by Julia M., 17
Katherine Vander Wende’s favorite picture book is Miss Rumphius by Barbara Cooney. In it, Alice Rumphius promises her grandfather she will go to “faraway places, live by the sea, and make the world more beautiful.” She begins in a library before venturing into the world, a journey that, in many ways, mirrors Kat’s own.
Eventually, Miss Rumphius settles in a small town and sprinkles Lupine seeds for miles around the neighborhood. In Spring, they bloom, decorating the stone roads with bright, beautiful flowers. The children call her “The Lupine Lady.”
Perched high in a tree, Kat escaped from the real world into the universe of her books. As a child, she was better with fictional characters than with classmates. She became a regular at her local library, disappearing into a world where stories came alive, and the faint scent of Jitterbug perfume lingered in the air.
By age seven, she knew she wanted to be a librarian. There was no better place to spend her days than surrounded by books.
The library became just as important to Kat’s mother. After stepping away from work to care for Kat, she lost much of her usual routine and work community. Programs at the library gave Kat’s mother and her a place to belong.
At 14, Kat started her first job at a library. When it came time to apply to college, the librarians of her childhood guided her to “faraway places” like St. Mary’s College and Rutgers University. After graduating with a degree in English and earning her Master of Library and Information Science, Kat spent the next 24 years working in two academic libraries and seven public libraries. She imagined a career in local history; however, libraries had a different plan for her.
Today, Kat facilitates and oversees the Junior Program at Asbury Park Public Library, picking books and directing mutual aid drives for diapers and other items parents need. She leads storytimes for local and charter schools, making crafts, singing, and reading.
She finds magic in moments in Asbury Park. Sometimes it’s walking along the boardwalk, watching the moonlight dance across the sea she now calls home. Other times, it’s meeting a kid who reminds her of the quiet little girl who used to climb trees to read a book.
Her voice was filled with admiration and nostalgia when she told me, “A kid will come in and show the book they read. They’re so proud and ask to log their summer reading. I get to give them their prize… There’s a lot of meaning in that.”
She continues to welcome students by organizing events for them to come with their families; she finds purpose in the connections she witnesses families making, just like her mom and her once did, seeing how they turn to help each other in hard times.
“People have a preconceived notion that libraries are quiet. When a toddler is melting down while their parent also juggles a work call, parents feel weak and that the library isn’t a safe space,” she said. But Kat offers juice boxes, stories, and reassurance instead of judgment. She hopes that if someone walks into the library having a rough day, they’ll leave remembering her as the person who made it a little easier.
Kat described that libraries evolved from “books and education to social work.” In much the same way, she may have started for the books, but “keeps going for the people.”
Like Miss Rumphius, Kat traveled to “faraway places” and “lived by the sea.” Instead of scattering Lupine seeds, Kat makes the world more beautiful by welcoming every child and family who walks through the doors. The children of Barbara Cooney’s story remembered the Lupine Lady; the children of Asbury Park will remember the librarian who made the library feel like home.
Bridge Ink 