2025/2026 may not be as interesting to my blog's readers. But I hope it'll be engaging on the intellectual and emotional fronts as I make new discoveries about Pennsylvania's library history and about myself. Something that I am learning with age is that meaningfulness doesn't have to be attained through sky-high ambitions or a grueling workload. What matters are being with the right people, having an open mind, and thoughtfulness. 

See you in the archives and on the road!

Me, looking forward to sabbatical in 2 months!