Dr. Opal Lee - the Grandmother of Juneteenth and two little free libraries.

One life touches another. Sometimes you actually get to watch it happen. This story started with the Little Free Library in my front yard. Audrey Irving was visiting next door when she saw it. She loved the idea, took pictures, and carried that idea with her. In the spirit of something Dr. Opal Lee has encouraged people to do, Audrey made herself a “committee of one.” That little library eventually led to an invitation for me to visit the Fort Worth Association of Federated Women's Clubs and talk about two new Little Free Libraries they were installing. Then I learned who those libraries would honor: Dr. Opal Lee — the Grandmother of Juneteenth. And one life touched another again. When I heard about the dedication, I knew I wanted to contribute something. Nobody placed an order. Nobody asked me to make anything. I simply felt pulled to create something that honored the person being recognized and might help these little libraries tell people why her name was there. Then I learned something that made it even more meaningful. Our gathering would be October 6. Dr. Opal Lee would turn 100 years old the very next day. A century. So I started making. I created a guestbook so visitors could record that they had stopped, read and participated—or even request a book they wished the little library had. I made leather keychains engraved with Dr. Lee's words. The organization plans to give them as prizes to people who read from the libraries and record it in the book. I love thinking about where those little keychains might go. I hope some end up hanging from children's backpacks. I hope some get carried in pockets until they're scratched and worn around the edges. And I hope that every once in a while someone sees one, reads the words on it, and asks: “Who is Dr. Opal Lee?” Because then her words travel a little farther. Then there were the slates. I engraved Dr. Lee's portrait once. It was good. But it wasn't quite the one I could see in my head. So I made another. And then I made a third. Each was beautiful in its own way, but I kept working until the third one finally looked like the tribute I had been trying to create. For some reason, yesterday I brought all three with me. I didn't really know why. By the end of the evening, I did. One stayed with the Fort Worth Association of Federated Women's Clubs. Then Dr. Lee's granddaughter, Dione Sims, asked if she could have one herself. Absolutely. And then came the question I never expected but quietly hoped would. She asked if she could take the third one to give to her grandmother. Three attempts. Three slates brought with me. Three homes found. Earlier, someone had asked me what I would charge for creating all of this. Absolutely not a dime. These things were made because they had to be. And somehow, they belonged exactly where they went. Yesterday I went there thinking I was bringing some things I had made. I came home realizing that wasn't really the story at all. A little library in my front yard touched Audrey. Audrey carried the idea somewhere else. That idea became two more libraries. Those libraries were dedicated to a woman whose life has touched generations. Her example touched me, so I felt like I had to make something that captured the moment. I kept coming back to a stunning, well-known photograph of Dr. Lee. The original is full of striking color, but for the slate I removed all of it—the background, the color, everything except her. And somehow, nothing was lost. With no color left to draw your eye, she still does. Her pose. Her expression. Her presence. I loved that. Her granddaughter then asked to carry one of those pieces the final few miles to her. And today, Dr. Opal Lee turns 100 years old. One hundred years of one life touching another. Meanwhile, her words will leave those libraries on little keychains in the hands of people I may never meet. Maybe they'll hang from backpacks. Maybe they'll be carried in pockets. Maybe one will start a conversation about Juneteenth, unity, love, courage or what one person can accomplish when they decide something matters enough to act. And another life will be touched. That's the part I can't stop thinking about. Dr. Lee has said: “Make yourself a committee of one.” Audrey did. Dr. Lee certainly did. Yesterday, I got to see what can happen when all of those individual acts begin connecting to one another. And the thought that, on her 100th birthday, something I made with my own hands may be sitting in the hands of the woman whose example helped set this entire chain in motion... That makes me beam. Happy 100th birthday, Dr. Opal Lee. Thank you for showing so many of us just how far one life can reach.