You May Already Be A Winner
Juvenile fiction
"Every morning Mom did this.
She would say Berk isn't going to daycare because of a cough, or
Berkeley had a long night, or because Mom was running late, but
really, Berkeley hadn't been to daycare for weeks and I hadn't been to
school in just as long."
Olivia (12), protagonist of Ann Dee Ellis' You May Already Be A
Winner, has had to grow up much too fast and assume adult
responsibilities. Her father has taken off. Her mom has her stay
home to take care of her little sister when she's working house
cleaning jobs. Berkeley had missed the kindergarten cut off date by a
few days.
Olivia knows that there's the very real danger of the wrong
people learning her family's secret. But she remains an optimist.
She remembers the good days when her family was together and believes
they aren't just a thing of the past. She keeps trying to get in
touch with her dad.
Olivia has even more big dreams than reuniting her family. She
doesn't like to see Berkeley growing in a decrepit trailer park. She
hates her mother having to work so hard she doesn't have time or
energy to parent. So she enters as many contests as she can discover.
"My favorite part of entering was when the contest said this one
thing: You May Already Be A Winner. It made me think that somewhere,
probably somewhere fancy like New York City or Paris, someone was
holding a big old suitcase of cash with my name all typed in gold, or
maybe on a tropical island where it never snowed and where the air
smelled like coconuts was a house that was made especially for me,
decorated in green and purple, my favorite colors."
Sadly, Olivia's faith that things will work out is going to be
seriously tested. Read the book to see what happens.
On a personal note, it's lilac season. Penobscot County, Maine is
adorned in shades of purple. The kitchen is sweetly perfumed from the
one's Eugene picked me. We worked in the community garden last
night. I came home with spinach and beet greens. I have a tooth
that's bugging me. I'm treating it with salt water. I'm working
really hard to earn my tuition and can't afford a dentist. The price
of American exceptionalism.
A great big shout out goes out to my precious daughter, Amber, who
turned 28 yesterday, and her soul mate fiancée, Brian, who celebrated
with her.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Wednesday, May 30, 2018
Monday, May 28, 2018
Hunger
Hunger
Adult nonfiction
"This book, Hunger, is a book about living in the world when you
are not a few or even forty pounds overweight. This is a book about
living in the world when you are three or four hundred pounds
overweight, when you are not obese or morbidly obese but super
morbidly obese according to your body mass index, or BMI."
Roxanne Gay knows what it's like to inhabit that world. At one
point she weighed 577 pounds and was considered a perfect candidate
for $25,000 gastric bypass surgery.
"What those doctors offered was so tempting, so seductive: this
notion that we could fall asleep for a few hours, and within a year of
waking up, most of our problems would be solved, at least according to
the medical establishment. That is, of course, if we continued to
delude ourselves that our bodies were our biggest problem."
Gay did not give in to the seductive temptation. She continued
to struggle with her "wildly undisciplined" body, vaccilating between
diet and exercise regimens and the lack thereof, at one point becoming
bulemic. In her poignant and thought provoking memoir, Hunger, she
introduces readers to a world in which one is simultaneously subject
to public scrutiny and invisible.
The scrutiny (and accompanying judgment) came in many forms.
Fat shaming is one of the last sociably acceptable prejudices.
(Having a sibling about my height and twice my weight I've heard some
very cruel remarks.) There are also the very eloquent facial
expressions such as the "You're going to eat that?" look directed at
overweight people about to consume foods like ice cream. Even loved
ones, out of concern, can push diets and exercise, making a fat person
feel never really accepted. Gay felt that her family saw her as an
unfinished project, rather than a sentient human being.
Despite this scrutiny, fat women are invisible in the sense of
not being listened to, affirmed, or valued. According to Gay, this is
because their size violates the patriarchal image girls and women are
supposed to conform to.
"This is what most girls are taught--that we should be slender
and small. We should not take up space. We should be seen and not
heard, and if we are seen, we should be pleasing to men, acceptable to
society. And most women know this, that we are supposed to disappear,
but it's something that needs to be said, loudly, over and over again,
so that we can resist surrendering to what is expected of us."
When Gay was only twelve she was gang raped by a boy she liked
and his friends. This traumatic event made her equate desirability to
men with vulnerability to violation. The only way she saw to protect
herself from boys and men was to gain pounds that would render her
unattractive to them.
Hunger is a must read for feminists and allies.
On a personal note, I wish you, my readers, a meaningful Memorial
Day. Enjoy time off work with family and friends. Just don't forget
the reason for the holiday: the men and women who died because nations
haven't evolved a better way to solve differences than war. We really
need to. The more potent our weapons are, the more urgent peace
becomes.
A great big shout out goes out to you with wishes for a lovely summer
that includes awesome book discoveries.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"This book, Hunger, is a book about living in the world when you
are not a few or even forty pounds overweight. This is a book about
living in the world when you are three or four hundred pounds
overweight, when you are not obese or morbidly obese but super
morbidly obese according to your body mass index, or BMI."
Roxanne Gay knows what it's like to inhabit that world. At one
point she weighed 577 pounds and was considered a perfect candidate
for $25,000 gastric bypass surgery.
"What those doctors offered was so tempting, so seductive: this
notion that we could fall asleep for a few hours, and within a year of
waking up, most of our problems would be solved, at least according to
the medical establishment. That is, of course, if we continued to
delude ourselves that our bodies were our biggest problem."
Gay did not give in to the seductive temptation. She continued
to struggle with her "wildly undisciplined" body, vaccilating between
diet and exercise regimens and the lack thereof, at one point becoming
bulemic. In her poignant and thought provoking memoir, Hunger, she
introduces readers to a world in which one is simultaneously subject
to public scrutiny and invisible.
The scrutiny (and accompanying judgment) came in many forms.
Fat shaming is one of the last sociably acceptable prejudices.
(Having a sibling about my height and twice my weight I've heard some
very cruel remarks.) There are also the very eloquent facial
expressions such as the "You're going to eat that?" look directed at
overweight people about to consume foods like ice cream. Even loved
ones, out of concern, can push diets and exercise, making a fat person
feel never really accepted. Gay felt that her family saw her as an
unfinished project, rather than a sentient human being.
Despite this scrutiny, fat women are invisible in the sense of
not being listened to, affirmed, or valued. According to Gay, this is
because their size violates the patriarchal image girls and women are
supposed to conform to.
"This is what most girls are taught--that we should be slender
and small. We should not take up space. We should be seen and not
heard, and if we are seen, we should be pleasing to men, acceptable to
society. And most women know this, that we are supposed to disappear,
but it's something that needs to be said, loudly, over and over again,
so that we can resist surrendering to what is expected of us."
When Gay was only twelve she was gang raped by a boy she liked
and his friends. This traumatic event made her equate desirability to
men with vulnerability to violation. The only way she saw to protect
herself from boys and men was to gain pounds that would render her
unattractive to them.
Hunger is a must read for feminists and allies.
On a personal note, I wish you, my readers, a meaningful Memorial
Day. Enjoy time off work with family and friends. Just don't forget
the reason for the holiday: the men and women who died because nations
haven't evolved a better way to solve differences than war. We really
need to. The more potent our weapons are, the more urgent peace
becomes.
A great big shout out goes out to you with wishes for a lovely summer
that includes awesome book discoveries.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Sunday, May 27, 2018
Sinking The Sultana
Sinking The Sultana
YA/adult nonfiction
"Suddenly, with a loud roar, one of the Sultana's boilers
burst. Within seconds, two more boilers exploded. Steam and chunks
of red-hot iron blasted upward through the center of the boat. The
explosive force shattered the support structures of the main and cabin
decks as if they were toothpicks. Within a moment, both decks had
collapsed behind the main stairway in the center of the boat. A
gaping hole replaced the staterooms and cabin area above the boilers.
Surrounding the hole, the cabin deck's broken floorboards slanted
toward the fireboxes left exposed after the boilers exploded. The
Sultana's two chimneys, robbed of their support, toppled and crashed
onto the hurricane deck. Hundreds of men on the collapsed cabin and
smashed hurricane decks slid toward and then dropped into the
fireboxes' blazing coals."
Nobody can describe a marine catastrophe quite like Sally
M. Walker. Back in 2012, when this blog was close to its first
birthday, we discovered her Blizzard Of Glass. We learned that the
largest pre atomic bomb man made explosion happened in Canada in 1917
in Halifax Harbor when a freighter carrying explosive cargo for the
war in Europe collided with another ship. (If you want to read more I
posted that review July 17th of that year.) Sinking The Sultana takes
readers to an earlier war, the Civil War to be exact. As in Blizzard
Of Glass, Walker makes a too little known tragedy come to life through
vivid description, skillful interweaving of narrative and backstory,
and the experiences of the small group of individuals readers are most
vividly introduced to.
It was April 27, 1865. The Civil War had just ended. The
assassination of President Lincoln had sent America into shock. Still
wrapping up the military post conflict loose ends had to be done.
Prison camps like the notorious Andersonville were filled beyond
their capacity with men who had somehow survived battle, exposure,
starvation, parasites, and disease--men who now had to be returned to
their homes and families. To one group, these gaunt, traumatized
veterans, desperate for freedom and a normal life with loved ones,
were potentials for profit. Owners of steamboats (then relatively
new, state-of-the-art river transportation) knew that the more of
these men one could pack on board, the higher the profit.
The Sultana had been built in Ohio in 1862. Considered then
quite luxurious in accomodations, she was licensed to carry 376
passengers. Although nobody knows how many people traveled on her
final voyage, estimates are in the vicinity of two thousand. Days
earlier a bulge had developed in one of her boilers. A professional
boilermaker had recommended extensive repairs. Delay could have
resulted in other steamboats hauling the suddenly profitable soldiers.
Only a temporary repair was made.
More lives were lost than when the Titanic hit an iceberg forty-
seven years later. But Walker cautions against viewing the sinking of
the Sultana as of purely historical interest. Similar elements--civil
war, desperation and people who profit from it, and horrendously
crowded watercraft--doom too many of today's refugees. Her last
paragraph challenges us all.
"History and research are all about making connections. Each
time a person discovers the Sultana's story--even though it may be
many years after the disaster--a connection is established between
that person and the people who were on the boat. Maybe the Sultana
connection will motivate that person to help a victim who has suffered
a recent disaster. Maybe it will give someone the courage to protest
against an unethical situation, an unfair business practice, or an
action that exhibits questionable safety. Recognizing and acting in
these cases makes the Sultana relevant for people today. Perhaps that
is the best way we can honor the memory of those who died on the
Sultana."
Let's forge those connections!
On a personal note, I am having a fantastic weekend! I have so much
going on I'm a day late posting this. Friday was the first day of
Clean Sweep. People were stuffing bags with clothes. Stuff was
flying off the tables. We ended up taking in $5,400. I ran the
clothes section. I gave stuffed animals to cute kids who behaved and
mints to adults who looked like they were waiting patiently for
friends. The second day I kept trying to give away a humungous ugly
Christmas sweater. Everyone said it looked better on me. I guess if
there's a contest in December I have a guaranteed win. I don't know
what the total ended up but I wouldn't be surprised if we hit $6,000.
Lisa bought us all Family Dog take out both days. I got lots of
clothes, school supplies, and other totally cool stuff including the
most comfy chair ever, perfect for me and Joey cat. Today I went on a
drive with Eugene and he got us subs for lunch.
A great big shout out goes out to my clean sweep crew, our benevolent
boss, Lisa, and the customers who laid their money down.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
YA/adult nonfiction
"Suddenly, with a loud roar, one of the Sultana's boilers
burst. Within seconds, two more boilers exploded. Steam and chunks
of red-hot iron blasted upward through the center of the boat. The
explosive force shattered the support structures of the main and cabin
decks as if they were toothpicks. Within a moment, both decks had
collapsed behind the main stairway in the center of the boat. A
gaping hole replaced the staterooms and cabin area above the boilers.
Surrounding the hole, the cabin deck's broken floorboards slanted
toward the fireboxes left exposed after the boilers exploded. The
Sultana's two chimneys, robbed of their support, toppled and crashed
onto the hurricane deck. Hundreds of men on the collapsed cabin and
smashed hurricane decks slid toward and then dropped into the
fireboxes' blazing coals."
Nobody can describe a marine catastrophe quite like Sally
M. Walker. Back in 2012, when this blog was close to its first
birthday, we discovered her Blizzard Of Glass. We learned that the
largest pre atomic bomb man made explosion happened in Canada in 1917
in Halifax Harbor when a freighter carrying explosive cargo for the
war in Europe collided with another ship. (If you want to read more I
posted that review July 17th of that year.) Sinking The Sultana takes
readers to an earlier war, the Civil War to be exact. As in Blizzard
Of Glass, Walker makes a too little known tragedy come to life through
vivid description, skillful interweaving of narrative and backstory,
and the experiences of the small group of individuals readers are most
vividly introduced to.
It was April 27, 1865. The Civil War had just ended. The
assassination of President Lincoln had sent America into shock. Still
wrapping up the military post conflict loose ends had to be done.
Prison camps like the notorious Andersonville were filled beyond
their capacity with men who had somehow survived battle, exposure,
starvation, parasites, and disease--men who now had to be returned to
their homes and families. To one group, these gaunt, traumatized
veterans, desperate for freedom and a normal life with loved ones,
were potentials for profit. Owners of steamboats (then relatively
new, state-of-the-art river transportation) knew that the more of
these men one could pack on board, the higher the profit.
The Sultana had been built in Ohio in 1862. Considered then
quite luxurious in accomodations, she was licensed to carry 376
passengers. Although nobody knows how many people traveled on her
final voyage, estimates are in the vicinity of two thousand. Days
earlier a bulge had developed in one of her boilers. A professional
boilermaker had recommended extensive repairs. Delay could have
resulted in other steamboats hauling the suddenly profitable soldiers.
Only a temporary repair was made.
More lives were lost than when the Titanic hit an iceberg forty-
seven years later. But Walker cautions against viewing the sinking of
the Sultana as of purely historical interest. Similar elements--civil
war, desperation and people who profit from it, and horrendously
crowded watercraft--doom too many of today's refugees. Her last
paragraph challenges us all.
"History and research are all about making connections. Each
time a person discovers the Sultana's story--even though it may be
many years after the disaster--a connection is established between
that person and the people who were on the boat. Maybe the Sultana
connection will motivate that person to help a victim who has suffered
a recent disaster. Maybe it will give someone the courage to protest
against an unethical situation, an unfair business practice, or an
action that exhibits questionable safety. Recognizing and acting in
these cases makes the Sultana relevant for people today. Perhaps that
is the best way we can honor the memory of those who died on the
Sultana."
Let's forge those connections!
On a personal note, I am having a fantastic weekend! I have so much
going on I'm a day late posting this. Friday was the first day of
Clean Sweep. People were stuffing bags with clothes. Stuff was
flying off the tables. We ended up taking in $5,400. I ran the
clothes section. I gave stuffed animals to cute kids who behaved and
mints to adults who looked like they were waiting patiently for
friends. The second day I kept trying to give away a humungous ugly
Christmas sweater. Everyone said it looked better on me. I guess if
there's a contest in December I have a guaranteed win. I don't know
what the total ended up but I wouldn't be surprised if we hit $6,000.
Lisa bought us all Family Dog take out both days. I got lots of
clothes, school supplies, and other totally cool stuff including the
most comfy chair ever, perfect for me and Joey cat. Today I went on a
drive with Eugene and he got us subs for lunch.
A great big shout out goes out to my clean sweep crew, our benevolent
boss, Lisa, and the customers who laid their money down.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Thursday, May 24, 2018
The Shed That Fed A Million Children
The Shed That Fed A Million Children
Adult nonfiction
"We all agreed that the vision for Mary's Meals should be for
every child to receive a daily meal in their place of education.
Clearly there was a lot of work ahead of us. We just had to decide
where to begin."
Take a few minutes to think on school lunches as aspirational.
It's probably hard to imagine. Many of us have fond or not so fond
memories of cafeteria sloppy joes, burgers, and meat loaf, not to
mention plenty of jello, washed down by cartons of milk. Many of us
sent or are sending in lunch money and packing sandwiches and sides
when what's on the menu isn't a child's cup of tea.
In his The Shed That Fed A Million Children Magnus McFarlane-
Barrow takes us into a world where starving doesn't mean an hour until
dinner or nothing "good" in the fridge. There are no refrigerators,
electricity, or running water in the simple one room huts he's
visited. Bad harvests mean literally nothing to eat. Tribal warfare
can mean returning to a ruined home and weed choked fields to start
anew...maybe for the second or third time.
After years of raising money for and delivering goods to
impoverished and war-torn nations, Magnus had a visionary idea.
Perhaps children who had a meal at school would gain the nutrients
they needed to grow and thrive and the skills to support themselves in
the future. That was the inspiration for Mary's Meals, an
organization that provides over a million children on four continents
with daily meals. This seemingly simple program has drawn children to
school and improved attendence and achievement.
The Shed That Fed A Million Children is the fascinating story
behind this program. It's a must read these days when hopeful news is
so hard to find.
What do you take for granted that others are in need of? You
don't have to launch a movement. If all of us do community
volunteering or activism it will make a huge difference.
On a personal note, we're almost done getting Clean Sweep ready. All
the merchandise is in place. Today we're marking prices. Tomorrow we
open the doors to a mob of bargain seekers. Community garden is
looking beautiful. I am so happy to once again be playing in the
dirt. This year we're adding the little herb garden I wanted.
A great big shout out goes out to my clean sweep crew, the customers
whose purchasing will help finance Bodwell Center projects including
the student food pantry, and my this year's community garden family.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"We all agreed that the vision for Mary's Meals should be for
every child to receive a daily meal in their place of education.
Clearly there was a lot of work ahead of us. We just had to decide
where to begin."
Take a few minutes to think on school lunches as aspirational.
It's probably hard to imagine. Many of us have fond or not so fond
memories of cafeteria sloppy joes, burgers, and meat loaf, not to
mention plenty of jello, washed down by cartons of milk. Many of us
sent or are sending in lunch money and packing sandwiches and sides
when what's on the menu isn't a child's cup of tea.
In his The Shed That Fed A Million Children Magnus McFarlane-
Barrow takes us into a world where starving doesn't mean an hour until
dinner or nothing "good" in the fridge. There are no refrigerators,
electricity, or running water in the simple one room huts he's
visited. Bad harvests mean literally nothing to eat. Tribal warfare
can mean returning to a ruined home and weed choked fields to start
anew...maybe for the second or third time.
After years of raising money for and delivering goods to
impoverished and war-torn nations, Magnus had a visionary idea.
Perhaps children who had a meal at school would gain the nutrients
they needed to grow and thrive and the skills to support themselves in
the future. That was the inspiration for Mary's Meals, an
organization that provides over a million children on four continents
with daily meals. This seemingly simple program has drawn children to
school and improved attendence and achievement.
The Shed That Fed A Million Children is the fascinating story
behind this program. It's a must read these days when hopeful news is
so hard to find.
What do you take for granted that others are in need of? You
don't have to launch a movement. If all of us do community
volunteering or activism it will make a huge difference.
On a personal note, we're almost done getting Clean Sweep ready. All
the merchandise is in place. Today we're marking prices. Tomorrow we
open the doors to a mob of bargain seekers. Community garden is
looking beautiful. I am so happy to once again be playing in the
dirt. This year we're adding the little herb garden I wanted.
A great big shout out goes out to my clean sweep crew, the customers
whose purchasing will help finance Bodwell Center projects including
the student food pantry, and my this year's community garden family.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Tuesday, May 22, 2018
Give It Up!
Give It Up!
Adult nonfiction
"One morning, while trying to decide which pair of shoes to
wear, I was behind schedule and was clearly going to be late for
work. To make matters worse, while reaching for my black sling backs,
an avalanch of designer shoe boxes hit me squarely on the head. For
some people, a subtle signal can lead them to a change in life; others
need a stronger message. In my case, it was being literally hit over
the head with my own shoes. This was my wake-up call."
Mary Carlomagno, author of Give It Up!, had hit a point where
she felt that something was missing. Her life was too complicated by
a plethora of distractions. Nothing really satisfied her. She read
the entire newspaper to be up on water cooler conversation topics
rather than out of curiosity. Shopping was getting way out of hand.
It was time for a change.
Carlomagno was familiar with the concept of Lent. As a child
she'd regularly given up candy or soda. She wondered if she could
give up some of the things that seemed so necessary in her life.
"...Would it be possible to live without a hundred boxes of designer
shoes, costly microbrewed coffee, or the ever present cell phone that
fueled my everyday existence?"
Carlomagno embarked on a year of Lents--12 to be exact. Each
month she temporarily gave up something chosen to move herself out of
her comfort zone and force herself to really look at her life. Her
experiences form the substance of the book.
Give It Up!, however, is more than a description of
deprivation. Each chapter yields thoughtful insight. The month she
gave up alcohol, after being startled by how much her social life
revolved around booze, she became more confident of her decision
making and able to say no when appropriate. A moritorium on shopping
led her to do so only when necessary. Giving up tv helped her
discover more creative alternatives. She ended up feeling privileged
rather than martyred.
Give It Up! is a very worthwhile read even if you lead a very
different life style. (The majority of my social life, for example,
revolves around UMaine campus activities and involves nothing harder
than cranberry punch. My shopping is all thrifts and yard sales. And
television doesn't tempt me in the least.) Give it a try. You might
discover aspects of your life you want to tweak.
On a personal note, I'm enjoying my Clean Sweep break. Yesterday I
decided to tackle all the bags and boxes of food that were donated.
Bodwell Center runs Clean Sweep. They're the go to people for
connecting students with campus and community volunteer
opportunities. They also operate the Black Bear Exchange which is a
clothing exchange and food pantry. Sadly in this country there are
rising numbers of homeless and food insecure students. You can't just
put any old food on the shelves. Containers can't have been opened.
And food can't be past its expiration date. Looking for those little
numbers is time consuming. So I sorted the good stuff, tossed the bad
stuff, and organized snacks that were safe but didn't meet standards
into a snack bar for my coworkers and me. True confession: I took
some of the candy home. Plus a bag of lollipops and three boxes of
gum for the neighborhood kids.
A great big shout out goes out to my Clean Sweep coworkers and our
peerless boss, Lisa Morin.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"One morning, while trying to decide which pair of shoes to
wear, I was behind schedule and was clearly going to be late for
work. To make matters worse, while reaching for my black sling backs,
an avalanch of designer shoe boxes hit me squarely on the head. For
some people, a subtle signal can lead them to a change in life; others
need a stronger message. In my case, it was being literally hit over
the head with my own shoes. This was my wake-up call."
Mary Carlomagno, author of Give It Up!, had hit a point where
she felt that something was missing. Her life was too complicated by
a plethora of distractions. Nothing really satisfied her. She read
the entire newspaper to be up on water cooler conversation topics
rather than out of curiosity. Shopping was getting way out of hand.
It was time for a change.
Carlomagno was familiar with the concept of Lent. As a child
she'd regularly given up candy or soda. She wondered if she could
give up some of the things that seemed so necessary in her life.
"...Would it be possible to live without a hundred boxes of designer
shoes, costly microbrewed coffee, or the ever present cell phone that
fueled my everyday existence?"
Carlomagno embarked on a year of Lents--12 to be exact. Each
month she temporarily gave up something chosen to move herself out of
her comfort zone and force herself to really look at her life. Her
experiences form the substance of the book.
Give It Up!, however, is more than a description of
deprivation. Each chapter yields thoughtful insight. The month she
gave up alcohol, after being startled by how much her social life
revolved around booze, she became more confident of her decision
making and able to say no when appropriate. A moritorium on shopping
led her to do so only when necessary. Giving up tv helped her
discover more creative alternatives. She ended up feeling privileged
rather than martyred.
Give It Up! is a very worthwhile read even if you lead a very
different life style. (The majority of my social life, for example,
revolves around UMaine campus activities and involves nothing harder
than cranberry punch. My shopping is all thrifts and yard sales. And
television doesn't tempt me in the least.) Give it a try. You might
discover aspects of your life you want to tweak.
On a personal note, I'm enjoying my Clean Sweep break. Yesterday I
decided to tackle all the bags and boxes of food that were donated.
Bodwell Center runs Clean Sweep. They're the go to people for
connecting students with campus and community volunteer
opportunities. They also operate the Black Bear Exchange which is a
clothing exchange and food pantry. Sadly in this country there are
rising numbers of homeless and food insecure students. You can't just
put any old food on the shelves. Containers can't have been opened.
And food can't be past its expiration date. Looking for those little
numbers is time consuming. So I sorted the good stuff, tossed the bad
stuff, and organized snacks that were safe but didn't meet standards
into a snack bar for my coworkers and me. True confession: I took
some of the candy home. Plus a bag of lollipops and three boxes of
gum for the neighborhood kids.
A great big shout out goes out to my Clean Sweep coworkers and our
peerless boss, Lisa Morin.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Sunday, May 20, 2018
The Power Of Half
The Power Of Half
YA/adult nonfiction
"Our family is a fairly typical Atlanta foursome: two baby
boomers (Joan and Kevin) and two teenagers (Hannah and Joseph). Our
days consist of the standard American life--school, work, and youth
sports. For more than a decade we aspired to the usual "stuff": new
cars, a spacious home, nice vacations. Sure, we took on the
occasional volunteer activity, feeding the homeless and building
Habitat For Humanity houses, but largely we were consumed by our own
careers and enhancing our lifestyle through bigger, newer, better. We
were focussed on us."
Reading the first paragraph of Kevin and Hannah Salwen's The
Power of Half, you know two things. Their family is doing peachy keen
by contemporary American standards. Things are about to change
drastically.
One night Joan was driving Hannah, then 14, home from a
sleepover. When they paused at a stoplight Hannah juxtaposed two
images: those of a homeless guy and a man driving a Mercedes coupe.
Perhaps if the Mercedes man had a less posh car the homeless man could
have a meal. But it wasn't just a too bad, so sad moment. The
sadness and anger stuck with her.
A few days after the incident Hannah announced that she wanted
her family to become a family that actually did things instead of
talking about doing things. Joan decided to test her commitment.
Would she be so eager if an action involved giving up her own
possessions? She suggested they sell their humungous house, move into
one half the size, and give the left over money to charity.
Hannah signed on immediately.
That's what they ended up doing.
There were snags. The house took longer to sell than they'd
anticipated, so for quite awhile the family was paying upkeep on two
houses. Picking a charity and a way to get involved took them way out
of their comfort zone. But they persisted and, in addition to making
a difference in the world, became stronger and more unified as a family.
My favorite part of the book is Hannah's additions to each
chapter. Addressed to peers, they give really good suggestions for
getting self and family involved in volunteering and activism...
...even if you have far fewer material resources than the
Salwens. Eugene and I raised our kids in a trailer park. But I
immersed our kids in volunteering and activism from the beginning. I
have very fond memories of taking the kids on the overnight buses from
Maine to DC to war protests with a bag of snack food to sustain us.
One year for Mothers Day they and their friends organized a protest
with signs against the war along Route Two in front of where we
lived. They have grown up to be involved, empathic, and very good
people.
On a purrrrsonal (Joey cat is beside me singing his love song) note, I
had an AWESOME weekend. Amber held her birthday party Saturday. All
3 kids and their significant others were there. The theme was
Goosebumps, a family favorite series. I spent so many precious hours
reading the books over and over to the girls. When we did the choose
your own ending ones Amber always had me choose. The decor was
perfect, starting with the elaborate graveyard in the front yard.
Amber had written her own Goosebumps choose your own ending book: #1
THE CURSE OF THE BEWITCHED BIRTHDAY PARTY. She read it to us and had
us choose at all the decision points. Brian did some dramatic acting
as a wizard. We also had other games and picture taking against a
very dramatic backdrop. The party food was all delish. (I suspect
Amber may share some of her party awesomeness techniques in the near
future. Http://amberscraftaweek.blogspot.com)
After the party Katie and Jacob stopped by for a nice visit on their
way back to Portland. Joey cat was SO HAPPY to see Katie again and to
meet Jacob.
Then today we had flower communion at church. The Sunday school
joined the choir. I got to be one of the lilac dancers. People took
lovely spring flowers home. Who could ask for more?
A great big shout out goes out to Amber and Brian (the hosts with
most), my dear growing family, and my church family with whom I
celebrated. Special congratulations to Pastor Steve (Orono United
Methodist) for achieving his PhD and his talented wife, Judy, without
whom attaining the degree would have been a lot more challenging.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
YA/adult nonfiction
"Our family is a fairly typical Atlanta foursome: two baby
boomers (Joan and Kevin) and two teenagers (Hannah and Joseph). Our
days consist of the standard American life--school, work, and youth
sports. For more than a decade we aspired to the usual "stuff": new
cars, a spacious home, nice vacations. Sure, we took on the
occasional volunteer activity, feeding the homeless and building
Habitat For Humanity houses, but largely we were consumed by our own
careers and enhancing our lifestyle through bigger, newer, better. We
were focussed on us."
Reading the first paragraph of Kevin and Hannah Salwen's The
Power of Half, you know two things. Their family is doing peachy keen
by contemporary American standards. Things are about to change
drastically.
One night Joan was driving Hannah, then 14, home from a
sleepover. When they paused at a stoplight Hannah juxtaposed two
images: those of a homeless guy and a man driving a Mercedes coupe.
Perhaps if the Mercedes man had a less posh car the homeless man could
have a meal. But it wasn't just a too bad, so sad moment. The
sadness and anger stuck with her.
A few days after the incident Hannah announced that she wanted
her family to become a family that actually did things instead of
talking about doing things. Joan decided to test her commitment.
Would she be so eager if an action involved giving up her own
possessions? She suggested they sell their humungous house, move into
one half the size, and give the left over money to charity.
Hannah signed on immediately.
That's what they ended up doing.
There were snags. The house took longer to sell than they'd
anticipated, so for quite awhile the family was paying upkeep on two
houses. Picking a charity and a way to get involved took them way out
of their comfort zone. But they persisted and, in addition to making
a difference in the world, became stronger and more unified as a family.
My favorite part of the book is Hannah's additions to each
chapter. Addressed to peers, they give really good suggestions for
getting self and family involved in volunteering and activism...
...even if you have far fewer material resources than the
Salwens. Eugene and I raised our kids in a trailer park. But I
immersed our kids in volunteering and activism from the beginning. I
have very fond memories of taking the kids on the overnight buses from
Maine to DC to war protests with a bag of snack food to sustain us.
One year for Mothers Day they and their friends organized a protest
with signs against the war along Route Two in front of where we
lived. They have grown up to be involved, empathic, and very good
people.
On a purrrrsonal (Joey cat is beside me singing his love song) note, I
had an AWESOME weekend. Amber held her birthday party Saturday. All
3 kids and their significant others were there. The theme was
Goosebumps, a family favorite series. I spent so many precious hours
reading the books over and over to the girls. When we did the choose
your own ending ones Amber always had me choose. The decor was
perfect, starting with the elaborate graveyard in the front yard.
Amber had written her own Goosebumps choose your own ending book: #1
THE CURSE OF THE BEWITCHED BIRTHDAY PARTY. She read it to us and had
us choose at all the decision points. Brian did some dramatic acting
as a wizard. We also had other games and picture taking against a
very dramatic backdrop. The party food was all delish. (I suspect
Amber may share some of her party awesomeness techniques in the near
future. Http://amberscraftaweek.blogspot.com)
After the party Katie and Jacob stopped by for a nice visit on their
way back to Portland. Joey cat was SO HAPPY to see Katie again and to
meet Jacob.
Then today we had flower communion at church. The Sunday school
joined the choir. I got to be one of the lilac dancers. People took
lovely spring flowers home. Who could ask for more?
A great big shout out goes out to Amber and Brian (the hosts with
most), my dear growing family, and my church family with whom I
celebrated. Special congratulations to Pastor Steve (Orono United
Methodist) for achieving his PhD and his talented wife, Judy, without
whom attaining the degree would have been a lot more challenging.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Friday, May 18, 2018
Daring To Drive
Daring To Drive
Adult nonfiction
"The secret police came for me at two in the morning. The
second knock on the door quickly followed the first. They were loud,
hard knocks, the kind that radiate out and shake the door frame. My
five-year-old son was asleep, but I was awake still, sitting up with
my brother."
Those knocks on the door were the beginning of a real life
nightmare for Manal al-Sharif. After interrogations during which she
was not allowed to have her brother present she found herself in a
filthy, cockroach infested prison, unable to contact family members or
anyone who could potentially rescue her.
"It turned out that I didn't need to call anyone in my family to
let them know where I had gone. The newspaper, the television, the
radio, and the Internet had already done it for me. By the time I'd
fallen asleep, all of Saudi Arabia knew that Manal al-Sharif, the
woman who drove, was in jail."
That was the crime Manal was jailed for--driving: not driving
under the influence of drugs or alcohol, not driving to endanger, but
driving while female. If you're asking, "What kind of nation can do
that?" you must read her Daring To Drive. I guarantee this memoir
will be an eye opener right from the beginning.
"I was born on the floor of our cramped apartment in the city of
Mecca on April 25, 1979. My mother was alone, except for my older
sister, who was barely much more than a toddler herself. My father
had been out when she went into labor, and under Saudi rules and
customs, my mother could not be admitted without a male guardian or a
mahram to accompany her to the hospital. There were no exceptions.
She couldn't even call for help because our apartment had no phone."
Seriously!
If I was to list all Manal had to endure because of her gender,
this review would well exceed anyone's attention span. I guess you'll
have to read the book yourself. If you're a feminist you'll really
want to.
On a personal note, yesterday was my first work day at the UMaine
cafeteria system. I helped make sandwiches. Everyone I was working
with seemed really nice. After I got off work I went over to Alfond
(ice hockey) Arena to work on Clean Sweep, the yard sale all other
yard sales wish they were. The rest of this week and all of next week
that's what I'll be up to. My vacation summer camp. In a few minutes
I'll be grabbing the bus to campus.
A great big shout out goes out to my new work family and my clean
sweep crew.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"The secret police came for me at two in the morning. The
second knock on the door quickly followed the first. They were loud,
hard knocks, the kind that radiate out and shake the door frame. My
five-year-old son was asleep, but I was awake still, sitting up with
my brother."
Those knocks on the door were the beginning of a real life
nightmare for Manal al-Sharif. After interrogations during which she
was not allowed to have her brother present she found herself in a
filthy, cockroach infested prison, unable to contact family members or
anyone who could potentially rescue her.
"It turned out that I didn't need to call anyone in my family to
let them know where I had gone. The newspaper, the television, the
radio, and the Internet had already done it for me. By the time I'd
fallen asleep, all of Saudi Arabia knew that Manal al-Sharif, the
woman who drove, was in jail."
That was the crime Manal was jailed for--driving: not driving
under the influence of drugs or alcohol, not driving to endanger, but
driving while female. If you're asking, "What kind of nation can do
that?" you must read her Daring To Drive. I guarantee this memoir
will be an eye opener right from the beginning.
"I was born on the floor of our cramped apartment in the city of
Mecca on April 25, 1979. My mother was alone, except for my older
sister, who was barely much more than a toddler herself. My father
had been out when she went into labor, and under Saudi rules and
customs, my mother could not be admitted without a male guardian or a
mahram to accompany her to the hospital. There were no exceptions.
She couldn't even call for help because our apartment had no phone."
Seriously!
If I was to list all Manal had to endure because of her gender,
this review would well exceed anyone's attention span. I guess you'll
have to read the book yourself. If you're a feminist you'll really
want to.
On a personal note, yesterday was my first work day at the UMaine
cafeteria system. I helped make sandwiches. Everyone I was working
with seemed really nice. After I got off work I went over to Alfond
(ice hockey) Arena to work on Clean Sweep, the yard sale all other
yard sales wish they were. The rest of this week and all of next week
that's what I'll be up to. My vacation summer camp. In a few minutes
I'll be grabbing the bus to campus.
A great big shout out goes out to my new work family and my clean
sweep crew.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Wednesday, May 16, 2018
The Second Coming Of The KKK
The Second Coming Of The KKK
Adult Nonfiction
"A July 4 picnic in Kokomo, Indiana, held in 1923, was the
town's event of the decade, a lollapalooza of a carnival: some said
fifty thousand came, while others said two hundred thousand--no doubt
a wild exaggeration, but one that reflected the celebratory mood.
Reserved train cars brought in people from throughout Indiana and
nearby states. This giant gathering made its participants feel part
of something vast, patriotic, and noble--a celebration of Americanism."
Most of us see the 1920s as the Roaring Twenties, a gilded age
that sadly gave way to the Great Depression. Images of flappers with
bobbed hair and elegant garments, speakeasies, and talented jazz
musicians easily come to mind. Few of us ponder on a much darker side
to the decade that actually gives it a lot in common with today's
world. Linda Gordon admirably shines a light on it in The Second
Coming of the KKK.
For every flapper there were scads of people we'd characterize
as religious conservatives, a silent majority fed up with being silent
in a time they saw as rife with moral decay. Their formerly great
nation was going to Hell in a handbasket. It was their duty to make
America great again. The villains in this drama were basically anyone
who wasn't a native born white Anglo Saxon Protestant.
All the angst and anger created a propitious time for the KKK to
make a comeback. Only this wasn't the secret society of the post
Civil War South. This was an out-in-the-open fraternal organization
that recruited and advertised openly and threw extravaganzas like the
one described above. It shared a passion for white supremacy with its
parent organization. To draw in people who weren't especially
threatened by blacks, job stealing immigrants, Catholics (seen as
infiltrating America for a Papal take over), Jews (portrayed as both
money grubbers and socialists), and urban elites were added to the
list of those not considered true Americans. Northern chapters
thrived. Oregon and Indiana had the highest per capita Klan membership.
Although its heyday was short-lived, the reborn KKK had a major
impact on American and world history. Eugenics laws (legalizing the
forced sterilization of "undesirables") spread rapidly state by state,
culminating in the 1927 Buck v Bell decision that was cited by the
Nazis during the Nuremburg trials as justification and precedent for
their genocide. Immigration quotas were changed drastically to keep
out ethnic "undesirables". (During WWII a lot of Jewish people trying
to escape Hitler's Germany were denied entrance.) Hate speech and
actions were given increased legitimacy in public discourse while
dissent was increasingly considered unpatriotic.
"...This obligatory patriotism was expressed symbolically,
visually, in the mass pageants with their extravagant displays, and
literally in speeches and texts asserting that 'right Americans were
the chosen people, that the American governmental system was the most
perfect on Earth, that profit seeking was the grounds of American
greatness'."
The Second Coming Of The KKK is a must read for everyone who is
concerned about the trajectory America is following under the current
administration.
On a purrrrsenol note, yesterday Joey had his check up with Dr. Laura,
the vet who saved his life with a 4 1/2 hour operation 3 years ago.
She was delighted to find him in EXCELLENT HEALTH!!! (We agree this
is amazing where he was born with health challenges and is about to
turn 15.) He was only three when he had his first life or death
surgery. Before that I'd thought it was impossible up love my sweet
little cat more than I did. I was wrong. Almost losing him made
every day with him precious beyond measure. Every day from the moment
I hear him call me in the morning til my night cat assisted reading he
makes my heart sing. Dr. Laura has seen few animal-human pairings as
emotionally synchronized as we are. From protecting me from heart
disease that runs in my family and building the courage not to give up
on my dream to making impossible to say any day was just another day,
Joseph Jacob Hathaway gives me more than I could pawsibly give him.
I was also glad that I had saved up enough cash without touching the
credit card and that Joey and I got home before the rain.
My dafodills seem to have enjoyed yesterday's rain.
A great big shout out goes out to Joey and all the companion animals
who add to much to our lives and the dedicated vets and their
assistants who keep them healthy.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult Nonfiction
"A July 4 picnic in Kokomo, Indiana, held in 1923, was the
town's event of the decade, a lollapalooza of a carnival: some said
fifty thousand came, while others said two hundred thousand--no doubt
a wild exaggeration, but one that reflected the celebratory mood.
Reserved train cars brought in people from throughout Indiana and
nearby states. This giant gathering made its participants feel part
of something vast, patriotic, and noble--a celebration of Americanism."
Most of us see the 1920s as the Roaring Twenties, a gilded age
that sadly gave way to the Great Depression. Images of flappers with
bobbed hair and elegant garments, speakeasies, and talented jazz
musicians easily come to mind. Few of us ponder on a much darker side
to the decade that actually gives it a lot in common with today's
world. Linda Gordon admirably shines a light on it in The Second
Coming of the KKK.
For every flapper there were scads of people we'd characterize
as religious conservatives, a silent majority fed up with being silent
in a time they saw as rife with moral decay. Their formerly great
nation was going to Hell in a handbasket. It was their duty to make
America great again. The villains in this drama were basically anyone
who wasn't a native born white Anglo Saxon Protestant.
All the angst and anger created a propitious time for the KKK to
make a comeback. Only this wasn't the secret society of the post
Civil War South. This was an out-in-the-open fraternal organization
that recruited and advertised openly and threw extravaganzas like the
one described above. It shared a passion for white supremacy with its
parent organization. To draw in people who weren't especially
threatened by blacks, job stealing immigrants, Catholics (seen as
infiltrating America for a Papal take over), Jews (portrayed as both
money grubbers and socialists), and urban elites were added to the
list of those not considered true Americans. Northern chapters
thrived. Oregon and Indiana had the highest per capita Klan membership.
Although its heyday was short-lived, the reborn KKK had a major
impact on American and world history. Eugenics laws (legalizing the
forced sterilization of "undesirables") spread rapidly state by state,
culminating in the 1927 Buck v Bell decision that was cited by the
Nazis during the Nuremburg trials as justification and precedent for
their genocide. Immigration quotas were changed drastically to keep
out ethnic "undesirables". (During WWII a lot of Jewish people trying
to escape Hitler's Germany were denied entrance.) Hate speech and
actions were given increased legitimacy in public discourse while
dissent was increasingly considered unpatriotic.
"...This obligatory patriotism was expressed symbolically,
visually, in the mass pageants with their extravagant displays, and
literally in speeches and texts asserting that 'right Americans were
the chosen people, that the American governmental system was the most
perfect on Earth, that profit seeking was the grounds of American
greatness'."
The Second Coming Of The KKK is a must read for everyone who is
concerned about the trajectory America is following under the current
administration.
On a purrrrsenol note, yesterday Joey had his check up with Dr. Laura,
the vet who saved his life with a 4 1/2 hour operation 3 years ago.
She was delighted to find him in EXCELLENT HEALTH!!! (We agree this
is amazing where he was born with health challenges and is about to
turn 15.) He was only three when he had his first life or death
surgery. Before that I'd thought it was impossible up love my sweet
little cat more than I did. I was wrong. Almost losing him made
every day with him precious beyond measure. Every day from the moment
I hear him call me in the morning til my night cat assisted reading he
makes my heart sing. Dr. Laura has seen few animal-human pairings as
emotionally synchronized as we are. From protecting me from heart
disease that runs in my family and building the courage not to give up
on my dream to making impossible to say any day was just another day,
Joseph Jacob Hathaway gives me more than I could pawsibly give him.
I was also glad that I had saved up enough cash without touching the
credit card and that Joey and I got home before the rain.
My dafodills seem to have enjoyed yesterday's rain.
A great big shout out goes out to Joey and all the companion animals
who add to much to our lives and the dedicated vets and their
assistants who keep them healthy.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Monday, May 14, 2018
Unequal Childhoods
Unequal Childhoods
Adult nonfiction
"Laughing and yelling, a white fourth-grader named Garrett
Tallinger splashes around in the swimming pool in the backyard of his
four-bedroom home in the suburbs on a late spring afternoon. As on
most evenings, after a quick dinner his father drives him to soccer
practice. This is only one of Garrett's many activities. His brother
has a baseball game at a different location. There are evenings when
the boys' parents can relax, sipping a glass of wine. Tonight is not
one of them. As they rush to change out of their work clothes and get
their children ready for practice, Mr. and Mrs. Tallinger are harried."
The Tallingers are one of the twelve families portrayed in
Annette Lareau's Unequal Childhoods. Now in a second (2011) edition,
it's a must read for teachers, social workers, clergy, parents, and
basically all others who work with children. It exposes a hidden
classism that allows Americans and American institutions to disallow
relative privilege as a crucial factor in children's life trajectories
and demonize poorer children, families, and communities for factors
beyond their control. This bias also sees the practices of the
relatively well off as across the board superior to those of the less
affluent rather than ascribing assets to both.
"America may be the land of opportunity, but it is also a land
of inequality. This book identifies the largely invisible but
powerful ways that parents' social class impacts children's life
experiences. It shows, using in-depth observations and interviews
with middle-class (including members of the upper-middle-class),
working-class, and poor families, that inequality permeates the fabric
of the culture. In the chapters that lie ahead, I report the results
of intensive observational research for a total of twelve families
when their children were nine and ten years old. I argue that key
elements of family life cohere to form a cultural logic of child
rearing. In other words, the differences among families seem to
cluster together in meaningful patterns..."
More affluent families engage in what Lareau calls concentrated
cultivation. Family life centers around a plethora of structured
activities children engage in. A month in Garrett Tallinger's life
includes 34 organized activities, 3 involving travel or overnight.
(And he's one of three siblings!) Parents engage in reasoning rather
than directives and other linguistic techniques of improving
vocabularies and verbal skills. They also intervene with schools and
other institutions when their children experience discomfort and use a
plethora of advantages to place and maintain their offspring on a
track to the best colleges and an elite future.
In contrast, working class and poor families engage in natural
growth. Children participate in few, if any, organized activities.
They are free to structure much of their nonschool time. Playing with
neighborhood friends and engaging with relatives are central to their
lives. Parents use directives instead of reasoning and speak to kids
a lot less often. They are much less likely to intervene when
children experience school discomfort and lack the insider knowledge
and connections for advancing their children's post secondary school
prospects.
Unequal childhoods is highly readable, skillfully interweaving
background, narrative, and theory. I see it as a must read for anyone
concerned about the decidedly unequal (and becoming more so) prospects
for a decent life that our children face. I can only hope that people
in the more privileged segments of our society will read it and
realize (in an image Lareau presents) that they started out on third
base instead of hitting a triple.
On a personal note, I had a lovely weekend. Saturday I wrote poetry
outside near my dafodills and wind chimes. Eugene and I started
Mothers' Day by stopping by his mom's house to give her a card and
flowers. Then we went on a drive. We stopped at thrift shops and a
flea market. I found really cute shirts including TWO CAT SHIRTS.
(Shirts with cat pictures for me, not an attempt to improve on Joey's
purrrrrfect natural tuxedo). We had lunch at Mickey D's. I saw my
son and his fiancée. They plan to take me out for ice cream. I heard
from my girls. I'll see them Saturday.
From a global perspective, I'm a privileged parent. Our kids grew up
with good food, a warm home with running water and electricity.
Religious extremists didn't try to keep my daughters out of school.
Bombs, land mines, and AK47 bearing soldiers weren't everyday perils.
Eugene and I didn't have to entrust our family to a treacherous sea
crossing.
If you are raising or have raised children under similar privileges
please don't ignore those parenting in dire circumstances. A little
money to organizations that help refugees, welcoming any who make it
to your neighborhood, fighting for laws that don't betray the promise
most of our non indiginous ancestors arrived here under...it all
helps. I will continue to seek out and publicize books that bring
their plight to your attention.
A great big shout out to mothers striving to parent under treacherous
conditions. I can't help being reminded of a teen mother who gave
birth in a stable, the inns being full, and had to flee people who
wanted to slay her child.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"Laughing and yelling, a white fourth-grader named Garrett
Tallinger splashes around in the swimming pool in the backyard of his
four-bedroom home in the suburbs on a late spring afternoon. As on
most evenings, after a quick dinner his father drives him to soccer
practice. This is only one of Garrett's many activities. His brother
has a baseball game at a different location. There are evenings when
the boys' parents can relax, sipping a glass of wine. Tonight is not
one of them. As they rush to change out of their work clothes and get
their children ready for practice, Mr. and Mrs. Tallinger are harried."
The Tallingers are one of the twelve families portrayed in
Annette Lareau's Unequal Childhoods. Now in a second (2011) edition,
it's a must read for teachers, social workers, clergy, parents, and
basically all others who work with children. It exposes a hidden
classism that allows Americans and American institutions to disallow
relative privilege as a crucial factor in children's life trajectories
and demonize poorer children, families, and communities for factors
beyond their control. This bias also sees the practices of the
relatively well off as across the board superior to those of the less
affluent rather than ascribing assets to both.
"America may be the land of opportunity, but it is also a land
of inequality. This book identifies the largely invisible but
powerful ways that parents' social class impacts children's life
experiences. It shows, using in-depth observations and interviews
with middle-class (including members of the upper-middle-class),
working-class, and poor families, that inequality permeates the fabric
of the culture. In the chapters that lie ahead, I report the results
of intensive observational research for a total of twelve families
when their children were nine and ten years old. I argue that key
elements of family life cohere to form a cultural logic of child
rearing. In other words, the differences among families seem to
cluster together in meaningful patterns..."
More affluent families engage in what Lareau calls concentrated
cultivation. Family life centers around a plethora of structured
activities children engage in. A month in Garrett Tallinger's life
includes 34 organized activities, 3 involving travel or overnight.
(And he's one of three siblings!) Parents engage in reasoning rather
than directives and other linguistic techniques of improving
vocabularies and verbal skills. They also intervene with schools and
other institutions when their children experience discomfort and use a
plethora of advantages to place and maintain their offspring on a
track to the best colleges and an elite future.
In contrast, working class and poor families engage in natural
growth. Children participate in few, if any, organized activities.
They are free to structure much of their nonschool time. Playing with
neighborhood friends and engaging with relatives are central to their
lives. Parents use directives instead of reasoning and speak to kids
a lot less often. They are much less likely to intervene when
children experience school discomfort and lack the insider knowledge
and connections for advancing their children's post secondary school
prospects.
Unequal childhoods is highly readable, skillfully interweaving
background, narrative, and theory. I see it as a must read for anyone
concerned about the decidedly unequal (and becoming more so) prospects
for a decent life that our children face. I can only hope that people
in the more privileged segments of our society will read it and
realize (in an image Lareau presents) that they started out on third
base instead of hitting a triple.
On a personal note, I had a lovely weekend. Saturday I wrote poetry
outside near my dafodills and wind chimes. Eugene and I started
Mothers' Day by stopping by his mom's house to give her a card and
flowers. Then we went on a drive. We stopped at thrift shops and a
flea market. I found really cute shirts including TWO CAT SHIRTS.
(Shirts with cat pictures for me, not an attempt to improve on Joey's
purrrrrfect natural tuxedo). We had lunch at Mickey D's. I saw my
son and his fiancée. They plan to take me out for ice cream. I heard
from my girls. I'll see them Saturday.
From a global perspective, I'm a privileged parent. Our kids grew up
with good food, a warm home with running water and electricity.
Religious extremists didn't try to keep my daughters out of school.
Bombs, land mines, and AK47 bearing soldiers weren't everyday perils.
Eugene and I didn't have to entrust our family to a treacherous sea
crossing.
If you are raising or have raised children under similar privileges
please don't ignore those parenting in dire circumstances. A little
money to organizations that help refugees, welcoming any who make it
to your neighborhood, fighting for laws that don't betray the promise
most of our non indiginous ancestors arrived here under...it all
helps. I will continue to seek out and publicize books that bring
their plight to your attention.
A great big shout out to mothers striving to parent under treacherous
conditions. I can't help being reminded of a teen mother who gave
birth in a stable, the inns being full, and had to flee people who
wanted to slay her child.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Saturday, May 12, 2018
Longing And Belonging
Longing And Belonging
Adult nonfiction
"What does buying mean to children and their parents? Why does
buying for children seem to generate so much anxiety and concern? If
consumer culture is the 'enemy' of good parenting, why do so many
parents invite the enemy into their homes?"
As the mother of three young children, Alison Pugh struggled
with the above questions. Lucky for us, she logged serious research
time. The result of her quest was Longing And Belonging: Parents,
Children, and Consumer Culture.
I think most of us who are parenting or have done so recently
have experienced 'anxiety and concern'. Why does my child covet that
video game, brand of sneakers, doll...with such intensity? Why are my
fellow parents caving, even when it would seem to go against their
values? Will it really hurt my child if I don't go along?
One of my most anxiety provoking parenting experiences started
when my younger daughter came home from Girl Scouts with a permission
slip. Her troop had won a mall sleep over opportunity. Stores would
be open exclusively for them with all kinds of perks. In an already
consumption obsessed society, why were they making shopping even more
glamerous and addictive? Girl Scouts? Weren't they supposed to be
all about camping and ethics and values?
I did not sign the slip. I knew at least two other moms who had
a healthy dislike of materialism. I counted on them joining me in
abstaining. When I was the only hold out, I approached them
individually and asked why they allowed their daughters to
participate. Both indicated a great deal of discomfort in their
resignation. Yeah, I hate this. But what can I do?
Then other parents approached me more aggressively. Obviously I
didn't love Katie. If I did, I wouldn't make her miss out. All her
friends would be talking about the experience and she'd be on the
outside. How could I?
I have described this experience in such detail because it
segues so neatly into Pugh's findings. Although ubiquitous
advertising manipulates children and very much leads to too much
buying, it isn't the whole story. Children covet key belongings and
experiences, not only due to the genius of Madison Avenue, but because
of what she calls economies of dignity.
"The dictionary defines dignity as 'the quality or state of
being worthy,' but we might reasonably ask, worthy of what? I suggest
that for children a vital answer is 'worthy of belonging.' I use
'dignity' to mean the most basic sense of children's particpation in
their social world, what the Nobel Prize-winning economist Amartya Sen
called an 'absolute capability...to take part in the life of the
community.' With dignity, children are visible to their peers, and
granted the aural space, the very right to speak in their own
community's conversation.'"
Of course the parents criticizing me couldn't have read the
book. Katie was in high school when it was published. But basically
they were accusing me of denying my daughter the right to be visible
to and heard by her peers.
Pugh spent years volunteering and observing chldren at a poor
school's after school care, an elite public school, and a private
school. She talked to their teachers and staff. She did extensive
interviews with parents from fifty-four families in their natural
environments. (At one point when she talks to a child and her mother
she and the daughter are painting their nails).
Pugh's narrative tells us how economies of dignity play out for
children in different economic groups, how children approach parents
to obtain the items they believe will lead to more securely belonging,
and how parents handle these requests. This includes the feelings and
thoughts behind their responses. Not surprisingly kids across the
spectrum coveted pretty much the same items, electronics holding a
very special status. Also not surprisingly, rich parents' mental
gymnastics were qualitatively different than those of poor parents for
whom even providing the necessities was a struggle. Surprisingly kids
across the spectrum experienced the same insecurities and
vulnerabilities.
One of the concepts in the book made me feel very angry because
Eugene and I brought our kids up on the "wrong side of the tracks" of
a relatively wealthy town. It was the concept of noblesse oblige. It
was exemplified by the mother who would routinely have her children
give some of their clothes and toys to the poor in a town in Central
America but kept them away from the local poor.
"...Like Dorothy, most of the affluent parents in this study
seemed to prefer that inequality serve as an abstract lesson in
charity and the responsibilities of the wealthy, rather than as a
concrete experience in empathy and what we owe each other as fellow
humans...."
This is a practice that perpetuates divisions rather than
ameleorating them. It also perpetuates the process of othering we see
across so many other spectrums (ie gender, race, religion) that allows
people to feel virtuous by helping those across the world while acting
crappy closer to home. I am sure the residents of my town who didn't
let their kids go to events as innocuous as a kindergarten birthday
party in my neighborhood wrote generous checks to organizations like
UNICEF and missions. I am by nature a very nonviolent person. But I
am going to share two instances when I had a sincere desire to deck
someone.
When my son was in I think first grade he visited a boy in his
class and came home with a haircut and new outfit. He seemed to like
them so I thanked the other mother. She and I went to see our sons
play rec sports. I was horrified to overhear her talking about how
she helped a poor little neglected child. Several parents looked my
way, not disguising a desire for drama. I did not act in a way that
would have confirmed every one of their class prejudices.
(Ironically, a couple of years later when my status was boosted by
being elected to school committee, I was a paradigm of parenting and
her chum).
When my older daughter was in third grade there was a well
attended school event. The mother of one of her friends loudly asked
her daughter why she wasn't doing as well (grade wise) as "that little
trailor park trash." My daughter whispered for me to not respond. I
couldn't help noticing that the other parents and even the teachers
said nothing to indicate that the mother had crossed a line. Maybe in
their minds she hadn't?
Anyway the book is really interesting and reader friendly. I'd
recommend it to parents, people who work with or plan to work with
children, and public policy creators.
At the end of the book Pugh speculates that adults may have
economies of dignity--required belongings and experiences that allow
one to be seen, heard, and accepted. Hell, yes! I used to belong to
a book club. Members all had kids in the same school. We updated
each other on our kids' news and chatted about school events, upcoming
holidays, weather, and the book. Then we had an influx of new
people. Suddenly to be heard and seen and belong you had to have
renovated your fancy house, gone to ritzy vaca destinations, belonged
to ski and country clubs, and acquired luxuries.
Wanna guess why I dropped out?
I just noticed that this review is lengthy compared to my usual
ones. Let's say it gave me lots of food for thought. Maybe it will
do the same for you.
On a personal note, Thursday I went to Lavender Graduation. It's a
lovely intimate graduation for LGBTQ students and allies that comes
before the official graduation. (Incidentally, I learned about the
grad program I will be starting in September at Lavender Graduation
2016). I had a number of people graduating but most especially
Russell who is one of my favorite people in the world. (I'm so lucky
he is staying around and not heading off somewhere far away like
Alaska). If you have a friend you can share any thoughts without
being afraid of judgement or work with in silence with the silence not
feeling awkward you have that kind of friend. I could tell Russell
was pleased that I was there. One of the most special ways we can be
real is mattering to the people who matter to us.
Then yesterday I went to the funeral of my husband's aunt, Arlene
Woodman. Her oldest daughter read a poem Arlene's husband had written
for her for a Valentines Day decades after the day she had caught his
eye by giving him a flower. That poem told people a lot more than the
preacher's whole sermon which seemed to be an infomercial about
getting right with Jesus to join her in heaven. During her time on
Earth, for better or worse and in sickness and health, Arlene Woodman
was adored by her beloved.
The take home message from the two events, which is one of the major
principals by which I live my life, is never pass up an opportunity to
tell or show the people you love how much they mean to you. Then you
won't be blindsided by regrets if they die or move to Alaska. I'm
sure my counselling center chums will agree with this.
A great big shout out goes out to all our UMaine students who are
graduating today and the grads of other fine institutions. You did
it! Congrats. Also to all the mothers who will be celebrating
Mothers Day tomorrow.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"What does buying mean to children and their parents? Why does
buying for children seem to generate so much anxiety and concern? If
consumer culture is the 'enemy' of good parenting, why do so many
parents invite the enemy into their homes?"
As the mother of three young children, Alison Pugh struggled
with the above questions. Lucky for us, she logged serious research
time. The result of her quest was Longing And Belonging: Parents,
Children, and Consumer Culture.
I think most of us who are parenting or have done so recently
have experienced 'anxiety and concern'. Why does my child covet that
video game, brand of sneakers, doll...with such intensity? Why are my
fellow parents caving, even when it would seem to go against their
values? Will it really hurt my child if I don't go along?
One of my most anxiety provoking parenting experiences started
when my younger daughter came home from Girl Scouts with a permission
slip. Her troop had won a mall sleep over opportunity. Stores would
be open exclusively for them with all kinds of perks. In an already
consumption obsessed society, why were they making shopping even more
glamerous and addictive? Girl Scouts? Weren't they supposed to be
all about camping and ethics and values?
I did not sign the slip. I knew at least two other moms who had
a healthy dislike of materialism. I counted on them joining me in
abstaining. When I was the only hold out, I approached them
individually and asked why they allowed their daughters to
participate. Both indicated a great deal of discomfort in their
resignation. Yeah, I hate this. But what can I do?
Then other parents approached me more aggressively. Obviously I
didn't love Katie. If I did, I wouldn't make her miss out. All her
friends would be talking about the experience and she'd be on the
outside. How could I?
I have described this experience in such detail because it
segues so neatly into Pugh's findings. Although ubiquitous
advertising manipulates children and very much leads to too much
buying, it isn't the whole story. Children covet key belongings and
experiences, not only due to the genius of Madison Avenue, but because
of what she calls economies of dignity.
"The dictionary defines dignity as 'the quality or state of
being worthy,' but we might reasonably ask, worthy of what? I suggest
that for children a vital answer is 'worthy of belonging.' I use
'dignity' to mean the most basic sense of children's particpation in
their social world, what the Nobel Prize-winning economist Amartya Sen
called an 'absolute capability...to take part in the life of the
community.' With dignity, children are visible to their peers, and
granted the aural space, the very right to speak in their own
community's conversation.'"
Of course the parents criticizing me couldn't have read the
book. Katie was in high school when it was published. But basically
they were accusing me of denying my daughter the right to be visible
to and heard by her peers.
Pugh spent years volunteering and observing chldren at a poor
school's after school care, an elite public school, and a private
school. She talked to their teachers and staff. She did extensive
interviews with parents from fifty-four families in their natural
environments. (At one point when she talks to a child and her mother
she and the daughter are painting their nails).
Pugh's narrative tells us how economies of dignity play out for
children in different economic groups, how children approach parents
to obtain the items they believe will lead to more securely belonging,
and how parents handle these requests. This includes the feelings and
thoughts behind their responses. Not surprisingly kids across the
spectrum coveted pretty much the same items, electronics holding a
very special status. Also not surprisingly, rich parents' mental
gymnastics were qualitatively different than those of poor parents for
whom even providing the necessities was a struggle. Surprisingly kids
across the spectrum experienced the same insecurities and
vulnerabilities.
One of the concepts in the book made me feel very angry because
Eugene and I brought our kids up on the "wrong side of the tracks" of
a relatively wealthy town. It was the concept of noblesse oblige. It
was exemplified by the mother who would routinely have her children
give some of their clothes and toys to the poor in a town in Central
America but kept them away from the local poor.
"...Like Dorothy, most of the affluent parents in this study
seemed to prefer that inequality serve as an abstract lesson in
charity and the responsibilities of the wealthy, rather than as a
concrete experience in empathy and what we owe each other as fellow
humans...."
This is a practice that perpetuates divisions rather than
ameleorating them. It also perpetuates the process of othering we see
across so many other spectrums (ie gender, race, religion) that allows
people to feel virtuous by helping those across the world while acting
crappy closer to home. I am sure the residents of my town who didn't
let their kids go to events as innocuous as a kindergarten birthday
party in my neighborhood wrote generous checks to organizations like
UNICEF and missions. I am by nature a very nonviolent person. But I
am going to share two instances when I had a sincere desire to deck
someone.
When my son was in I think first grade he visited a boy in his
class and came home with a haircut and new outfit. He seemed to like
them so I thanked the other mother. She and I went to see our sons
play rec sports. I was horrified to overhear her talking about how
she helped a poor little neglected child. Several parents looked my
way, not disguising a desire for drama. I did not act in a way that
would have confirmed every one of their class prejudices.
(Ironically, a couple of years later when my status was boosted by
being elected to school committee, I was a paradigm of parenting and
her chum).
When my older daughter was in third grade there was a well
attended school event. The mother of one of her friends loudly asked
her daughter why she wasn't doing as well (grade wise) as "that little
trailor park trash." My daughter whispered for me to not respond. I
couldn't help noticing that the other parents and even the teachers
said nothing to indicate that the mother had crossed a line. Maybe in
their minds she hadn't?
Anyway the book is really interesting and reader friendly. I'd
recommend it to parents, people who work with or plan to work with
children, and public policy creators.
At the end of the book Pugh speculates that adults may have
economies of dignity--required belongings and experiences that allow
one to be seen, heard, and accepted. Hell, yes! I used to belong to
a book club. Members all had kids in the same school. We updated
each other on our kids' news and chatted about school events, upcoming
holidays, weather, and the book. Then we had an influx of new
people. Suddenly to be heard and seen and belong you had to have
renovated your fancy house, gone to ritzy vaca destinations, belonged
to ski and country clubs, and acquired luxuries.
Wanna guess why I dropped out?
I just noticed that this review is lengthy compared to my usual
ones. Let's say it gave me lots of food for thought. Maybe it will
do the same for you.
On a personal note, Thursday I went to Lavender Graduation. It's a
lovely intimate graduation for LGBTQ students and allies that comes
before the official graduation. (Incidentally, I learned about the
grad program I will be starting in September at Lavender Graduation
2016). I had a number of people graduating but most especially
Russell who is one of my favorite people in the world. (I'm so lucky
he is staying around and not heading off somewhere far away like
Alaska). If you have a friend you can share any thoughts without
being afraid of judgement or work with in silence with the silence not
feeling awkward you have that kind of friend. I could tell Russell
was pleased that I was there. One of the most special ways we can be
real is mattering to the people who matter to us.
Then yesterday I went to the funeral of my husband's aunt, Arlene
Woodman. Her oldest daughter read a poem Arlene's husband had written
for her for a Valentines Day decades after the day she had caught his
eye by giving him a flower. That poem told people a lot more than the
preacher's whole sermon which seemed to be an infomercial about
getting right with Jesus to join her in heaven. During her time on
Earth, for better or worse and in sickness and health, Arlene Woodman
was adored by her beloved.
The take home message from the two events, which is one of the major
principals by which I live my life, is never pass up an opportunity to
tell or show the people you love how much they mean to you. Then you
won't be blindsided by regrets if they die or move to Alaska. I'm
sure my counselling center chums will agree with this.
A great big shout out goes out to all our UMaine students who are
graduating today and the grads of other fine institutions. You did
it! Congrats. Also to all the mothers who will be celebrating
Mothers Day tomorrow.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Thursday, May 10, 2018
We ARE Americans
We ARE Americans
Adult nonfiction
"Where I live, most of the kids give up. They give up on their
education. I don't think that it is something that is possible for
me. I want to think positive. I really want to continue with what I
am doing in school."
Frequent moves including one to the United States and parental
temporary separation made Penelope's (quoted above) life challenging.
She was able to go from English-language development to AP and get
very good grades. She's received many awards for extracurricular
involvement and academic excellence, balancing her involvements with
housework and child care responsibilities at home. Going to college
would involve surmounting immense obstacles. Like 15 other young
people William Perez interviewed for We Are Americans she was an
illegal alien.
Perez profiled four high school students, four community college
students, four university students, and four college graduates--all
undocumented. They crossed the border as children with their
families. Few have memories of former countries. In almost every way
possible they are indistinguishable from their native born peers...
...but at every step they were tripped up in their quest for
higher education despite the fact that they were stellar students with
outstanding grades and serious extracurricular and volunteer
participation. Even with English being a second language and
prejudice being a serious barrier to getting out of basic classes,
they were overrepresented in AP and honors classes. Some also worked
or had home responsibilities. If they had been born in the USA
universities would have offered them sweetheart deals.
Because this was not the case some universities flat out turned
them down. Most financial aid was out of their reach. Lack of social
security numbers kept them from getting decent jobs, limiting them to
low pay gigs, often under the table. Inability to obtain drivers'
licenses doomed them to outrageously lengthy bus commutes. Even after
university graduation (and in some cases grad school) professions they
were qualified for remained out of reach. And deportation remained a
constant threat.
The four last profiles serve as a contrast. They are of peers
who were able to become citizens and live up to their potentials.
We ARE Americans was published in 2009. Sadly, as the fate of
dreamers has become a political hot potato, it remains only too
relevant today. We need to give immigrants and refugees the papers
they require to fulfill their potentials, not only because it's the
right thing to do, but because we need their abilities and
determination in order for our nation to fulfill its potential.
By happy coincidence, I read a piece in the Bangor Daily News
that was quite relevant. Some of the students profiled in the book
had had to fight to get into AP and honors classes because of low
expectations on the part of high school faculty and administration.
The story was about a Portland school getting more minority students
into AP classes by preventing enrollment solely by tracking, making
the classes more interesting and relevant, and adding support for
students. It also helps that they have a strongly engaged Somali
refugee vice principal.
He's a prime example of how much we need refugee/immigrant
drive and talent.
On a personal note, Tuesday I was able to stuff a lovely green eyed
moose and dress it in a UMaine shirt, enjoy an ice cream sundae, and
pat some adorable goats at UMaine. The goats rated a story in the
Bangor Daily News. I also attended a presentation on opiode
overdoses: dealing with and preventing.
Today I'm going to Lavender Graduation. (A couple of years ago at
Lavender Graduation I learned about the program I'm going into. In
two years I've become so much more confident, capable, and poised. If
all goes well in three to six years I'll be participating in my own
Lavender Graduation.)
Tuesday and Wednesday nights I learned that blueberry hard cider makes
an excellent base for an ice cream soda. Don't try that at home
unless you're 21 or older.
I'm very much enjoying my dafodills.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"Where I live, most of the kids give up. They give up on their
education. I don't think that it is something that is possible for
me. I want to think positive. I really want to continue with what I
am doing in school."
Frequent moves including one to the United States and parental
temporary separation made Penelope's (quoted above) life challenging.
She was able to go from English-language development to AP and get
very good grades. She's received many awards for extracurricular
involvement and academic excellence, balancing her involvements with
housework and child care responsibilities at home. Going to college
would involve surmounting immense obstacles. Like 15 other young
people William Perez interviewed for We Are Americans she was an
illegal alien.
Perez profiled four high school students, four community college
students, four university students, and four college graduates--all
undocumented. They crossed the border as children with their
families. Few have memories of former countries. In almost every way
possible they are indistinguishable from their native born peers...
...but at every step they were tripped up in their quest for
higher education despite the fact that they were stellar students with
outstanding grades and serious extracurricular and volunteer
participation. Even with English being a second language and
prejudice being a serious barrier to getting out of basic classes,
they were overrepresented in AP and honors classes. Some also worked
or had home responsibilities. If they had been born in the USA
universities would have offered them sweetheart deals.
Because this was not the case some universities flat out turned
them down. Most financial aid was out of their reach. Lack of social
security numbers kept them from getting decent jobs, limiting them to
low pay gigs, often under the table. Inability to obtain drivers'
licenses doomed them to outrageously lengthy bus commutes. Even after
university graduation (and in some cases grad school) professions they
were qualified for remained out of reach. And deportation remained a
constant threat.
The four last profiles serve as a contrast. They are of peers
who were able to become citizens and live up to their potentials.
We ARE Americans was published in 2009. Sadly, as the fate of
dreamers has become a political hot potato, it remains only too
relevant today. We need to give immigrants and refugees the papers
they require to fulfill their potentials, not only because it's the
right thing to do, but because we need their abilities and
determination in order for our nation to fulfill its potential.
By happy coincidence, I read a piece in the Bangor Daily News
that was quite relevant. Some of the students profiled in the book
had had to fight to get into AP and honors classes because of low
expectations on the part of high school faculty and administration.
The story was about a Portland school getting more minority students
into AP classes by preventing enrollment solely by tracking, making
the classes more interesting and relevant, and adding support for
students. It also helps that they have a strongly engaged Somali
refugee vice principal.
He's a prime example of how much we need refugee/immigrant
drive and talent.
On a personal note, Tuesday I was able to stuff a lovely green eyed
moose and dress it in a UMaine shirt, enjoy an ice cream sundae, and
pat some adorable goats at UMaine. The goats rated a story in the
Bangor Daily News. I also attended a presentation on opiode
overdoses: dealing with and preventing.
Today I'm going to Lavender Graduation. (A couple of years ago at
Lavender Graduation I learned about the program I'm going into. In
two years I've become so much more confident, capable, and poised. If
all goes well in three to six years I'll be participating in my own
Lavender Graduation.)
Tuesday and Wednesday nights I learned that blueberry hard cider makes
an excellent base for an ice cream soda. Don't try that at home
unless you're 21 or older.
I'm very much enjoying my dafodills.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Tuesday, May 8, 2018
Ron's Big Mission
Ron's Big Mission
Picture book
Astronaut Ron McNair, who died in 1986 when the space shuttle
Challenger exploded, was a boy in 1959 when he decided to take a
stand. He selected some books at the library and took them to the
check out desk...
...should be simple, right. If you're like me you've done that
about a gazillion times. But in that library blacks weren't allowed
to. They could read them in the library or have a white friend borrow
for them.
This is no longer enough for Ron. He remains adament even when
the police are called in...
...and you'll never guess what happens.
Children and adults alike will find this book inspiring. We all
need to be taking stands and not putting up with injustice.
On a personal note, here in Penobscot County, Maine we're enjoying our
long awaited spring. My dafodills are regal yellow flags. UMaine
looks like Mother Nature dressed her up for graduation.
Yesterday Mind Spa and CASE put on a final exam stress buster. I
didn't think I'd see anything new til Joe showed me the scratch
boards. They're black on top with rainbow colors underneath. You
draw with a skinny wooden stick. I was over the moon, drawing for
hours, totally in the zone. I illustrated three of my favorite
sayings: "Be bold! Be beautiful! Be Brave! Be brilliant! Be Your
Best! You are enough!" "He liveth best who loveth best all creatures
great and small. For the same God who made us made and liveth
all" (from Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner) "Aim for the moon. If you
miss you'll land among the stars.". They'll look great in my studio.
For the first time in well over a decade I may go further than New
Hampshire. I pursuaded my friends Russell and Big Ben we and Big Ben's
fiancée should make a road trip to Boston this summer. What a road
trip that will be!
But I better get going. Gotta be on campus in time to stuff a bear or
moose! In other words a couple of hours before the event.
A great big shout out goes out to all the folks doing much needed
stress buster events during finals week.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Picture book
Astronaut Ron McNair, who died in 1986 when the space shuttle
Challenger exploded, was a boy in 1959 when he decided to take a
stand. He selected some books at the library and took them to the
check out desk...
...should be simple, right. If you're like me you've done that
about a gazillion times. But in that library blacks weren't allowed
to. They could read them in the library or have a white friend borrow
for them.
This is no longer enough for Ron. He remains adament even when
the police are called in...
...and you'll never guess what happens.
Children and adults alike will find this book inspiring. We all
need to be taking stands and not putting up with injustice.
On a personal note, here in Penobscot County, Maine we're enjoying our
long awaited spring. My dafodills are regal yellow flags. UMaine
looks like Mother Nature dressed her up for graduation.
Yesterday Mind Spa and CASE put on a final exam stress buster. I
didn't think I'd see anything new til Joe showed me the scratch
boards. They're black on top with rainbow colors underneath. You
draw with a skinny wooden stick. I was over the moon, drawing for
hours, totally in the zone. I illustrated three of my favorite
sayings: "Be bold! Be beautiful! Be Brave! Be brilliant! Be Your
Best! You are enough!" "He liveth best who loveth best all creatures
great and small. For the same God who made us made and liveth
all" (from Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner) "Aim for the moon. If you
miss you'll land among the stars.". They'll look great in my studio.
For the first time in well over a decade I may go further than New
Hampshire. I pursuaded my friends Russell and Big Ben we and Big Ben's
fiancée should make a road trip to Boston this summer. What a road
trip that will be!
But I better get going. Gotta be on campus in time to stuff a bear or
moose! In other words a couple of hours before the event.
A great big shout out goes out to all the folks doing much needed
stress buster events during finals week.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Sunday, May 6, 2018
They All Saw A Cat
They All Saw A Cat
Picture book
"The cat walked through the world,
With its whiskers, ears, and paws..."
Brendan Wenzel's They All Saw A Cat gives a perfect introduction
to perspectives. A cat is viewed by a number of beings.
*The dog sees something to chase.
*The fox sees fast food.
*The fish and mouse see a scary predator...
Perhaps after reading/hearing the book a child or parent child
combo can pick another being to speculate similarly on. More
sophisticated kids might be able to view social events through this
lens.
On a purrrrsonal note, my dafodills are lovely. UMaine is at its
lovliest with flowers, planted and otherwise, all over. Even
unbeheaded dandelions. (Dandelion means lion's tooth in French.).
Gotta love that!
Yesterday I went to a day long presentation on social work and
environmental justice. It was fascinating. Although it wasn't my
field I had a good deal to offer when presenters asked for audience
input. I also politely called three speakers out on using the E word
(elderly) by explaining how ageist it is. (Readers: please delete
that word from your vocabs. Older people doesn't have the beyond
one's expiration date implication.) I realized how competent, poised,
and professional I feel. I'm all ready for grad school.
Ice cream was a big part of the day. I had a pint of rum raisin for
lunch which I ate outside with a friend in a near so many flowers.
Heavenly. At night I tried my friend, Russell's, suggestion of a dark
beer float (beer with ice cream). It was delish.
As I write this Joey cat is behind me purring. His whiskers tickle my
neck.
A great big shout out goes out to all who participated in the event
yesterday and my sweet, precious Joey cat.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Picture book
"The cat walked through the world,
With its whiskers, ears, and paws..."
Brendan Wenzel's They All Saw A Cat gives a perfect introduction
to perspectives. A cat is viewed by a number of beings.
*The dog sees something to chase.
*The fox sees fast food.
*The fish and mouse see a scary predator...
Perhaps after reading/hearing the book a child or parent child
combo can pick another being to speculate similarly on. More
sophisticated kids might be able to view social events through this
lens.
On a purrrrsonal note, my dafodills are lovely. UMaine is at its
lovliest with flowers, planted and otherwise, all over. Even
unbeheaded dandelions. (Dandelion means lion's tooth in French.).
Gotta love that!
Yesterday I went to a day long presentation on social work and
environmental justice. It was fascinating. Although it wasn't my
field I had a good deal to offer when presenters asked for audience
input. I also politely called three speakers out on using the E word
(elderly) by explaining how ageist it is. (Readers: please delete
that word from your vocabs. Older people doesn't have the beyond
one's expiration date implication.) I realized how competent, poised,
and professional I feel. I'm all ready for grad school.
Ice cream was a big part of the day. I had a pint of rum raisin for
lunch which I ate outside with a friend in a near so many flowers.
Heavenly. At night I tried my friend, Russell's, suggestion of a dark
beer float (beer with ice cream). It was delish.
As I write this Joey cat is behind me purring. His whiskers tickle my
neck.
A great big shout out goes out to all who participated in the event
yesterday and my sweet, precious Joey cat.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Friday, May 4, 2018
Sex Object
Sex Object
Adult nonfiction
"Because while my daughter lives in a world that knows that what
happens to women is wrong, it has also accepted this wrongness as
inevitable. When a rich man in Delaware was given probation for
raping his three-year-old daughter, there was outrage. But it was the
lack of punishment that seemed to offend, not the seemingly immovable
fact that some men rape three-year-olds. Prison time we can measure
and control; that some men do horrible things to little girls,
however, is presented as a given."
The first male that I remember making unwanted sexual advances
on me beyond the bra snapping, random groping, and name calling of my
booger brained boy peers was a physical education teacher. I was a
freshman in high school. My junior year a senior who had stayed back
a couple of years tried to go all the way with me on a Greyhound bus
and behind the girls' dorm. I lost my virginity by rape. I wish I
could say that was the last time someone tried...it was the last time
someone succeeded. There were times I wondered fleetingly if I was a
pervert magnet.
After reading Jessica Valenti's Sex Object I know the answer is
a resounding no. I was a girl; I am a woman. I live in a rape
culture where a college athlete can get only three months in prison
for raping an unconscious woman because a judge thinks serious time
might endanger his bright future and his father can brush it off as
twenty minutes of action.
"Being a sex object is not special. This particular experience
of sexism--the way women are treated like objects, the way we
sometimes make ourselves into objects, and how the daily sloughing
away of our humanity impacts not just our lives and experiences but
our very sense of self--is not an unusual one. The object status is
what ties me to so many others..."
Valenti's mother and grandmother were molested by men who were
not strangers. Her grandmother was raped by her uncle. Riding the
subway she encountered legions of exhibitionists, gropers, and dry
humpers. Her high school teacher tried to "date" her...
From unwanted touching to cyberbullying Valenti describes the
experiences all too many girls and women have had to endure. Sex
Object is disturbingly enlightening. I think it's a must read for
adults...
...especially mothers of daughters.
On a personal note, Maine Day was awesome. I was with the crew raking
and planting at my beloved Wilson Center. All over campus and into
town students eradicated the last traces of winter and did other much
needed maintenance. We all met up in the steam plant parking lot for
barbeque and music. Mmm mmm good! Maine Day is a wonderful
tradition. It gets work done. It's a break from the books. And it
builds UMaine loyalty and sense of belonging.
I've been giving out the white carnations leftover from the Out Of The
Darkness walk around campus to people experiencing stress and sadness
and people in behind the scenes jobs. It makes them happy. And Mind
Spa peeps encourage me to keep it up. I'm enjoying my own bunch of
carnations at home. They are delicately tinged with pink thanks to
red food coloring in water.
My beautiful dafodills (which I just learned repel ticks) are in
flower. Now it's time to bring out my wind chimes and turn Katie's
tree into the Veazie Symphony Orchastra.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"Because while my daughter lives in a world that knows that what
happens to women is wrong, it has also accepted this wrongness as
inevitable. When a rich man in Delaware was given probation for
raping his three-year-old daughter, there was outrage. But it was the
lack of punishment that seemed to offend, not the seemingly immovable
fact that some men rape three-year-olds. Prison time we can measure
and control; that some men do horrible things to little girls,
however, is presented as a given."
The first male that I remember making unwanted sexual advances
on me beyond the bra snapping, random groping, and name calling of my
booger brained boy peers was a physical education teacher. I was a
freshman in high school. My junior year a senior who had stayed back
a couple of years tried to go all the way with me on a Greyhound bus
and behind the girls' dorm. I lost my virginity by rape. I wish I
could say that was the last time someone tried...it was the last time
someone succeeded. There were times I wondered fleetingly if I was a
pervert magnet.
After reading Jessica Valenti's Sex Object I know the answer is
a resounding no. I was a girl; I am a woman. I live in a rape
culture where a college athlete can get only three months in prison
for raping an unconscious woman because a judge thinks serious time
might endanger his bright future and his father can brush it off as
twenty minutes of action.
"Being a sex object is not special. This particular experience
of sexism--the way women are treated like objects, the way we
sometimes make ourselves into objects, and how the daily sloughing
away of our humanity impacts not just our lives and experiences but
our very sense of self--is not an unusual one. The object status is
what ties me to so many others..."
Valenti's mother and grandmother were molested by men who were
not strangers. Her grandmother was raped by her uncle. Riding the
subway she encountered legions of exhibitionists, gropers, and dry
humpers. Her high school teacher tried to "date" her...
From unwanted touching to cyberbullying Valenti describes the
experiences all too many girls and women have had to endure. Sex
Object is disturbingly enlightening. I think it's a must read for
adults...
...especially mothers of daughters.
On a personal note, Maine Day was awesome. I was with the crew raking
and planting at my beloved Wilson Center. All over campus and into
town students eradicated the last traces of winter and did other much
needed maintenance. We all met up in the steam plant parking lot for
barbeque and music. Mmm mmm good! Maine Day is a wonderful
tradition. It gets work done. It's a break from the books. And it
builds UMaine loyalty and sense of belonging.
I've been giving out the white carnations leftover from the Out Of The
Darkness walk around campus to people experiencing stress and sadness
and people in behind the scenes jobs. It makes them happy. And Mind
Spa peeps encourage me to keep it up. I'm enjoying my own bunch of
carnations at home. They are delicately tinged with pink thanks to
red food coloring in water.
My beautiful dafodills (which I just learned repel ticks) are in
flower. Now it's time to bring out my wind chimes and turn Katie's
tree into the Veazie Symphony Orchastra.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Wednesday, May 2, 2018
Hand To Mouth
Hand To Mouth
Adult nonfiction
"That's $628 per month, or $314 per paycheck for everything
else--food, clothes, car payments, gas. If you're lucky, you get all
that money to live on. But who's lucky all of the time, or even most
of the time? Maybe you get sick and lose your job. Even if you land
a new job, that measly $314 is all you've got to last you until your
paychecks at the new place start up. Or what if, God forbid, the car
breaks down or you break a bone?"
Much of America believes too much in the Horatio Alger story.
Any little boy (these days--or girl) can become president or CEO or
athlete or at least hold down a white color job if he/she/they
perseveres. Those poor people have only themselves to blame. If they
worked/saved/didn't smoke... Sadly some of the true believers are in
gubmint. There's an orgy of "tough love" going on--cutting benefit
elegibility so slackers will get off their tushes and get a job. (I
would seriously love to see Governor LePage try to pay for food,
clothes, electricity, gas...everything but housing on $628 a month.)
In Hand to Mouth: Living in Bootstrap America, Linda Tirado
shows how those beliefs are just so much sanctimonious crap. She's
lived the nightmare. She shares it with us in a no-holds-barred
narrative that should be required reading for all politicians and
health and human services workers.
Minimum wage full time jobs don't pay enough. Only, in order to
avoid giving benefits, employers are increasingly turning to part
timers. To further cut expenditures they base hours on how busy the
place is, post schedules mere days in advance, call in or send home at
the last minute, and require workers who may get 30 or 10 hours a week
to not get a second job.
When my daughter worked retail in college one Labor Day she
called the night before to say she couldn't make a family gathering.
She'd been called in to work. Then she showed up saying when she'd
been there an hour management decided the place wasn't as busy as they
anticipated and sent her home. What if she'd had young children
requiring a babysitter?
White collar jobs are not in the picture for many of the poor.
They often lack higher education and connections. With dentistry
being so darn expensive, tooth loss can stand in the way of any job
dealing with the public. Even the kind of clothes they would need are
out of the price range of people always in danger of eviction or
vehicle breakdown.
The kinds of miseries the poor endure on a regular basis are
spelled out in vivid detail.
"Roaches are nearly impossible to kill without repeated
professional extermination treatments, and those aren't free. They
live in walls and under woodwork; if there is a single crack in your
apartment they can come in at will..."
Sadly even working diligently, parents are increasingly unable
to help their beloved children achieve a better life as past
generations did. To me the saddest passage in the book is when Tirado
says,
"...I'm not preparing our kids for a gentle world, full of
interesting and stimulating experiences. I'm getting them ready to
keep their damn mouths shut while some idiot tells them what to do.
I'm preparing them to keep a sense of self when they can't define
themselves by their work because the likliest scenario is that (unlike
doctors and lawyers and bankers) they will not want to. I'm getting
them ready to scrap and hustle and pursue happiness despite the
struggle."
Is this what you want for yourself, you family, or your
country? Read the book and find out.
On a personal note, I woke up to a glorious day with temps expected to
hit 80. Just what we need for Maine Day, the Day UMaine students do
services projects on campus and in the community. I'm going to be
gardening up to Wilson Center. The reward is a humungous cook out in
the steam plant parking lot with music and other amusements.
We also had great weather Monday for the carnival put on by Active
Minds. We had games, popcorn, snow cones, the ice cream truck, free
Polaroid pictures, and five tables. I did the healthy memes table
which was quite popular. A lot of students really enjoyed our little
low budget, high excitement carnival. The only glitch was gusts of
wind that sometimes turned memes into kites. Fortunately people
enjoyed chasing them. It was the kind of event that made people feel
happy to be alive.
Monday night I tried an experiment with my carnations from Out of the
Darkness. I put a few drops of food coloring in the water. Tuesday
when I got up they were edged with delicate pink.
A great big shout out goes out to all who participated in the carnival
and will turn out for Maine Day.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"That's $628 per month, or $314 per paycheck for everything
else--food, clothes, car payments, gas. If you're lucky, you get all
that money to live on. But who's lucky all of the time, or even most
of the time? Maybe you get sick and lose your job. Even if you land
a new job, that measly $314 is all you've got to last you until your
paychecks at the new place start up. Or what if, God forbid, the car
breaks down or you break a bone?"
Much of America believes too much in the Horatio Alger story.
Any little boy (these days--or girl) can become president or CEO or
athlete or at least hold down a white color job if he/she/they
perseveres. Those poor people have only themselves to blame. If they
worked/saved/didn't smoke... Sadly some of the true believers are in
gubmint. There's an orgy of "tough love" going on--cutting benefit
elegibility so slackers will get off their tushes and get a job. (I
would seriously love to see Governor LePage try to pay for food,
clothes, electricity, gas...everything but housing on $628 a month.)
In Hand to Mouth: Living in Bootstrap America, Linda Tirado
shows how those beliefs are just so much sanctimonious crap. She's
lived the nightmare. She shares it with us in a no-holds-barred
narrative that should be required reading for all politicians and
health and human services workers.
Minimum wage full time jobs don't pay enough. Only, in order to
avoid giving benefits, employers are increasingly turning to part
timers. To further cut expenditures they base hours on how busy the
place is, post schedules mere days in advance, call in or send home at
the last minute, and require workers who may get 30 or 10 hours a week
to not get a second job.
When my daughter worked retail in college one Labor Day she
called the night before to say she couldn't make a family gathering.
She'd been called in to work. Then she showed up saying when she'd
been there an hour management decided the place wasn't as busy as they
anticipated and sent her home. What if she'd had young children
requiring a babysitter?
White collar jobs are not in the picture for many of the poor.
They often lack higher education and connections. With dentistry
being so darn expensive, tooth loss can stand in the way of any job
dealing with the public. Even the kind of clothes they would need are
out of the price range of people always in danger of eviction or
vehicle breakdown.
The kinds of miseries the poor endure on a regular basis are
spelled out in vivid detail.
"Roaches are nearly impossible to kill without repeated
professional extermination treatments, and those aren't free. They
live in walls and under woodwork; if there is a single crack in your
apartment they can come in at will..."
Sadly even working diligently, parents are increasingly unable
to help their beloved children achieve a better life as past
generations did. To me the saddest passage in the book is when Tirado
says,
"...I'm not preparing our kids for a gentle world, full of
interesting and stimulating experiences. I'm getting them ready to
keep their damn mouths shut while some idiot tells them what to do.
I'm preparing them to keep a sense of self when they can't define
themselves by their work because the likliest scenario is that (unlike
doctors and lawyers and bankers) they will not want to. I'm getting
them ready to scrap and hustle and pursue happiness despite the
struggle."
Is this what you want for yourself, you family, or your
country? Read the book and find out.
On a personal note, I woke up to a glorious day with temps expected to
hit 80. Just what we need for Maine Day, the Day UMaine students do
services projects on campus and in the community. I'm going to be
gardening up to Wilson Center. The reward is a humungous cook out in
the steam plant parking lot with music and other amusements.
We also had great weather Monday for the carnival put on by Active
Minds. We had games, popcorn, snow cones, the ice cream truck, free
Polaroid pictures, and five tables. I did the healthy memes table
which was quite popular. A lot of students really enjoyed our little
low budget, high excitement carnival. The only glitch was gusts of
wind that sometimes turned memes into kites. Fortunately people
enjoyed chasing them. It was the kind of event that made people feel
happy to be alive.
Monday night I tried an experiment with my carnations from Out of the
Darkness. I put a few drops of food coloring in the water. Tuesday
when I got up they were edged with delicate pink.
A great big shout out goes out to all who participated in the carnival
and will turn out for Maine Day.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
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