She Stood For Freedom
Picture book
When we think of the Civil Rights movement we tend to remember
the big names such as Martin Luther King Jr. But for each of them
there were a lot of people who stayed more in the background while
taking serious risks and doing their best to advance the cause. Joan
Trumpauer Mulholland was one of those people. Loki Mulholland and
Angela Fairwell's She Stood For Freedom: The Untold Story of a Civil
Rights Hero creates for the reader an intimate portrait of her.
Joan grew up in the Jim Crow South where all the little children
loved by Jesus were not allowed to sit together in church. Seeing a
one room shack that served as the school for black children, she
recognized the unfairness of all and decided that segregation was wrong.
As a college student Joan joined the Civil Rights Movement and
became involved in sit-ins and other demonstrations. At one point she
was arrested. She spent two months in a very notorious prison. A lot
of whites, considering her a traitor to her race, put her life in
peril. She was on the KKK's most wanted list. Even that didn't stop
her.
Three of Joan's quotes in the book really inspire me. I believe
that as we head into a very scary time to be alive in America we must
ponder on them and act on their strong hope messages.
"You can never go wrong by doing what is right. It might not be
easy, but it is always right."
"I'm as ordinary as they come. I saw something was wrong and
decided to do something about it. It takes all of us to make a
difference. You just have to make the choice."
"Anyone can make a difference. You don't have to be a Dr. King
or a Rosa Parks. [These days a Bernie Saunders or an Elizabeth
Warren] It doesn't matter how old or young you are. Find a problem,
get some friends together, and go fix it. Remember, you don't have to
change the world...just change your world."
Words to live by as we enter a very frightening and uncertain
2017! All of us, no matter how ordinary, can fight for freedom and
justice.
On a personal note, as you read this we'll be about to celebrate New
Years Eve. Hopefully we'll engage in responsible celebrating,
especially in states like Maine where predicted snow could make drunk
driving even more inadvisible than usual. I have got great plans. I
am going to read near the Christmas tree with Joey cat. I have
Christmas candy on hand. Since I'm staying up and we may have snow I
am cutting church in the morning.
A great big shout out goes out to you, my readers, with wishes for a
safe and happy New Years Eve.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Saturday, December 31, 2016
The Deadliest Creature In The World
The Deadliest Creature In The World
Picture book
Youngsters who find nature red in tooth and claw fascinating
will love reading Brenda Z. Guiberson's The Deadliest Creature In The
World.
A number of creatures, seemingly competing for the title,
present their lethal attributes. Among them:
*a gaboon viper claims to have the longest fangs and most venom;
*an anopheles mosquito reminds judges of the millions of people who
die every year through its transmission of maleria;
*and a stone fish brags on its camoflauge ability and lethal venom.
Readers are invited to judge for themselves.
Unfortunately the truly deadliest creature--the only one that
routinely sends whole species to extinction--is not profiled. I
wonder why.
On a personal note, I had my special crafts day with Amber and Brian.
This is always my biggest Christmas gift from them. I worked on a new
counted cross stitch project while Amber started making a rag doll and
Brian worked on a computer game. Adam and Asia came other with
Beans. I got to meet my new little grandkitten. He is grey and white
with big green eyes...totally adorable. That was a for sure quality
time day to treasure!
A great big shout out goes out to my children, their significant
others, and my grandcats: Archie and Beans.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Picture book
Youngsters who find nature red in tooth and claw fascinating
will love reading Brenda Z. Guiberson's The Deadliest Creature In The
World.
A number of creatures, seemingly competing for the title,
present their lethal attributes. Among them:
*a gaboon viper claims to have the longest fangs and most venom;
*an anopheles mosquito reminds judges of the millions of people who
die every year through its transmission of maleria;
*and a stone fish brags on its camoflauge ability and lethal venom.
Readers are invited to judge for themselves.
Unfortunately the truly deadliest creature--the only one that
routinely sends whole species to extinction--is not profiled. I
wonder why.
On a personal note, I had my special crafts day with Amber and Brian.
This is always my biggest Christmas gift from them. I worked on a new
counted cross stitch project while Amber started making a rag doll and
Brian worked on a computer game. Adam and Asia came other with
Beans. I got to meet my new little grandkitten. He is grey and white
with big green eyes...totally adorable. That was a for sure quality
time day to treasure!
A great big shout out goes out to my children, their significant
others, and my grandcats: Archie and Beans.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Christine
Christine
Adult fiction
"What was it? Some sort of afreet? An ordinary car that had
somehow become the dangerous, stinking dwelling-place of a demon? A
weird manifestation of LeBay's lingering personality, a hellish
haunted house that rolled on Goodyear rubber? I didn't know. All I
knew was that I was scared, terrified. I didn't think I could go
through with this."
For some reason reading Shooter left me wanting to revisit one
of Stephen King's earlier works, a real vintage volume that rolled off
the line in 1983. The clue in that sentence should have you guessing
Christine. That's right, the killer car. Across decades, authors,
and target audiences you have a uniting theme: the revenge of the
left out and left behind.
Narrator Dennis is driving home from work. Suddenly his
passenger, Arnie, yells for him to stop and go back. The object of
his sudden interest is a decrepit car with a for sale sign. Next
thing Dennis knows, Arnie is negotiating with the curmudgeonly owner,
Roland LeBay, and putting down a ten percent deposit without as much
as looking under the hood or seeing if it runs. This is especially
disconcerting since, in addition to a college prep load, Arnie excells
in auto shop.
Dennis and Arnie are heading into their senior year in high
school. They are about the most odd couple one could find in the late
70s in that millieu. Dennis is the football quarterback. Arnie is at
the exact opposite end of the power and popularity continuum.
"He was a loser, you know. Every high school has to have at
least two; it's like a national law. One male, one female.
Everyone's dumping ground..."
Dennis sees red flags starting with when Arnie buys a clunker
seemingly destined for an auto graveyard. There's his friend's
obsession with the vehicle, his calling it Christine as LeBay had
done. It's almost like the car is a girl. There are the truly evil
things he learns about the former owner and the premature deaths of
his child and wife. And then there's the way Christine is seeming to
regenerate, to roll back the miles.
Read Christine if you want a good spine chiller that has well
stood the test of time. But don't read it too close up bed time if
sleep is on your night agenda.
On a personal note, I was struck by the wisdom of one of King's
lines: "If being a kid is about learning how to live, then being a
grown up is about learning how to die." I have a very strong suspicion
that in our youth obsessed culture there is a point where we're
supposed to let go of dreaming and striving and shamble into that next
to last television lighted good night. And the ads on the shows
targeted to this demographic. Yeesh!
A great big shout out goes out to my college and grad school chums who
keep my odometer running backward and light up my far from geezerly
life.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult fiction
"What was it? Some sort of afreet? An ordinary car that had
somehow become the dangerous, stinking dwelling-place of a demon? A
weird manifestation of LeBay's lingering personality, a hellish
haunted house that rolled on Goodyear rubber? I didn't know. All I
knew was that I was scared, terrified. I didn't think I could go
through with this."
For some reason reading Shooter left me wanting to revisit one
of Stephen King's earlier works, a real vintage volume that rolled off
the line in 1983. The clue in that sentence should have you guessing
Christine. That's right, the killer car. Across decades, authors,
and target audiences you have a uniting theme: the revenge of the
left out and left behind.
Narrator Dennis is driving home from work. Suddenly his
passenger, Arnie, yells for him to stop and go back. The object of
his sudden interest is a decrepit car with a for sale sign. Next
thing Dennis knows, Arnie is negotiating with the curmudgeonly owner,
Roland LeBay, and putting down a ten percent deposit without as much
as looking under the hood or seeing if it runs. This is especially
disconcerting since, in addition to a college prep load, Arnie excells
in auto shop.
Dennis and Arnie are heading into their senior year in high
school. They are about the most odd couple one could find in the late
70s in that millieu. Dennis is the football quarterback. Arnie is at
the exact opposite end of the power and popularity continuum.
"He was a loser, you know. Every high school has to have at
least two; it's like a national law. One male, one female.
Everyone's dumping ground..."
Dennis sees red flags starting with when Arnie buys a clunker
seemingly destined for an auto graveyard. There's his friend's
obsession with the vehicle, his calling it Christine as LeBay had
done. It's almost like the car is a girl. There are the truly evil
things he learns about the former owner and the premature deaths of
his child and wife. And then there's the way Christine is seeming to
regenerate, to roll back the miles.
Read Christine if you want a good spine chiller that has well
stood the test of time. But don't read it too close up bed time if
sleep is on your night agenda.
On a personal note, I was struck by the wisdom of one of King's
lines: "If being a kid is about learning how to live, then being a
grown up is about learning how to die." I have a very strong suspicion
that in our youth obsessed culture there is a point where we're
supposed to let go of dreaming and striving and shamble into that next
to last television lighted good night. And the ads on the shows
targeted to this demographic. Yeesh!
A great big shout out goes out to my college and grad school chums who
keep my odometer running backward and light up my far from geezerly
life.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Be Safe Around Fire
Be Safe Around Fire
Picture book
Now here's a book my firefighter son would approve of. Bridget
Heos' Be Safe Around Fire brings home important safety messages in a
way that will delight the pre and primary school set.
A girl has a new doll house populated by quite a motley crew
including Barbie types, a super hero, a troll, a cyclops, and a frog
with vampire fangs. When Super Dave leaves his sparkly shirt draped
over a lamp she decides that it's time to clue the gang in on fire
safety.
Children will find the toys come to life ideas amusing. When
the girl asks the monster babies what to do if they find matches the
vampire fanged frog suggests eating them, the troll advises sticking
them up one's nose, and the cyclops goes for throwing them out the
window.
Sure it's the basics, but in a format that kids will find
interesting. So they're more likely to stick with them.
On a personal note, when I see my son in his full fire fighter/EMT
regalia I still am stunned. That's my baby (the youngest is always
the baby) saving lives. I am very proud of him.
A great big shout out goes out to Adam and all his colleagues who are
given the utmost responsibility in unpredictable, volatile, and
sometimes very dangerous situations.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Picture book
Now here's a book my firefighter son would approve of. Bridget
Heos' Be Safe Around Fire brings home important safety messages in a
way that will delight the pre and primary school set.
A girl has a new doll house populated by quite a motley crew
including Barbie types, a super hero, a troll, a cyclops, and a frog
with vampire fangs. When Super Dave leaves his sparkly shirt draped
over a lamp she decides that it's time to clue the gang in on fire
safety.
Children will find the toys come to life ideas amusing. When
the girl asks the monster babies what to do if they find matches the
vampire fanged frog suggests eating them, the troll advises sticking
them up one's nose, and the cyclops goes for throwing them out the
window.
Sure it's the basics, but in a format that kids will find
interesting. So they're more likely to stick with them.
On a personal note, when I see my son in his full fire fighter/EMT
regalia I still am stunned. That's my baby (the youngest is always
the baby) saving lives. I am very proud of him.
A great big shout out goes out to Adam and all his colleagues who are
given the utmost responsibility in unpredictable, volatile, and
sometimes very dangerous situations.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Friday, December 30, 2016
In A Cloud Of Dust
In A Cloud Of Dust
Picture book
Picture a local school at the end of the day. Students, except
for those who live closest, hop into the ubiquitous yellow buses or
parental cars. If we're talking high school many of the students have
their own rides. Kids in some parts of the world aren't nearly that
fortunate. Alma Fullerton's In A Cloud Of Dust explains this concept
beautifully.
Anna lives in a village in Tanzania. It takes her so long to
walk home from school there is no daylight to study by when she gets
home. So she has to do her school work during lunch break. Sadly
this means she misses out on a delivery of mended bikes from the
bicycle library.
All is not lost however. Read the book and see why.
In an author's note at the end, Fullerton reminds readers of the
need in third world countries for bicycles to get people safely to
school or work. She provides information about six international
organizations that work to meet this need. Raising money to help
would be a great project for a family, class, or youth organization.
On a personal note, Joey cat has been really been enjoying the
Christmas season: a tree to nap under, his beloved Katie spending the
night, a new catnip toy from Santa, little scraps of ham--not near
enough to do him harm. He has given me an unexpected present by doing
something he hasn't done in years. He will select a lower hanging
ornament and nudge it from different angles until he makes it fall to
the floor and bat it all over the place with great gusto. Of course I
have to rescue the ornament. But it makes my heart sing to see him,
at 13 1/2, being so kittenishly mischievous.
A great big shout out goes out to the dogs and cats who make
Christmases all the more joyous.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Picture book
Picture a local school at the end of the day. Students, except
for those who live closest, hop into the ubiquitous yellow buses or
parental cars. If we're talking high school many of the students have
their own rides. Kids in some parts of the world aren't nearly that
fortunate. Alma Fullerton's In A Cloud Of Dust explains this concept
beautifully.
Anna lives in a village in Tanzania. It takes her so long to
walk home from school there is no daylight to study by when she gets
home. So she has to do her school work during lunch break. Sadly
this means she misses out on a delivery of mended bikes from the
bicycle library.
All is not lost however. Read the book and see why.
In an author's note at the end, Fullerton reminds readers of the
need in third world countries for bicycles to get people safely to
school or work. She provides information about six international
organizations that work to meet this need. Raising money to help
would be a great project for a family, class, or youth organization.
On a personal note, Joey cat has been really been enjoying the
Christmas season: a tree to nap under, his beloved Katie spending the
night, a new catnip toy from Santa, little scraps of ham--not near
enough to do him harm. He has given me an unexpected present by doing
something he hasn't done in years. He will select a lower hanging
ornament and nudge it from different angles until he makes it fall to
the floor and bat it all over the place with great gusto. Of course I
have to rescue the ornament. But it makes my heart sing to see him,
at 13 1/2, being so kittenishly mischievous.
A great big shout out goes out to the dogs and cats who make
Christmases all the more joyous.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Naked!
Naked!
Picture book
Much to his parents' consternation, the delightfully androgynous
everychild narrator of Michael Ian Black's Naked! has a bathtub
epiphany. Lose the clothes. Anything worth doing, cookie eating, for
example, can be accomplished in the altogether. Perhaps even
attending school and having fun on the playground? Who needs clothes--
except maybe a cape?
The Garden of Eden status does not last forever. So what brings
everychild to acknowledge the need for pants, a top, and even
slippers? Feeling cold.
Parents of very young kids, do not buy or borrow this lively
and colorful volume unless you're prepared to read it aloud about a
gazillion times. It's sure to become a family favorite.
On a personal note, the day after Christmas Eugene took me to Jo-Ann
Fabrics. I was able to get quite a stash of embroidery floss with the
gift card Adam gave me.
A great big shout out goes out to my fellow counted cross stitch
enthusiasts.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Picture book
Much to his parents' consternation, the delightfully androgynous
everychild narrator of Michael Ian Black's Naked! has a bathtub
epiphany. Lose the clothes. Anything worth doing, cookie eating, for
example, can be accomplished in the altogether. Perhaps even
attending school and having fun on the playground? Who needs clothes--
except maybe a cape?
The Garden of Eden status does not last forever. So what brings
everychild to acknowledge the need for pants, a top, and even
slippers? Feeling cold.
Parents of very young kids, do not buy or borrow this lively
and colorful volume unless you're prepared to read it aloud about a
gazillion times. It's sure to become a family favorite.
On a personal note, the day after Christmas Eugene took me to Jo-Ann
Fabrics. I was able to get quite a stash of embroidery floss with the
gift card Adam gave me.
A great big shout out goes out to my fellow counted cross stitch
enthusiasts.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Shooter
Shooter
YA fiction
"About the bullying. There are different parts to it. There's the
part where someone is pushing you around, or throwing your books on
the ground, that sort of thing. Another part is when you're not being
bullied and still not dealing with other kids. Mostly the whole thing
is how you feel about yourself. If you feel like you can be punked
out, then that's where it is. You're punked out even when nobody's
around."
Walter Dean Myers is a masterful writer whose work can get
downright disquieting. Shooter, one of his vintage pieces, is
spinechilling because in quite a few places it comes very close to
something you'd read in the news. A novel format contributes to this
effect.
The book takes the form of a threat analysis report done by a
school safety committee. The mission of the group is to assess
threats and dangers to the school community. You learn that this is
more than a theoretical exercise in the line that all interviewees
must be read their Miranda rights.
Reading Shooter is like piecing together a darkly fascinating
jigsaw puzzle. Clues gleaned give a picture of a deeply disturbed
young man, the final act of desperation he committed, and the two
peers who were his friends. The unusual format proves more alarming
than a more traditional one could have.
Even though Shooter is twelve years old it is sadly worth
reading. In a world where too often school admin and boards put
lawsuit prevention over creating safe and welcoming environments for
all students, in a political time and place where scapegoating is on
the rise and encouraged...you are going to have more incidents.
On a personal note, we did have ourselves a lovely white Christmas
here in Maine. Now we've got rain and temps in the 40s.
A great big shout out goes out to the people who do weather
predictions, those on call to deal with precip that comes down in the
form of snow or sleet, and everyone who understands that said precip
does not negate the very real threat of global climate change.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
YA fiction
"About the bullying. There are different parts to it. There's the
part where someone is pushing you around, or throwing your books on
the ground, that sort of thing. Another part is when you're not being
bullied and still not dealing with other kids. Mostly the whole thing
is how you feel about yourself. If you feel like you can be punked
out, then that's where it is. You're punked out even when nobody's
around."
Walter Dean Myers is a masterful writer whose work can get
downright disquieting. Shooter, one of his vintage pieces, is
spinechilling because in quite a few places it comes very close to
something you'd read in the news. A novel format contributes to this
effect.
The book takes the form of a threat analysis report done by a
school safety committee. The mission of the group is to assess
threats and dangers to the school community. You learn that this is
more than a theoretical exercise in the line that all interviewees
must be read their Miranda rights.
Reading Shooter is like piecing together a darkly fascinating
jigsaw puzzle. Clues gleaned give a picture of a deeply disturbed
young man, the final act of desperation he committed, and the two
peers who were his friends. The unusual format proves more alarming
than a more traditional one could have.
Even though Shooter is twelve years old it is sadly worth
reading. In a world where too often school admin and boards put
lawsuit prevention over creating safe and welcoming environments for
all students, in a political time and place where scapegoating is on
the rise and encouraged...you are going to have more incidents.
On a personal note, we did have ourselves a lovely white Christmas
here in Maine. Now we've got rain and temps in the 40s.
A great big shout out goes out to the people who do weather
predictions, those on call to deal with precip that comes down in the
form of snow or sleet, and everyone who understands that said precip
does not negate the very real threat of global climate change.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Gracefully Grayson
Gracefully Grayson
YA fiction
"At home my track pants and basketball pants hang in my closet,
silky and shiny in a row of bright yellow, black, gray, silver, and
gold. But they're only pants to me now. My too-long T-shirts don't
look like dresses. Without them, I'm nobody, and the idea takes shape
in my mind. It takes shape and floats into my mouth, and it waits
there.
...I ask the question: "Can I try out for Persephone?"
Ami Polansky's Gracefully Grayson is a bright shining star in
the still far too small galaxy of books with non gender conforming
protagonists.
Grayson's humanities class is discussing the Holocaust. Finn,
the teacher, steers the conversation toward people who rescued Jews
from the Nazis. He asks Grayson what he would do if he had a
dangerous secret to hide. Grayson says he'd stay away from people so
he wouldn't accidentally reveal it.
Grayson knows what he's talking about. He has a secret that,
while not life threatening like helping Jews in Nazi Germany, seems
pretty dangerous. He deep down inside wants to wear sparkly dresses
and colorful jewelery, draw princesses, and be chums with his female
classmates. Basically he feels like a girl person trapped in a boy
body. He eats lunch in the library rather than risk the cafeteria.
He hasn't had a close friend since second grade.
One day all that subterfuge gets to be too much for Grayson.
For the first time he tries out for a school play. He gets the female
lead. Not everyone is crazy about the idea. His aunt (he lives with
her family because his parents are dead) tries to talk him out of it,
fearful he's setting himself up to be bullied. His cousin is
embarassed. Some parents question whether director Finn should be
teaching.
But Grayson is coming into her own now. She likes how that feels.
On a personal note, I had the most magical, enchanted, amazing
Christmas possible. Katie opened gifts with Eugene, Joey cat, and
me. In the afternoon there was the family get together. All my
children and their cousins were there. Times like these are precious
beyond measure.
A great big shout out goes out to my three amazing children and my
awesome niece and nephew.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
YA fiction
"At home my track pants and basketball pants hang in my closet,
silky and shiny in a row of bright yellow, black, gray, silver, and
gold. But they're only pants to me now. My too-long T-shirts don't
look like dresses. Without them, I'm nobody, and the idea takes shape
in my mind. It takes shape and floats into my mouth, and it waits
there.
...I ask the question: "Can I try out for Persephone?"
Ami Polansky's Gracefully Grayson is a bright shining star in
the still far too small galaxy of books with non gender conforming
protagonists.
Grayson's humanities class is discussing the Holocaust. Finn,
the teacher, steers the conversation toward people who rescued Jews
from the Nazis. He asks Grayson what he would do if he had a
dangerous secret to hide. Grayson says he'd stay away from people so
he wouldn't accidentally reveal it.
Grayson knows what he's talking about. He has a secret that,
while not life threatening like helping Jews in Nazi Germany, seems
pretty dangerous. He deep down inside wants to wear sparkly dresses
and colorful jewelery, draw princesses, and be chums with his female
classmates. Basically he feels like a girl person trapped in a boy
body. He eats lunch in the library rather than risk the cafeteria.
He hasn't had a close friend since second grade.
One day all that subterfuge gets to be too much for Grayson.
For the first time he tries out for a school play. He gets the female
lead. Not everyone is crazy about the idea. His aunt (he lives with
her family because his parents are dead) tries to talk him out of it,
fearful he's setting himself up to be bullied. His cousin is
embarassed. Some parents question whether director Finn should be
teaching.
But Grayson is coming into her own now. She likes how that feels.
On a personal note, I had the most magical, enchanted, amazing
Christmas possible. Katie opened gifts with Eugene, Joey cat, and
me. In the afternoon there was the family get together. All my
children and their cousins were there. Times like these are precious
beyond measure.
A great big shout out goes out to my three amazing children and my
awesome niece and nephew.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
What Does It Mean To Be Kind?
What Does It Mean To Be Kind?
Picture book
We often ask children to follow some pretty abstract precepts.
Be good. Behave yourself. Santa will know whether you're naughty or
nice. How does that all work out in daily kid life? In her What Does
It Mean To Be Kind? Rana DiOrio makes one of these concepts a lot
easier for little ones to comprehend.
Children (and some pretty awesome purple polka dotted cats) are
shown in everyday school and neighborhood situations. The reader will
see that kindness can be manifested in acts like being friendly to a
new kid in class, giving complements, encouraging, picking up trash,
and caring for those experiencing difficulties. At the end they're
all tied in with a concept a lot of parents would do well to
contemplate.
What I like best about this book is how it shows a complexity of
being in a society that is quick to label kids as say bullies or
victims and not look beyond the labels. In a three page spread the
same child is shown bullying a peer, having another peer see better
qualities in her, and being forgiven by her former victim who offers
her a cookie. Later on a boy makes and learns from a mistake.
If you have young children this book is perfect for family
discussion. Who knows where it can lead you? Maybe to a memory
creating family kindness project.
On a personal note, Katie came home Christmas Eve. It was so precious
to have her sleeping under our roof. Dear Joey cat was over the moon.
A great big shout goes out to Katie, Amber, and Adam--the best grown
kids a mother could love.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Picture book
We often ask children to follow some pretty abstract precepts.
Be good. Behave yourself. Santa will know whether you're naughty or
nice. How does that all work out in daily kid life? In her What Does
It Mean To Be Kind? Rana DiOrio makes one of these concepts a lot
easier for little ones to comprehend.
Children (and some pretty awesome purple polka dotted cats) are
shown in everyday school and neighborhood situations. The reader will
see that kindness can be manifested in acts like being friendly to a
new kid in class, giving complements, encouraging, picking up trash,
and caring for those experiencing difficulties. At the end they're
all tied in with a concept a lot of parents would do well to
contemplate.
What I like best about this book is how it shows a complexity of
being in a society that is quick to label kids as say bullies or
victims and not look beyond the labels. In a three page spread the
same child is shown bullying a peer, having another peer see better
qualities in her, and being forgiven by her former victim who offers
her a cookie. Later on a boy makes and learns from a mistake.
If you have young children this book is perfect for family
discussion. Who knows where it can lead you? Maybe to a memory
creating family kindness project.
On a personal note, Katie came home Christmas Eve. It was so precious
to have her sleeping under our roof. Dear Joey cat was over the moon.
A great big shout goes out to Katie, Amber, and Adam--the best grown
kids a mother could love.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Reality Check
Reality Check
YA fiction
"Cody never got to the football article, because of something on
the front page; something that got his heart beating fast, something,
in fact, that woke him up and made him feel alive, as though he'd been
in hibernation. Alive, but not in a good way: what Cody saw on the
front page of the Guardian was a photograph of Clea. Over it, a big
black headline read: 'Local Girl Missing.'"
Cody, protagonist of Peter Abraham's Reality Check, and his
girlfriend, Clea, seem like a really odd couple. He's an indifferent
student. The only reason he tries to avoid Fs is they would make him
ineligible for football. She's an achiever who gets upset when she
receives a B in calculus. He and his dad reside in a small apartment
over a bar. Her family owns a home posh enough to have a name. These
differences mean a lot to her father. When he catches Cody and Clea
in Clea's bedroom under incriminating circumstances he sends Clea to
Hong Kong for the summer and expensive boarding school in the fall.
Cody's junior year does not get off to an auspicious start. A
football injury gives him a torn ACL. His injury not only requires
surgery and recuperation, but takes him out of the game for the whole
rest of the season. Which means forget about college since juniors are
the players scouts look at. School work becomes more and more of a
struggle. Eventually Cody drops out and takes on a full time job.
Cody has broken up with Clea, sure that their relationship would
stand in the way of her opportunities. But he's never stopped loving
her. So when he learns of her disappearance he jumps in his car and
drives across the country to help in search and (hopefully) rescue.
In a letter Clea had confided how hard it was to know who to
trust in her new life. Cody soon learns the truth of this. Behind
the quaint houses and dorms of a New Hampshire prep school town
there's some pretty nasty business going on. Still missing Clea is
not the only one who's in danger.
On a personal note, Dean Robert Q. Dana's annual Christmas party was,
as always, the cat's pajamas. Good food, music, conversation. And
overseeing the whole thing like a size large suit and tie clad
Christmas elf, Robert Q. Dana himself. Who could ask for a better
kick off for the last few days before Christmas?
A great big shout out goes out to Robert Q. Dana, the host with the
most.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
YA fiction
"Cody never got to the football article, because of something on
the front page; something that got his heart beating fast, something,
in fact, that woke him up and made him feel alive, as though he'd been
in hibernation. Alive, but not in a good way: what Cody saw on the
front page of the Guardian was a photograph of Clea. Over it, a big
black headline read: 'Local Girl Missing.'"
Cody, protagonist of Peter Abraham's Reality Check, and his
girlfriend, Clea, seem like a really odd couple. He's an indifferent
student. The only reason he tries to avoid Fs is they would make him
ineligible for football. She's an achiever who gets upset when she
receives a B in calculus. He and his dad reside in a small apartment
over a bar. Her family owns a home posh enough to have a name. These
differences mean a lot to her father. When he catches Cody and Clea
in Clea's bedroom under incriminating circumstances he sends Clea to
Hong Kong for the summer and expensive boarding school in the fall.
Cody's junior year does not get off to an auspicious start. A
football injury gives him a torn ACL. His injury not only requires
surgery and recuperation, but takes him out of the game for the whole
rest of the season. Which means forget about college since juniors are
the players scouts look at. School work becomes more and more of a
struggle. Eventually Cody drops out and takes on a full time job.
Cody has broken up with Clea, sure that their relationship would
stand in the way of her opportunities. But he's never stopped loving
her. So when he learns of her disappearance he jumps in his car and
drives across the country to help in search and (hopefully) rescue.
In a letter Clea had confided how hard it was to know who to
trust in her new life. Cody soon learns the truth of this. Behind
the quaint houses and dorms of a New Hampshire prep school town
there's some pretty nasty business going on. Still missing Clea is
not the only one who's in danger.
On a personal note, Dean Robert Q. Dana's annual Christmas party was,
as always, the cat's pajamas. Good food, music, conversation. And
overseeing the whole thing like a size large suit and tie clad
Christmas elf, Robert Q. Dana himself. Who could ask for a better
kick off for the last few days before Christmas?
A great big shout out goes out to Robert Q. Dana, the host with the
most.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Tornado Warning
Tornado Warning
YA nonfiction
"My family rarely saw me, and when they did I was often in a
hurry to leave. Sign number one. I withdrew--my friends did not hear
from me. Sign number two. I wore long sleeves and long pants--all
the time. Sign number three. I was very thin--not eating. Sign
number four. I had a distinct inability to make a decision. Sign
number five. I never ever drove--he always did. Sign number six. I
was working two jobs--he did nothing. Sign number seven."
I was engaged during the gap year between undergraduate college
and my unsuccessful grad school attempt. My friends and family were
sure my fiancé was the cat's pajamas. I was seeing red flags. My
prior experiences with guys had given me a strong (and in this case
healthy) cynicism when it came to men. He was very jealous of anyone
I spent time with or even talked to on the phone. I gave him an
ultimatum. I didn't deserve his distrust. He had three months. If
he didn't get help he'd be history. When he offered to buy us an
house on a pond in the boonies I was even more alarmed. Don't abusers
isolate their victims? At that point he had become subtly verbally
abusive but not laid a hand on me. I wasn't about to take chances. I
told him goodbye. I said that there are better ways to make the 6:00
news than being carted out in a body bag.
Try to see the irony here. I made one of the best decisions of
my life because I was about as far as you can get from being a paragon
of robust mental health and not be institutionalized. Losing my
virginity by aggravated rape to a friend of my mother who had stalked
me before the act had not only made me not a big fan of sex, but had
alienated me from my own sexuality and, no doubt, contributed to my
anorexia. What I'd observed of my parents' acrimonious marriage had
left me deeply suspicious of the institution.
I have indulged in this extra long review introduction so you,
dear reader, can see how reading Elin Stebbins Waldal's Tornado
Warning: A Memoir Of Teen Dating Violence And Its Effect On A Woman's
Life (quoted from above) was for me like a blow to the gut. The
abuser in her book reminded me in many ways of that ex fiancé. Having
a severely disabled sibling had pretty much put me off mom's parenting
radar. Dad by then couldn't take care of his own self. I got a
chilling glimpse of where my own life could have gone if I'd trusted
guys enough to let boyfriend dearest get close to me.
Elin was seventeen when she attended a party that changed her
life. She was being bullied when a knight in work boots and levis,
Derrick, rescued her. It wasn't long until they were a couple. Then
the abuse began--first verbal and then physical. At one point he
tried to run her over with her own car. Of course he'd always be
contrite afterward, promising that this time things would change.
Luckily Elin was eventually able to get out of Derrick's grasp.
She went on to marry and give birth to three children--children she is
despearate not to see in abusive relationships. Tornado warning
alternates between sometimes heartbreaking excerpts from her teenage
diary and her intensely personal and candid reflections. Her
relationship with Derrick effected her long after she physically left
him.
Many of us at some point have a friend or loved one who keeps
returning to an abuser, refusing to press charges. There is a
tendency to wonder why (the Hell), to believe it can never happen to
me. Tornado Warning reminds us that the lines we swear we'd never
cross may not be all that visible until we're on the other side. It
should be in every public and high school library, highly visible and
accessible. Let's make it another summer read for high school
guidance counselors and college and university student services
providers.
On a personal note, right before fall semester ended I had quite a
long chat with Elizabeth Allan who is a head honcho in the grad school
program I'm trying to get into. Now I'm even more excited than ever
about the program. Who would have thought that was possible?
A great big shout out goes out to my grad school friend chums,
especially my fairy godsquad. Hope you're having a great vaca!
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
YA nonfiction
"My family rarely saw me, and when they did I was often in a
hurry to leave. Sign number one. I withdrew--my friends did not hear
from me. Sign number two. I wore long sleeves and long pants--all
the time. Sign number three. I was very thin--not eating. Sign
number four. I had a distinct inability to make a decision. Sign
number five. I never ever drove--he always did. Sign number six. I
was working two jobs--he did nothing. Sign number seven."
I was engaged during the gap year between undergraduate college
and my unsuccessful grad school attempt. My friends and family were
sure my fiancé was the cat's pajamas. I was seeing red flags. My
prior experiences with guys had given me a strong (and in this case
healthy) cynicism when it came to men. He was very jealous of anyone
I spent time with or even talked to on the phone. I gave him an
ultimatum. I didn't deserve his distrust. He had three months. If
he didn't get help he'd be history. When he offered to buy us an
house on a pond in the boonies I was even more alarmed. Don't abusers
isolate their victims? At that point he had become subtly verbally
abusive but not laid a hand on me. I wasn't about to take chances. I
told him goodbye. I said that there are better ways to make the 6:00
news than being carted out in a body bag.
Try to see the irony here. I made one of the best decisions of
my life because I was about as far as you can get from being a paragon
of robust mental health and not be institutionalized. Losing my
virginity by aggravated rape to a friend of my mother who had stalked
me before the act had not only made me not a big fan of sex, but had
alienated me from my own sexuality and, no doubt, contributed to my
anorexia. What I'd observed of my parents' acrimonious marriage had
left me deeply suspicious of the institution.
I have indulged in this extra long review introduction so you,
dear reader, can see how reading Elin Stebbins Waldal's Tornado
Warning: A Memoir Of Teen Dating Violence And Its Effect On A Woman's
Life (quoted from above) was for me like a blow to the gut. The
abuser in her book reminded me in many ways of that ex fiancé. Having
a severely disabled sibling had pretty much put me off mom's parenting
radar. Dad by then couldn't take care of his own self. I got a
chilling glimpse of where my own life could have gone if I'd trusted
guys enough to let boyfriend dearest get close to me.
Elin was seventeen when she attended a party that changed her
life. She was being bullied when a knight in work boots and levis,
Derrick, rescued her. It wasn't long until they were a couple. Then
the abuse began--first verbal and then physical. At one point he
tried to run her over with her own car. Of course he'd always be
contrite afterward, promising that this time things would change.
Luckily Elin was eventually able to get out of Derrick's grasp.
She went on to marry and give birth to three children--children she is
despearate not to see in abusive relationships. Tornado warning
alternates between sometimes heartbreaking excerpts from her teenage
diary and her intensely personal and candid reflections. Her
relationship with Derrick effected her long after she physically left
him.
Many of us at some point have a friend or loved one who keeps
returning to an abuser, refusing to press charges. There is a
tendency to wonder why (the Hell), to believe it can never happen to
me. Tornado Warning reminds us that the lines we swear we'd never
cross may not be all that visible until we're on the other side. It
should be in every public and high school library, highly visible and
accessible. Let's make it another summer read for high school
guidance counselors and college and university student services
providers.
On a personal note, right before fall semester ended I had quite a
long chat with Elizabeth Allan who is a head honcho in the grad school
program I'm trying to get into. Now I'm even more excited than ever
about the program. Who would have thought that was possible?
A great big shout out goes out to my grad school friend chums,
especially my fairy godsquad. Hope you're having a great vaca!
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Thursday, December 22, 2016
Finders Keepers
Finders Keepers
Adult fiction
"Although dazed and still wrapped in a fraying curtain of sleep,
Rothstein knew he was in trouble here. Two words surfaced in his
mind: home invasion. He looked up at the trio that had materialized
in his bedroom, his old head aching (there was going to be a huge
bruise on the right side, thanks to the blood thinners he took), his
heart with its perilously thin walls banging against the left side of
his ribcage. They loomed over him, three men with gloves on their
hands, wearing fall plaid jackets under those terrifying balaclavas.
Home invaders, and here he was, five miles from town."
In the late summer of 2015 I read and reviewed Stephen King's
Mr. Mercedes, the first book in a horror trilogy. I only just got
around to reading the second volume. Believe me when I say it
beautifully lives up to its scary potential.
Author John Rothstein had retired into a reclusive life style
after the response of the world to his Jimmy Gold trilogy was not what
he'd wish for. One night he is awakened abruptly by a trio of masked
men. Two of them are along for what money they can score. For the
third guy it's personal. He resents Rothstein's quitting writing
after having Gold sell out in the third volume.
In addition to money the miscreants discover over a hundred
moleskin notebooks filled in Rothstein's handwriting. Evidently the
author hadn't stopped writing--just sharing his work with the public.
Morris Bellamy, the more literary of the theives, is going to read the
notebooks when they are no longer hot. Only he's a dumbass who does
not let the fact that alcohol gets him in trouble stop hmm from
drinking. He finds himself in prison for a long time.
While he's doing time a boy, Pete Saubers, finds his stash. He
uses the money to help bail his family out of financial crisis mode.
He falls in love with Rothstein's work, well aware he's the only one
besides the author to have read two additional Jimmy Gold novels,
totally unaware that he and his family are in dire danger...
...because Bellamy has been unexpectedly released. He'll do
anything to get back those notebooks he'd waited 26 years to read.
As in Mr. Mercedes, the deepest horror comes not from gore and
guns, but from psychological insight: the laying bare of the rot
behind facades of "normalcy". For me the most chilling paragraph was
a speech by honor student, class vice president, family protector Pete
Saubers:
"That's all true, but Halliday threatening me wasn't the only
reason I wouldn't talk to you. I still thought I had a chance to keep
the notebooks, see? That's why I wouldn't talk to you. And why I ran
away. I wanted to keep them. It wasn't the top thing in my mind, but
it was there underneath, all right. Those notebooks...well...and I
have to say this in the piece I write for The New Yorker...they cast a
spell over me. I need to apologize because I really wasn't so
different from Morris Bellamy."
Readers, you hopefully will be pleased to know that I scored the
third volume in the trilogy (End Of Watch) and plan to read and review
it over Christmas break...
...unless it gets too scary for me to finish, always a
possibility with the offerings of Maine's own master of horror.
On a personal note, I've sent in for the last needed documents for
applying for grad school. I also had the wonderful chance to meet
with Elizabeth Allan to talk to her about the program. I'm even more
determined to get in. I know how to make sure no one will regret
admitting me.
A great big shout out goes out to all who are helping and encouraging
me to follow my dream.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult fiction
"Although dazed and still wrapped in a fraying curtain of sleep,
Rothstein knew he was in trouble here. Two words surfaced in his
mind: home invasion. He looked up at the trio that had materialized
in his bedroom, his old head aching (there was going to be a huge
bruise on the right side, thanks to the blood thinners he took), his
heart with its perilously thin walls banging against the left side of
his ribcage. They loomed over him, three men with gloves on their
hands, wearing fall plaid jackets under those terrifying balaclavas.
Home invaders, and here he was, five miles from town."
In the late summer of 2015 I read and reviewed Stephen King's
Mr. Mercedes, the first book in a horror trilogy. I only just got
around to reading the second volume. Believe me when I say it
beautifully lives up to its scary potential.
Author John Rothstein had retired into a reclusive life style
after the response of the world to his Jimmy Gold trilogy was not what
he'd wish for. One night he is awakened abruptly by a trio of masked
men. Two of them are along for what money they can score. For the
third guy it's personal. He resents Rothstein's quitting writing
after having Gold sell out in the third volume.
In addition to money the miscreants discover over a hundred
moleskin notebooks filled in Rothstein's handwriting. Evidently the
author hadn't stopped writing--just sharing his work with the public.
Morris Bellamy, the more literary of the theives, is going to read the
notebooks when they are no longer hot. Only he's a dumbass who does
not let the fact that alcohol gets him in trouble stop hmm from
drinking. He finds himself in prison for a long time.
While he's doing time a boy, Pete Saubers, finds his stash. He
uses the money to help bail his family out of financial crisis mode.
He falls in love with Rothstein's work, well aware he's the only one
besides the author to have read two additional Jimmy Gold novels,
totally unaware that he and his family are in dire danger...
...because Bellamy has been unexpectedly released. He'll do
anything to get back those notebooks he'd waited 26 years to read.
As in Mr. Mercedes, the deepest horror comes not from gore and
guns, but from psychological insight: the laying bare of the rot
behind facades of "normalcy". For me the most chilling paragraph was
a speech by honor student, class vice president, family protector Pete
Saubers:
"That's all true, but Halliday threatening me wasn't the only
reason I wouldn't talk to you. I still thought I had a chance to keep
the notebooks, see? That's why I wouldn't talk to you. And why I ran
away. I wanted to keep them. It wasn't the top thing in my mind, but
it was there underneath, all right. Those notebooks...well...and I
have to say this in the piece I write for The New Yorker...they cast a
spell over me. I need to apologize because I really wasn't so
different from Morris Bellamy."
Readers, you hopefully will be pleased to know that I scored the
third volume in the trilogy (End Of Watch) and plan to read and review
it over Christmas break...
...unless it gets too scary for me to finish, always a
possibility with the offerings of Maine's own master of horror.
On a personal note, I've sent in for the last needed documents for
applying for grad school. I also had the wonderful chance to meet
with Elizabeth Allan to talk to her about the program. I'm even more
determined to get in. I know how to make sure no one will regret
admitting me.
A great big shout out goes out to all who are helping and encouraging
me to follow my dream.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Wednesday, December 21, 2016
Correction: I just noticed a serious error in my review of Im•be•ciles. Somehow it did not get past my edit that I had written fiction. Sadly it is very much nonfiction. Sorry about that!
Correction: I just noticed a serious error in my review of
Im•be•ciles. Somehow it did not get past my edit that I had
written fiction. Sadly it is very much nonfiction. Sorry about that!
Sent from my iPod
Im•be•ciles. Somehow it did not get past my edit that I had
written fiction. Sadly it is very much nonfiction. Sorry about that!
Sent from my iPod
Im•be•ciles
Im•be•ciles
Adult fiction
"There is a great deal about Buck v. Bell that is troubling.
The Supreme Court got the most basic facts about Carrie Buck and her
family wrong, and relying on those errors it allowed a terrible injury
to be done to her. The court exhibited a shockingly narrow conception
of individual rights. It gave its unqualified endorsement to a cruel
procedure. And when a young woman came seeking to be protected from
an immense wrong, the court showered her with insults and allowed her
to be harmed.
In the end, however, what is most disturbing is the worldview
the court revealed. Buck v. Bell presented the court with a stark
choice between Hammurabi's ideal and its precise opposite. The
ancient principle of justice teaches that the purpose of law is to
ensure that the strong do not harm the weak. The state of Virginia,
and the eugenicists who were in league with it, insisted that the
strong must hurt the weak--and that it was the law's duty to help."
During my childhood we were far enough removed from the Nazi
Holocaust to grasp its immensity and cruelty. "How could they?"
people would ask. In the next breath they would reassure themselves,
"It could never happen here (the United States)."
Don't bet the farm on that.
Anyone denying America's potential for genocide should look
beyond the Thanksgiving festivities to how we really treated our
nation's first inhabitants. It would have been bad enough if we'd
just taken their lands, made their way of life impossible, and broken
nearly every agreement we signed. Some of our ancestors decided they
did not deserve to live, giving them blankets impregnated with
smallpox to which they had no immunity.
Much later in the early 20th century we carried out a course of
action that inspired and elated none other than Adolph Hitler. Adam
Cohen's Im•be•ciles: The Supreme Court, American Eugenics, and the
Sterilization of Carrie Buck, rich in historical background, takes the
reader back to that not so great chapter in American History.
The 1920's were a turbulant time in many ways.
Industrialzation, urbanization, and big waves of immigration were
making a lot of people think society was going to Hell in the
proverbial handbasket. This was particularly true of the old guard
elite, such as the self named Boston Brahmins, who believed that
because of superior stock they and their families deserved to run
society and enjoy the best it had to offer.
In 1864 Herbert Spencer described survival of the fittest as a
process found universally in the world of nature. The fittest members
of species lived and begat; the less fit members didn't. In 1869
Francis Galton, half cousin to Charles Darwin, came up with a word,
eugenics, for the process of improving stock. People with superior
traits should be encouraged to be fruitful and multiply; possessors of
undesirable traits should be prevented from doing so. In the minds of
eugenicists philanthropy and even vaccinations should not be given as
they would aid in the survival of people of poor stock, people who
would otherwise be wiped out (hopefully before passing on substandard
traits) by natural selection.
Galton's ideas were conceived in England and embraced with great
enthusiasm in America. They added the aura of scientific legitacy to
a long held suspicion: in some fundamental way all people are not
created equal. Family and community studies were put together to
prove that traits such as poverty and the tendency to commit crime
were inherited. The role of environment was downplayed or outright
ignored. Not surprisingly, biases such as racism played a big role in
judgements of human worth. The turn of the century embrace of Gregor
Mendel's laws of hereditory became the cherry to top off the
eugenicist ice cream sundae.
Americans were told they were in the middle of a crisis. With
the 20th century version of deplorables reproducing at a faster rate
than the Anglo Nordic superiors, the good stock that had made the
nation great was being watered down. There were two ways to rectify
the problem. Immigrants from less desirable nationalities should not
be allowed in. The 15 million Americans with inferior genes should
somehow be preventing from reproducing.
"There were, of course, fundamental problems with the
eugenicists' science. They were making the mistake of assuming that
'like produces like'--that brilliant parents produce brilliant
children, and criminals produce criminals. Intelligence, indolence,
dependency, and other human qualities are not, however, 'unit
characters'--traits passed on in a single gene from parent to child.
And as Mendel's work suggested, in reproduction genes combine and are
expressed in complex ways, particularly for the sort of human
qualities eugenics focuses on. The eugenecists' plan of ending
feeblemindedness simply by preventing the feebleminded from
reproducing had no basis in genetics."
There was also the devil in the details. How exactly could a
nation keep millions of its members from reproducing? Eugenecists
rightly suspected that society would not go for killing the
deplorables off. Imprisoning ten percent of the population for their
reproductive lives would be quite costly. Sterilization seemed to be
the most effective way to go.
Much to the eugenecists' surprise and dismay, state
sterilization laws were often struck down over constitutional
arguments. The state of Virginia decided to create a law that would
withstand challenges all the way up to and including the United States
Supreme Court. Im•be•ciles is a lucid and thought provoking
narrative of this chapter in America's history, its historical
background, and its consequences, most alarmingly in Nazi Germany.
Despite the extensive scholarship and eminent readibility of the
book, I would most strongly recommend it for its sad relevence to the
present. In my opinion the deck is still very much stacked against
the most vulnerable. Schools are funded by property taxes. Under old
Billy Boy Clinton welfare was transformed from a safety net into a
time limited aid in a world with far too few jobs with decent wages.
Governor LePage refuses to expand Medicaid to cover the "undeserving"
poor. In fact the number of Americans who die prematurely for lack of
medical care dwarfs the number of 9/11 fatalities every year.
Children in places like Flint, Michigan drink contaminated water. And
we're still guarding the borders against immigrants fleeing dire and
desperate situations.
Need I say more?
Ironically one of the most enthusiastic actors in this bizarre
drama would have been a prime candidate for the procedure. He had
epilepsy. I do too. Of my children, my oldest daughter is working on
her PhD in physics; my younger daughter graduated UMaine summa cum
laude and right away got a job in her field; and my son is studying
engineering and working towards his advanced EMT. I wonder what
superior stock would have produced.
On a personal note, the Hunger Banquet to raise money to help refugees
was awesome. Even though I'd been tabling for it for weeks it didn't
sink in until the day before that semi formal meant me too. I put
together a lovely outfit: silver empire dress overlaid with black net
with silver sparkle designs, sparkly tights, grey ballet flats with
silver sparkle bows, necklace and earrings. Everyone looked
gorgeous. We had inspiring speakers including refugees from Africa.
The food and fellowship was great. Dave gave me some raffle tickets
he'd bought and I won a restaurant gift card. It was a truly
wonderful night.
A great big shout out goes out to all who participated.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult fiction
"There is a great deal about Buck v. Bell that is troubling.
The Supreme Court got the most basic facts about Carrie Buck and her
family wrong, and relying on those errors it allowed a terrible injury
to be done to her. The court exhibited a shockingly narrow conception
of individual rights. It gave its unqualified endorsement to a cruel
procedure. And when a young woman came seeking to be protected from
an immense wrong, the court showered her with insults and allowed her
to be harmed.
In the end, however, what is most disturbing is the worldview
the court revealed. Buck v. Bell presented the court with a stark
choice between Hammurabi's ideal and its precise opposite. The
ancient principle of justice teaches that the purpose of law is to
ensure that the strong do not harm the weak. The state of Virginia,
and the eugenicists who were in league with it, insisted that the
strong must hurt the weak--and that it was the law's duty to help."
During my childhood we were far enough removed from the Nazi
Holocaust to grasp its immensity and cruelty. "How could they?"
people would ask. In the next breath they would reassure themselves,
"It could never happen here (the United States)."
Don't bet the farm on that.
Anyone denying America's potential for genocide should look
beyond the Thanksgiving festivities to how we really treated our
nation's first inhabitants. It would have been bad enough if we'd
just taken their lands, made their way of life impossible, and broken
nearly every agreement we signed. Some of our ancestors decided they
did not deserve to live, giving them blankets impregnated with
smallpox to which they had no immunity.
Much later in the early 20th century we carried out a course of
action that inspired and elated none other than Adolph Hitler. Adam
Cohen's Im•be•ciles: The Supreme Court, American Eugenics, and the
Sterilization of Carrie Buck, rich in historical background, takes the
reader back to that not so great chapter in American History.
The 1920's were a turbulant time in many ways.
Industrialzation, urbanization, and big waves of immigration were
making a lot of people think society was going to Hell in the
proverbial handbasket. This was particularly true of the old guard
elite, such as the self named Boston Brahmins, who believed that
because of superior stock they and their families deserved to run
society and enjoy the best it had to offer.
In 1864 Herbert Spencer described survival of the fittest as a
process found universally in the world of nature. The fittest members
of species lived and begat; the less fit members didn't. In 1869
Francis Galton, half cousin to Charles Darwin, came up with a word,
eugenics, for the process of improving stock. People with superior
traits should be encouraged to be fruitful and multiply; possessors of
undesirable traits should be prevented from doing so. In the minds of
eugenicists philanthropy and even vaccinations should not be given as
they would aid in the survival of people of poor stock, people who
would otherwise be wiped out (hopefully before passing on substandard
traits) by natural selection.
Galton's ideas were conceived in England and embraced with great
enthusiasm in America. They added the aura of scientific legitacy to
a long held suspicion: in some fundamental way all people are not
created equal. Family and community studies were put together to
prove that traits such as poverty and the tendency to commit crime
were inherited. The role of environment was downplayed or outright
ignored. Not surprisingly, biases such as racism played a big role in
judgements of human worth. The turn of the century embrace of Gregor
Mendel's laws of hereditory became the cherry to top off the
eugenicist ice cream sundae.
Americans were told they were in the middle of a crisis. With
the 20th century version of deplorables reproducing at a faster rate
than the Anglo Nordic superiors, the good stock that had made the
nation great was being watered down. There were two ways to rectify
the problem. Immigrants from less desirable nationalities should not
be allowed in. The 15 million Americans with inferior genes should
somehow be preventing from reproducing.
"There were, of course, fundamental problems with the
eugenicists' science. They were making the mistake of assuming that
'like produces like'--that brilliant parents produce brilliant
children, and criminals produce criminals. Intelligence, indolence,
dependency, and other human qualities are not, however, 'unit
characters'--traits passed on in a single gene from parent to child.
And as Mendel's work suggested, in reproduction genes combine and are
expressed in complex ways, particularly for the sort of human
qualities eugenics focuses on. The eugenecists' plan of ending
feeblemindedness simply by preventing the feebleminded from
reproducing had no basis in genetics."
There was also the devil in the details. How exactly could a
nation keep millions of its members from reproducing? Eugenecists
rightly suspected that society would not go for killing the
deplorables off. Imprisoning ten percent of the population for their
reproductive lives would be quite costly. Sterilization seemed to be
the most effective way to go.
Much to the eugenecists' surprise and dismay, state
sterilization laws were often struck down over constitutional
arguments. The state of Virginia decided to create a law that would
withstand challenges all the way up to and including the United States
Supreme Court. Im•be•ciles is a lucid and thought provoking
narrative of this chapter in America's history, its historical
background, and its consequences, most alarmingly in Nazi Germany.
Despite the extensive scholarship and eminent readibility of the
book, I would most strongly recommend it for its sad relevence to the
present. In my opinion the deck is still very much stacked against
the most vulnerable. Schools are funded by property taxes. Under old
Billy Boy Clinton welfare was transformed from a safety net into a
time limited aid in a world with far too few jobs with decent wages.
Governor LePage refuses to expand Medicaid to cover the "undeserving"
poor. In fact the number of Americans who die prematurely for lack of
medical care dwarfs the number of 9/11 fatalities every year.
Children in places like Flint, Michigan drink contaminated water. And
we're still guarding the borders against immigrants fleeing dire and
desperate situations.
Need I say more?
Ironically one of the most enthusiastic actors in this bizarre
drama would have been a prime candidate for the procedure. He had
epilepsy. I do too. Of my children, my oldest daughter is working on
her PhD in physics; my younger daughter graduated UMaine summa cum
laude and right away got a job in her field; and my son is studying
engineering and working towards his advanced EMT. I wonder what
superior stock would have produced.
On a personal note, the Hunger Banquet to raise money to help refugees
was awesome. Even though I'd been tabling for it for weeks it didn't
sink in until the day before that semi formal meant me too. I put
together a lovely outfit: silver empire dress overlaid with black net
with silver sparkle designs, sparkly tights, grey ballet flats with
silver sparkle bows, necklace and earrings. Everyone looked
gorgeous. We had inspiring speakers including refugees from Africa.
The food and fellowship was great. Dave gave me some raffle tickets
he'd bought and I won a restaurant gift card. It was a truly
wonderful night.
A great big shout out goes out to all who participated.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Friday, December 16, 2016
Children Of The West
Children Of The West
Adult nonfiction
As a discerning and patient bibliophile, I love yard sales and
other places where gems are priced the same as run of the mill bodice
rippers. I live for library book sales with uniform prices. Often
the last hour of the sale, not wanting to have to deal with too many
unsold volumes, they lower prices even more. Recently I acquired a
$50 history of baseball and two $30 recent Stephen King hardcovers in
a $1 bag. Another treasure in my library, bought on the cheap, is
Cathy Luchetti's Children Of The West: Family Life On The Frontier.
It's everything you could possibly want to know about childhood and
family life in a fascinating part of our country's history.
In the nineteenth century desire to own one's own land, the
prevelant belief in manifest destiny, and the discovery of California
gold spurred many families to sell all but necessities and sentimental
treasures and head out (often quite poorly prepared) west in prairie
schooners. Prolifically procreating parents insured that many of the
travellers were children, leaving homes, schools, communities, friends
and relatives they might never see again for an unknown future in an
act of family faith. A few infants were born en route. (Moms, can
you imagine giving birth sans medical assistance in a covered wagon
and resuming the jolting journey right away?)
A lot of those kids had to grow up pretty darn fast. The route
was populated by Native Americans, not all of whom were eager to have
the whites take over their territory and destroy their way of life,
and very hungry predators. Some aspects of the journey itself like
river crossings were hazardous. And hunger and disease took a very
real toll.
Those who arrived at their destinations were not out of the
woods. Varmints like poisonous snakes slithered through the untamed
territories. Crops failed. During sudden hitting blizzards a walk
from house to barn could leave one lost and frozen to death. In the
face of injury and illness parents had to muddle by without doctors,
often relying on herbs and other folk remedies.
They were, however, children, eager and able to find amusement
and joy wherever they could.
This narrative gives a wonderfully detailed picture of their
growing up years in a very unique place and time. This is a great
read for history buffs and women's studies scholars.
On a personal note, nearly all the gifts and cards I've been giving
out have been home made: mostly scarves and stress pillows. I wrote
one friend a poem. People love them. You don't have to shell out big
bucks to spread holiday joy.
A great big shout out goes out to my loved ones--my family and friends.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
As a discerning and patient bibliophile, I love yard sales and
other places where gems are priced the same as run of the mill bodice
rippers. I live for library book sales with uniform prices. Often
the last hour of the sale, not wanting to have to deal with too many
unsold volumes, they lower prices even more. Recently I acquired a
$50 history of baseball and two $30 recent Stephen King hardcovers in
a $1 bag. Another treasure in my library, bought on the cheap, is
Cathy Luchetti's Children Of The West: Family Life On The Frontier.
It's everything you could possibly want to know about childhood and
family life in a fascinating part of our country's history.
In the nineteenth century desire to own one's own land, the
prevelant belief in manifest destiny, and the discovery of California
gold spurred many families to sell all but necessities and sentimental
treasures and head out (often quite poorly prepared) west in prairie
schooners. Prolifically procreating parents insured that many of the
travellers were children, leaving homes, schools, communities, friends
and relatives they might never see again for an unknown future in an
act of family faith. A few infants were born en route. (Moms, can
you imagine giving birth sans medical assistance in a covered wagon
and resuming the jolting journey right away?)
A lot of those kids had to grow up pretty darn fast. The route
was populated by Native Americans, not all of whom were eager to have
the whites take over their territory and destroy their way of life,
and very hungry predators. Some aspects of the journey itself like
river crossings were hazardous. And hunger and disease took a very
real toll.
Those who arrived at their destinations were not out of the
woods. Varmints like poisonous snakes slithered through the untamed
territories. Crops failed. During sudden hitting blizzards a walk
from house to barn could leave one lost and frozen to death. In the
face of injury and illness parents had to muddle by without doctors,
often relying on herbs and other folk remedies.
They were, however, children, eager and able to find amusement
and joy wherever they could.
This narrative gives a wonderfully detailed picture of their
growing up years in a very unique place and time. This is a great
read for history buffs and women's studies scholars.
On a personal note, nearly all the gifts and cards I've been giving
out have been home made: mostly scarves and stress pillows. I wrote
one friend a poem. People love them. You don't have to shell out big
bucks to spread holiday joy.
A great big shout out goes out to my loved ones--my family and friends.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Death Is Stupid
Death Is Stupid
Picture book
When my son was in middle school a neighbor a year ahead of him
died unexpectedly. She had gone to the hospital for what was supposed
to be a routine operation. She never woke up. She'd been a long time
close friend of all my children. I sure wish Anastasia Higginbotham's
Death Is Stupid had been published then. Just as she did in Divorce
Is The Worst, Higginbotham takes on a truly tough subject with dignity
and grace.
A young boy has lost his beloved grandmother. As he goes
through the funeral and beyond a narrator talks about things that can
happen when a loved one dies. Even your nearest and dearest may tell
you things that seem stupid, if not downright alarming. She's in a
better place. She's at peace. She can rest. She's only sleeping.
Readers are told that everyone eventually loses someone, that
just the act of going on living takes courage, and that people
experience and express grief in different ways. For many kids (and
adults) a lost one can be a cat or dog or other non human being. The
legitimacy of sorrow in this case is emphasized. At the end of the
book there is a lovely array of ways to cherish the memories of a lost
loved friend or family member.
Illustrations done in the form of lively collages are the
perfect accompaniment for the thoughtful and sensitive text.
Death Is Stupid is a must purchase for school and public
libraries and guidance counselor collections. It's also a wise
investment for parents. Sadly, thanks to tv and social media, very
few youngsters are not exposed to the reality of death.
On a personal note, the last Wilson Center Wednesday for the fall
semester was truly something special. After a scrumptious supper we
all set in to bake, frost, decorate, and eat Christmas cookies. I
stuck with gingerbread with frosting and coconut. They were so good.
I brought some home to share with my husband. There was lots of
sharing of treasured memories. It was for sure quality time.
A great big shout out goes out to my Wilson Center family.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Picture book
When my son was in middle school a neighbor a year ahead of him
died unexpectedly. She had gone to the hospital for what was supposed
to be a routine operation. She never woke up. She'd been a long time
close friend of all my children. I sure wish Anastasia Higginbotham's
Death Is Stupid had been published then. Just as she did in Divorce
Is The Worst, Higginbotham takes on a truly tough subject with dignity
and grace.
A young boy has lost his beloved grandmother. As he goes
through the funeral and beyond a narrator talks about things that can
happen when a loved one dies. Even your nearest and dearest may tell
you things that seem stupid, if not downright alarming. She's in a
better place. She's at peace. She can rest. She's only sleeping.
Readers are told that everyone eventually loses someone, that
just the act of going on living takes courage, and that people
experience and express grief in different ways. For many kids (and
adults) a lost one can be a cat or dog or other non human being. The
legitimacy of sorrow in this case is emphasized. At the end of the
book there is a lovely array of ways to cherish the memories of a lost
loved friend or family member.
Illustrations done in the form of lively collages are the
perfect accompaniment for the thoughtful and sensitive text.
Death Is Stupid is a must purchase for school and public
libraries and guidance counselor collections. It's also a wise
investment for parents. Sadly, thanks to tv and social media, very
few youngsters are not exposed to the reality of death.
On a personal note, the last Wilson Center Wednesday for the fall
semester was truly something special. After a scrumptious supper we
all set in to bake, frost, decorate, and eat Christmas cookies. I
stuck with gingerbread with frosting and coconut. They were so good.
I brought some home to share with my husband. There was lots of
sharing of treasured memories. It was for sure quality time.
A great big shout out goes out to my Wilson Center family.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Thursday, December 15, 2016
Goodnight Nobody
Goodnight Nobody
Adult mystery
"The parents behaved as if this was perfectly normal, as if, in
fact, this were the only way they could imagine raising their young.
I couldn't figure out why. Maybe after they'd delivered their babies,
a malevolent lactation consultant had sprinkled Super-Mommy dust onto
their pillows, or had bent and whispered into each sleeping ear, From
now on, the only thing you will care about is breast feeding, toilet
training, Mommy and Me Pilates mat classes, and whether the
kindergarten's better at Greentown Friends or Upchurch Country Day."
At least in the world of adult fiction I have found someone with
a rougher transition from city life to suburbia. (True, Orono, Maine
is not in New York City's league. But, housing the University of
Maine flagship campus, it is the most urbane municipality in Penobscot
County. Veazie is the pure distilled burbs.) Like Kate Klein,
narrator of Jennifer Weiner's Goodnight Nobody, I was totally snubbed
by the wealthier moms of my kids' classmates. Unlike Kate, however, I
did not become the first to find one of these beautiful people lying
on the floor with a butcher knife buried between her shoulder blades.
Sort of give you a clue that not all is right in Paradise?
Kate's usually absent husband, Ben, is a political consultant
for politicians, some not quite so pure. Needless to say, he thinks
Kate should leave all the investigation to the police. As if she
will! The twenty-first century Stepford Wives millieu is driving her
batty. Using her journalistic talents to help bring the miscreant to
justice is the first thing in her eight months of residing in Upchurch
that makes her feel alive. And there are clues and potential villains
aplenty.
*Kitty, lovely murder victim, hasn't always been well heeled. Could
past liaisons or deeds be coming back to haunt her?
*She is the ghost writer for a much hated conservative columnist.
Could one of Laura Lynn's numerous nemesis have discovered the real
author?
*Some of the trophy wives' hubbies haven't grasped the meaning of
monogamy. Could it be a secret tryst gone bad?
Mystery (my not-so-secret vice) lovers will find the novel to be
a delightfully wild ride.
On a personal note, a little over a week ago Eugene wrestled a huge
tree into the living room and put on the lights. I've been enjoying
slowly, reflectively adding our treasured ornaments. The nights I
don't go out, which will be more with the UMaine semester drawing to a
close, I sit with Joey cat beside the tree and read.
A great big shout out goes out to Eugene and Joey.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult mystery
"The parents behaved as if this was perfectly normal, as if, in
fact, this were the only way they could imagine raising their young.
I couldn't figure out why. Maybe after they'd delivered their babies,
a malevolent lactation consultant had sprinkled Super-Mommy dust onto
their pillows, or had bent and whispered into each sleeping ear, From
now on, the only thing you will care about is breast feeding, toilet
training, Mommy and Me Pilates mat classes, and whether the
kindergarten's better at Greentown Friends or Upchurch Country Day."
At least in the world of adult fiction I have found someone with
a rougher transition from city life to suburbia. (True, Orono, Maine
is not in New York City's league. But, housing the University of
Maine flagship campus, it is the most urbane municipality in Penobscot
County. Veazie is the pure distilled burbs.) Like Kate Klein,
narrator of Jennifer Weiner's Goodnight Nobody, I was totally snubbed
by the wealthier moms of my kids' classmates. Unlike Kate, however, I
did not become the first to find one of these beautiful people lying
on the floor with a butcher knife buried between her shoulder blades.
Sort of give you a clue that not all is right in Paradise?
Kate's usually absent husband, Ben, is a political consultant
for politicians, some not quite so pure. Needless to say, he thinks
Kate should leave all the investigation to the police. As if she
will! The twenty-first century Stepford Wives millieu is driving her
batty. Using her journalistic talents to help bring the miscreant to
justice is the first thing in her eight months of residing in Upchurch
that makes her feel alive. And there are clues and potential villains
aplenty.
*Kitty, lovely murder victim, hasn't always been well heeled. Could
past liaisons or deeds be coming back to haunt her?
*She is the ghost writer for a much hated conservative columnist.
Could one of Laura Lynn's numerous nemesis have discovered the real
author?
*Some of the trophy wives' hubbies haven't grasped the meaning of
monogamy. Could it be a secret tryst gone bad?
Mystery (my not-so-secret vice) lovers will find the novel to be
a delightfully wild ride.
On a personal note, a little over a week ago Eugene wrestled a huge
tree into the living room and put on the lights. I've been enjoying
slowly, reflectively adding our treasured ornaments. The nights I
don't go out, which will be more with the UMaine semester drawing to a
close, I sit with Joey cat beside the tree and read.
A great big shout out goes out to Eugene and Joey.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Wednesday, December 14, 2016
Artichoke's Heart
Artichoke's Heart
YA fiction
"I just can't believe I've packed on thirteen pounds. Thirteen
pounds! How did that happen? How can I make it stop? Why can't I
make it stop? What if it never ever stops? What if I'm twenty-five
and still tortured by talking scales and well meaning bakers who keep
trying to feed the fat girl? What if at my ten-year class reunion I
am still the Artichoke?"
The plight of a teen struggling with weight problems and self
esteem issues can be dreadfully formulaic. Suzanne Supplee's
Artichoke's Heart is a notable exception. The authentic regional
voice of the author and the unusual setting in which much of the
action takes place makes this slightly older (2008) book something
special.
Rosemary is deeply disappointed by her Christmas presents a
treadmill from her mother and diet books and conference tickets from
her Aunt Mary. She'd like her excess weight to disappear in one grand
holiday miracle. She wears sweatpants because she's outgrown
everything else. But constant observation from family and her
mother's beauty shop clients drives her into the arms of her under the
bed secret lovers "Mr. Hershey, Mr. Reeses, and Mr. M & M."
School is anything but a joy. At one point she self induces
food poisoning to get out of a couple of days. She has been stuck with
a distasted nickname since sixth grade. A much yearned for down
jacket came in avacado green instead of the sold out berry pink.
"I could tell by their dumb, blank faces that most of the kids
at Misty's lunch table didn't even know what an artichoke was, but the
damage was done, and artichoke is a very catchy word for twelve-year-
olds. From that fateful day forward, I became the Artichoke, Arti,
Chokey, Fat Artichoke..."
The bright spot in Rosemary's day is being able to sit near
handsome (very plus size) athlete Kyle who is kind and polite and
never makes fun of anyone--even fat girls. He's actually smiled at
her. But could he ever fall for someone who's such a mess?
You'll have to read the book and see.
Supplee was inspired to write Artichoke's Heart by childhood
memories. "When I was a little kid my mom used to take me with her to
the beauty shop. I loved the smell of shampoo, the whirring of hair
dryers, and the chattering ladies, young and old..." Her affection for
that setting and its regulars creates a memorable place for a distinct
narrative.
On a personal note, we had a really fine Christmas karaoke at UMaine.
I love the instrumental part of Santa Baby but hate, abhor, loathe,
and detest its glorification of materialistic excess. So I changed
the words. My version was Grad School People: about why they should
admit me. My words fit the notes perfectly. People loved it. Later I
sang In My Life (Beatles) and dedicated it to my husband. A lot of
people (even some stage shy ones) belted out songs which made the
evening totally excellent.
A great big shout out goes out to all who participated in this festive
event.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
YA fiction
"I just can't believe I've packed on thirteen pounds. Thirteen
pounds! How did that happen? How can I make it stop? Why can't I
make it stop? What if it never ever stops? What if I'm twenty-five
and still tortured by talking scales and well meaning bakers who keep
trying to feed the fat girl? What if at my ten-year class reunion I
am still the Artichoke?"
The plight of a teen struggling with weight problems and self
esteem issues can be dreadfully formulaic. Suzanne Supplee's
Artichoke's Heart is a notable exception. The authentic regional
voice of the author and the unusual setting in which much of the
action takes place makes this slightly older (2008) book something
special.
Rosemary is deeply disappointed by her Christmas presents a
treadmill from her mother and diet books and conference tickets from
her Aunt Mary. She'd like her excess weight to disappear in one grand
holiday miracle. She wears sweatpants because she's outgrown
everything else. But constant observation from family and her
mother's beauty shop clients drives her into the arms of her under the
bed secret lovers "Mr. Hershey, Mr. Reeses, and Mr. M & M."
School is anything but a joy. At one point she self induces
food poisoning to get out of a couple of days. She has been stuck with
a distasted nickname since sixth grade. A much yearned for down
jacket came in avacado green instead of the sold out berry pink.
"I could tell by their dumb, blank faces that most of the kids
at Misty's lunch table didn't even know what an artichoke was, but the
damage was done, and artichoke is a very catchy word for twelve-year-
olds. From that fateful day forward, I became the Artichoke, Arti,
Chokey, Fat Artichoke..."
The bright spot in Rosemary's day is being able to sit near
handsome (very plus size) athlete Kyle who is kind and polite and
never makes fun of anyone--even fat girls. He's actually smiled at
her. But could he ever fall for someone who's such a mess?
You'll have to read the book and see.
Supplee was inspired to write Artichoke's Heart by childhood
memories. "When I was a little kid my mom used to take me with her to
the beauty shop. I loved the smell of shampoo, the whirring of hair
dryers, and the chattering ladies, young and old..." Her affection for
that setting and its regulars creates a memorable place for a distinct
narrative.
On a personal note, we had a really fine Christmas karaoke at UMaine.
I love the instrumental part of Santa Baby but hate, abhor, loathe,
and detest its glorification of materialistic excess. So I changed
the words. My version was Grad School People: about why they should
admit me. My words fit the notes perfectly. People loved it. Later I
sang In My Life (Beatles) and dedicated it to my husband. A lot of
people (even some stage shy ones) belted out songs which made the
evening totally excellent.
A great big shout out goes out to all who participated in this festive
event.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Here Today
Here Today
Juvenile/YA fiction
"Ellie could think of about a thousand questions. Everything
from Are you taking the Buick? to Where are you going to get the money
to live in New York City? But two questions rang loudest in her head,
over and over, like the bonging of great church bells: Why don't you
want to be our mother anymore? and How will Dad take care of us when
you're gone?"
In the first paragraph of Ann Martin's Here Today, narrated by
young Ellie Dingman, we learn that 1963 was the year her family began
to fall apart. The book is her attempt to tease the strands apart to
figure out exactly what happened. It's a heartbreaking narrative of a
young girl having to come to terms with a very distant mother.
Ellie's mother, Doris Day Dingman, is haunted by an inner
awareness that there must be more to life than cooking, laundry,
packing school lunches, and doing the other chores assigned to mothers
in the early 60's. Because there are few opportunities in her small
town to make herself larger than life she creates whatever she can
whether it's a fashion show in a department store or a parade complete
with Harvest Queen.
The assassination of Kennedy is a turning point in Doris' life.
The parade with her Harvest Queen role is cancelled. She becomes
obsessed and overidentified with JFK's first lady widow. Life can be
too short. Hopes and plans can be shattered in a moment. If she
doesn't leave a town that feels too small to nurture her ambitions...
...she may never get the chance.
But what about the family she chooses to leave behind?
On a personal note, Transgender Day of Remembrance was commemorated
fittingly and touchingly at UMaine. There was a candle light vigil in
front of Fogler Library. It was followed by a solidarity supper of
spaghetti, garlic bread, and hot spiced cider served up with love up
to Wilson Center.
A great big shout out goes out to the transgender community and their
loved ones.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile/YA fiction
"Ellie could think of about a thousand questions. Everything
from Are you taking the Buick? to Where are you going to get the money
to live in New York City? But two questions rang loudest in her head,
over and over, like the bonging of great church bells: Why don't you
want to be our mother anymore? and How will Dad take care of us when
you're gone?"
In the first paragraph of Ann Martin's Here Today, narrated by
young Ellie Dingman, we learn that 1963 was the year her family began
to fall apart. The book is her attempt to tease the strands apart to
figure out exactly what happened. It's a heartbreaking narrative of a
young girl having to come to terms with a very distant mother.
Ellie's mother, Doris Day Dingman, is haunted by an inner
awareness that there must be more to life than cooking, laundry,
packing school lunches, and doing the other chores assigned to mothers
in the early 60's. Because there are few opportunities in her small
town to make herself larger than life she creates whatever she can
whether it's a fashion show in a department store or a parade complete
with Harvest Queen.
The assassination of Kennedy is a turning point in Doris' life.
The parade with her Harvest Queen role is cancelled. She becomes
obsessed and overidentified with JFK's first lady widow. Life can be
too short. Hopes and plans can be shattered in a moment. If she
doesn't leave a town that feels too small to nurture her ambitions...
...she may never get the chance.
But what about the family she chooses to leave behind?
On a personal note, Transgender Day of Remembrance was commemorated
fittingly and touchingly at UMaine. There was a candle light vigil in
front of Fogler Library. It was followed by a solidarity supper of
spaghetti, garlic bread, and hot spiced cider served up with love up
to Wilson Center.
A great big shout out goes out to the transgender community and their
loved ones.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Friday, December 9, 2016
Moment Of Truth
Moment Of Truth
Adult mystery
"Jack Newlin had no choice but to frame himself for murder.
Once he had set his course, his only fear was that he wouldn't get
away with it. That he wasn't a good enough liar, even for a lawyer."
Mystery lovers, I'm guessing you can't read the first paragraph
of Lisa Scottoline's Moment Of Truth (above) and put the book down. I
surely couldn't. Who is this Jack guy framing himself for a serious
felony? Why does he see it as his only option? Inquiring minds want
to know.
When we meet Jack, an estates lawyer, he's in handcuffs and
under arrest. He's making a confession to two detectives. He'd come
home to find his wife dead. Before he'd called 911 he'd arranged all
the evidence to indicate that he'd murdered her in a drunken rage,
even consuming alcohol in case the police tested his blood. All he
wants to do is get convicted.
Self incrimination may not be all that easy despite all the
evidence pointing to Jack's guilt, evidence that has the District
Attorney thinking he's got a slam dunk. His attorney, Mary Dinunzio,
thinks he's framing himself to protect someone he loves dearly, his
daughter, Paige, a model abused by her Manager mom. One of the
detectives who first interviewed him is thinking his story rings
false. First separately and then together, they work to get him
exonerated...
...which could be a very dangerous move. The case is a lot more
complex than they can imagine. There are links to people in high
places who have a vested interest in seeing Jack take the fall.
Moment Of Truth is a mighty fine read for a dark and blizzardy
winter night.
On a personal note, UMaine commemorated Transgender Day of Remembrance
in a low key and decorous but highly inspiring way. We started with a
candle light vigil and then went to Wilson Center for a supper of
spaghetti, garlic bread, and hot cider. The room was alive with love
and solidarity.
A great big shout out goes out to the LGBTQ community.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult mystery
"Jack Newlin had no choice but to frame himself for murder.
Once he had set his course, his only fear was that he wouldn't get
away with it. That he wasn't a good enough liar, even for a lawyer."
Mystery lovers, I'm guessing you can't read the first paragraph
of Lisa Scottoline's Moment Of Truth (above) and put the book down. I
surely couldn't. Who is this Jack guy framing himself for a serious
felony? Why does he see it as his only option? Inquiring minds want
to know.
When we meet Jack, an estates lawyer, he's in handcuffs and
under arrest. He's making a confession to two detectives. He'd come
home to find his wife dead. Before he'd called 911 he'd arranged all
the evidence to indicate that he'd murdered her in a drunken rage,
even consuming alcohol in case the police tested his blood. All he
wants to do is get convicted.
Self incrimination may not be all that easy despite all the
evidence pointing to Jack's guilt, evidence that has the District
Attorney thinking he's got a slam dunk. His attorney, Mary Dinunzio,
thinks he's framing himself to protect someone he loves dearly, his
daughter, Paige, a model abused by her Manager mom. One of the
detectives who first interviewed him is thinking his story rings
false. First separately and then together, they work to get him
exonerated...
...which could be a very dangerous move. The case is a lot more
complex than they can imagine. There are links to people in high
places who have a vested interest in seeing Jack take the fall.
Moment Of Truth is a mighty fine read for a dark and blizzardy
winter night.
On a personal note, UMaine commemorated Transgender Day of Remembrance
in a low key and decorous but highly inspiring way. We started with a
candle light vigil and then went to Wilson Center for a supper of
spaghetti, garlic bread, and hot cider. The room was alive with love
and solidarity.
A great big shout out goes out to the LGBTQ community.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
What Is My Cat Thinking?
What Is My Cat Thinking?
Adult nonfiction
If you are a member of a feline's family, that thought must
cross your mind now and then. There are times our favorite critters
can seem quite inscrutable. To animal behaviorists, however, cats are
open books. Gwen Bailey, a member of that profession, tells all in
her What Is My Cat Thinking?
The focus of the book is the pictures on every page of cats
doing cat things. A short paragraph explains what's going on
succinctly. Two cats, tails high, approach a human. They are showing
happiness in the arrival home of their person. Two cats appear to be
in mortal combat. Clues show them to be in a play fight. A cat
sprawled on her back, arms outstretched, is making a bid for attention.
One aspect of this book I truly appreciate is the discussion of
how some feline behaviors we don't appreciate are wired in, not
subject to learned control. We should do the adapting rather than
punishing our confused cat companions. A good example is digging with
claws when they sit on our laps. A thick blanket on a lap can protect
human skin and cat contentment. I have found a new use for one of
Amber's baby quilts. :)
Joey cuddled on my lap this morning while I read the paper. We
had some fun time on the floor playing with his cat toys. Now he's
sleeping. Judging from his very relaxed posture he feels safe and
secure in his home.
On a personal note, the most recent UMaine blood drive went really
well. I donated the first day and volunteered at the canteen the
second. Got to take lots of snacks home. I finally got to try on the
blood drop costume. Lisa had said I couldn't. Rather than admit she
was wrong she now claims I couldn't climb stairs in it.
A great big shout out goes out to all who worked, volunteered, and
donated at the blood drive.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
If you are a member of a feline's family, that thought must
cross your mind now and then. There are times our favorite critters
can seem quite inscrutable. To animal behaviorists, however, cats are
open books. Gwen Bailey, a member of that profession, tells all in
her What Is My Cat Thinking?
The focus of the book is the pictures on every page of cats
doing cat things. A short paragraph explains what's going on
succinctly. Two cats, tails high, approach a human. They are showing
happiness in the arrival home of their person. Two cats appear to be
in mortal combat. Clues show them to be in a play fight. A cat
sprawled on her back, arms outstretched, is making a bid for attention.
One aspect of this book I truly appreciate is the discussion of
how some feline behaviors we don't appreciate are wired in, not
subject to learned control. We should do the adapting rather than
punishing our confused cat companions. A good example is digging with
claws when they sit on our laps. A thick blanket on a lap can protect
human skin and cat contentment. I have found a new use for one of
Amber's baby quilts. :)
Joey cuddled on my lap this morning while I read the paper. We
had some fun time on the floor playing with his cat toys. Now he's
sleeping. Judging from his very relaxed posture he feels safe and
secure in his home.
On a personal note, the most recent UMaine blood drive went really
well. I donated the first day and volunteered at the canteen the
second. Got to take lots of snacks home. I finally got to try on the
blood drop costume. Lisa had said I couldn't. Rather than admit she
was wrong she now claims I couldn't climb stairs in it.
A great big shout out goes out to all who worked, volunteered, and
donated at the blood drive.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Doctor Sleep
Doctor Sleep
Adult mystery
"'Dick, what the hell am I supposed to do?'
'Get the girl what she asked for.'
'Where are these, these empty devils?'
'In your childhood, where every devil comes from. I'm not
allowed to say more.'
'How do I stop them?'
'The only way to stop them is kill them. Make them eat their
own poison. Do that and they disappear.'"
For two decades now my daughter, Amber, and I have been fans of
Stephen King's The Shining. We were really excited when we learned
that he was working on a sequel. When it came out at $30.00 it was
not in our budgets. Luckily, helping at the recent friends of the
Orono Public Library book sale, I got a hard cover copy for about a
dime. Doctor Sleep, in my opinion, is a very worthy sequel.
Do you remember Danny, the poster child for Children's
Protective Services, who lived at a demonically possessed hotel, the
Overlook, with his parents and a number of malevolent spectral
entities? How his dad lapsed into insanity fueled by these beings who
wanted Danny for his shining, his package of sixth sense abilities?
How Danny and his mother barely escaped with their lives when the
Overlook exploded?
Well Danny's back folks--back and grown up. Like his father,
whom he'd sworn not to emulate in this fashion, he's succombed to
alcoholism. He has achieve sobriety, thanks to AA. He has a life he
feels comfortable in. He works in a hospice. And he still has the
shining...
...which is a very good thing...
...because a little girl, Abra, who shines very strongly is in
terrible peril from monsters even more evil than the Overlook daemons
of Danny's Youth. Members of the True Knot look like a group of older
mobile home and RV nomads. Nothing more sinister on their minds than
getting their full AARP discounts. Don't believe that for a moment.
They were alive when the United States became a nation. Their
unnaturally long lifespans demand regular infusions of steam, the life
force of dying children with the shining.
Rose, leader of the True Knot is determined to kill Abra not
only because she believes her steam will be of prime quality, but
because Abra knows too much and has personally challenged her. In
other words it's personal. Abra has Danny on her side. But can two
humans hold against such a strong force of pure malevolence? Read the
book and see.
On a personal note, I greatly enjoyed my three Thanksgiving dinners on
three consecutive Thursdays. The first was Gay Thanksgiving. The
second was multicultural Thanksgiving. The third was the one you
probably celebrated. It was such a rare treat to have my three kids
together! I live for times like that.
And no, I did not get up insanely early and battle the Black Friday
crowds to buy, buy, buy. Joey cat and I stayed in our attitude of
gratitude mode. The only years I ever did Black Friday were when the
kids wanted to. One very thoughtful thing Amber did was saving up and
buying Katie and Adam as many gifts as she could afford.
A great big shout out goes out to all with whom I celebrated.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult mystery
"'Dick, what the hell am I supposed to do?'
'Get the girl what she asked for.'
'Where are these, these empty devils?'
'In your childhood, where every devil comes from. I'm not
allowed to say more.'
'How do I stop them?'
'The only way to stop them is kill them. Make them eat their
own poison. Do that and they disappear.'"
For two decades now my daughter, Amber, and I have been fans of
Stephen King's The Shining. We were really excited when we learned
that he was working on a sequel. When it came out at $30.00 it was
not in our budgets. Luckily, helping at the recent friends of the
Orono Public Library book sale, I got a hard cover copy for about a
dime. Doctor Sleep, in my opinion, is a very worthy sequel.
Do you remember Danny, the poster child for Children's
Protective Services, who lived at a demonically possessed hotel, the
Overlook, with his parents and a number of malevolent spectral
entities? How his dad lapsed into insanity fueled by these beings who
wanted Danny for his shining, his package of sixth sense abilities?
How Danny and his mother barely escaped with their lives when the
Overlook exploded?
Well Danny's back folks--back and grown up. Like his father,
whom he'd sworn not to emulate in this fashion, he's succombed to
alcoholism. He has achieve sobriety, thanks to AA. He has a life he
feels comfortable in. He works in a hospice. And he still has the
shining...
...which is a very good thing...
...because a little girl, Abra, who shines very strongly is in
terrible peril from monsters even more evil than the Overlook daemons
of Danny's Youth. Members of the True Knot look like a group of older
mobile home and RV nomads. Nothing more sinister on their minds than
getting their full AARP discounts. Don't believe that for a moment.
They were alive when the United States became a nation. Their
unnaturally long lifespans demand regular infusions of steam, the life
force of dying children with the shining.
Rose, leader of the True Knot is determined to kill Abra not
only because she believes her steam will be of prime quality, but
because Abra knows too much and has personally challenged her. In
other words it's personal. Abra has Danny on her side. But can two
humans hold against such a strong force of pure malevolence? Read the
book and see.
On a personal note, I greatly enjoyed my three Thanksgiving dinners on
three consecutive Thursdays. The first was Gay Thanksgiving. The
second was multicultural Thanksgiving. The third was the one you
probably celebrated. It was such a rare treat to have my three kids
together! I live for times like that.
And no, I did not get up insanely early and battle the Black Friday
crowds to buy, buy, buy. Joey cat and I stayed in our attitude of
gratitude mode. The only years I ever did Black Friday were when the
kids wanted to. One very thoughtful thing Amber did was saving up and
buying Katie and Adam as many gifts as she could afford.
A great big shout out goes out to all with whom I celebrated.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
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