I’m thrilled to announce that Starr Troup, who acted as Interim Managing Editor during Florenz’ illness, is now our permanent Managing Editor. Starr’s generous, kind, curious and innovative spirit combined with her wide experience in small press publishing have already proved, and will continue to prove, to be great assets for CKP. Welcome, Starr!
-Teresa Carson, Associate Publisher
This morning I washed my breakfast dishes by hand. The window above the sink faces east, and if I time it right I can watch the sun rise. It’s a pleasing sight, especially now on these chilly November mornings as a bit of ground fog lends wispiness to cottonwoods that hide at the bottom of the hill.
In July, by way of a series of synchronicities, I began working for CavanKerry. At about the same time, my husband and I had decided to relocate back to our roots, and moved to rural Pennsylvania. In the vernacular of my region, I live in the country. That’s as opposed to living in town, the closest of which has a population of 1,077 people, 410 cats, and innumerable cows. When I was a little girl growing up in town I wanted to live in the country. I wanted to be surrounded by rolling hills gently giving way to acres of trees shadowing secret places to hide with my notebook and pencil. I wanted to live among those folded lands covered with oak and white pine woods. In the country. So Chris and I purchased the farmhouse, built in 1850, where I now watch the sunrise from the kitchen window – a home with a meadow, woods, and a stream where the cottonwoods grow. And it has a small barn, which, unlike my neighbors who consider it a place for cows or horses or even sheep, I dream of using as a studio. A place where I can surround myself with silence – no phones, no interruptions – and write.
I’ve learned over the past three months that the people who work for CavanKerry have strong connection. They met at The Frost Place, or perhaps in a writer’s group. They were introduced to each other by a friend. They have home offices and at times a virtual relationship with each other, especially now since I, the far flung Pennsylvanian, have joined the staff. We’re comprised of four native New Jerseyites and New Yorkers, and me. They are city folk. Their homes are within a block or two of grocery stores. They are comfortable navigating the wilds of Penn Station, New York. I’m country folk. I have to drive seven miles to the nearest grocery store. I’m totally lost in Penn Station, but can find my way along the mountain ridges and forests of Penn’s Woods with ease.
The size of New York City is 303 square miles. Its population as of the latest census was 8,336,697. The size of Perry County, where I live, is almost twice that of New York City – 556 square miles. And its population is one two-hundredths of New York’s – 43,602. My colleagues and I come from very different backgrounds. We’ve each grown up with influences the other can only imagine. Yet we’re more alike than different. We love to read. We know that what’s within the pages of a book can help to heal wounds. We love the feel of wondrous words trickling through our minds and over our tongues. We thrill over hearing young people recite poetry, with a theatrical passion and commitment. We have a mission – to bring wonderful literature to readers of all kinds. We love to hold books in our hands, books chock full of words that connect the people of the city and those of us who live among the cottonwoods.