The Opposite Of Spoiled
Parenting
I was three or four. It was winter. My father and I were
looking in store windows. Suddenly I saw the most elegant set of doll
size dishes and cookware perfect down to utensils. It included all
kinds of foods. My father asked me if I wanted it.
Remember I was only 3 or 4.
We went right in the store. Dad told the clerk to wrap that
dish set right up for his little girl. The clerk commented that I
must be an awful good little girl to merit such a gift. Dad said I
certainly was. I was over the moon until we met up with Mom.
My mother was irate. If he was going to buy such a big gift he
should have saved it for Christmas. How would I learn the value of
money if he bought everything I desired? That day I learned that
money could make people very angry.
My money habits were a bone of contention for the rest of their
marriage. Each parent feared my becoming like the other--
irresponsible like my father or a killjoy like my mother. Dad went
out of his way to undermine Mom's efforts. He slipped me cash for
things mom wanted me to save my allowance for and even introduced me
to playing cards for money.
According to Ron Lieber, author of The Opposite Of Spoiled, many
parents grew up in households where money carried a lot of emotional
baggage. Some people are reticent about finance discussions. Some
want to shield kids from the more sordid aspects of life, to them be
innocent longer.
"Silence around money also happens to be a strategy many of us
learned from our elders. Old-fashioned parents who shut us up when we
asked about money did this for any number of reasons. They may have
been only one or two generations removed from an age when many
American men didn't even tell their wives how much money they made or
had. Or perhaps they'd grown up hearing stories about the Depression
and didn't want their own kids even wondering about money, because
wonder is just one or two short steps from worry..."
Whatever the reason, if you evade your children's money
questions, Lieber thinks you are going in the wrong direction. Kids
are curious about money. If you make yourself unapproachable when the
topic comes up, they have other places to turn. Think Internet.
Also, probably well before you're ready for it to happen, they're
making weighty money decisions on their own.
Lieber sees money talks as opportunity, not burden. They can be
yet another way to help your children develop a sound values system.
He gives a good basic guideline and answers to some frequently asked
questions. He includes the experiences of a quite diverse group of
families.
If you have children who haven't yet flown the nest, The
Opposite Of Spoiled is a wise investment.
On a personal note, my yesterday was all about blood donating. I
donated right off and then was able to work the canteen, setting
donors up with food, drinks, and tee shirts and monitoring them for
signs that would require the help of a nurse. We had a good crowd and
lots of great conversations. We had the most divine pineapple pizza.
My friend Joanne gave me a ride right to my door, saving me walking
from the bus stop in a snow storm. I was happy to spend the evening
reading and snacking with Joey cat.
A great big shout goes out to our Red Cross people, all volunteers and
donors, Joanne, and, of course, good companion cat Joey.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Wednesday, January 31, 2018
Sunday, January 28, 2018
A Promising Life
A Promising Life
Juvenile historical fiction
"First, Baptiste heard muffled gunfire, then furious drumming.
It meant the boats were finally arriving, bringing the Mandan chief
back home from Washington City, where he had met the Great White
Father. Soon Baptiste and his parents would board one of those boats,
and it would take them away from the Mandan Villages and down the
river. His mother had told him over and over that it would happen.
He had begged her to tell him what it would be like in St. Louis. But
Sakakawea had no stories of the future. All she would say was that
Captain Clark would raise him."
Jean Baptiste Charbonneau was a real person and a fascinating
one. He grew up in an America that was radically changing and was
connected with movers and shapers of his time. Sadly, he left few
records. Fortunately in A Promising Life, Emily Arnold McCully
undertook the research required to bring his story to life.
Baptiste had been a baby when his mother, Sakakawea, had guided
Louis and Clark on their famous expedition. He'd captured the
attention of Clark who had spoken of his bright promise and offered to
raise him as a son. When the story begins he is about to be delivered
by his indiginous mother and his French father.
His new life is nothing like he could have imagined. Instead of
living with Clark, he is enrolled in a boarding school. Although it
is a very new and strange world for him, soon he is at the head of his
class. A new war with England during which each side uses indiginous
tribes brings prejudice out in a lot of people.
"'Let our policy be the slaying of every Indian from here to the
Rocky Mountains!' he shouted. His listeners blared approval.
Baptiste felt sick. He worried about his mother all the time. It
couldn't be safe at the fort. White people like that merchant spoke
of violence. And the British had bribed troops on the Upper Missouri
to go on the warpath."
Change is the one constant in the new country. Cities
flourish. Westward expansion continues with great vigor. Europeons
clamor to come to a nation where fixed statuses have been replaced by
freedom to make one's fortune.
Baptiste, however, sees a dark side to this progress. The
indiginous people are being pushed off their land and deprived of
their ways of sustenance. Bison, a major food source, were being
slaughtered, the meat often cast aside.
"The dignified chief had come to air a grievance. After he and
Lisa had smoked a pipe, the old chief quietly confided through an
interpreter that the fort was bringing calamity to his small village.
Its hunters were depleting game in the vicinity. And the young
braves, seeing the treasure the white men harbored in their fort,
began cultivating wants. They couldn't satisfy the wants and so
became unhappy. It was a pitiable destiny for his people, was it not?"
McCully brings a fresh and thought-provoking perspective to a
period of American history that is all too often white washed. I
think it's an excellent for its target demographic and well beyond.
On a personal note, I had a truly awesome Friday. My friend Kat and I
went thrift shopping. My best finds were a teddy bear in a yellow
dress that sings I Wanna Be Loved By You and a very cool cat shirt.
Cat shirts are me. Then I went to the Black Student Union meeting. I
was able to report that the black privilege opinion piece I'd written
and read to them last semester was in the January 1 Bangor Daily news,
both print and on line editions, forwarded, posted, and commented on.
It had people thinking and talking. Everyone applauded and was so
pleased. It was the kind of moment I live for--knowing I am using my
talents to help my fellow humans and the world we live in.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile historical fiction
"First, Baptiste heard muffled gunfire, then furious drumming.
It meant the boats were finally arriving, bringing the Mandan chief
back home from Washington City, where he had met the Great White
Father. Soon Baptiste and his parents would board one of those boats,
and it would take them away from the Mandan Villages and down the
river. His mother had told him over and over that it would happen.
He had begged her to tell him what it would be like in St. Louis. But
Sakakawea had no stories of the future. All she would say was that
Captain Clark would raise him."
Jean Baptiste Charbonneau was a real person and a fascinating
one. He grew up in an America that was radically changing and was
connected with movers and shapers of his time. Sadly, he left few
records. Fortunately in A Promising Life, Emily Arnold McCully
undertook the research required to bring his story to life.
Baptiste had been a baby when his mother, Sakakawea, had guided
Louis and Clark on their famous expedition. He'd captured the
attention of Clark who had spoken of his bright promise and offered to
raise him as a son. When the story begins he is about to be delivered
by his indiginous mother and his French father.
His new life is nothing like he could have imagined. Instead of
living with Clark, he is enrolled in a boarding school. Although it
is a very new and strange world for him, soon he is at the head of his
class. A new war with England during which each side uses indiginous
tribes brings prejudice out in a lot of people.
"'Let our policy be the slaying of every Indian from here to the
Rocky Mountains!' he shouted. His listeners blared approval.
Baptiste felt sick. He worried about his mother all the time. It
couldn't be safe at the fort. White people like that merchant spoke
of violence. And the British had bribed troops on the Upper Missouri
to go on the warpath."
Change is the one constant in the new country. Cities
flourish. Westward expansion continues with great vigor. Europeons
clamor to come to a nation where fixed statuses have been replaced by
freedom to make one's fortune.
Baptiste, however, sees a dark side to this progress. The
indiginous people are being pushed off their land and deprived of
their ways of sustenance. Bison, a major food source, were being
slaughtered, the meat often cast aside.
"The dignified chief had come to air a grievance. After he and
Lisa had smoked a pipe, the old chief quietly confided through an
interpreter that the fort was bringing calamity to his small village.
Its hunters were depleting game in the vicinity. And the young
braves, seeing the treasure the white men harbored in their fort,
began cultivating wants. They couldn't satisfy the wants and so
became unhappy. It was a pitiable destiny for his people, was it not?"
McCully brings a fresh and thought-provoking perspective to a
period of American history that is all too often white washed. I
think it's an excellent for its target demographic and well beyond.
On a personal note, I had a truly awesome Friday. My friend Kat and I
went thrift shopping. My best finds were a teddy bear in a yellow
dress that sings I Wanna Be Loved By You and a very cool cat shirt.
Cat shirts are me. Then I went to the Black Student Union meeting. I
was able to report that the black privilege opinion piece I'd written
and read to them last semester was in the January 1 Bangor Daily news,
both print and on line editions, forwarded, posted, and commented on.
It had people thinking and talking. Everyone applauded and was so
pleased. It was the kind of moment I live for--knowing I am using my
talents to help my fellow humans and the world we live in.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Friday, January 26, 2018
The New Urban Crisis
The New Urban Crisis
Adult nonfiction
"...Many rustbelt cities are still grappling with the
devastating combination of suburban flight, urban decay, and
deindustrialization. Sunbelt cities continue to attract people to
their more affordable, sprawling suburban developments, but few are
building robust, sustainable economies that are powered by knowledge
and innovation. Tens of millions remain locked in persistent poverty.
And virtually all our cities suffer growing economic divides. As the
middle class and its neighborhoods fade, our geography is splintering
into small areas of affluence and concentrated advantage, and much
larger areas of poverty and concentrated disadvantage."
I think many of us intuitively grasp much of what Richard
Florida posits in The New Urban Crisis. A lot of our cities are going
to if not Hell, at least purgatory. The gap between the advantaged
and disadvantaged has widened into an abyss. As the haves become
increasingly sequestered, geography becomes destiny. Not
surprisingly, children's standardized test scores can be almost
perfectly predicted by zip code. And this all is expected to get a
lot worse, particularly under President Pennywise's reign.
If you're not put off by books based heavily on academic
reasearch (as in appendix and notes being one third of the entire
text) you will really want to read The New Urban Crisis. Born in the
late '50s and growing up in a suburb close to Newark, New Jersey,
Florida had seen Newark's collapse.
"Those stark realities haunted me. What was causing people,
companies, and stores to abandon Newark? Why had the city exploded
into racial turmoil and entered into such a steep decline? Why had the
factory where my father worked closed down? My early experience of
that original urban crisis left a deep imprint on me."
Not surprisingly, Florida studied urban issues in college and
went on to teach about them. Teaching at Carnagie Mellon University
he discovered that, even though Pittsburgh had research and innovation
going on, colleagues and students were taking off for places like
Silicon Valley and Austin. He realized that people were no longer
following companies and jobs. Tax breaks were no longer enough to
draw the companies that would provide jobs. Companies were going
where they would find the talent they needed, even though places like
Boston had higher costs than other prospective places.
In his 2002 book, The Rise of the Creative Class, Florida
posited that the third of the workforce that was engaged in knowledge,
technology, and the arts was shaping not only cities, but culture and
society. To succeed, a metropolitan area would have what he calls the
3Ts: technology, talent nurtured by good schools and research
university, and the kind of tolerance that would draw the greatest
talent in a diversity of races, ethnicities, sexual orientations, and
genders.
It wasn't long before Florida realized downsides to his vision.
Cities that were flourishing the most were experiencing widening gaps
between the creative class and the less advantaged working and
services classes. Middle class neighborhoods that could nurture
upward mobility were rapidly disappearing. The cities that weren't
flourishing were increasingly suffering. The suburbs, traditional
paths toward a brighter future, were showing the same kinds of poverty
and distress traditionally only seen in cities. In short, the haves
were prospering; the have nots were struggling and going under.
Florida, however, still believed that cities are the only way to
go. They must be changed mindfully to replace "winner-take-all
urbanism" with "more sustainable and inclusive prosperity." His The
New Urban Crisis details the roots of the crisis, the reasons we all
should be concerned, and many steps we can take to go in the right
direction.
A number of the seven pillars Florida endorses have a strong
sustainability componant. Reforming zoning could result in mixed use
neighborhoods where people could walk to work, school, and stores
instead of driving everywhere. Investing in the kind of
infrastructure that encourages density rather than sprawl (public
transit instead of highways) and putting more affordable housing in
accessible distance would further cut down on car dependency. Helping
build stronger cities in rapidly urbanizibg parts of the world could
help combat the desperation necessitated environmental devastation and
human misery of slums."
"The stakes could not be higher. How we come to grips with the
New Urban Crisis will determine whether we become more divided and
slide backward into economic stagnation, or forge ahead to a new era
of more sustainable and inclusive prosperity."
On a personal note, Wednesday in Wilson Center after supper we painted
mezuzahs. Yesterday my friend Katalina and I had lunch and hung out.
We found a baby blue two drawer file cabinet with the key for the
lockable bottom drawer and a free sign on it. Kat is going to paint
flowers on it. She paints lovely flowers. It will look amazing in my
studio and be the perfect size for my counted cross stitch magazines
and books. It continues to be cold in Maine. The jury is still out
on grad school.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"...Many rustbelt cities are still grappling with the
devastating combination of suburban flight, urban decay, and
deindustrialization. Sunbelt cities continue to attract people to
their more affordable, sprawling suburban developments, but few are
building robust, sustainable economies that are powered by knowledge
and innovation. Tens of millions remain locked in persistent poverty.
And virtually all our cities suffer growing economic divides. As the
middle class and its neighborhoods fade, our geography is splintering
into small areas of affluence and concentrated advantage, and much
larger areas of poverty and concentrated disadvantage."
I think many of us intuitively grasp much of what Richard
Florida posits in The New Urban Crisis. A lot of our cities are going
to if not Hell, at least purgatory. The gap between the advantaged
and disadvantaged has widened into an abyss. As the haves become
increasingly sequestered, geography becomes destiny. Not
surprisingly, children's standardized test scores can be almost
perfectly predicted by zip code. And this all is expected to get a
lot worse, particularly under President Pennywise's reign.
If you're not put off by books based heavily on academic
reasearch (as in appendix and notes being one third of the entire
text) you will really want to read The New Urban Crisis. Born in the
late '50s and growing up in a suburb close to Newark, New Jersey,
Florida had seen Newark's collapse.
"Those stark realities haunted me. What was causing people,
companies, and stores to abandon Newark? Why had the city exploded
into racial turmoil and entered into such a steep decline? Why had the
factory where my father worked closed down? My early experience of
that original urban crisis left a deep imprint on me."
Not surprisingly, Florida studied urban issues in college and
went on to teach about them. Teaching at Carnagie Mellon University
he discovered that, even though Pittsburgh had research and innovation
going on, colleagues and students were taking off for places like
Silicon Valley and Austin. He realized that people were no longer
following companies and jobs. Tax breaks were no longer enough to
draw the companies that would provide jobs. Companies were going
where they would find the talent they needed, even though places like
Boston had higher costs than other prospective places.
In his 2002 book, The Rise of the Creative Class, Florida
posited that the third of the workforce that was engaged in knowledge,
technology, and the arts was shaping not only cities, but culture and
society. To succeed, a metropolitan area would have what he calls the
3Ts: technology, talent nurtured by good schools and research
university, and the kind of tolerance that would draw the greatest
talent in a diversity of races, ethnicities, sexual orientations, and
genders.
It wasn't long before Florida realized downsides to his vision.
Cities that were flourishing the most were experiencing widening gaps
between the creative class and the less advantaged working and
services classes. Middle class neighborhoods that could nurture
upward mobility were rapidly disappearing. The cities that weren't
flourishing were increasingly suffering. The suburbs, traditional
paths toward a brighter future, were showing the same kinds of poverty
and distress traditionally only seen in cities. In short, the haves
were prospering; the have nots were struggling and going under.
Florida, however, still believed that cities are the only way to
go. They must be changed mindfully to replace "winner-take-all
urbanism" with "more sustainable and inclusive prosperity." His The
New Urban Crisis details the roots of the crisis, the reasons we all
should be concerned, and many steps we can take to go in the right
direction.
A number of the seven pillars Florida endorses have a strong
sustainability componant. Reforming zoning could result in mixed use
neighborhoods where people could walk to work, school, and stores
instead of driving everywhere. Investing in the kind of
infrastructure that encourages density rather than sprawl (public
transit instead of highways) and putting more affordable housing in
accessible distance would further cut down on car dependency. Helping
build stronger cities in rapidly urbanizibg parts of the world could
help combat the desperation necessitated environmental devastation and
human misery of slums."
"The stakes could not be higher. How we come to grips with the
New Urban Crisis will determine whether we become more divided and
slide backward into economic stagnation, or forge ahead to a new era
of more sustainable and inclusive prosperity."
On a personal note, Wednesday in Wilson Center after supper we painted
mezuzahs. Yesterday my friend Katalina and I had lunch and hung out.
We found a baby blue two drawer file cabinet with the key for the
lockable bottom drawer and a free sign on it. Kat is going to paint
flowers on it. She paints lovely flowers. It will look amazing in my
studio and be the perfect size for my counted cross stitch magazines
and books. It continues to be cold in Maine. The jury is still out
on grad school.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Wednesday, January 24, 2018
Second Glance
Second Glance
Adult historical fiction
"Q. Why sterilize?
A. To rid the race of those likely to transmit the dysgenic
tendencies to which they are subject. To decrease the need for
charity of a certain form. To reduce taxes. To help aleviate misery
and suffering. To do what Nature would do under natural conditions,
but more humanely. Sterilization is not a punitive measure. It is
strictly protective.
--American Eugenics Society
A Eugenics Catechism, 1926"
Recall how last winter we studied on two books that focussed on
the 1927 decision, Buck v Bell, that gave the Supreme Court stamp of
approval to enforced sterilization of "undesirables"? Of course I
wanted to learn more. The library gods must have been smiling down on
me. I snapped up at one of the Orono Public Library sales books by
one of my favorite author's, Jodi Picoult. Second Glance contains a
lot of information about the Vermont Eugenics Project of the 1930's,
an offshoot of that evil decision.
Very strange things are happening in a small Vermont town.
"In Comtosook, residents began adapting to a world they could no
longer take for granted. Umbrellas were carried in knapsacks and
purses, to ward off rain that fell red as blood and dried into a layer
of fine red dust. China dishes shattered at the stroke of noon, no
matter how carefully they were wrapped. Mothers woke their children,
so that they could see the roses bloom at midnight."
People wonder if all that might have to do with otherworldly
entities. A company trying to develop a strip mall is trying to raze
land that may contain an indiginous people's burial ground. Modern
day Abnakis are doing their best to keep the big machines out. And
the land itself seems to be helping. At one point a razed house
starts rebuilding itself. Not surprisingly, many people hired to work
the project quit.
Ross is an investigator of the paranormal. He's also someone
who has tried to kill himself several times after the death of his
fiancée. In fact he chose his profession in an attempt to reconnect
with her somehow. When he meets a woman who actually begins to arouse
feelings in him she turns out to be the ghost of a woman, Cecelia, who
died shortly after childbirth...
...in 1932. In her time she was daughter of and married to men
who were leaders in the eugenics movement. Late on in her pregnancy
she learned some information about her lineage and that of her unborn
child...information the two major men in her life might to anything to
hide.
I find it really interesting that other reviewers have focussed
on the love story elements. In my mind the ethics stand out most
clearly, particularly since one of the twenty-first century main
characters helps couples screen embryos to give birth to only those
infants that will not bear hereditary illnesses--another side to
selective breeding also known as eugenics.
But whichever will stand out the most in your mind, you'll
relish a truly suspenseful mystery that raises moral issues...which is
exactly what Picoult so beautifully specializes in.
I know I want to find out a lot more about the Vermont eugenics
project, especially since indiginous people seem to have been majorly
selected. I know of at least one more book I can look for. And in
the future I want to take a field trip to look at primary sources.
On a personal note, I was really lucky yesterday. After an overnight
snow and morning hiatus, there was an afternoon of pouring sleety
rain. I was so glad to be in my warm home in footie pajamas with Joey
cat rather than slogging through slush under frigid precipitation
weighed down with a backpack. I even wrote a gratitude poem. Today I
learned that I was even luckier than I realized. Unlike tens of
thousands of people, Eugene and I did not lose electricity.
A great big shout out goes out to the selectboard of Jackman, a small
town on the Canadian border, who unanimously voted to boot their town
manager after he espoused very racist views, and the townspeople who
cheered their decision. I'm gonna visit them this summer and spend
money at businesses and yard sales.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult historical fiction
"Q. Why sterilize?
A. To rid the race of those likely to transmit the dysgenic
tendencies to which they are subject. To decrease the need for
charity of a certain form. To reduce taxes. To help aleviate misery
and suffering. To do what Nature would do under natural conditions,
but more humanely. Sterilization is not a punitive measure. It is
strictly protective.
--American Eugenics Society
A Eugenics Catechism, 1926"
Recall how last winter we studied on two books that focussed on
the 1927 decision, Buck v Bell, that gave the Supreme Court stamp of
approval to enforced sterilization of "undesirables"? Of course I
wanted to learn more. The library gods must have been smiling down on
me. I snapped up at one of the Orono Public Library sales books by
one of my favorite author's, Jodi Picoult. Second Glance contains a
lot of information about the Vermont Eugenics Project of the 1930's,
an offshoot of that evil decision.
Very strange things are happening in a small Vermont town.
"In Comtosook, residents began adapting to a world they could no
longer take for granted. Umbrellas were carried in knapsacks and
purses, to ward off rain that fell red as blood and dried into a layer
of fine red dust. China dishes shattered at the stroke of noon, no
matter how carefully they were wrapped. Mothers woke their children,
so that they could see the roses bloom at midnight."
People wonder if all that might have to do with otherworldly
entities. A company trying to develop a strip mall is trying to raze
land that may contain an indiginous people's burial ground. Modern
day Abnakis are doing their best to keep the big machines out. And
the land itself seems to be helping. At one point a razed house
starts rebuilding itself. Not surprisingly, many people hired to work
the project quit.
Ross is an investigator of the paranormal. He's also someone
who has tried to kill himself several times after the death of his
fiancée. In fact he chose his profession in an attempt to reconnect
with her somehow. When he meets a woman who actually begins to arouse
feelings in him she turns out to be the ghost of a woman, Cecelia, who
died shortly after childbirth...
...in 1932. In her time she was daughter of and married to men
who were leaders in the eugenics movement. Late on in her pregnancy
she learned some information about her lineage and that of her unborn
child...information the two major men in her life might to anything to
hide.
I find it really interesting that other reviewers have focussed
on the love story elements. In my mind the ethics stand out most
clearly, particularly since one of the twenty-first century main
characters helps couples screen embryos to give birth to only those
infants that will not bear hereditary illnesses--another side to
selective breeding also known as eugenics.
But whichever will stand out the most in your mind, you'll
relish a truly suspenseful mystery that raises moral issues...which is
exactly what Picoult so beautifully specializes in.
I know I want to find out a lot more about the Vermont eugenics
project, especially since indiginous people seem to have been majorly
selected. I know of at least one more book I can look for. And in
the future I want to take a field trip to look at primary sources.
On a personal note, I was really lucky yesterday. After an overnight
snow and morning hiatus, there was an afternoon of pouring sleety
rain. I was so glad to be in my warm home in footie pajamas with Joey
cat rather than slogging through slush under frigid precipitation
weighed down with a backpack. I even wrote a gratitude poem. Today I
learned that I was even luckier than I realized. Unlike tens of
thousands of people, Eugene and I did not lose electricity.
A great big shout out goes out to the selectboard of Jackman, a small
town on the Canadian border, who unanimously voted to boot their town
manager after he espoused very racist views, and the townspeople who
cheered their decision. I'm gonna visit them this summer and spend
money at businesses and yard sales.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Monday, January 22, 2018
Two Weighty Volumes
Two Weighty Volumes
I know you've seen lengthy volumes that go on and on.
Conversely some of the slimmest books pack a powerful punch and shake
even long held ideas. I spent a lot of a weekend pondering Toni
Morrison's The Origins of Others and Ta-Nehisi Coates' Between the
World and Me.
"The necessity of rendering the slave a foreign species appears
to be a desperate attempt to confirm one's own self as normal. The
urgency of distinguishing between those who belong to the human race
and those who are non-human is so powerful that the spotlight turns
away and shines not on the object of degradation but on its
creator...The danger of sympathizing with the stranger is the
possibility of becoming a stranger. To lose one's rank is to lose
one's valued and enshrined difference."
Morrison realizes that individuals and groups do not engage in
behaviors that require effort unless there is an advantage in doing
so. In The Origin of Others she looks for the payoff for creating a
color binary. After all, it's artificial. White is not a genetic
marker. Black has been defined very creatively over the centuries.
In the paragraph quoted above, she points to both payoff of othering
and an implied threat that prevents would be rebels from stepping out
of line.
Othering can be a way of belonging to a larger group, generally
perceived as a superior group. It gives permission to treat the other
in a way one would never dream of treating in group members. The
other then must be shown to be different enough to deserve this abuse
because the actor must perceive self and be perceived by society as a
good person.
Slavery is one of the examples Morrison uses. Masters whipped,
mutilated, and killed their "property", way overworked and starved
them, and routinely broke up families by selling off members. Slaves
were portrayed as being inferior, lazy, helpless beings who could not
manage without the being ruled by "superiors."
Othering requires members of the in group to keep the bounderies
drawn. To cross the line carries the penalty of losing preferred
status. An example I witnessed thanks to the media happened during
the civil rights clashes of the sixties. Some northerners were
bothered by the way black people were denied any kind of opportunity,
disenfranchised, segregated in separate and very unequal schools, and
in general treated cruelly. They travelled south to help create
change. The n****r lovers were hated perhaps even more than the
people whose cause they championed because their actions were seen as
deliberate betrayal of their own.
Morrison and Coates both discuss the pervasiveness of color
othering and the fact that, rather than race engendering racism, the
concept of race was concocted and maintained to legitimize racism.
Coates keeps referring to people who want/need to be white.
"But race is the child of racism, not the father. And the
process of naming "the people" has never been a matter of geneology
and physiognomy as much as one of hierarchy. Difference in hue and
hair is old. But the belief in the preeminance of hue and hair, the
notion that these factors can correctly organize a society and that
they signify deeper attributes, which are indelible--this is the new
idea at the heart of these new people who have been hopelessly,
tragically, deceitfully, taught to believe that they are white."
Coates wrote Between the World and Me as an open letter to his
teen age son. It is very up close and personal. It shows his life
through the lens of precariousness, the fragile hold a black boy or
man has on his body when those who need to be white, even those who
pledge to serve and protect all people, pay little or no penalty for
killing them. It also reveals the toll this takes on heart, soul, and
mind.
One of the most poignant strands of Coates' narrative is his
description of the extreme physical punishments meted out to him and
his peers by parents. His father had said, "Either I can beat him, or
the police." It's cruel to put parents in a situation where their
children live in such peril they must beat them so they won't pay a
higher cost for misbehaving. Richard Wright, coming of age about a
half century before Coates, described a similar desperation instilled
tough love.
Dear readers, I urge you to read both books and give them the
time they deserve. Then, if your epidermis is a shade close to mine,
decide that you don't want to be "white" and accept the undue
privileges that accrue to this false identity. We all need to work
together to replace a cruel binary with a just and fair world of
inclusion.
On a personal note, Amber and Brian threw an awesome birthday party
for Eugene and Adam. They served burgers and fries and a bundt cake
that looked like a pink frosted doughtnut. Katie and Jacob came all
the way from Portland and Adam from around the corner. It was
precious beyond measure to have the family together.
Today is the first day at UMaine. It's snowing, but not looking too
ominous. I got done than I'd expected over vaca while having a
wonderful time. And I'm much more organized.
And the jury is still out on grad school.
Great big shout outs go out to my wonderful family and to the students
going back to classes at UMaine and other fine educational institutions.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
I know you've seen lengthy volumes that go on and on.
Conversely some of the slimmest books pack a powerful punch and shake
even long held ideas. I spent a lot of a weekend pondering Toni
Morrison's The Origins of Others and Ta-Nehisi Coates' Between the
World and Me.
"The necessity of rendering the slave a foreign species appears
to be a desperate attempt to confirm one's own self as normal. The
urgency of distinguishing between those who belong to the human race
and those who are non-human is so powerful that the spotlight turns
away and shines not on the object of degradation but on its
creator...The danger of sympathizing with the stranger is the
possibility of becoming a stranger. To lose one's rank is to lose
one's valued and enshrined difference."
Morrison realizes that individuals and groups do not engage in
behaviors that require effort unless there is an advantage in doing
so. In The Origin of Others she looks for the payoff for creating a
color binary. After all, it's artificial. White is not a genetic
marker. Black has been defined very creatively over the centuries.
In the paragraph quoted above, she points to both payoff of othering
and an implied threat that prevents would be rebels from stepping out
of line.
Othering can be a way of belonging to a larger group, generally
perceived as a superior group. It gives permission to treat the other
in a way one would never dream of treating in group members. The
other then must be shown to be different enough to deserve this abuse
because the actor must perceive self and be perceived by society as a
good person.
Slavery is one of the examples Morrison uses. Masters whipped,
mutilated, and killed their "property", way overworked and starved
them, and routinely broke up families by selling off members. Slaves
were portrayed as being inferior, lazy, helpless beings who could not
manage without the being ruled by "superiors."
Othering requires members of the in group to keep the bounderies
drawn. To cross the line carries the penalty of losing preferred
status. An example I witnessed thanks to the media happened during
the civil rights clashes of the sixties. Some northerners were
bothered by the way black people were denied any kind of opportunity,
disenfranchised, segregated in separate and very unequal schools, and
in general treated cruelly. They travelled south to help create
change. The n****r lovers were hated perhaps even more than the
people whose cause they championed because their actions were seen as
deliberate betrayal of their own.
Morrison and Coates both discuss the pervasiveness of color
othering and the fact that, rather than race engendering racism, the
concept of race was concocted and maintained to legitimize racism.
Coates keeps referring to people who want/need to be white.
"But race is the child of racism, not the father. And the
process of naming "the people" has never been a matter of geneology
and physiognomy as much as one of hierarchy. Difference in hue and
hair is old. But the belief in the preeminance of hue and hair, the
notion that these factors can correctly organize a society and that
they signify deeper attributes, which are indelible--this is the new
idea at the heart of these new people who have been hopelessly,
tragically, deceitfully, taught to believe that they are white."
Coates wrote Between the World and Me as an open letter to his
teen age son. It is very up close and personal. It shows his life
through the lens of precariousness, the fragile hold a black boy or
man has on his body when those who need to be white, even those who
pledge to serve and protect all people, pay little or no penalty for
killing them. It also reveals the toll this takes on heart, soul, and
mind.
One of the most poignant strands of Coates' narrative is his
description of the extreme physical punishments meted out to him and
his peers by parents. His father had said, "Either I can beat him, or
the police." It's cruel to put parents in a situation where their
children live in such peril they must beat them so they won't pay a
higher cost for misbehaving. Richard Wright, coming of age about a
half century before Coates, described a similar desperation instilled
tough love.
Dear readers, I urge you to read both books and give them the
time they deserve. Then, if your epidermis is a shade close to mine,
decide that you don't want to be "white" and accept the undue
privileges that accrue to this false identity. We all need to work
together to replace a cruel binary with a just and fair world of
inclusion.
On a personal note, Amber and Brian threw an awesome birthday party
for Eugene and Adam. They served burgers and fries and a bundt cake
that looked like a pink frosted doughtnut. Katie and Jacob came all
the way from Portland and Adam from around the corner. It was
precious beyond measure to have the family together.
Today is the first day at UMaine. It's snowing, but not looking too
ominous. I got done than I'd expected over vaca while having a
wonderful time. And I'm much more organized.
And the jury is still out on grad school.
Great big shout outs go out to my wonderful family and to the students
going back to classes at UMaine and other fine educational institutions.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Saturday, January 20, 2018
Sachiko
Sachiko
YA/Adult nonfiction
"What happened to me
Must never happen to you.
--Sachiko Yasui--"
It's been a long time since America dropped the bombs on
Hiroshima and Nagasaki, 72 years to be exact. Most of us weren't born
when this happened. So perhaps it's not surprising that the
devastation that was unleashed seems to be fading from the collective
memory. Only we'd better start remembering pretty darn fast. With a
bellicose president and weapons that dwarf Little Boy and Fat Man in
destructive potential, a lot of us need to be informed and aware and
really care enough to act to collectively make sure we don't go this
route again. Caren Stelson's Sachiko: A Nagasaki Bomb Survivor's
Story is a good place to start. A heartbreakingly poignant and
powerful narrative is juxtaposed with historical backstory to create a
must read for people of good conscience in its target demographic and
well beyond.
Sachiko was only six. That morning, August 9, 1945, an air-raid
signal had drawn her family to the air-raid cave. When the all clear
sounded and her mother and siblings left she stayed to play house with
some other children.
A blinding light...an explosion...a fire ball. A mushroom
shaped atomic cloud...gutted, collapsing buildings...fires starting
everywhere...basically Hell on Earth.
Sachiko was the only one of the children playing house to
survive. Her three brothers also died that day: Toshi (2) by
impalement, Aki (15) from extensive burns, and Ichuro (13) from
radiation sickness. Other family members died including twenty-three
of her mother's relatives. Sachiko, her parents, and her little
sister Misa (who would die of cancer at fourteen) suffered from
radiation sickness.
"Sachiko lay in bed, hovering between life and death. She was
too ill to eat, too tired to concentrate. She spiked a high fever.
Her hair fell out. Her gums bled. Tiny purple spots appeared on her
body, spread, and within a few days grew into dots the size of peas.
Lesions opened in her skin. Flies laid eggs in them. The maggots
caused itching and excruciating pain."
Legions of people got radiation sickness and lacked treatment.
This wasn't only a matter of people having no clue what nuclear bombs
would do to the human body. Among the terms of Japanese surrender was
an especially cruel form of censorship. Terms like atom bomb and
radiation sickness were not allowed. Doctors treating patients were
not allowed to exchange knowledge. When American doctors came in, it
was to study sufferers for knowledge of long term effects, never to
treat them. I never knew this until I read the book.
What kind of people could practice this calculated cruelty?
Mine.
Misa and both Sachiko's parents died of cancer. Sachiko
suffered through thyroid cancer when she she was in her twenties.
After her operation she had to struggle for months to talk again. On
the fiftyth anniversary of the bombing she began to speak out about
the terrible toll it had taken on her and her family.
After my dentist visit I was in the UMaine multicultural center
waiting for my ride reading the book. A Japanese exchange student
came over and started studying the pages with me. We were looking at
damming evidence of what my people had done to her people before
either of us was born. She showed me where she was from on a map,
where her college was. She said, "Someday I want to go to Hiroshima
and Nagasaki to understand.". I said, "Someday I want to go to
Hiroshima and Nagasaki to understand." Our eyes met. I said, "I need
to be a peace maker, to make sure never again.". She said, "Thank you."
All people whose hearts are not full of bitterness, hatred, and
prejudice need to read and share this book. It will take gazillions
of us to honor Sachiko's mandate that the horrors she suffered never
be inflicted on others.
Sometimes I feel guilty about reading and reviewing so many
books. But when I read a book like Sachiko and realize I am making
other people aware of it, I realize this is one of the most important
things I can do with my life.
On a personal note, Maine is still in Winter Wonderland mode. The
jury is still out on grad school. I'm still calm. Today I am really
excited because my family will be together. We're getting together at
Amber and Brian's to celebrate Eugene and Adam's birthdays. Katie is
coming up from Portland.
A great big shout out goes out to my January birthday boys.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
YA/Adult nonfiction
"What happened to me
Must never happen to you.
--Sachiko Yasui--"
It's been a long time since America dropped the bombs on
Hiroshima and Nagasaki, 72 years to be exact. Most of us weren't born
when this happened. So perhaps it's not surprising that the
devastation that was unleashed seems to be fading from the collective
memory. Only we'd better start remembering pretty darn fast. With a
bellicose president and weapons that dwarf Little Boy and Fat Man in
destructive potential, a lot of us need to be informed and aware and
really care enough to act to collectively make sure we don't go this
route again. Caren Stelson's Sachiko: A Nagasaki Bomb Survivor's
Story is a good place to start. A heartbreakingly poignant and
powerful narrative is juxtaposed with historical backstory to create a
must read for people of good conscience in its target demographic and
well beyond.
Sachiko was only six. That morning, August 9, 1945, an air-raid
signal had drawn her family to the air-raid cave. When the all clear
sounded and her mother and siblings left she stayed to play house with
some other children.
A blinding light...an explosion...a fire ball. A mushroom
shaped atomic cloud...gutted, collapsing buildings...fires starting
everywhere...basically Hell on Earth.
Sachiko was the only one of the children playing house to
survive. Her three brothers also died that day: Toshi (2) by
impalement, Aki (15) from extensive burns, and Ichuro (13) from
radiation sickness. Other family members died including twenty-three
of her mother's relatives. Sachiko, her parents, and her little
sister Misa (who would die of cancer at fourteen) suffered from
radiation sickness.
"Sachiko lay in bed, hovering between life and death. She was
too ill to eat, too tired to concentrate. She spiked a high fever.
Her hair fell out. Her gums bled. Tiny purple spots appeared on her
body, spread, and within a few days grew into dots the size of peas.
Lesions opened in her skin. Flies laid eggs in them. The maggots
caused itching and excruciating pain."
Legions of people got radiation sickness and lacked treatment.
This wasn't only a matter of people having no clue what nuclear bombs
would do to the human body. Among the terms of Japanese surrender was
an especially cruel form of censorship. Terms like atom bomb and
radiation sickness were not allowed. Doctors treating patients were
not allowed to exchange knowledge. When American doctors came in, it
was to study sufferers for knowledge of long term effects, never to
treat them. I never knew this until I read the book.
What kind of people could practice this calculated cruelty?
Mine.
Misa and both Sachiko's parents died of cancer. Sachiko
suffered through thyroid cancer when she she was in her twenties.
After her operation she had to struggle for months to talk again. On
the fiftyth anniversary of the bombing she began to speak out about
the terrible toll it had taken on her and her family.
After my dentist visit I was in the UMaine multicultural center
waiting for my ride reading the book. A Japanese exchange student
came over and started studying the pages with me. We were looking at
damming evidence of what my people had done to her people before
either of us was born. She showed me where she was from on a map,
where her college was. She said, "Someday I want to go to Hiroshima
and Nagasaki to understand.". I said, "Someday I want to go to
Hiroshima and Nagasaki to understand." Our eyes met. I said, "I need
to be a peace maker, to make sure never again.". She said, "Thank you."
All people whose hearts are not full of bitterness, hatred, and
prejudice need to read and share this book. It will take gazillions
of us to honor Sachiko's mandate that the horrors she suffered never
be inflicted on others.
Sometimes I feel guilty about reading and reviewing so many
books. But when I read a book like Sachiko and realize I am making
other people aware of it, I realize this is one of the most important
things I can do with my life.
On a personal note, Maine is still in Winter Wonderland mode. The
jury is still out on grad school. I'm still calm. Today I am really
excited because my family will be together. We're getting together at
Amber and Brian's to celebrate Eugene and Adam's birthdays. Katie is
coming up from Portland.
A great big shout out goes out to my January birthday boys.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Thursday, January 18, 2018
Before Morning
Before Morning
Picture book
If you live or grew up in a northern state like Maine, I bet at
least once you went to bed hoping to wake up in the morning to a snow
day. Maybe you sent up prayers or wishes. Maybe you feared talking
about the object of your desire for fear of jinxing it. If it's
predicted it won't happen. Maybe you followed a ritual like my
favorite, wearing your pajamas inside out.
If any of the above applies to you, you are going to find Joyce
Sidman's Before Morning totally enchanting.
Commuters and children head homeward. A youngster looks
longingly into a bakery window before being pulled away. Dinner is
eaten, kids tucked into bed. An airline pilot mom leaves her
slumbering family to go out into the darkness.
So far the book has been wordless. In the next pages sparse but
eloquent verses pair up with breathtaking scratchboard art
illustrations to create an aura of magic and enchantment. A vee of
birds wings across a two page spread as windborn leaves swirl and
elaborate snowflakes descend. "let the sky fill with flurry and
flight."
"How powerful are words? Can they make things happen? Stop
them from happening? Can they protect us? Comfort us? Enchant us?
This book is written in the form of an invocation--a poem that invites
something to happen, often asking for help or support. Humans have
been using invocations for thousands of years, to sooth the body and
strengthen the soul. Do they work? Maybe. Maybe speaking something
out loud is the first step toward making it happen."
[Reviewer's note: let's hope that applies to graduate school!]
Words and pictures cry out for a suspension of the mundane. The
daughter tries to hide her mother's pilot hat. The mom and a
colleague gaze out an airport window as the text says, "let urgent
plans flounder," On the next spread the yellow plows look very much
not up to the task of clearing the precip: "let pathways be hidden
from sight."
I got the feeling that the mom wanted this as much as the
child. You see her flagging down a ride home, climbing her snow
covered steps, and hugging her daughter. Their day will include
sledding and going to that bakery for treats that will go well with
hot cocoa.
The illustrations are not only enchanting and magical, but
highly intimate. Studying them is a real treat. Cats, dogs, and
other creatures abound. Squirrels are captured in mid leap. You can
tell the pigeons are bobbing and strutting. Personal items like a
menorah are seen through windows. The daughter's room features a
globe, a model plane, and a book about Amelia Earhart.
I hold very fond memories of my childhood snow days and my
children's snow days. Now that they've moved out, snow days are still
enchanting but a tad lonely. Maybe I can sleep over at Liv's or Kat's
or have a friend over some night when a blizzard is bearing down on
Penobscot County. What fun it will be to sleep in inside out pajamas,
wake up to joyous excitement, and make everyone snow day pancakes!
On a personal note, what a perfect day to post this review! Last
night it snowed. Maine looks like a picture postcard. The lace
trimmed trees are especially lovely. Eugene worked all night. When
he got home he took me to Dennys for breakfast. I had cranberry
pancakes with orange sauce, eggs, fried potatoes, sausage, and a mango
smoothie. Now that I'm back in school I'm a big fan of snow days.
When I get to grad school I know I'll need them.
And speaking of grad school the jury is still out.
A great big shout out to Eugene and his colleagues who clear the snow
to make driving safe and to my son, Adam, and his EMT and firefighter
who save lives in all kinds of weather.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Picture book
If you live or grew up in a northern state like Maine, I bet at
least once you went to bed hoping to wake up in the morning to a snow
day. Maybe you sent up prayers or wishes. Maybe you feared talking
about the object of your desire for fear of jinxing it. If it's
predicted it won't happen. Maybe you followed a ritual like my
favorite, wearing your pajamas inside out.
If any of the above applies to you, you are going to find Joyce
Sidman's Before Morning totally enchanting.
Commuters and children head homeward. A youngster looks
longingly into a bakery window before being pulled away. Dinner is
eaten, kids tucked into bed. An airline pilot mom leaves her
slumbering family to go out into the darkness.
So far the book has been wordless. In the next pages sparse but
eloquent verses pair up with breathtaking scratchboard art
illustrations to create an aura of magic and enchantment. A vee of
birds wings across a two page spread as windborn leaves swirl and
elaborate snowflakes descend. "let the sky fill with flurry and
flight."
"How powerful are words? Can they make things happen? Stop
them from happening? Can they protect us? Comfort us? Enchant us?
This book is written in the form of an invocation--a poem that invites
something to happen, often asking for help or support. Humans have
been using invocations for thousands of years, to sooth the body and
strengthen the soul. Do they work? Maybe. Maybe speaking something
out loud is the first step toward making it happen."
[Reviewer's note: let's hope that applies to graduate school!]
Words and pictures cry out for a suspension of the mundane. The
daughter tries to hide her mother's pilot hat. The mom and a
colleague gaze out an airport window as the text says, "let urgent
plans flounder," On the next spread the yellow plows look very much
not up to the task of clearing the precip: "let pathways be hidden
from sight."
I got the feeling that the mom wanted this as much as the
child. You see her flagging down a ride home, climbing her snow
covered steps, and hugging her daughter. Their day will include
sledding and going to that bakery for treats that will go well with
hot cocoa.
The illustrations are not only enchanting and magical, but
highly intimate. Studying them is a real treat. Cats, dogs, and
other creatures abound. Squirrels are captured in mid leap. You can
tell the pigeons are bobbing and strutting. Personal items like a
menorah are seen through windows. The daughter's room features a
globe, a model plane, and a book about Amelia Earhart.
I hold very fond memories of my childhood snow days and my
children's snow days. Now that they've moved out, snow days are still
enchanting but a tad lonely. Maybe I can sleep over at Liv's or Kat's
or have a friend over some night when a blizzard is bearing down on
Penobscot County. What fun it will be to sleep in inside out pajamas,
wake up to joyous excitement, and make everyone snow day pancakes!
On a personal note, what a perfect day to post this review! Last
night it snowed. Maine looks like a picture postcard. The lace
trimmed trees are especially lovely. Eugene worked all night. When
he got home he took me to Dennys for breakfast. I had cranberry
pancakes with orange sauce, eggs, fried potatoes, sausage, and a mango
smoothie. Now that I'm back in school I'm a big fan of snow days.
When I get to grad school I know I'll need them.
And speaking of grad school the jury is still out.
A great big shout out to Eugene and his colleagues who clear the snow
to make driving safe and to my son, Adam, and his EMT and firefighter
who save lives in all kinds of weather.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Tuesday, January 16, 2018
This Review Is For The Birds
This Review Is For The Birds
juvenile nonfiction and fiction
Today I'm going to serve you up an ensemble review you may very
well find to be for the birds.
I like birds. OK?
The Smithsonian Institution is a heavy hitter in the natural
sciences field. Their Everything You Need To Know About Birds gives
readers a birds' eye view of these animals that have conquered every
space on earth from Antartic frozen wastes to deserts and mountains
and even man made cities. You can learn how birds help maintain the
rain forest, how scientists believe birds evolved from dinosaurs, the
mechanics of flight, bird senses, migration, and lots of other really
interesting information. Of course the pictures are amazing.
I especially enjoyed learning about the satin bowerbirds of
eastern Australia. The male carefully builds and decorates an
elaborate bower to attract a mate. When he catches a female's eye, he
does a courtship dance. How cool is that?
When Robert Bateman was an eight-year-old growing up in Canada
he spotted a black-capped chickadee. It was fascination at first
sight. From then on he spent hours looking for birds. Only he was
frustrated because he had no books to learn more about them.
Bateman's Backyard Birds can help kids have the information he
wished he had. It's very excellent for fledgling bird lovers in
northern areas like Maine. The feathered friends it features are ones
most likely to make an appearance in the most mundane of places. It
also gives information on topics like how to attract birds to your
backyard and how to help birds survive.
A good companion volume is Carol Lerner's Backyard Birds Of
Winter. Although many birds migrate south at the first sign of cold
weather, others tough it out on their home turf. Unlike mammals that
can hibernate, birds have the challenge of finding food every day
without freezing to death. Humans can help them survive and surround
their homes with beauty by putting out bird food.
Lerner gives information about the most common backyard visitors
along with beautiful pictures and maps of their usual domains. She
also gives advice on how to select foods and make and place feeders.
[Reviewer's note: if you choose to attract birds to your
backyard, please keep your cats inside. No matter how much Nine Lives
or Fancy Feast you plop in their bowls they have preditory instincts.]
Nic Bishop's Penguin Day gives readers an intimate look at
penguin family life. A baby penguin is hungry. Mama penguin joins
the other females in a arduous trek to capture fish and krill in a
treacherous, preditor filled ocean. Meanwhile Papa watches over his
little one.
Recall those birds who were credited with delivering babies to
families in the days when parents considered the facts of life
inappropriate for young minds? Kate Riggs' Storks takes readers into
their world. You can learn about the various kinds and their
lifestyles. Can you believe some are as tall as me?
Kathy Hoopman's All Birds Have Anxiety uses an amazing avian
cast of characters to talk to youngsters about a very common human
problem. Photographs of 66 amazing and often adorable avians
illustrate aspects of anxiety many children (and adults) suffer from.
Under "It's like being filled with a scream" you see a penguin with
its beak fully open. A duckling paces beside a trophy beside "We are
sure nothing we do, say or try is good enough. Even if we do well, we
are certain it was a mistake." A wide owl illustrates "Wide awake
thoughts churn in our minds." The moon over its shoulder carries many
common fears: Do my friends really like me? I bet I fail! Something
bad will happen.
Asking kids directly about how they're feeling can set defenses
up. Maybe they're afraid of getting in trouble. Maybe they don't
want to be a bother or a disappointment. But they tend to feel
strongly for animals. This book can provide a safe way to open up a
conversation with a child who realizes "Hey, that's how I feel." Kids
(or adults) caught up in the grip of overwhelming anxiety may feel
like they're the only ones with the problem...everyone else is just
fine. This can add shame and a desire to hide the problem to the mix.
In my mind All Birds Have Anxiety is a must acquire for public
and school libraries and guidance counselor offices.
Animals can bring out the best in people. Just think of St.
Francis of Assissi. Jabari Asim's Preaching To The Chickens: The
story of young John Lewis provides another example of this.
Lewis grew up on a farm where everyone had to pitch in. He was
put in charge of the chickens. There were about sixty and he knew
each as an individual. He loved church and aspired to become a
minister. Not surprisingly, his first congregation was literally his
flock.
"John's henhouse sermons became so regular that his brothers and
sisters took to calling him preacher. He didn't mind. He knew that
someday he'd speak before thousands. He hoped that his words would
stir people's souls and move them to action. For now, though, he had
his own church right here among the pine trees and rolling hills of
southern Alabama. Morning would find him in his usual place preaching
to the chickens."
[Reviewer's note: now I know I'm perfectly entitled to preach
to Joey cat. When I sing hymns he provides purrrfect accompaniment.]
Our children's librarian often presents me with must reads.
(Library volunteering does have its perks). Recently she brought a
David Shannon and its prequel to my literary attention. David Shannon
is one of the top writers in the kids will want to hear again and
again and parents won't mind obliging category.
In Duck On A Bike a farm fowl finds that he can ride a bicycle.
As he shows off for the other creatures large and small they react in
their own ways. Sheep's baaa means "He's going to hurt himself if
he's not careful." Cat's meow means "I wouldn't waste my time riding a
bike." Horse's neigh means "You're still not as fast as me, Duck."
Of course the words are anemic without the pictures. Sheep
wears a look of deep concern. Cat sprawls contentedly in the sun.
Horse twists his lips into a sneer of contempt.
Suddenly a crowd of kids leaves bikes in the barnyard. I bet
you can guess the delightful grand finale.
Duck On A Truck takes our feathered friend to a new level of
transportation competence. Somehow he manages to get the tractor
rolling and convinces the other critters, even cautious sheep, to come
along for a ride. Cruising down the main road, they catch the
attention of the people in a diner. A number of their comments will
be even more amusing to parents than to kids. The deputy's "If that
don't beat all" means "How am I gonna explain this to the sheriff?".
When the tractor runs out of gas the critters scoot back to the
barn on their own power. It's abandoned by the time the humans
arrive, allowing them to agree that the whole thing was an optical
illusion (another clever touch of adult oriented humor)
Note to parents of young kids: keep these and other David
Shannon books on hand for those inevitable days when rain cancelling a
picnic or similar unforseen obstacles cast a miasma on the day and
there's need of light hearted distraction.
Hey, if I'm counting correctly (math not being my forte with
pain killing meds in my bloodstream) that's nine fine books. Granted,
a few may be a bit of a reach. But could you do better?
On a personal note, I had the most wonderful day yesterday. One of my
church choir friends and his two delightful daughters came out to
Veazie so I could show them a really good sledding hill. After
hitting the slopes we retired to Dennys for what turned out to be
brunch. I had blueberry pancake balls with dipping sauce, fried
potatoes, and the most heavenly mango smoothie you can imagine.
A great big shout out goes out to my two chums, Mazie and Jessie, who
celebrated birthdays yesterday!!! I wish both of them an amazing and
rewarding year.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
juvenile nonfiction and fiction
Today I'm going to serve you up an ensemble review you may very
well find to be for the birds.
I like birds. OK?
The Smithsonian Institution is a heavy hitter in the natural
sciences field. Their Everything You Need To Know About Birds gives
readers a birds' eye view of these animals that have conquered every
space on earth from Antartic frozen wastes to deserts and mountains
and even man made cities. You can learn how birds help maintain the
rain forest, how scientists believe birds evolved from dinosaurs, the
mechanics of flight, bird senses, migration, and lots of other really
interesting information. Of course the pictures are amazing.
I especially enjoyed learning about the satin bowerbirds of
eastern Australia. The male carefully builds and decorates an
elaborate bower to attract a mate. When he catches a female's eye, he
does a courtship dance. How cool is that?
When Robert Bateman was an eight-year-old growing up in Canada
he spotted a black-capped chickadee. It was fascination at first
sight. From then on he spent hours looking for birds. Only he was
frustrated because he had no books to learn more about them.
Bateman's Backyard Birds can help kids have the information he
wished he had. It's very excellent for fledgling bird lovers in
northern areas like Maine. The feathered friends it features are ones
most likely to make an appearance in the most mundane of places. It
also gives information on topics like how to attract birds to your
backyard and how to help birds survive.
A good companion volume is Carol Lerner's Backyard Birds Of
Winter. Although many birds migrate south at the first sign of cold
weather, others tough it out on their home turf. Unlike mammals that
can hibernate, birds have the challenge of finding food every day
without freezing to death. Humans can help them survive and surround
their homes with beauty by putting out bird food.
Lerner gives information about the most common backyard visitors
along with beautiful pictures and maps of their usual domains. She
also gives advice on how to select foods and make and place feeders.
[Reviewer's note: if you choose to attract birds to your
backyard, please keep your cats inside. No matter how much Nine Lives
or Fancy Feast you plop in their bowls they have preditory instincts.]
Nic Bishop's Penguin Day gives readers an intimate look at
penguin family life. A baby penguin is hungry. Mama penguin joins
the other females in a arduous trek to capture fish and krill in a
treacherous, preditor filled ocean. Meanwhile Papa watches over his
little one.
Recall those birds who were credited with delivering babies to
families in the days when parents considered the facts of life
inappropriate for young minds? Kate Riggs' Storks takes readers into
their world. You can learn about the various kinds and their
lifestyles. Can you believe some are as tall as me?
Kathy Hoopman's All Birds Have Anxiety uses an amazing avian
cast of characters to talk to youngsters about a very common human
problem. Photographs of 66 amazing and often adorable avians
illustrate aspects of anxiety many children (and adults) suffer from.
Under "It's like being filled with a scream" you see a penguin with
its beak fully open. A duckling paces beside a trophy beside "We are
sure nothing we do, say or try is good enough. Even if we do well, we
are certain it was a mistake." A wide owl illustrates "Wide awake
thoughts churn in our minds." The moon over its shoulder carries many
common fears: Do my friends really like me? I bet I fail! Something
bad will happen.
Asking kids directly about how they're feeling can set defenses
up. Maybe they're afraid of getting in trouble. Maybe they don't
want to be a bother or a disappointment. But they tend to feel
strongly for animals. This book can provide a safe way to open up a
conversation with a child who realizes "Hey, that's how I feel." Kids
(or adults) caught up in the grip of overwhelming anxiety may feel
like they're the only ones with the problem...everyone else is just
fine. This can add shame and a desire to hide the problem to the mix.
In my mind All Birds Have Anxiety is a must acquire for public
and school libraries and guidance counselor offices.
Animals can bring out the best in people. Just think of St.
Francis of Assissi. Jabari Asim's Preaching To The Chickens: The
story of young John Lewis provides another example of this.
Lewis grew up on a farm where everyone had to pitch in. He was
put in charge of the chickens. There were about sixty and he knew
each as an individual. He loved church and aspired to become a
minister. Not surprisingly, his first congregation was literally his
flock.
"John's henhouse sermons became so regular that his brothers and
sisters took to calling him preacher. He didn't mind. He knew that
someday he'd speak before thousands. He hoped that his words would
stir people's souls and move them to action. For now, though, he had
his own church right here among the pine trees and rolling hills of
southern Alabama. Morning would find him in his usual place preaching
to the chickens."
[Reviewer's note: now I know I'm perfectly entitled to preach
to Joey cat. When I sing hymns he provides purrrfect accompaniment.]
Our children's librarian often presents me with must reads.
(Library volunteering does have its perks). Recently she brought a
David Shannon and its prequel to my literary attention. David Shannon
is one of the top writers in the kids will want to hear again and
again and parents won't mind obliging category.
In Duck On A Bike a farm fowl finds that he can ride a bicycle.
As he shows off for the other creatures large and small they react in
their own ways. Sheep's baaa means "He's going to hurt himself if
he's not careful." Cat's meow means "I wouldn't waste my time riding a
bike." Horse's neigh means "You're still not as fast as me, Duck."
Of course the words are anemic without the pictures. Sheep
wears a look of deep concern. Cat sprawls contentedly in the sun.
Horse twists his lips into a sneer of contempt.
Suddenly a crowd of kids leaves bikes in the barnyard. I bet
you can guess the delightful grand finale.
Duck On A Truck takes our feathered friend to a new level of
transportation competence. Somehow he manages to get the tractor
rolling and convinces the other critters, even cautious sheep, to come
along for a ride. Cruising down the main road, they catch the
attention of the people in a diner. A number of their comments will
be even more amusing to parents than to kids. The deputy's "If that
don't beat all" means "How am I gonna explain this to the sheriff?".
When the tractor runs out of gas the critters scoot back to the
barn on their own power. It's abandoned by the time the humans
arrive, allowing them to agree that the whole thing was an optical
illusion (another clever touch of adult oriented humor)
Note to parents of young kids: keep these and other David
Shannon books on hand for those inevitable days when rain cancelling a
picnic or similar unforseen obstacles cast a miasma on the day and
there's need of light hearted distraction.
Hey, if I'm counting correctly (math not being my forte with
pain killing meds in my bloodstream) that's nine fine books. Granted,
a few may be a bit of a reach. But could you do better?
On a personal note, I had the most wonderful day yesterday. One of my
church choir friends and his two delightful daughters came out to
Veazie so I could show them a really good sledding hill. After
hitting the slopes we retired to Dennys for what turned out to be
brunch. I had blueberry pancake balls with dipping sauce, fried
potatoes, and the most heavenly mango smoothie you can imagine.
A great big shout out goes out to my two chums, Mazie and Jessie, who
celebrated birthdays yesterday!!! I wish both of them an amazing and
rewarding year.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Sunday, January 14, 2018
How Dare The Sun Rise
How Dare The Sun Rise
YA/adult
"The smoke began to choke me, and I needed to run. I managed to
crash my way through the burning debris of the tent. I emerged in the
decimated camp, standing for a moment froze. Limbs, bones, and bloody
bodies lay everywhere. I smelled burning flesh. I saw men with guns,
machetes, torches. They were marching around the camp, looking for
survivors to kill. They slashed my people with their machetes. They
set my people on fire. They shot my people in the head..."
Sandra Uwiringiyimana, author of How Dare The Sun Rise, was only
ten when she experienced that man made version of Hell on Earth. She
wandered through the night, fearful for her family. When she was
reunited with surviving family members, several were badly injured and
her beloved little sister was dead and thrown into an unmarked mass
grave.
A distant relative took the family in. Their hosts didn't know
how to talk to people who had gone through such horrific experiences.
Sandra often woke up in the night shaking and crying. She had lost
the ability to feel safe.
Emigrating to America carried its own challenges: the cold
weather, the strange foods, and the fearfulness of the neighbors. And
then there was American middle school which was nothing like schools
in Africa. You must read the book to learn about all the family
endured and overcame.
Sandra suffered on the inside but never let her family see her
pain. In the culture she was born into parents and children didn't
share their challenges and struggles. They did not even have the
words to do so.
If there was a book I want the people who think people come to
America to get welfare benefits or ruin our way of life to read, it is
How Dare The Sun Rise. How can we turn people away who have survived
events no sentient being should have to experience? How can we betray
the promise of the Statue of Liberty?
On a personal note, tomorrow we will commemorate the life of Martin
Luther King Jr. While we celebrate his achievements, we must never
lost sight of how very far we have to go to realize his dream. We
can't just wait for someone else to do the work. My opinion piece on
white privilege that appeared in the Bangor Daily News earlier this
month was one of the things I could do. What can you do?
A great big shout goes out to all who hunger and thirst and fight for
justice.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
YA/adult
"The smoke began to choke me, and I needed to run. I managed to
crash my way through the burning debris of the tent. I emerged in the
decimated camp, standing for a moment froze. Limbs, bones, and bloody
bodies lay everywhere. I smelled burning flesh. I saw men with guns,
machetes, torches. They were marching around the camp, looking for
survivors to kill. They slashed my people with their machetes. They
set my people on fire. They shot my people in the head..."
Sandra Uwiringiyimana, author of How Dare The Sun Rise, was only
ten when she experienced that man made version of Hell on Earth. She
wandered through the night, fearful for her family. When she was
reunited with surviving family members, several were badly injured and
her beloved little sister was dead and thrown into an unmarked mass
grave.
A distant relative took the family in. Their hosts didn't know
how to talk to people who had gone through such horrific experiences.
Sandra often woke up in the night shaking and crying. She had lost
the ability to feel safe.
Emigrating to America carried its own challenges: the cold
weather, the strange foods, and the fearfulness of the neighbors. And
then there was American middle school which was nothing like schools
in Africa. You must read the book to learn about all the family
endured and overcame.
Sandra suffered on the inside but never let her family see her
pain. In the culture she was born into parents and children didn't
share their challenges and struggles. They did not even have the
words to do so.
If there was a book I want the people who think people come to
America to get welfare benefits or ruin our way of life to read, it is
How Dare The Sun Rise. How can we turn people away who have survived
events no sentient being should have to experience? How can we betray
the promise of the Statue of Liberty?
On a personal note, tomorrow we will commemorate the life of Martin
Luther King Jr. While we celebrate his achievements, we must never
lost sight of how very far we have to go to realize his dream. We
can't just wait for someone else to do the work. My opinion piece on
white privilege that appeared in the Bangor Daily News earlier this
month was one of the things I could do. What can you do?
A great big shout goes out to all who hunger and thirst and fight for
justice.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Friday, January 12, 2018
Eyes Of The World
Eyes Of The World
Adult/YA nonfiction/herstory
"This is what Capa, Taro, and Chim are too: refugees, exiles,
living on their wits, with no real home. Capa does not even have a
passport or official papers anymore--he is not Hungarian, not German,
not French--just a man with a camera in his hand in the midst of a
war. That rootless condition is rapidly becoming the condition of
thousands in Spain. It's as if these photographs are a warning:
millions will be driven from their homes across the whole continent of
Europe if the world does not do something now."
Probably the pictures pioneering photojournalist Robert Capa is
best remembered for are the ten that survived from the D-Day invasion
of World War II. He had jumped from a transport boat into the ocean,
being sprayed with morter and machine gun fire alongside the soldiers
making a desperate assault on Hitler's forces. Wading through red-
stained waves and around dead bodies, in mortal peril himself, he had
taken pictures that carried the war into millions of homes thousands
of miles away.
Capa was a solo act by then. However, and this is a BIG
however, during previous important years he was half of a twosome. He
and Gerda Taro, a woman he loved dearly enough to propose to,
pioneered the essence of the photojournalism we know today. Marc
Aaronson and Marina Budhos' Eyes Of The World: Robert Capa, Gerda
Taro, And The Invention Of Modern Photojournalism gives readers their
long overdue story.
Capa (then Andre Friedmann) and Taro (then Gerta Pohorylle) met
in Paris in a Europe reeling from the war to end all wars (WWI) and
the Great Depression. Both were emigres fleeing Nazi danger. In a
place where they were unknown it was possible to adopt new names that
would protect them from Anti-Semitism and help them establish
themselves as professional photographers.
Much of their work was done in Spain during the Spanish Civil
War. Working sometimes collectively and sometimes solo they pioneered
two dimensions we have come to take for granted in photojournalism.
One was the dangerous up close shots that bring an event like a war
right to readers. (Both were killed while covering war in this way).
The other was photographing average people whose lives are devastated
by events. Their refugee and orphan photographs tug at the heart
eighty years later.
Eyes Of The World is a great read on so many levels! It gives
the story of the evolution of modern photojournalism. It conveys the
very complex and down to earth love story of two people creating their
own path in a changing, challenging world. It gives insights into the
Spanish Civil War (which much of America seems oblivious to), how it
led up to World War II, and its relevance to the situation in Syria
today...
...and the photographs are nothing less than amazing.
On a personal note, I made my mall trip Wednesday. I got Eugene's
birthday gift. For myself I bought two school practical items: a 2018
datebook and a darling watch. I indulged in a yummy hot pretzel.
Yesterday I volunteered at Orono library and picked up 24 books.
A great big shout out goes out to the brave journalists who put all on
the line to bring us inconvenient and unpopular truths that are often
threatening to those in power.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult/YA nonfiction/herstory
"This is what Capa, Taro, and Chim are too: refugees, exiles,
living on their wits, with no real home. Capa does not even have a
passport or official papers anymore--he is not Hungarian, not German,
not French--just a man with a camera in his hand in the midst of a
war. That rootless condition is rapidly becoming the condition of
thousands in Spain. It's as if these photographs are a warning:
millions will be driven from their homes across the whole continent of
Europe if the world does not do something now."
Probably the pictures pioneering photojournalist Robert Capa is
best remembered for are the ten that survived from the D-Day invasion
of World War II. He had jumped from a transport boat into the ocean,
being sprayed with morter and machine gun fire alongside the soldiers
making a desperate assault on Hitler's forces. Wading through red-
stained waves and around dead bodies, in mortal peril himself, he had
taken pictures that carried the war into millions of homes thousands
of miles away.
Capa was a solo act by then. However, and this is a BIG
however, during previous important years he was half of a twosome. He
and Gerda Taro, a woman he loved dearly enough to propose to,
pioneered the essence of the photojournalism we know today. Marc
Aaronson and Marina Budhos' Eyes Of The World: Robert Capa, Gerda
Taro, And The Invention Of Modern Photojournalism gives readers their
long overdue story.
Capa (then Andre Friedmann) and Taro (then Gerta Pohorylle) met
in Paris in a Europe reeling from the war to end all wars (WWI) and
the Great Depression. Both were emigres fleeing Nazi danger. In a
place where they were unknown it was possible to adopt new names that
would protect them from Anti-Semitism and help them establish
themselves as professional photographers.
Much of their work was done in Spain during the Spanish Civil
War. Working sometimes collectively and sometimes solo they pioneered
two dimensions we have come to take for granted in photojournalism.
One was the dangerous up close shots that bring an event like a war
right to readers. (Both were killed while covering war in this way).
The other was photographing average people whose lives are devastated
by events. Their refugee and orphan photographs tug at the heart
eighty years later.
Eyes Of The World is a great read on so many levels! It gives
the story of the evolution of modern photojournalism. It conveys the
very complex and down to earth love story of two people creating their
own path in a changing, challenging world. It gives insights into the
Spanish Civil War (which much of America seems oblivious to), how it
led up to World War II, and its relevance to the situation in Syria
today...
...and the photographs are nothing less than amazing.
On a personal note, I made my mall trip Wednesday. I got Eugene's
birthday gift. For myself I bought two school practical items: a 2018
datebook and a darling watch. I indulged in a yummy hot pretzel.
Yesterday I volunteered at Orono library and picked up 24 books.
A great big shout out goes out to the brave journalists who put all on
the line to bring us inconvenient and unpopular truths that are often
threatening to those in power.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Wednesday, January 10, 2018
The Same Stuff As Stars
The Same Stuff As Stars
Juvenile fiction
"When she heard the first yelp, Angel was at the sink washing
the supper dishes. She thought the sound had come from the couple in
the upstairs apartment beginning their nightly fight. She was late
washing up, having waited supper, hoping that since it was Friday,
Verna would get home in time for the three of them to sit around the
table and eat together as a family."
Angel, narrator of Katherine Paterson's The Same Stuff as Stars,
is only eleven. You can see from the first paragraph that she has far
too much responsibility and has carried it for quite awhile. But it
hasn't burned her out. She still has visions of making her kin into
what she sees as a real family.
This would be a formidable task. Her father is in jail. Her
mother, Verna, is one of those people who probably shouldn't have been
fruitful and multiplied. Unpredictability is her modus operendi.
Angel has to carry cab fare for in case Verna just leaves her and her
little brother, Bernie, somewhere. Again. And she must protect
Bernie from Verna's anger. The children have already had two stays in
the foster care system.
Verna takes the children to what she claims will be the family's
new home, the house of her own grandmother. Grandma is as surprised
as the kids when they show up on her doorstep. Angel suspects
something is not right. She's overheard Verna telling her great
grandmother they'll be with her no more than a week.
"Something woke her up. It was pitch dark with no streetlight to
shine through the window. There was the sound of a car. No--the
sound of a pickup engine starting. Angel sat up in bed. Suddenly she
realized that the clothes in the big suitcase were all Bernie's.
Verna hadn't brought any of her own clothes. She listened until the
noise of the motor died away in the distance."
Rather than a responsible caretaker, Angel has been given
another person to be responsible for. Her frail great grandmother is
not all that good about taking care of herself. Angel has to cope with
everything from making the scanty food last to enrolling herself and
Bernie in school without making people suspicious and calling in the
authorities. Foster care might seperate them, and Angel is all Bernie
has.
But there is one bright side to her life. And if you want to
see what it is...
...read the book.
Actually read anything by Katherine Paterson. She is one of the
most important pioneers to persistently, consistently, and insistently
bring child characters from less privileged backgrounds into juvenile
literature.
Although Angel is a fictitious character, her plight is all too
real for a lot of kids. Awhile back we had an eleven-year-old
neighbor who took care of her two younger siblings and their house.
She also had to extricate her drug addict mom from the difficulties
and men she got herself into. The kids were taken into custody
shortly before the mom died of an overdose. When I saw her on the bus
in Bangor, she said "I finally get to be a kid."
On a personal note, I went back to UMaine for the first time this
year. It's gearing up for a new semester. It was nice to see
friends. Today I'm going to the Bangor Mall and environs to get
Eugene's birthday gift and a couple of things for his next week's
birthday supper and some embroidery floss I need for my cross stitch.
I may have to check out Goodwill to destress from shopping retail
stores and playing real life Frogger in the pedestrian hostile streets
surrounding the mall.
A great big shout out goes out to my future son-in-law, Brian, who
celebrated his birthday yesterday. I can't imagine anyone being more
perfect for my Amber.
Brian, you're a very good person. I'm toasting you with my coffee--
wishing you a terrific year and a long and healthy and rewarding life.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile fiction
"When she heard the first yelp, Angel was at the sink washing
the supper dishes. She thought the sound had come from the couple in
the upstairs apartment beginning their nightly fight. She was late
washing up, having waited supper, hoping that since it was Friday,
Verna would get home in time for the three of them to sit around the
table and eat together as a family."
Angel, narrator of Katherine Paterson's The Same Stuff as Stars,
is only eleven. You can see from the first paragraph that she has far
too much responsibility and has carried it for quite awhile. But it
hasn't burned her out. She still has visions of making her kin into
what she sees as a real family.
This would be a formidable task. Her father is in jail. Her
mother, Verna, is one of those people who probably shouldn't have been
fruitful and multiplied. Unpredictability is her modus operendi.
Angel has to carry cab fare for in case Verna just leaves her and her
little brother, Bernie, somewhere. Again. And she must protect
Bernie from Verna's anger. The children have already had two stays in
the foster care system.
Verna takes the children to what she claims will be the family's
new home, the house of her own grandmother. Grandma is as surprised
as the kids when they show up on her doorstep. Angel suspects
something is not right. She's overheard Verna telling her great
grandmother they'll be with her no more than a week.
"Something woke her up. It was pitch dark with no streetlight to
shine through the window. There was the sound of a car. No--the
sound of a pickup engine starting. Angel sat up in bed. Suddenly she
realized that the clothes in the big suitcase were all Bernie's.
Verna hadn't brought any of her own clothes. She listened until the
noise of the motor died away in the distance."
Rather than a responsible caretaker, Angel has been given
another person to be responsible for. Her frail great grandmother is
not all that good about taking care of herself. Angel has to cope with
everything from making the scanty food last to enrolling herself and
Bernie in school without making people suspicious and calling in the
authorities. Foster care might seperate them, and Angel is all Bernie
has.
But there is one bright side to her life. And if you want to
see what it is...
...read the book.
Actually read anything by Katherine Paterson. She is one of the
most important pioneers to persistently, consistently, and insistently
bring child characters from less privileged backgrounds into juvenile
literature.
Although Angel is a fictitious character, her plight is all too
real for a lot of kids. Awhile back we had an eleven-year-old
neighbor who took care of her two younger siblings and their house.
She also had to extricate her drug addict mom from the difficulties
and men she got herself into. The kids were taken into custody
shortly before the mom died of an overdose. When I saw her on the bus
in Bangor, she said "I finally get to be a kid."
On a personal note, I went back to UMaine for the first time this
year. It's gearing up for a new semester. It was nice to see
friends. Today I'm going to the Bangor Mall and environs to get
Eugene's birthday gift and a couple of things for his next week's
birthday supper and some embroidery floss I need for my cross stitch.
I may have to check out Goodwill to destress from shopping retail
stores and playing real life Frogger in the pedestrian hostile streets
surrounding the mall.
A great big shout out goes out to my future son-in-law, Brian, who
celebrated his birthday yesterday. I can't imagine anyone being more
perfect for my Amber.
Brian, you're a very good person. I'm toasting you with my coffee--
wishing you a terrific year and a long and healthy and rewarding life.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Monday, January 8, 2018
Elizabeth And Hazel
Elizabeth And Hazel
Adult nonfiction
"Two girls, one black, one white, born less than four months
apart, each about to start eleventh grade. Within a few minutes of
each other, they set out for the same destination: Little Rock Central
High School. They did not know, nor--in the world of the South in the
1950's--would they have encountered each other before, except when
they rode the same buses or passed on a downtown street or sat--on
different levels--in a local movie theater. But within an hour or so
they would, and from that moment on, their lives would be
intertwined..."
The year was 1957. The Little Rock School Board had decided to
desegregate. Then the superintendent had stalled three years and
decided to only admit a small number of black students to one school--
Central.
"...In May 1957 school administrators set out to find the black
trailblazers: children who were simultaneously old enough to attend
Central, close enough to get there easily, smart enough to cut it
academically, strong enough to survive the ordeal, mild enough to make
no waves, and stoic enough not to fight back. And, collectively
scarce enough to minimize white objections."
A lot of people weren't happy with this decision. During the
summer of '57 segregationists preyed on many white parents' fears.
Their children might end up kissing, dancing with, or getting venereal
diseases from black peers. Not surprisingly, crowds of livid white
adults showed up the first day of school ready to do whatever it took
to keep the Central student body lily white.
Elizabeth Eckford, alluded to in the lead paragraph of this
review, was one of the nine black students. She was the only one who
did not learn of the plan for all of them to go to the school
together. As she approached the building, the Guardsmen who were
admitting white peers did not let her in. Whites gathered behind her
yelling hateful things. Hazel Bryan, the other girl referred to, fell
in with a couple of her friends. The camera caught her screaming,
face contorted in hate...
...for one of the most famous photographs in this nation's
history.
Did you ever wonder what happened to those two girls, trapped by
the photograph in one moment in their lives in the public's mind? I
surely did. So I was delighted when I discovered David Margolick's
Elizabeth And Hazel: Two Women Of Little Rock, the source of the
quote I started the review with. Margolick gives readers a fifty year
narrative of the turns their lives singly and collectively (yes,
collectively--truth can be stranger than fiction) took.
Elizabeth And Hazel is a must read for anyone who believes that
black lives matter. A lot of whites like to think, yeah, things got
pretty ugly back then. But we're beyond that mess now...
...except that we aren't. We're just more subtle. Thanks to
factors like white flight and economic segregation, our nation's
schools are segregated to a degree that would warm Bull Connor's
heart. And we're moving in the wrong direction. I was recently
reading about how wealthy 72 white communities are working on
secession from larger school districts that would leave their
districts as segregated as if Brown as if Brown v Board of Education
had ever happened...
...now, nearly two decades into the twenty-first century. Will
America ever do right by our darker children? On a personal note, it
looks like the cold snap will finally break. By the end of the week
it may get into the 40s. Heat wave! And, no, record breaking cold
does not disprove global climate change. Warming poles will make for
more unstable air flow.
A great big shout out goes out to the valient scientists who are
striving, in the face of a science denying gubmint, to prove that
climate change is very real and very traceable to human activities
and, if we don't do something to halt or at least slow it, very
devastating to this beautiful planet that, as far as we know, is the
only one capable of supporting human life.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"Two girls, one black, one white, born less than four months
apart, each about to start eleventh grade. Within a few minutes of
each other, they set out for the same destination: Little Rock Central
High School. They did not know, nor--in the world of the South in the
1950's--would they have encountered each other before, except when
they rode the same buses or passed on a downtown street or sat--on
different levels--in a local movie theater. But within an hour or so
they would, and from that moment on, their lives would be
intertwined..."
The year was 1957. The Little Rock School Board had decided to
desegregate. Then the superintendent had stalled three years and
decided to only admit a small number of black students to one school--
Central.
"...In May 1957 school administrators set out to find the black
trailblazers: children who were simultaneously old enough to attend
Central, close enough to get there easily, smart enough to cut it
academically, strong enough to survive the ordeal, mild enough to make
no waves, and stoic enough not to fight back. And, collectively
scarce enough to minimize white objections."
A lot of people weren't happy with this decision. During the
summer of '57 segregationists preyed on many white parents' fears.
Their children might end up kissing, dancing with, or getting venereal
diseases from black peers. Not surprisingly, crowds of livid white
adults showed up the first day of school ready to do whatever it took
to keep the Central student body lily white.
Elizabeth Eckford, alluded to in the lead paragraph of this
review, was one of the nine black students. She was the only one who
did not learn of the plan for all of them to go to the school
together. As she approached the building, the Guardsmen who were
admitting white peers did not let her in. Whites gathered behind her
yelling hateful things. Hazel Bryan, the other girl referred to, fell
in with a couple of her friends. The camera caught her screaming,
face contorted in hate...
...for one of the most famous photographs in this nation's
history.
Did you ever wonder what happened to those two girls, trapped by
the photograph in one moment in their lives in the public's mind? I
surely did. So I was delighted when I discovered David Margolick's
Elizabeth And Hazel: Two Women Of Little Rock, the source of the
quote I started the review with. Margolick gives readers a fifty year
narrative of the turns their lives singly and collectively (yes,
collectively--truth can be stranger than fiction) took.
Elizabeth And Hazel is a must read for anyone who believes that
black lives matter. A lot of whites like to think, yeah, things got
pretty ugly back then. But we're beyond that mess now...
...except that we aren't. We're just more subtle. Thanks to
factors like white flight and economic segregation, our nation's
schools are segregated to a degree that would warm Bull Connor's
heart. And we're moving in the wrong direction. I was recently
reading about how wealthy 72 white communities are working on
secession from larger school districts that would leave their
districts as segregated as if Brown as if Brown v Board of Education
had ever happened...
...now, nearly two decades into the twenty-first century. Will
America ever do right by our darker children? On a personal note, it
looks like the cold snap will finally break. By the end of the week
it may get into the 40s. Heat wave! And, no, record breaking cold
does not disprove global climate change. Warming poles will make for
more unstable air flow.
A great big shout out goes out to the valient scientists who are
striving, in the face of a science denying gubmint, to prove that
climate change is very real and very traceable to human activities
and, if we don't do something to halt or at least slow it, very
devastating to this beautiful planet that, as far as we know, is the
only one capable of supporting human life.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Saturday, January 6, 2018
Wolf Hollow
Wolf Hollow
Juvenile fiction
"The year I turned twelve, I learned how to lie.
I don't mean the small fibs that children tell. I mean real
lies fed by real fears--things I said and did that took me out of the
life I'd always known and put me down hard into a new one.
It was the autumn of 1943 when my steady life began to spin, not
only because of the war that had drawn the whole world into a
screaming brawl, but also because of the dark-hearted girl who came to
our hills and changed everything."
In the beginning of her Wolf Hollow (quoted above), Lauren Wolk
not only sets the stage for her novel vividly and richly (in only four
sentences), but has the experienced reader detecting tinges of Harper
Lee's To Kill A Mockingbird. The protagonist is a girl coming of age
in a small rural town during a less sophisticated time. An antagonist
brings a world of trouble into the life of someone who is feared for
being different. You know the heroine, eyewitness to all the drama,
and her world will never be the same again.
Betty Glengarry has been sent to live with her grandparents,
presumably for being incorrigible. Narrator Annabelle doesn't know if
this placement is supposed to be a cure or a punishment for Betty.
But it's a tribulation for her. Betty knows how to bully in many ways
and how to keep her victims silent.
Betty also knows how to make herself look like the victim rather
than the perpetrator.
Toby had come back inwardly damaged from the first World War.
People in the community have seen him as strange but not really feared
him. Now all that's changing. Betty has them suspecting he threw the
stone that blinded Annabelle's friend, Ruth, in one eye.
And when Betty disappears unexpectedly he's the prime suspect.
Wolf Hollow would be a great book for a mother/daughter book
club read. Although perfect for its target demographic, it has a lot
to offer the rest of us in today's America where a latter day Betty is
running the show and his targets are legion. Annabelle tells us,
"The year I turned twelve, I learned that what I said and what I
did mattered.
So much, sometimes, that I wasn't sure I wanted such a burden.
But I took it anyway, and I carried it as best I could."
Now those are words to live by!
On a personal note, the storm that was predicted for Thursday lived up
to its hype. There were times I felt like I was inside a snow globe
being shaken by a giant. When I woke up on Friday I was trapped
inside by snow that looked like it was waist high. When Eugene came
home after working 30 hours he had all that to shovel.
Do you ever wish time would speed up and slow down at the same time?
That's how I feel. The grad school people are studying applications,
comparing candidates, deciding who will start the masters program in
September. It's like the point near the end of a Jodi Picoult novel
where lawyers on both sides have done all they can and the verdict is
now in the hands of the jury which is sequestered out of sight. It's
also like the board game Chutes And Ladders. I'm about to either
advance or fall just about to square one. Because if I don't make it
this year I'm going to find out how to improve my prospects for next
year. Giving up is not an option.
A great big shout out goes out Eugene who is out at the moment in
windchill way below zero weather taking care of our homestead
including shoveling snow off the roof.
FYI we are far from out of the woods when it comes to blizzards and
power outages. My daughter Amber's crafts blog has a real sanity
saver of a post this week--how to create a DIY power outage activity
kit. You need not be bored and/or anxious the next time darkness
falls unexpectedly. Http://amberscraftaweek.blogspot.com
If you have still to home children anywhere from toddler to teen
creating such a kit can be even more of a sanity saver. My kit
consists of unread scary stories (Stephen King is my go to guy),
candles galore, warm blankets, a ten pound lap cat, and lots of candy.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile fiction
"The year I turned twelve, I learned how to lie.
I don't mean the small fibs that children tell. I mean real
lies fed by real fears--things I said and did that took me out of the
life I'd always known and put me down hard into a new one.
It was the autumn of 1943 when my steady life began to spin, not
only because of the war that had drawn the whole world into a
screaming brawl, but also because of the dark-hearted girl who came to
our hills and changed everything."
In the beginning of her Wolf Hollow (quoted above), Lauren Wolk
not only sets the stage for her novel vividly and richly (in only four
sentences), but has the experienced reader detecting tinges of Harper
Lee's To Kill A Mockingbird. The protagonist is a girl coming of age
in a small rural town during a less sophisticated time. An antagonist
brings a world of trouble into the life of someone who is feared for
being different. You know the heroine, eyewitness to all the drama,
and her world will never be the same again.
Betty Glengarry has been sent to live with her grandparents,
presumably for being incorrigible. Narrator Annabelle doesn't know if
this placement is supposed to be a cure or a punishment for Betty.
But it's a tribulation for her. Betty knows how to bully in many ways
and how to keep her victims silent.
Betty also knows how to make herself look like the victim rather
than the perpetrator.
Toby had come back inwardly damaged from the first World War.
People in the community have seen him as strange but not really feared
him. Now all that's changing. Betty has them suspecting he threw the
stone that blinded Annabelle's friend, Ruth, in one eye.
And when Betty disappears unexpectedly he's the prime suspect.
Wolf Hollow would be a great book for a mother/daughter book
club read. Although perfect for its target demographic, it has a lot
to offer the rest of us in today's America where a latter day Betty is
running the show and his targets are legion. Annabelle tells us,
"The year I turned twelve, I learned that what I said and what I
did mattered.
So much, sometimes, that I wasn't sure I wanted such a burden.
But I took it anyway, and I carried it as best I could."
Now those are words to live by!
On a personal note, the storm that was predicted for Thursday lived up
to its hype. There were times I felt like I was inside a snow globe
being shaken by a giant. When I woke up on Friday I was trapped
inside by snow that looked like it was waist high. When Eugene came
home after working 30 hours he had all that to shovel.
Do you ever wish time would speed up and slow down at the same time?
That's how I feel. The grad school people are studying applications,
comparing candidates, deciding who will start the masters program in
September. It's like the point near the end of a Jodi Picoult novel
where lawyers on both sides have done all they can and the verdict is
now in the hands of the jury which is sequestered out of sight. It's
also like the board game Chutes And Ladders. I'm about to either
advance or fall just about to square one. Because if I don't make it
this year I'm going to find out how to improve my prospects for next
year. Giving up is not an option.
A great big shout out goes out Eugene who is out at the moment in
windchill way below zero weather taking care of our homestead
including shoveling snow off the roof.
FYI we are far from out of the woods when it comes to blizzards and
power outages. My daughter Amber's crafts blog has a real sanity
saver of a post this week--how to create a DIY power outage activity
kit. You need not be bored and/or anxious the next time darkness
falls unexpectedly. Http://amberscraftaweek.blogspot.com
If you have still to home children anywhere from toddler to teen
creating such a kit can be even more of a sanity saver. My kit
consists of unread scary stories (Stephen King is my go to guy),
candles galore, warm blankets, a ten pound lap cat, and lots of candy.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Thursday, January 4, 2018
Lost and Found Cat
Lost and Found Cat
Juvenile non fiction
"Late one night in August 2015, a car driven by a smuggler snuck out
of the city of Mosul, in the country of Iraq. The smuggler's
passengers were a mother and her four daughters and one son.
Their father had recently died.
Sura, the mother, had paid the smugglers to help her family flee
the country. Mosul had become too dangerous."
Sura and her children, protagonists of Doug Kuntz and Amy
Shrodes' Lost and Found Cat: The True Story of Kunkush's Incredible
Journey, carried an unusual, hidden immigrant. They were only allowed
to take what they could personally carry. They were bringing food for
the journey and their beloved white family cat, Kunkush. This was
very risky. If the smuggler discovered a cat he could extort a lot
more money from the desperate family.
For three days the family climbed mountains and walked through
forests. Two weeks in Istanbul involved moving from hiding place to
hiding place and keeping a lookout for patrols. Then there was the
ride across the Aegean Sea in an overcrowded rubber boat. Through all
that Kunkush was into his carrier until...
...On the Greek island of Lesbos Kunkoosh escaped and
disappeared. The heartbroken family searched until they had to leave
with their beloved companion. Odds were not with a reunion. But
sometimes miracles happen...
Read the book and see for yourself.
Lost and Found Cat is a perfect way to introduce children and
many adults to the refugee crisis. The universality of loving a
companion animal will transcend any barrier of differentness people
set up in their heads. Readers will realize that refugees are not
terrorists who hate our way of life, but humans like themselves
wanting food, shelter, and safety for themselves and their loved ones.
This poignant story of the depth of devotion of a family for a
cat reminded me how important it is for me to get Joy To Maine
started. Recall it's to raise money for vetinary surgery for
companion animals that otherwise would have to be put down? Right now
I'm redeeming returnables. I have $123 in a credit union account.
I'm starting up a penny drive. When the semester starts I'll start
looking for someone with computer expertise and a love for animal
companions to help me get the website set up.
On a purrrrsonal note, my Joey cat is thriving. He's very healthy and
happy and sneaky. He has figured out how to get me to play with him
by catching my eye by miaowing, batting one of the lower Christmas
tree ornaments, and looking up toward the top of the tree.
Outside my window the promised big snow storm has commenced. They're
predicting a foot. It's a good day for Joey and me to party inside.
Great big shout outs go out to the companion animals who add so much
to our lives and the people including my husband who will be out in
the teeth of the storm clearing up what mother nature dishes out. Our
knights in shining excavators and dump trucks.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile non fiction
"Late one night in August 2015, a car driven by a smuggler snuck out
of the city of Mosul, in the country of Iraq. The smuggler's
passengers were a mother and her four daughters and one son.
Their father had recently died.
Sura, the mother, had paid the smugglers to help her family flee
the country. Mosul had become too dangerous."
Sura and her children, protagonists of Doug Kuntz and Amy
Shrodes' Lost and Found Cat: The True Story of Kunkush's Incredible
Journey, carried an unusual, hidden immigrant. They were only allowed
to take what they could personally carry. They were bringing food for
the journey and their beloved white family cat, Kunkush. This was
very risky. If the smuggler discovered a cat he could extort a lot
more money from the desperate family.
For three days the family climbed mountains and walked through
forests. Two weeks in Istanbul involved moving from hiding place to
hiding place and keeping a lookout for patrols. Then there was the
ride across the Aegean Sea in an overcrowded rubber boat. Through all
that Kunkush was into his carrier until...
...On the Greek island of Lesbos Kunkoosh escaped and
disappeared. The heartbroken family searched until they had to leave
with their beloved companion. Odds were not with a reunion. But
sometimes miracles happen...
Read the book and see for yourself.
Lost and Found Cat is a perfect way to introduce children and
many adults to the refugee crisis. The universality of loving a
companion animal will transcend any barrier of differentness people
set up in their heads. Readers will realize that refugees are not
terrorists who hate our way of life, but humans like themselves
wanting food, shelter, and safety for themselves and their loved ones.
This poignant story of the depth of devotion of a family for a
cat reminded me how important it is for me to get Joy To Maine
started. Recall it's to raise money for vetinary surgery for
companion animals that otherwise would have to be put down? Right now
I'm redeeming returnables. I have $123 in a credit union account.
I'm starting up a penny drive. When the semester starts I'll start
looking for someone with computer expertise and a love for animal
companions to help me get the website set up.
On a purrrrsonal note, my Joey cat is thriving. He's very healthy and
happy and sneaky. He has figured out how to get me to play with him
by catching my eye by miaowing, batting one of the lower Christmas
tree ornaments, and looking up toward the top of the tree.
Outside my window the promised big snow storm has commenced. They're
predicting a foot. It's a good day for Joey and me to party inside.
Great big shout outs go out to the companion animals who add so much
to our lives and the people including my husband who will be out in
the teeth of the storm clearing up what mother nature dishes out. Our
knights in shining excavators and dump trucks.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Tuesday, January 2, 2018
The New Odyssey
The New Odyssey
Adult nonfiction
"In the darkness far out to sea, Hashem al-Souki can't see his
neighbors but he can hear them scream. It's partly his fault. There
are two African women--perhaps from Somalia, but now is not the time
to ask--and Hashem is spreadeagled on top of them. His limbs dig into
theirs. They want him to move, fast, and so does he. But he can't--
several people are sprawled on top of him, and there's possibly
another layer above them. Dozens are crammed into this wooden
dinghy. If anyone tries to shift, a smuggler kicks them back into
place. They don't wamt the crammed boat to overbalance, teeter, and
then possibly sink."
Hashem and his fellow travellers are stowed in a boat under
conditions most of us wouldn't subject our domestic cats and dogs to.
Actually they come close to the plight of the pig and cow victims of
factory farming and for good reason. Those dealing with them are
seeing potential profit rather than sentient beings. Anyway the best
case scenario is that they will reach Italy in five or six days.
There is, however, no guarantee they will live to see the next morning.
Many people wonder why in the world anyone would undertake such
a perilous journey. Every stage of it is fraught with danger.
Crossings of deserts and huge bodies of water are most obviously huge
risks. But arrest, torture, and lengthy waits in places not fit for
human habitation are highly probable elements of the experience. And
people go into it with their eyes open.
Patrick Kingsley's The New Odyssey: The Story of the Twenty-
First-Century Refugee Crisis gives a comprehensive look at the
circumstances that lead everyday people to such extraordinary
measures. Kingsley is the immigation correspondant for the Guardian.
Travelling through seventeen countries (including a lot of places most
of us wouldn't set foot in), he has talked to migrants, their
families, smugglers, officials, rescuers...basically all those parties
with skin in the game...to craft a gripping and authoritative book.
Interwoven with the larger picture narrative is the story of one
refugee, Hashem, devoted husband and father of three boys. His own
odyssey started in war torn Syria when he was imprisoned and held
captive for months. (Other prisoners were brutally murdered). On his
release he learned two of his wife's brothers were shot. His house
was destroyed. He decided to take the perilous sea journey himself
rather than risk his family drowning. In Sweden his family would have
adequate food and shelter and freedom from the fear of living in a war
zone.
"At that point, the hard but correct decision was to save
ourselves and our children by leaving the country. My children had
already lost their home and their education. Had we stayed, they
would have by default been raised on weapons and war. The only option
was to leave."
[Reviewer's note: if this was your life and your family would
you have taken this drastic action? I surely would have. The big
difference between refugees and nonrefugees is circumstances, not
morals].
The New Odyssey is a needed reminder that the refugees are
people seeking escape from modern day hells on earth, not the casual
opportunists or players seeking to sabotage our way of life so many in
government would have us see them as. It's a must read for all
sentient humans with caring hearts who hunger and thirst for justice.
On a personal note, I hope you had a grand New Years Eve. I surely
did. There was a family party in the afternoon featuring the
traditional Yankee swap and indoor cloth snowball fight. Katie and
Jacob came from Portland; Amber and Brian from Orono. It was lots of
fun. I had an invite to a night party but no guarantee of a ride
home. So I partied at home with Eugene and Joey cat. I started 2018
by reading the Bangor Daily News with my op ed on white privilege in
the best spot on that page--the one with the cartoon. A year that
starts off like that should be incredible!
The three goals (resolutions is too intimidating) I made are her the
house organized for when I'm in grad school, start sending my book
manuscripts to publishers, and start saving cats and dogs through Joy
To Maine. So far I've made a good start on the first. As the year
goes on you'll see my progress on all three.
A great big shout out goes out to those brave immigrants and refugees
risking so much to get a decent life for themselves and their
families. Our country needs them as much as they need us.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"In the darkness far out to sea, Hashem al-Souki can't see his
neighbors but he can hear them scream. It's partly his fault. There
are two African women--perhaps from Somalia, but now is not the time
to ask--and Hashem is spreadeagled on top of them. His limbs dig into
theirs. They want him to move, fast, and so does he. But he can't--
several people are sprawled on top of him, and there's possibly
another layer above them. Dozens are crammed into this wooden
dinghy. If anyone tries to shift, a smuggler kicks them back into
place. They don't wamt the crammed boat to overbalance, teeter, and
then possibly sink."
Hashem and his fellow travellers are stowed in a boat under
conditions most of us wouldn't subject our domestic cats and dogs to.
Actually they come close to the plight of the pig and cow victims of
factory farming and for good reason. Those dealing with them are
seeing potential profit rather than sentient beings. Anyway the best
case scenario is that they will reach Italy in five or six days.
There is, however, no guarantee they will live to see the next morning.
Many people wonder why in the world anyone would undertake such
a perilous journey. Every stage of it is fraught with danger.
Crossings of deserts and huge bodies of water are most obviously huge
risks. But arrest, torture, and lengthy waits in places not fit for
human habitation are highly probable elements of the experience. And
people go into it with their eyes open.
Patrick Kingsley's The New Odyssey: The Story of the Twenty-
First-Century Refugee Crisis gives a comprehensive look at the
circumstances that lead everyday people to such extraordinary
measures. Kingsley is the immigation correspondant for the Guardian.
Travelling through seventeen countries (including a lot of places most
of us wouldn't set foot in), he has talked to migrants, their
families, smugglers, officials, rescuers...basically all those parties
with skin in the game...to craft a gripping and authoritative book.
Interwoven with the larger picture narrative is the story of one
refugee, Hashem, devoted husband and father of three boys. His own
odyssey started in war torn Syria when he was imprisoned and held
captive for months. (Other prisoners were brutally murdered). On his
release he learned two of his wife's brothers were shot. His house
was destroyed. He decided to take the perilous sea journey himself
rather than risk his family drowning. In Sweden his family would have
adequate food and shelter and freedom from the fear of living in a war
zone.
"At that point, the hard but correct decision was to save
ourselves and our children by leaving the country. My children had
already lost their home and their education. Had we stayed, they
would have by default been raised on weapons and war. The only option
was to leave."
[Reviewer's note: if this was your life and your family would
you have taken this drastic action? I surely would have. The big
difference between refugees and nonrefugees is circumstances, not
morals].
The New Odyssey is a needed reminder that the refugees are
people seeking escape from modern day hells on earth, not the casual
opportunists or players seeking to sabotage our way of life so many in
government would have us see them as. It's a must read for all
sentient humans with caring hearts who hunger and thirst for justice.
On a personal note, I hope you had a grand New Years Eve. I surely
did. There was a family party in the afternoon featuring the
traditional Yankee swap and indoor cloth snowball fight. Katie and
Jacob came from Portland; Amber and Brian from Orono. It was lots of
fun. I had an invite to a night party but no guarantee of a ride
home. So I partied at home with Eugene and Joey cat. I started 2018
by reading the Bangor Daily News with my op ed on white privilege in
the best spot on that page--the one with the cartoon. A year that
starts off like that should be incredible!
The three goals (resolutions is too intimidating) I made are her the
house organized for when I'm in grad school, start sending my book
manuscripts to publishers, and start saving cats and dogs through Joy
To Maine. So far I've made a good start on the first. As the year
goes on you'll see my progress on all three.
A great big shout out goes out to those brave immigrants and refugees
risking so much to get a decent life for themselves and their
families. Our country needs them as much as they need us.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)