A “Force of Nature” for the Library

I try to imagine how to begin something I never expected to have to write. I’d have sooner expected Holley to be the one to stoically type out all our tributes and obituaries. Sadly, that is not the case.

Holley at one of his favorite places, “The Pocket,” at the Shirley Miller Wildflower Trail on Georgia’s Pigeon Mountain.

At 76, Holley Midgley showed few signs of slowing down. But after fracturing his tibia (“Just a fracture, thank goodness, it’s not broken!” he’d insisted) in late August while trying to launch his boat, he’d been largely confined to home, a frustration for such a social creature. Still, his phone rang off the hook — so much so, he admitted he had to turn it off to work in a nap.

The two-and-a-half weeks since his injury were almost certainly the longest stretch of time in which he had not breezed into Moon Lake Library, where he’d served as board chair since October 2020. But the work of the library continued, and I was looking forward to showing him the progress in our computer lab renovation when he was able to hobble in again.

Holley had a soft spot in his heart for libraries. His mother had turned him into the most avid of readers when he was young. A library, he believed, was an important institution in any community, and Mentone deserved a library worthy of its rich heritage.

Although we’d worked together on the Little River Arts Council, it wasn’t until after I was hired at Moon Lake Library in October 2021 that I got to know Holley well. It was a time of change at the library. Moon Lake School had closed that spring. Kelly Leavitt, who, along with Dianne Kuehl, had guided the library through the first year of the pandemic, had decided to step down. The two of them had established Moon Lake Library as the heart of the community through strong programming and making updates to the library’s collection.

The town was just about to take ownership of the Moon Lake school campus. The pandemic was in a new phase — still there, but no longer as pervasive as it had been earlier. People were getting out more. The library could once again be a gathering place.

Holley had secured grants from the Alabama Humanities Alliance, the Tillotson-Menlo Charitable Foundation, and a large private donation, assuring the board that the library’s financial situation was stable for the time being. But what would come next?

The board members were open to pursuing public library status in hopes of accessing additional sources of funding. It would mean negotiating a relationship with and commitment from the Town of Mentone, writing up a vast collection of plans, policies, and procedures, and satisfying the executive board of the Alabama Library Service that we met their standards.

It was a challenging process, even after Holley had gotten the town’s support and we’d completed the stacks of paperwork. There were frustrating delays, but Holley got letters of support sent to the executive board. Perhaps they would help make our case.

Finally, in November 2022, Holley and I were in Montgomery, signing in at APLS headquarters, PowerPoint and handouts at the ready. Our APLS consultant met us in the lobby and whispered, “Y’all are good. No problem. They’re approving you.”

Holley and I looked at each other, unable to believe it. “We’re still gonna do that PowerPoint,” he told me.

Driving north that afternoon, we felt celebratory. We had shown the PowerPoint, said our piece, and the vote had gone our way. Funding was assured, not just from the state but from county and potentially federal sources, too. It meant that the original library board that had run the library since it opened in 2002 became the Friends of Moon Lake Library, and the Mentone Town Council appointed a municipal board of trustees. The Friends group was charged with fundraising and volunteering, while the municipal board handled administration. Holley would become the chair of both boards.

By fall of the next year, we knew we’d picked a tough time to join APLS. Libraries were coming under attack from groups angry about content in books for children and teens. When APLS accepted public comments regarding proposed rule changes for Alabama libraries, Holley was willing to drive down to Montgomery to voice his objections.

His remarks received more media attention than any others that day. He was quoted in AL.com and his comments were shown in some television coverage. He was the only speaker during that long and contentious day to get a laugh from part of the crowd when he noted that Clean Up Alabama’s Facebook group had fewer followers than the page for our local ukulele group, the Mentone Ukes, who meet at our library. He also described the ideals his father had fought for during WWII and decried censorship.

The staff at Alabama Public Library Service had already noted how hard he’d worked for our application to their board, but his appearance at the hearing cemented his reputation. Our APLS consultant called me the Saturday after Holley’s death to express condolences and offer any help he could. I recalled what another consultant I’d met while at a recent training in Montgomery had said about Holley. “Your board chair,” she told me, “is a force of nature.”

I couldn’t agree more.

Roll Tide, Holley. And thank you.