WILLIAMSVILLE — At a recent workshop where I was teaching educators how to facilitate literature-based book discussions, my colleague tossed a copy of the book we'd been talking about into the middle of our circle.
We all stared at it, a little perplexed, until she explained: “It's like a campfire,” she said. “We're all sitting around a fire, drawn together by the same story.”
She's absolutely right. Stories bring us together.
Stories have probably been bringing people together even before we discovered fire; certainly, sitting around the fire enhanced our appreciation for them.
At first, stories probably imparted important information, like where to find water and food, and how to avoid predators and hazards. We know that people also told stories to explain the unknown: how the earth began, how fire arrived, what happens to us after we die.
Different societies told different versions, and many included stories about supernatural deities whose behavior explained weather, bounty, famine, war, peace, and love.
Stories still hold our attention, although we tend to read contemporary stories in books rather than listen to them around fires.
Instead, we gather to talk about the stories we've read in common. The common text becomes the flame that holds our attention, and our discussions of those texts enlarge our understanding of our world and our place in it.
* * *
Our community will have a chance to participate in Vermont Reads, our own statewide campfire of sorts, where communities throughout the state read the same book, then come together to talk about it.
This year, the Vermont Reads book is Katherine Patterson's The Day of the Pelican, the story of the Lleshis, an Albanian family forced to flee their home in Kosovo in the mid-1990s. Their journey is long, frightening, and difficult. The family finds safety in the refugee camps, but there's no life for them there.
They apply to come to America, and they land in Vermont.
Here, the parents find work, the children return to school, and the family tries to adapt to the culture of this new country while still retaining the customs and faith of their old one. They suffer prejudice, and they become agents of change.
Members of the Brattleboro community can pick up a copy of the book at Brooks Memorial Library and attend our discussion of the story on Sept. 29, also at the Library, at 7:30.
* * *
All of us who are not Abenaki - and that's most of us - come from families who once came to Vermont for the first time; all of us have stories to tell of immigration, stories about cultural dissonance and acceptance.
We often understand our identities - our religions, customs, and world views - by telling and retelling these family stories of migration, stories that help us understand our place in the world. These stories of migration are the cornerstone of our modern nation, beginning with Jamestown in 1607 and the Puritans in 1620.
Stories of migration, also in the national spotlight at the moment, have become a political touchstone - again. Newly established immigrants to America have repeatedly attempted to shut the door on the next wave of immigrants hoping to start over in a country famed for freedom and opportunity.
While we in the Northeast sit smugly aloof from the heated debate about illegal immigration from Central and South America, we are not immune from it. New England has seen a great deal of new arrivals, both documented immigrants and undocumented workers.
About 10 years ago, Somalis seeking asylum from their country's turmoil settled in Lewiston, Maine. In 2002, the mayor published a letter asking the immigrants to please stop coming, stating that the influx of refugees was straining the municipal budget.
Whether or not there was a budgetary impact caused by the refugees was never fully debated, because the mayor's letter, published in the local paper, started a near race riot.
People in Lewiston spoke out both in favor of the new refugees and against them. Members of the Lewiston clergy, leaders of the Somali community, and citizens of the town created a “Many and One Coalition” and planned a rally to demonstrate their support of the town's long multicultural history generally, and their support of the Somalis in particular.
The national press picked up the story, and white supremacist groups (both local and distant) planned a counter rally. In January 2003, the rallies took place simultaneously - and peacefully - although the city had to foot the bill for assembling the largest police force in the state's history to ensure the peace.
* * *
Would this happen in Brattleboro if a large influx of refugees came? I hope not. But I'm not sure.
Not too long ago, we saw the dark underbelly of racial prejudice surface at the high school. And prejudice is not exclusively a matter of race; people can find any number of excuses for social cruelty, including (but not limited to) ethnicity, religion, and even socioeconomic status.
This latter - prejudice against the impoverished - is the story behind Mary Childers' memoir, Welfare Brat.
Childers, who used education to climb out of poverty, now works as an independent consultant who assists organizations in developing diverse, inclusive, high-performing, and stable work environments. She will be speaking on Sunday at the Centre Congregational Church from 2 to 3 p.m. as part of the Brattleboro Literary Festival with another author, Nick Flynn.
The Brattleboro Literary Festival offers a feast of stories from Sept. 30 through Oct. 3. The festival provides a chance not just to hear stories, but also to meet the storytellers - the writers - whose work we read for entertainment and information.
Katherine Ann Paterson will be in town for the discussion of The Day of the Pelican on Sept. 29. Writers - both local and from away - will be in town for the weekend.
As the New England weather turns cold, we can circle around the warmth of stories.