Very, Very, Very Dreadful
YA/adult nonfiction
"As in Daniel Defoe's England, Philadelphia had so called death
wagons. A survivor recalled, 'An open truck came through the
neighborhoods and picked up the bodies.' Families took this hard, very
hard. 'It was just too much to bear, having to put your loved one on
the street for a truck to haul them away,' said Harriet Ferrell. In
normal times, residents put their trash barrels on the curb for
sanitation workers to pick up."
People dying in such numbers corpses were collected in trucks
like trash? 1918 was anything but normal times. Overseas doughboys
(soldiers) were fighting a war that was hoped to be the last, a
conflict that was more ghastly than any previous one due to the use of
new weapons like mustard gas. And as if that wasn't bad enough,
around the world, civilians and combatants alike were preyed upon by
a virus unlike any ever before seen, a flu that claimed healthy young
adults as well as babies and older people. You'll learn about the two
events and their intimate linkage in Albert Marrin's Very, Very, Very
Dreadful.
Marrin is a master of YA nonfiction. He paints the scenes of
battlefields, beseiged cities, and overwhelmed hospitals vividly--
sometimes too vividly. He gives the back story, showing that, despite
amazing medical advances in preceding decades, doctors had no clue
what a virus was and were helpless in the face of the pandemic. He
narrates the fascinating modern day quest to unravel the DNA of the
1918 flu strain so we can spot red flags in modern mutations.
Flu is nothing to sneeze at. Even in much more routine years
than 1918 it's a big time killer. The virus is a master of mutation,
so you need a shot every year. Even if you are as strong and healthy
as UMaine Black Bear athletes, you may have more vulnerable family
members or friends. When autumn rolls around get that important
shot. Then reward yourself with ice cream. I've found that when I
take this precaution I never have an adverse reaction. ;-)
On a purrrsonal note, before I'd even changed out of my pajamas my one
obligation for today cancelled. So I declared it a Joey day. I
stayed to home writing, cleaning, and cat cuddling. It was finally
warm enough for me to open a window and put a screen in. Didn't that
fresh air perk Joey up! I suspect it will boost his appetite too. He
is having a good day, which fills my heart with joy.
A great big shout out goes out to the best little cat in the world.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Friday, May 31, 2019
An Uninterrupted View Of The Sky
An Uninterrupted View Of The Sky
YA fact based fiction
"Entire families live in the prison. The mother usually goes
out during the day to the Cancha [market], where she sells handcrafts
or the furniture made by prisoners. The father usually works in the
wood shop, or in one of the prison jobs: delivering messages from the
outside or running one of the little stores in the courtyard. Some
serve as delegates on the council that runs the place from the inside
and reports to the guards on the outside. They take care of
everything from discipline when a prisoner has earned it to collecting
rent for the cells to keeping track of the kids who live here."
Every time I think I've learned all the evils in the world to be
irate about I'm in for a rude awakening. My most recent one was
provided by Melanie Crowder's An Uninterrupted View Of The Sky. The
setting of this fascinating and thought provoking coming-of-age story
could be another ring for a poste Dante Hades.
Francisco lives to play soccer. Due to graduate from secondary
school in six weeks, he and his best friend, Reynaldo, have plans to
go into business together with a stall at the Cancha.
"I know the streets of this neighborhood. I know where I
belong. I'll set up shop with Reynaldo, and I'll play futbol [soccer]
every day and nobody will ever expect anything more from me."
Then Francisco's world falls apart. One day he comes home to
find out that his father has been arrested and jailed, accused of
breaking the 1008, a drug law. The taxi he drives has been
impounded. His family can't afford a lawyer, court fees, or bribes.
His mother has never heard of anyone arrested under that law ever
leaving prison.
Then Francisco's life gets even worse. He, his mother, and his
little sister, Pilar, who is only eight, visit his father. The prison
is nothing like ones you see on television. Prisoners who can't
afford to pay for a cell (a small room with a matress and a lock on
the door) sleep on the floor of the courtyard. As for bathroom
facilities...
"And that's when I notice the floor. The drain in the middle of
the concrete can't keep up with the water and...other stuff flowing
out of the toilet. I pick up my feet--the soles of my shoes are slick
with it..."
Somehow during the day Francisco's mother slips away. She is
gone when the gate to the outside world is locked for the night. The
next day when he sets out to find her he discovers that she has
abandoned her family.
Francisco and Pilar must live with their father. They become
part of a pack of kids commuting to school each day. The prison is a
very unsafe place for a little girl. Francisco will have to leave
when he turns 18. He's never been much of a student, seeing his
father's plans for him to finish secondary school and attend
university as irrelevant...
...But what if it is the way he can rescue his one remaining
parent?
During her college years Crowder spent a summer volunteering in
Bolivia. She worked in an organization that gave children living in
prisons a safe (off the street) place to spend their afternoons and
activities, food, and medical care. She saw how the United States
pressure to pass and enforce 1008 led to much human tragedy.
"When I left Bolivia and returned to college and my privileged
North American life, the human cost of this country's war on drugs
weighed heavily on me. The brief time during which I joined those
pitting themselves against that particular tangle of crippling
poverty, aggressive foreign policy, and persistant injustice stuck
with me.
I'm a writer. When confronted with what seems like an immovable
obstacle, the only way I know to move forward is through story."
She certainly opened up my eyes. Please give her the
opportunity to enlighten you.
On a personal note, after we'd cleared out the Alfond Arena and
dropped off items for different organizations, there was one more
thing to do in regard to Clean Sweep: get the Black Bear Exchange
back in order. Wednesday we checked all the expiration dates on
donated foods and put the good stuff in all the right places. Except
the candy. Georgia and the guys put all the candy in a box and gave
it to me. Very sweet of them. Even a whole box of fun dip packages.
With our nonperishable stock, the fresh food from dining services, and
the money we earned our campus food pantry is in good shape. Then
Thursday we organized and hung the clothes. With some carpentry on
the part of the guys and organizational strategies on Georgia's part
the place is looking better than ever!!!
Lisa told us the total for Clean Sweep. Last year we'd raised a
little over $6,000. This year we took in $9,038!!! Yay Team!!!
A great big shout goes out to the amazing team and our inspiring
leader, Lisa Morin.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
YA fact based fiction
"Entire families live in the prison. The mother usually goes
out during the day to the Cancha [market], where she sells handcrafts
or the furniture made by prisoners. The father usually works in the
wood shop, or in one of the prison jobs: delivering messages from the
outside or running one of the little stores in the courtyard. Some
serve as delegates on the council that runs the place from the inside
and reports to the guards on the outside. They take care of
everything from discipline when a prisoner has earned it to collecting
rent for the cells to keeping track of the kids who live here."
Every time I think I've learned all the evils in the world to be
irate about I'm in for a rude awakening. My most recent one was
provided by Melanie Crowder's An Uninterrupted View Of The Sky. The
setting of this fascinating and thought provoking coming-of-age story
could be another ring for a poste Dante Hades.
Francisco lives to play soccer. Due to graduate from secondary
school in six weeks, he and his best friend, Reynaldo, have plans to
go into business together with a stall at the Cancha.
"I know the streets of this neighborhood. I know where I
belong. I'll set up shop with Reynaldo, and I'll play futbol [soccer]
every day and nobody will ever expect anything more from me."
Then Francisco's world falls apart. One day he comes home to
find out that his father has been arrested and jailed, accused of
breaking the 1008, a drug law. The taxi he drives has been
impounded. His family can't afford a lawyer, court fees, or bribes.
His mother has never heard of anyone arrested under that law ever
leaving prison.
Then Francisco's life gets even worse. He, his mother, and his
little sister, Pilar, who is only eight, visit his father. The prison
is nothing like ones you see on television. Prisoners who can't
afford to pay for a cell (a small room with a matress and a lock on
the door) sleep on the floor of the courtyard. As for bathroom
facilities...
"And that's when I notice the floor. The drain in the middle of
the concrete can't keep up with the water and...other stuff flowing
out of the toilet. I pick up my feet--the soles of my shoes are slick
with it..."
Somehow during the day Francisco's mother slips away. She is
gone when the gate to the outside world is locked for the night. The
next day when he sets out to find her he discovers that she has
abandoned her family.
Francisco and Pilar must live with their father. They become
part of a pack of kids commuting to school each day. The prison is a
very unsafe place for a little girl. Francisco will have to leave
when he turns 18. He's never been much of a student, seeing his
father's plans for him to finish secondary school and attend
university as irrelevant...
...But what if it is the way he can rescue his one remaining
parent?
During her college years Crowder spent a summer volunteering in
Bolivia. She worked in an organization that gave children living in
prisons a safe (off the street) place to spend their afternoons and
activities, food, and medical care. She saw how the United States
pressure to pass and enforce 1008 led to much human tragedy.
"When I left Bolivia and returned to college and my privileged
North American life, the human cost of this country's war on drugs
weighed heavily on me. The brief time during which I joined those
pitting themselves against that particular tangle of crippling
poverty, aggressive foreign policy, and persistant injustice stuck
with me.
I'm a writer. When confronted with what seems like an immovable
obstacle, the only way I know to move forward is through story."
She certainly opened up my eyes. Please give her the
opportunity to enlighten you.
On a personal note, after we'd cleared out the Alfond Arena and
dropped off items for different organizations, there was one more
thing to do in regard to Clean Sweep: get the Black Bear Exchange
back in order. Wednesday we checked all the expiration dates on
donated foods and put the good stuff in all the right places. Except
the candy. Georgia and the guys put all the candy in a box and gave
it to me. Very sweet of them. Even a whole box of fun dip packages.
With our nonperishable stock, the fresh food from dining services, and
the money we earned our campus food pantry is in good shape. Then
Thursday we organized and hung the clothes. With some carpentry on
the part of the guys and organizational strategies on Georgia's part
the place is looking better than ever!!!
Lisa told us the total for Clean Sweep. Last year we'd raised a
little over $6,000. This year we took in $9,038!!! Yay Team!!!
A great big shout goes out to the amazing team and our inspiring
leader, Lisa Morin.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
The Nature Fix
The Nature Fix
Adult nonfiction
"This book explores the science behind what poets and
philosophers have known for eons: place matters. Aristotle believed
walks in the open air clarified the mind. Darwin, Tesla, and Einstein
walked in gardens and groves to help them think. Teddy Roosevelt, one
of the most hyperproductive presidents of all time, would escape for
months to the open country. On some level they all fought a tendency
to be "tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people" as hiker-
philosopher John Muir put it in in 1901..."
We have a perfect sledding hill in Veazie. Located near the old
school, it delivers a satisfying ride and safe landing. When my kids
were little a snow day would bring out the kids, little ones with
parents in tow, older ones swapping out the sleds for snow boards.
These days under similar circumstances the snow surface remains
unbroken. It's not just that hill. More affluent kids can be so
programmed outdoors can mean the buzz cut sports field or a place
viewed through the car window between lessons and activities. Schools
are relentlessly cutting recessed and other opportunities for
unstructured outdoor play. A lot of kids across all divisions are
spending a bit too much time indoors focussed on those ubiquitous
screens.
We adults aren't setting them great examples.
If you're asking why that matters or lamenting "so sad, too bad,
but nothing we can do about it," I urge you to read Florence Williams'
The Nature Fix. Williams has traveled the globe to cover cutting edge
research on the various reasons we need nature for everything from our
physical and spiritual well being to our creativity and mental
functioning. She also writes about what is being done to make nature
more accessible to people in a world in which, for the first time in
human history, more of us live in urban than rural areas. Some of the
places she takes readers to include:
*Korea where there are three official healing forests and thirty-four
slated to open soon. South Korea has high levels of work hours,
school and job dissatisfaction, and suicide. The forests are designed
to cut down on the underlying factor: stress;
*Finland where over 95% of the citizens regularly engage in outdoor
recreation. Research there has studied the effect of nature on
psychological well-being;
and *America where the effect of nature on brain waves is being
studied and veterans with PTSD are doing challenging wilderness
programs.
Williams started off on the skeptical side. All the current
hype couldn't be true. Or could it? She ended up becoming a
believer. In her epilogue she tells us:
"Health care is only a piece of the solution. The access-to-
nature movement also ideally needs to grow out of schools, churches,
workplaces, neighborhood associations, and cities as a whole. And it
won't happen unless we acknowledge more consciously our need for
nature. As I've learned through the course of reporting this book we
profoundly undervalue that need. You can see it when we cut recess
and outdoor play for kids, when we design buildings and neighborhoods
that cut off light, space, and fresh air, when we stay inside instead
of making the effort to go out...Until we all fully acknowledge the
need for nature that's driving some of our behavior, we won't work to
make it available for everyone.
On a personal note, I was one of those heretical parents who let my
kids spend a lot of time outside playing with random kids with (gasp!)
no adult supervision. Actually the trailer park has more nature
access than some of the most pricey streets by benign neglect rather
than design. The park itself is full of trees and in season
pollinator attracting dandelions and clover. Our surroundings include
a stream, a field, and woods. My kids spent enchanted hours catching
frogs, practicing bike tricks, sledding, creating hang out spots,
hunting for treasure, creating a cemetary for animals, having water
fights, playing tag and four square, and enjoying the same kind of
pursuits I had.
I enjoy our in the hood nature. My favorite aspect is the beguiling
sunsets that can rival 4th of July fireworks at times. Except when it
is snowed in, my walk to the bus stop is through the woods path which
is alive with creatures small to middling. In the summer I
participate in community garden. And my most frequent go to
destination is the University of Maine which has green spots aplenty
and a gorgeous classic New England campus. Right now we are enjoying
the blossoming of lilacs and blossoming trees.
A pet peeve of mine is seeing students walk past all this beauty with
their eyes glued to small screens. I have no trouble disrupting their
electronic bonding to point out flowers, a sunset, a scampering
squirrel.
A great big shout out goes out to my now grown up outdoor kids who are
still in touch with their need for nature. Katie has promised me a
beach trip this summer.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"This book explores the science behind what poets and
philosophers have known for eons: place matters. Aristotle believed
walks in the open air clarified the mind. Darwin, Tesla, and Einstein
walked in gardens and groves to help them think. Teddy Roosevelt, one
of the most hyperproductive presidents of all time, would escape for
months to the open country. On some level they all fought a tendency
to be "tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people" as hiker-
philosopher John Muir put it in in 1901..."
We have a perfect sledding hill in Veazie. Located near the old
school, it delivers a satisfying ride and safe landing. When my kids
were little a snow day would bring out the kids, little ones with
parents in tow, older ones swapping out the sleds for snow boards.
These days under similar circumstances the snow surface remains
unbroken. It's not just that hill. More affluent kids can be so
programmed outdoors can mean the buzz cut sports field or a place
viewed through the car window between lessons and activities. Schools
are relentlessly cutting recessed and other opportunities for
unstructured outdoor play. A lot of kids across all divisions are
spending a bit too much time indoors focussed on those ubiquitous
screens.
We adults aren't setting them great examples.
If you're asking why that matters or lamenting "so sad, too bad,
but nothing we can do about it," I urge you to read Florence Williams'
The Nature Fix. Williams has traveled the globe to cover cutting edge
research on the various reasons we need nature for everything from our
physical and spiritual well being to our creativity and mental
functioning. She also writes about what is being done to make nature
more accessible to people in a world in which, for the first time in
human history, more of us live in urban than rural areas. Some of the
places she takes readers to include:
*Korea where there are three official healing forests and thirty-four
slated to open soon. South Korea has high levels of work hours,
school and job dissatisfaction, and suicide. The forests are designed
to cut down on the underlying factor: stress;
*Finland where over 95% of the citizens regularly engage in outdoor
recreation. Research there has studied the effect of nature on
psychological well-being;
and *America where the effect of nature on brain waves is being
studied and veterans with PTSD are doing challenging wilderness
programs.
Williams started off on the skeptical side. All the current
hype couldn't be true. Or could it? She ended up becoming a
believer. In her epilogue she tells us:
"Health care is only a piece of the solution. The access-to-
nature movement also ideally needs to grow out of schools, churches,
workplaces, neighborhood associations, and cities as a whole. And it
won't happen unless we acknowledge more consciously our need for
nature. As I've learned through the course of reporting this book we
profoundly undervalue that need. You can see it when we cut recess
and outdoor play for kids, when we design buildings and neighborhoods
that cut off light, space, and fresh air, when we stay inside instead
of making the effort to go out...Until we all fully acknowledge the
need for nature that's driving some of our behavior, we won't work to
make it available for everyone.
On a personal note, I was one of those heretical parents who let my
kids spend a lot of time outside playing with random kids with (gasp!)
no adult supervision. Actually the trailer park has more nature
access than some of the most pricey streets by benign neglect rather
than design. The park itself is full of trees and in season
pollinator attracting dandelions and clover. Our surroundings include
a stream, a field, and woods. My kids spent enchanted hours catching
frogs, practicing bike tricks, sledding, creating hang out spots,
hunting for treasure, creating a cemetary for animals, having water
fights, playing tag and four square, and enjoying the same kind of
pursuits I had.
I enjoy our in the hood nature. My favorite aspect is the beguiling
sunsets that can rival 4th of July fireworks at times. Except when it
is snowed in, my walk to the bus stop is through the woods path which
is alive with creatures small to middling. In the summer I
participate in community garden. And my most frequent go to
destination is the University of Maine which has green spots aplenty
and a gorgeous classic New England campus. Right now we are enjoying
the blossoming of lilacs and blossoming trees.
A pet peeve of mine is seeing students walk past all this beauty with
their eyes glued to small screens. I have no trouble disrupting their
electronic bonding to point out flowers, a sunset, a scampering
squirrel.
A great big shout out goes out to my now grown up outdoor kids who are
still in touch with their need for nature. Katie has promised me a
beach trip this summer.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Wednesday, May 29, 2019
Thirst
Thirst
Adult nonfiction
"It started in my arms and legs. The nerve endings would go
dead for twenty or thirty minutes, like I'd woken up on a limb that
had fallen asleep. Sometimes the fingers of my right hand lost
sensation, and then a prickly blanket of numbness would spread to my
wrist and up my arm. I could've banged on my hand with a hammer and
still felt nothing."
Scott Harrison, author of the memoir Thirst was quite an
unlikely candidate for social entrepreneur. Fed up with his
ultrastrict Christian upbringing, he moved to New York City and became
a club promoter. His life became a round of drugs, booze, and girls.
He had all the accoutrements of fast life success. But after a decade
the fast lane started to lose its allure, especially after the onset
of his mystery illness.
There had to be more to life. Perhaps volunteering?
Harrison became a volunteer photographer for a sailing hospital
ship. It was hard for him to realize that many of the desperately ill
people who thronged the selection site could not be helped. Then one
day he learned that universal clean drinking water could reduce
disease by half. And his passion was born. His life became a drive
to provide the fluid of life for as many people as possible. Thirst
tells the story of his quest, flaws, failures, and all.
If you've enjoyed clean water today, say in your morning coffee,
fresh from your tap or in a bottle you are privileged compared to
millions of people around the world. I know I am. How about investing
a few minutes of your time to read this captivating true story?
On a personal note, today is a very special day for the Hathaway
family. My older daughter, Amber, on track to become the first woman
in the family to get a PhD, is 29. We will celebrate on Saturday so
Katie and Jacob can come up from Thr Big City.
A great big shout out goes out to Amber with best wishes for a happy
birthday and many more!
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"It started in my arms and legs. The nerve endings would go
dead for twenty or thirty minutes, like I'd woken up on a limb that
had fallen asleep. Sometimes the fingers of my right hand lost
sensation, and then a prickly blanket of numbness would spread to my
wrist and up my arm. I could've banged on my hand with a hammer and
still felt nothing."
Scott Harrison, author of the memoir Thirst was quite an
unlikely candidate for social entrepreneur. Fed up with his
ultrastrict Christian upbringing, he moved to New York City and became
a club promoter. His life became a round of drugs, booze, and girls.
He had all the accoutrements of fast life success. But after a decade
the fast lane started to lose its allure, especially after the onset
of his mystery illness.
There had to be more to life. Perhaps volunteering?
Harrison became a volunteer photographer for a sailing hospital
ship. It was hard for him to realize that many of the desperately ill
people who thronged the selection site could not be helped. Then one
day he learned that universal clean drinking water could reduce
disease by half. And his passion was born. His life became a drive
to provide the fluid of life for as many people as possible. Thirst
tells the story of his quest, flaws, failures, and all.
If you've enjoyed clean water today, say in your morning coffee,
fresh from your tap or in a bottle you are privileged compared to
millions of people around the world. I know I am. How about investing
a few minutes of your time to read this captivating true story?
On a personal note, today is a very special day for the Hathaway
family. My older daughter, Amber, on track to become the first woman
in the family to get a PhD, is 29. We will celebrate on Saturday so
Katie and Jacob can come up from Thr Big City.
A great big shout out goes out to Amber with best wishes for a happy
birthday and many more!
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Tuesday, May 28, 2019
Archival Quality
Archival Quality
YA graphic novel
Cel (Celeste) has lost the only job she's ever had or wanted.
She sees a listing for an archival assistant at a museum/library and
applies. The place is really creepy looking. Her interview is
strange. The job requires living in an on site apartment. Work hours
are 10;00 pm to 5:00 am. Only of course she is going to take the job
or else there would be no story.
Moving into her apartment, Cel is warned about ghosts. She
hears strange noises and starts finding things where they aren't
supposed to be. She becomes convinced that a girl who had lived in
the building is contacting her to try to right a terrible wrong...
...You'll have to read the book to see how that pans out.
On a personal note, I was secretly glad when Mother Nature decided to
help with the Community Garden watering. I was able to stay home with
precious Joey cat, giving him love and attention. And then after
supper and a bath I was all his again. He is doing well. This
morning he was strong enough to climb on the kitchen table.
A great big shout out goes out to the best little cat in the world.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
YA graphic novel
Cel (Celeste) has lost the only job she's ever had or wanted.
She sees a listing for an archival assistant at a museum/library and
applies. The place is really creepy looking. Her interview is
strange. The job requires living in an on site apartment. Work hours
are 10;00 pm to 5:00 am. Only of course she is going to take the job
or else there would be no story.
Moving into her apartment, Cel is warned about ghosts. She
hears strange noises and starts finding things where they aren't
supposed to be. She becomes convinced that a girl who had lived in
the building is contacting her to try to right a terrible wrong...
...You'll have to read the book to see how that pans out.
On a personal note, I was secretly glad when Mother Nature decided to
help with the Community Garden watering. I was able to stay home with
precious Joey cat, giving him love and attention. And then after
supper and a bath I was all his again. He is doing well. This
morning he was strong enough to climb on the kitchen table.
A great big shout out goes out to the best little cat in the world.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Monday, May 27, 2019
Street Farm
Street Farm
Adult nonfiction
"And if food is the next thing, man, drugs have been the thing
until now. In fact, to say they've moved on would be wishful
thinking. Wind your way through the neighborhood between Carrall and
Columbia streets on East Hastings, nearby, and you hear 'rock, paper,
down' repeated over and over, to on one in particular. It's a mantra
in an open offering of crack, powder cocaine, and heroin to everyone
who walks by. And it kills; there are more drug-related deaths here
than anywhere else on the continent. Every kind of dope is available
here, along with an amazing array of stolen bicycles, suitcases, cell
phones, clothing, shoes, and in a back alley, a cheap hotel room, or
the comfort of your car, any number of illicit sexual experiences are
on offer."
One of Vancouver, Canada's low rent districts is not exactly the
neighborhood where you'd expect to find a functional organic garden.
Surprise, surprise! It and four other similarly situated plots,
including an orchard with a good range of fruits, are the subject of
Michael Ableman's Street Farm.
In 2009 Ableman was invited to Vancouver to meet with people
from social service organizations and nonprofits. They made him an
offer he couldn't refuse. He was to create urban farms to teach
salable skills to people whom society had given up on, reclaim land,
and make good food more widely available. By 2016, when the book was
published, the project was a success.
"...We produce over twenty-five tons of fresh produce per year,
including tree fruit from a large urban orchard, supply more than
thirty area restaurants, sell at five Vancouver farmers' markets, and
operate a community supported agriculture program. We also donate up
to $20,000 of produce per year to community kitchens and provide jobs
to twenty-five people. Central to our vision from the beginning has
been a commitment to building a community with and for the people
we've hired and trained--among them the poor and homeless, the drug-
addicted and mentally I'll--and the story of the farm is as much about
the farmers I've come to work with as it is the food we've produced
together."
Ableman serves up both strands of the story. You learn what
went well and what didn't. There were snags aplenty. The containers
at one site rotted and had to be replaced. Theft took its toll. But
the biggest obstacles revolved around bureaucracy and red tape.
Scattered through the narrative are poignant and very personal farmer
portraits.
Ableman also offers musings on pertinent topics including a
manifesto at the end. If you have concerns about the increasingly
industrialized food production systems in first world nations, the
separation of most people from the sources of nourishment, and the
paucity of either jobs or good food for the most vulnerable of our
fellow citizens, you'll find much food for thought in Street Farm.
On a personal note, we did not have to build Orono Community Garden on
such dangerous turf. But when we got the space it was very neglected
with seriously depleted soil. It took a lot of work to get it to the
state it's in today. Work has been going since I think April. I
haven't been able to participate yet what with the semester ending and
working to stabilize Joey and clean sweep. But I hope I'll be able to
very soon.
A great big shout out goes out to all my readers who are gardeners.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"And if food is the next thing, man, drugs have been the thing
until now. In fact, to say they've moved on would be wishful
thinking. Wind your way through the neighborhood between Carrall and
Columbia streets on East Hastings, nearby, and you hear 'rock, paper,
down' repeated over and over, to on one in particular. It's a mantra
in an open offering of crack, powder cocaine, and heroin to everyone
who walks by. And it kills; there are more drug-related deaths here
than anywhere else on the continent. Every kind of dope is available
here, along with an amazing array of stolen bicycles, suitcases, cell
phones, clothing, shoes, and in a back alley, a cheap hotel room, or
the comfort of your car, any number of illicit sexual experiences are
on offer."
One of Vancouver, Canada's low rent districts is not exactly the
neighborhood where you'd expect to find a functional organic garden.
Surprise, surprise! It and four other similarly situated plots,
including an orchard with a good range of fruits, are the subject of
Michael Ableman's Street Farm.
In 2009 Ableman was invited to Vancouver to meet with people
from social service organizations and nonprofits. They made him an
offer he couldn't refuse. He was to create urban farms to teach
salable skills to people whom society had given up on, reclaim land,
and make good food more widely available. By 2016, when the book was
published, the project was a success.
"...We produce over twenty-five tons of fresh produce per year,
including tree fruit from a large urban orchard, supply more than
thirty area restaurants, sell at five Vancouver farmers' markets, and
operate a community supported agriculture program. We also donate up
to $20,000 of produce per year to community kitchens and provide jobs
to twenty-five people. Central to our vision from the beginning has
been a commitment to building a community with and for the people
we've hired and trained--among them the poor and homeless, the drug-
addicted and mentally I'll--and the story of the farm is as much about
the farmers I've come to work with as it is the food we've produced
together."
Ableman serves up both strands of the story. You learn what
went well and what didn't. There were snags aplenty. The containers
at one site rotted and had to be replaced. Theft took its toll. But
the biggest obstacles revolved around bureaucracy and red tape.
Scattered through the narrative are poignant and very personal farmer
portraits.
Ableman also offers musings on pertinent topics including a
manifesto at the end. If you have concerns about the increasingly
industrialized food production systems in first world nations, the
separation of most people from the sources of nourishment, and the
paucity of either jobs or good food for the most vulnerable of our
fellow citizens, you'll find much food for thought in Street Farm.
On a personal note, we did not have to build Orono Community Garden on
such dangerous turf. But when we got the space it was very neglected
with seriously depleted soil. It took a lot of work to get it to the
state it's in today. Work has been going since I think April. I
haven't been able to participate yet what with the semester ending and
working to stabilize Joey and clean sweep. But I hope I'll be able to
very soon.
A great big shout out goes out to all my readers who are gardeners.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
The Blood Of Emmett Till
The Blood Of Emmett Till
Adult nonfiction
"The imagined beastly lust of black men for white women seized
Brady's pornographic political imagination, and the unsullied Southern
white woman became the most important symbol of white male
superiority. 'The lovliest and purest of God's creatures, the nearest
thing to an angelic being that treads this celestial ball is a well-
bred, cultured Southern white woman or her blue-eyed, golden-haired
little girl,' he wrote. 'The maintenance of peaceful and harmonious
relationships, which have been conducive to the well-being of both the
White and Negro races of the South, has been possible because of the
inviolability of Southern womanhood.'"
I think most of us have heard of Emmitt Till, how he visited
Southern relatives in the summer of 1955, how he allegedly said
something to a store owner's wife that violated elaborate racial rules
and offended her family, how his mutilated body was fished out of the
Tallahatchie River, how his mother--going against advice and even
direct orders--had insisted on an open casket funeral so that the
world could see what had been done to her boy, and how the killers
were acquitted despite the overwhelming amount of evidence against
them. Maybe you even heard how in 1956, safe from being tried twice
for the same crime, they sold the real story to Look Magazine. That
was the bare skeleton of information that I knew. I wanted it fleshed
out. So I was delughted to discover Timothy B. Tyson's The Blood Of
Emmett Till.
An amazing amount of research went into the book. Just check
out the bibliography. Tyson portrays a number of scenes so vividly
it's almost like you were there. He also highlights important aspects
of the events that might not be immediately obvious to 21st century
readers. For example, there is the huge significance of Moses
Wright's testimony in the trial.
"After two days of jury selection and delays, the short, wiry,
dark-skinned preacher was the first witness called. That was not the
only reason for the rapt attention in the room, however. Moses Wright
was a black man called to testify against two white men charged with
murder. In Mississippi that constituted an almost suicidal affront to
white supremacy. And he had been duly warned."
The Blood Of Emmett Till raised two awarenesses in me--one
looking backward and the other looking forward from the tragedy.
I'd never realized how strongly linked with the Supreme Court's
1954 decision in Brown v Board of Education. This ruling cut to the
heart of Southern tradition and identity and seemed to be the first
step toward the "mongrelization" of the "superior" white race. White
and black kids going to school together might end up dating, marrying,
and consumating those marriages.
[To be fair, this racial mix fear wasn't limited to the South.
In the 1960s one of my best high school friends and her professional
parents (black father, white mother) received death threats and had
rocks thrown through their windows when they moved to Lexington, an
upscale suburb of Boston.]
"It was in this context that a Chicago teenager walked into
Bryant's Grocery and had his fateful encounter with Carolyn Bryant.
After Till's murder defense attorney J. J. Breland told William
Bradford Huie, 'There ain't gonna be no integration. There ain't
gonna be no nigger voting.' He saw the murder as part of a larger
struggle. 'If any more pressure is put on us, the Tallahatchie River
won't hold all the niggers that'll be thrown in it.'"
Looking six decades ahead, so much hasn't changed. Schools are
still segregated and unequal. There's an epidemic of white police
officers killing unarmed blacks. And now that we have a president
endorsed by the KKK...
...doesn't the below speech sound like the spewing of the alt
right?
"...As long as I live and can do anything about it, niggers are
gonna stay in their place. Niggers ain't gonna vote where I live. If
they did, they'd control the government. They ain't gonna go to
school with my kids. When a nigger even gets close to mentioning sex
with a white woman, he's tired of living. I'm likely to kill him..."
On a personal note, I worked this morning and am now spending the rest
of the day with the best little cat in the world. Whatever else you
are doing, remember it's not just about cookouts and parades. Today
is about remembering those who lost their lives or came back maimed or
shell shocked and doing all we can to prevent wars in the future.
A great big shout out goes out to the best little cat in the world.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"The imagined beastly lust of black men for white women seized
Brady's pornographic political imagination, and the unsullied Southern
white woman became the most important symbol of white male
superiority. 'The lovliest and purest of God's creatures, the nearest
thing to an angelic being that treads this celestial ball is a well-
bred, cultured Southern white woman or her blue-eyed, golden-haired
little girl,' he wrote. 'The maintenance of peaceful and harmonious
relationships, which have been conducive to the well-being of both the
White and Negro races of the South, has been possible because of the
inviolability of Southern womanhood.'"
I think most of us have heard of Emmitt Till, how he visited
Southern relatives in the summer of 1955, how he allegedly said
something to a store owner's wife that violated elaborate racial rules
and offended her family, how his mutilated body was fished out of the
Tallahatchie River, how his mother--going against advice and even
direct orders--had insisted on an open casket funeral so that the
world could see what had been done to her boy, and how the killers
were acquitted despite the overwhelming amount of evidence against
them. Maybe you even heard how in 1956, safe from being tried twice
for the same crime, they sold the real story to Look Magazine. That
was the bare skeleton of information that I knew. I wanted it fleshed
out. So I was delughted to discover Timothy B. Tyson's The Blood Of
Emmett Till.
An amazing amount of research went into the book. Just check
out the bibliography. Tyson portrays a number of scenes so vividly
it's almost like you were there. He also highlights important aspects
of the events that might not be immediately obvious to 21st century
readers. For example, there is the huge significance of Moses
Wright's testimony in the trial.
"After two days of jury selection and delays, the short, wiry,
dark-skinned preacher was the first witness called. That was not the
only reason for the rapt attention in the room, however. Moses Wright
was a black man called to testify against two white men charged with
murder. In Mississippi that constituted an almost suicidal affront to
white supremacy. And he had been duly warned."
The Blood Of Emmett Till raised two awarenesses in me--one
looking backward and the other looking forward from the tragedy.
I'd never realized how strongly linked with the Supreme Court's
1954 decision in Brown v Board of Education. This ruling cut to the
heart of Southern tradition and identity and seemed to be the first
step toward the "mongrelization" of the "superior" white race. White
and black kids going to school together might end up dating, marrying,
and consumating those marriages.
[To be fair, this racial mix fear wasn't limited to the South.
In the 1960s one of my best high school friends and her professional
parents (black father, white mother) received death threats and had
rocks thrown through their windows when they moved to Lexington, an
upscale suburb of Boston.]
"It was in this context that a Chicago teenager walked into
Bryant's Grocery and had his fateful encounter with Carolyn Bryant.
After Till's murder defense attorney J. J. Breland told William
Bradford Huie, 'There ain't gonna be no integration. There ain't
gonna be no nigger voting.' He saw the murder as part of a larger
struggle. 'If any more pressure is put on us, the Tallahatchie River
won't hold all the niggers that'll be thrown in it.'"
Looking six decades ahead, so much hasn't changed. Schools are
still segregated and unequal. There's an epidemic of white police
officers killing unarmed blacks. And now that we have a president
endorsed by the KKK...
...doesn't the below speech sound like the spewing of the alt
right?
"...As long as I live and can do anything about it, niggers are
gonna stay in their place. Niggers ain't gonna vote where I live. If
they did, they'd control the government. They ain't gonna go to
school with my kids. When a nigger even gets close to mentioning sex
with a white woman, he's tired of living. I'm likely to kill him..."
On a personal note, I worked this morning and am now spending the rest
of the day with the best little cat in the world. Whatever else you
are doing, remember it's not just about cookouts and parades. Today
is about remembering those who lost their lives or came back maimed or
shell shocked and doing all we can to prevent wars in the future.
A great big shout out goes out to the best little cat in the world.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Sunday, May 26, 2019
Around The World In A Bathtub
Around The World In A Bathtub
Juvenile nonfiction
Little kids tend to be interested in the ways peers around the
world accomplish the activities of daily living. Wade Bradford's
Around The World In A Bathtub can give them a sense of how people get
clean without going the porcelein tub and rubber duck route. For
example:
*In Columbia kids jump into a mud volcano and rinse off in a lagoon.
(I want to try that!)
*In Alaska windowless cabins are the site of steam baths. (No, thanks!)
*In Turkey families go to bathhouses where they are scrubbed by
attendants.
Aroubd The World In A Bathtub is good clean fun and a fine
addition to school and public libraries.
On a personal note, well Joey just had visitors--Amber and Brian.
They came bearing treats. Joey was quite pleased to see them and the
goodies. They were pleased to see him looking so well.
A great big shout out goes out to Amber, Brian, and the best little
cat in the world.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile nonfiction
Little kids tend to be interested in the ways peers around the
world accomplish the activities of daily living. Wade Bradford's
Around The World In A Bathtub can give them a sense of how people get
clean without going the porcelein tub and rubber duck route. For
example:
*In Columbia kids jump into a mud volcano and rinse off in a lagoon.
(I want to try that!)
*In Alaska windowless cabins are the site of steam baths. (No, thanks!)
*In Turkey families go to bathhouses where they are scrubbed by
attendants.
Aroubd The World In A Bathtub is good clean fun and a fine
addition to school and public libraries.
On a personal note, well Joey just had visitors--Amber and Brian.
They came bearing treats. Joey was quite pleased to see them and the
goodies. They were pleased to see him looking so well.
A great big shout out goes out to Amber, Brian, and the best little
cat in the world.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Stinkiest!
Stinkiest!
Juvenile nonfiction
"Whew! Some animals produce strong smells to mark their
territory. They put stinky liquid on branches and rocks to tell other
animals, 'This place belongs to me.' Animals also use strong odors as
a defense. Some of them smell so disgusting that predators leave them
alone. And there are a few creatures that smell really bad because of
what they eat or what lies in their fur. But what animal is the
smelliest of them all?"
Kids growing through the stage where gross is the epitome of
cool will be drawn to Steve Jenkins' Stinkiest! Among the varmints
they will learn about are:
*European roller chicks who vomit an themselves to thwart would be
predators,
*ring-tailed lemurs who use their tails to fling stinky liquid at each
other in a fight,
and *sea hares, a kind of sea slug that protect themselves with yucky
slime and toxic ink.
But who is the stinkiest of all?
Read the book and find out.
On a personal note, I have one more week before I go back to dining
services. I really hope they let me work lunches so I can be with
Joey mornings and evenings. But I do have work part of this week.
I'll be getting paid to help clean up after clean sweep. We do a lot
of sorting and delivering. We pride ourselves on not letting donated
items go to waste.
A great shout out goes out to out jovial boss, Lisa.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile nonfiction
"Whew! Some animals produce strong smells to mark their
territory. They put stinky liquid on branches and rocks to tell other
animals, 'This place belongs to me.' Animals also use strong odors as
a defense. Some of them smell so disgusting that predators leave them
alone. And there are a few creatures that smell really bad because of
what they eat or what lies in their fur. But what animal is the
smelliest of them all?"
Kids growing through the stage where gross is the epitome of
cool will be drawn to Steve Jenkins' Stinkiest! Among the varmints
they will learn about are:
*European roller chicks who vomit an themselves to thwart would be
predators,
*ring-tailed lemurs who use their tails to fling stinky liquid at each
other in a fight,
and *sea hares, a kind of sea slug that protect themselves with yucky
slime and toxic ink.
But who is the stinkiest of all?
Read the book and find out.
On a personal note, I have one more week before I go back to dining
services. I really hope they let me work lunches so I can be with
Joey mornings and evenings. But I do have work part of this week.
I'll be getting paid to help clean up after clean sweep. We do a lot
of sorting and delivering. We pride ourselves on not letting donated
items go to waste.
A great shout out goes out to out jovial boss, Lisa.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Our Children Can Soar
Our Children Can Soar
Picture book
"...Dr. Carter G. Woodson, the scholar and historian called 'the
Father of Black History,' taught us that 'Those who have no record of
what their forebears have accomplished lose the inspiration which
comes from the teaching of biography and history.' From George
Washington Carver to Ella Fitzgerald to Thurgood Marshall, each of the
pioneers lovingly depicted here wrote a new chapter in African
American and American history. Our Children Can Soar will make sure
all young people know their inspiring stories."
The above quote is from Marian Wright Edelman's introduction to
Michelle Cook's Our Children Can Soar, a deceptively simple looking
gem of a book. Cook was inspired by chants such as "Rosa sat so
Martin could March. Martin marched so Barack could run. Barack ran
so our children can soar." during the 2008 presidential election.
Using this framework, she constructed a time line from the Civil War
to the present with famous blacks from the realms of science, sports,
the arts, civil rights, education, justice, and government. Extended
biographies are presented at the back of the book.
The book is also a black illustrators Who's Who.
Leo and Diane Dillon portrayed a very studious George Washington
Carver. "We are very impressed by and respectful of George Washington
Carver's accomplishments in an environment that was so hostile at that
time. He is amazing."
Charlotte Riley-Webb's Jackie Robinson slides to a base, raising
clouds of dust. "Much of the civil rights struggle was fought in the
South, and Jackie was a positive source of strength, talent, and
endurance, accomplishing many of his outstanding victories on Southern
baseball fields."
You can tell Eric Velasquez's Barack Obama has a dream and a
mission. "Barack O'bama's campaign was a historic and inspirational
moment for me."
Edelman suggests that families read Our Chikdren Can Soar
together with parents and grands telling the stories of strong, brave
family members. "...All of these stories bring history alive and
reinforce the idea that anyone and everyone can use their lives to
make a difference..."
Amen to that!
On a purrrsonal note, 2 1/2 weeks post diagnosis Joey keeps on
improving. He has a good appetite and is putting on weight. He's
quite alert and curious and affectionate. He is having good times.
Every good day is a miracle to cherish.
A great big shout out goes out to the best little cat in the world.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Picture book
"...Dr. Carter G. Woodson, the scholar and historian called 'the
Father of Black History,' taught us that 'Those who have no record of
what their forebears have accomplished lose the inspiration which
comes from the teaching of biography and history.' From George
Washington Carver to Ella Fitzgerald to Thurgood Marshall, each of the
pioneers lovingly depicted here wrote a new chapter in African
American and American history. Our Children Can Soar will make sure
all young people know their inspiring stories."
The above quote is from Marian Wright Edelman's introduction to
Michelle Cook's Our Children Can Soar, a deceptively simple looking
gem of a book. Cook was inspired by chants such as "Rosa sat so
Martin could March. Martin marched so Barack could run. Barack ran
so our children can soar." during the 2008 presidential election.
Using this framework, she constructed a time line from the Civil War
to the present with famous blacks from the realms of science, sports,
the arts, civil rights, education, justice, and government. Extended
biographies are presented at the back of the book.
The book is also a black illustrators Who's Who.
Leo and Diane Dillon portrayed a very studious George Washington
Carver. "We are very impressed by and respectful of George Washington
Carver's accomplishments in an environment that was so hostile at that
time. He is amazing."
Charlotte Riley-Webb's Jackie Robinson slides to a base, raising
clouds of dust. "Much of the civil rights struggle was fought in the
South, and Jackie was a positive source of strength, talent, and
endurance, accomplishing many of his outstanding victories on Southern
baseball fields."
You can tell Eric Velasquez's Barack Obama has a dream and a
mission. "Barack O'bama's campaign was a historic and inspirational
moment for me."
Edelman suggests that families read Our Chikdren Can Soar
together with parents and grands telling the stories of strong, brave
family members. "...All of these stories bring history alive and
reinforce the idea that anyone and everyone can use their lives to
make a difference..."
Amen to that!
On a purrrsonal note, 2 1/2 weeks post diagnosis Joey keeps on
improving. He has a good appetite and is putting on weight. He's
quite alert and curious and affectionate. He is having good times.
Every good day is a miracle to cherish.
A great big shout out goes out to the best little cat in the world.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Lifeboat 12
Lifeboat 12
Juvenile fiction based on true story
"' Germans are coming,' says Dad.
'France surrendered this summer
and the Nazis are gunning
for England next.
Hundreds of thousands
of parents applied
to have their kids sent
out of harm's way."
The year was 1940. It seemed to the British that Hitler was on
their doorstep. Parents were desperate to get their precious children
out of harm's way. Other nations agreed to play host. Ken Sparks,
narrator of Susan Hood's Lifeboat 12, was one of a small number of
children who were chosen by lottery to be evacuated.
At first the voyage is the cat's pajamas. There's a play room
with all kids of new toys. And there are foods the children haven't
tasted in ages.
"Here you just ask and the food arrives.
Whatever you fancy!
It's as though Father Christmas
has set up shop
in the kitchen."
The first days the children have to wear vests and life jackets
everywhere--even to bed. Then one night when the ship is considered
to be at a safe distance they are able to wear pajamas instead...
...and in the middle of the night the ship is hit and begins to
sink. After a nightmarish scramble Ken is in a lifeboat adrift in the
middle of the ocean with only enough water to last the passengers for
about eight days...
...should they try to return to England or stay in the same spot
and hope for a rescue boat...
Read the book and see. It's a spell binding narrative told in
authentic early teen voice. Plus it's all too relevant almost 80
years later. People are still needlessly perishing trying to escape
from war, famine, and near certain death because we don't do enough to
help or are even keeping them from entering this country.
On a purrrsonal note, the rain has temporarily let up. I see Joey and
another cat watching each other through the window. We're in Adam's
old room. I'm keeping him company as I write so that I can attend to
his every need and surround him with love and cherish our time
together. I am cutting church. I am not going anywhere other than to
my paid work. At least with spring semester being over I can spend
much of my time focussed on the best little cat in the world. Joey
and I are in bachelor mode with Eugene up to camp for the long
weekend. That means no cooking and minimal dishes.
A great big shout out goes out to the best little cat in the world.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile fiction based on true story
"' Germans are coming,' says Dad.
'France surrendered this summer
and the Nazis are gunning
for England next.
Hundreds of thousands
of parents applied
to have their kids sent
out of harm's way."
The year was 1940. It seemed to the British that Hitler was on
their doorstep. Parents were desperate to get their precious children
out of harm's way. Other nations agreed to play host. Ken Sparks,
narrator of Susan Hood's Lifeboat 12, was one of a small number of
children who were chosen by lottery to be evacuated.
At first the voyage is the cat's pajamas. There's a play room
with all kids of new toys. And there are foods the children haven't
tasted in ages.
"Here you just ask and the food arrives.
Whatever you fancy!
It's as though Father Christmas
has set up shop
in the kitchen."
The first days the children have to wear vests and life jackets
everywhere--even to bed. Then one night when the ship is considered
to be at a safe distance they are able to wear pajamas instead...
...and in the middle of the night the ship is hit and begins to
sink. After a nightmarish scramble Ken is in a lifeboat adrift in the
middle of the ocean with only enough water to last the passengers for
about eight days...
...should they try to return to England or stay in the same spot
and hope for a rescue boat...
Read the book and see. It's a spell binding narrative told in
authentic early teen voice. Plus it's all too relevant almost 80
years later. People are still needlessly perishing trying to escape
from war, famine, and near certain death because we don't do enough to
help or are even keeping them from entering this country.
On a purrrsonal note, the rain has temporarily let up. I see Joey and
another cat watching each other through the window. We're in Adam's
old room. I'm keeping him company as I write so that I can attend to
his every need and surround him with love and cherish our time
together. I am cutting church. I am not going anywhere other than to
my paid work. At least with spring semester being over I can spend
much of my time focussed on the best little cat in the world. Joey
and I are in bachelor mode with Eugene up to camp for the long
weekend. That means no cooking and minimal dishes.
A great big shout out goes out to the best little cat in the world.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
"They Can't Kill Us All"
"They Can't Kill Us All"
Adult nonfiction
"'Every body want me to be calm, do you know how those bullets
hit my son? What they did to his body as they entered his body?'
Lezley McSpadden screamed as the news was relayed, her husband and
other loved ones wrapping her in a tight hug...
There were fires in the streets before DeRay, Netta, and
Brittany even made it to Ferguson. By morning dozens of businesses
had been torched, Ferguson police cruisers pummeled, and above it all
were the festive lights city officials had hung, spelling out SEASONS
GREETINGS."
I'd have been angry as Hell if my son, in his teen years, had
been shot dead by a police officer and his corpse had been left on a
city street 4 1/2 hours. That's what happened to 18-year-old Michael
Brown in the town on Ferguson, Missouri on August 9, 2014.
Wesley Lowery, author of "They Can't Kill Us All," was sent to
cover the story for the Washington Post. Brown was not the first
black man shot by those sworn to serve and protect. But the ambiance
was different, the grief more universal and raw. People were more
willing to share their own stories of harassment and brutality.
"Ferguson would birth a movement and set the nation on a course
for a still-ongoing public hearing on race that stretched far past the
killing of unarmed residents--from daily policing to Confederate
imagery to cultural appropriation. The social justice movement
spawned from Mike Brown's blood would force city after city to grapple
with its own fraught histories of race and policing. As protests
propelled by tweets and hashtags spread under the banner of Black
Lives Matter and with cell phone and body camera video shining new
light on the way police interact with minority communities, America
was forced to consider that not everyone marching in the streets could
be wrong."
Ferguson was only the first city in which, over a considerable
time span, Lowery would apply his strong research and reporting
skills. As similar tragedies of white cop on black citizen violence
unfolded, he traveled the country--providing a narrative of the
actions and reactions, interviewing and profiling important
participants, digging for deeper nuances and truths, and repeatedly
taking the pulse of the fledgling movement.
If you want to really understand the continuing tragedy of white
cops killing blacks and not being convicted or even charged and black
people's attempts to obtain justice and safety, "They Can't Kill Us
All" is a must read.
According to a YES! magazine article, highlighting the not-so-
obvious tragic consequences of white Cop on black violence, research
shows that not only grieving families, but entire communities are
traumatized. Add in the effects of structural racism and the dearth
of culturally competent mental health workers. We have a real crisis
in this country.
On a personal note, I have a really strange reaction to Skittles
candy. Every time I see it I remember a night when Adam was fifteen.
He went out, wearing a hoodie, to buy Skittles and a drink. The same
night Trayvon Martin, only two years older, was shot by George
Zimmerman for doing the exact same thing. That was the moment I
became most enraged on behalf of the vulnerable black communities in
our nation. No teen should be killed in cold blood for buying a
snack; no parent should lose a child this way.
A great big shout out goes out to the powerful black writers who
inform us of very important and necessary truths.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"'Every body want me to be calm, do you know how those bullets
hit my son? What they did to his body as they entered his body?'
Lezley McSpadden screamed as the news was relayed, her husband and
other loved ones wrapping her in a tight hug...
There were fires in the streets before DeRay, Netta, and
Brittany even made it to Ferguson. By morning dozens of businesses
had been torched, Ferguson police cruisers pummeled, and above it all
were the festive lights city officials had hung, spelling out SEASONS
GREETINGS."
I'd have been angry as Hell if my son, in his teen years, had
been shot dead by a police officer and his corpse had been left on a
city street 4 1/2 hours. That's what happened to 18-year-old Michael
Brown in the town on Ferguson, Missouri on August 9, 2014.
Wesley Lowery, author of "They Can't Kill Us All," was sent to
cover the story for the Washington Post. Brown was not the first
black man shot by those sworn to serve and protect. But the ambiance
was different, the grief more universal and raw. People were more
willing to share their own stories of harassment and brutality.
"Ferguson would birth a movement and set the nation on a course
for a still-ongoing public hearing on race that stretched far past the
killing of unarmed residents--from daily policing to Confederate
imagery to cultural appropriation. The social justice movement
spawned from Mike Brown's blood would force city after city to grapple
with its own fraught histories of race and policing. As protests
propelled by tweets and hashtags spread under the banner of Black
Lives Matter and with cell phone and body camera video shining new
light on the way police interact with minority communities, America
was forced to consider that not everyone marching in the streets could
be wrong."
Ferguson was only the first city in which, over a considerable
time span, Lowery would apply his strong research and reporting
skills. As similar tragedies of white cop on black citizen violence
unfolded, he traveled the country--providing a narrative of the
actions and reactions, interviewing and profiling important
participants, digging for deeper nuances and truths, and repeatedly
taking the pulse of the fledgling movement.
If you want to really understand the continuing tragedy of white
cops killing blacks and not being convicted or even charged and black
people's attempts to obtain justice and safety, "They Can't Kill Us
All" is a must read.
According to a YES! magazine article, highlighting the not-so-
obvious tragic consequences of white Cop on black violence, research
shows that not only grieving families, but entire communities are
traumatized. Add in the effects of structural racism and the dearth
of culturally competent mental health workers. We have a real crisis
in this country.
On a personal note, I have a really strange reaction to Skittles
candy. Every time I see it I remember a night when Adam was fifteen.
He went out, wearing a hoodie, to buy Skittles and a drink. The same
night Trayvon Martin, only two years older, was shot by George
Zimmerman for doing the exact same thing. That was the moment I
became most enraged on behalf of the vulnerable black communities in
our nation. No teen should be killed in cold blood for buying a
snack; no parent should lose a child this way.
A great big shout out goes out to the powerful black writers who
inform us of very important and necessary truths.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Fake News
Fake News
YA nonfiction
"Fake news doesn't just impact the political arena. Since the
late 1990s many parents have shared false medical stories. One major
false claim is that vaccinations--received by children to prevent
common childhood illnesses such as measles, mumps, and chickenpox--
cause autism...Believing the false stories, many American parents have
refused to have their children vaccinated for whooping cough, measles,
diptheria, and other infectious diseases. Vaccine refusal puts
communities at high risk for disease outbreaks..."
By the time they hit middle or high school most kids in this
country have heard the term "fake news". Many aren't quite sure what
it encompasses. (Actually many adults are in the dark on this issue.)
Michael Miller's Fake News is an excellent resource. It begins by
defining the two ways the term is correctly used (false stories and
social media posts designed to mislead and false claims by people in
power that legitimate stories, often ones that make them look bad,
aren't factual). It then covers fascinating topics such as:
*the history of fake news which was around when the new media on the
scene was the printing press;
*the checks and balances required by the legitimate press;
*why fake news is created and consumed;
and *how much harm it does.
The preteen/teen reader is addressed as a potential actor,
capable of detecting and slowing the spread of fake news, and given
much helpful information. I know that if my kids were still in the
target demographics I'd get them a copy.
On a personal real news note (verifiable by a number of sources),
yesterday was a bright, sunny day. Now we're back in rain. We've
been getting a lot of rain this May. Daffodils, forsythia, and other
seasonal blooms are providing lovely splashes of color against all the
grey.
A great big shout out goes out to all who fight to protect legitimate
news from all the dangerous false stuff out there.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
YA nonfiction
"Fake news doesn't just impact the political arena. Since the
late 1990s many parents have shared false medical stories. One major
false claim is that vaccinations--received by children to prevent
common childhood illnesses such as measles, mumps, and chickenpox--
cause autism...Believing the false stories, many American parents have
refused to have their children vaccinated for whooping cough, measles,
diptheria, and other infectious diseases. Vaccine refusal puts
communities at high risk for disease outbreaks..."
By the time they hit middle or high school most kids in this
country have heard the term "fake news". Many aren't quite sure what
it encompasses. (Actually many adults are in the dark on this issue.)
Michael Miller's Fake News is an excellent resource. It begins by
defining the two ways the term is correctly used (false stories and
social media posts designed to mislead and false claims by people in
power that legitimate stories, often ones that make them look bad,
aren't factual). It then covers fascinating topics such as:
*the history of fake news which was around when the new media on the
scene was the printing press;
*the checks and balances required by the legitimate press;
*why fake news is created and consumed;
and *how much harm it does.
The preteen/teen reader is addressed as a potential actor,
capable of detecting and slowing the spread of fake news, and given
much helpful information. I know that if my kids were still in the
target demographics I'd get them a copy.
On a personal real news note (verifiable by a number of sources),
yesterday was a bright, sunny day. Now we're back in rain. We've
been getting a lot of rain this May. Daffodils, forsythia, and other
seasonal blooms are providing lovely splashes of color against all the
grey.
A great big shout out goes out to all who fight to protect legitimate
news from all the dangerous false stuff out there.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Saturday, May 25, 2019
We Are Displaced
We Are Displaced
YA nonfiction
"Saying goodbye to Sabreen in the airport at Cairo was painful.
We had already lost so much. We'd left Yemen together two years
earlier because it had become too dangerous to stay. We had lived
with distant relatives in Egypt for two years while we had waited for
our visas. And there I was, getting on a plane to the United States--
without her. That was December 2014. I have not seen my sister
since. The missing I feel--of her, of Yemen, of the way things were
before the violence--is so big, sometimes I think it might swallow me
up."
Sisters Zaynab and Sabreen are only two of the displaced girls
and women you will get to meet in Malala Yousafzai's We Are
Displaced. Some of the others are:
*Muzoon who had to flee war torn Syria in 2013. Eight family members
lived in a 12' x 12' tent in a refugee camp with no running water;
*Maria who fled her home on the coast of Columbia with her mother and
siblings when she was four. Her mother gave her a teddy bear from her
father, never letting on that he had been killed and she was afraid
they would be next;
and *Ajida who had to flee Myanmar with her husband and three young
children so they wouldn't be slaughtered for being Rohingya.
At a time when so many politicians from the White House down and
white supremacist groups are demonizing refugees and immigrants We Are
Displaced is an excellent read for the middle to high school crowd. A
section on the back tells how students can help peers who have had so
much taken away from them.
On a personal note, the two days of the clean sweep yard sale were
excellent. We drew scads of bargain hunters who were thrilled with
their finds. It was especially gratifying for me to see people
filling bags with the clothes I'd spent a week sorting. Lisa bought
the crew restaurant food both days. And we did beat our old record.
At the end of the first day we'd taken in $7,727!!! We must have
passed $8.000 for the whole event.
A great big shout out to all who participated in the 2019 Clean Sweep!
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
YA nonfiction
"Saying goodbye to Sabreen in the airport at Cairo was painful.
We had already lost so much. We'd left Yemen together two years
earlier because it had become too dangerous to stay. We had lived
with distant relatives in Egypt for two years while we had waited for
our visas. And there I was, getting on a plane to the United States--
without her. That was December 2014. I have not seen my sister
since. The missing I feel--of her, of Yemen, of the way things were
before the violence--is so big, sometimes I think it might swallow me
up."
Sisters Zaynab and Sabreen are only two of the displaced girls
and women you will get to meet in Malala Yousafzai's We Are
Displaced. Some of the others are:
*Muzoon who had to flee war torn Syria in 2013. Eight family members
lived in a 12' x 12' tent in a refugee camp with no running water;
*Maria who fled her home on the coast of Columbia with her mother and
siblings when she was four. Her mother gave her a teddy bear from her
father, never letting on that he had been killed and she was afraid
they would be next;
and *Ajida who had to flee Myanmar with her husband and three young
children so they wouldn't be slaughtered for being Rohingya.
At a time when so many politicians from the White House down and
white supremacist groups are demonizing refugees and immigrants We Are
Displaced is an excellent read for the middle to high school crowd. A
section on the back tells how students can help peers who have had so
much taken away from them.
On a personal note, the two days of the clean sweep yard sale were
excellent. We drew scads of bargain hunters who were thrilled with
their finds. It was especially gratifying for me to see people
filling bags with the clothes I'd spent a week sorting. Lisa bought
the crew restaurant food both days. And we did beat our old record.
At the end of the first day we'd taken in $7,727!!! We must have
passed $8.000 for the whole event.
A great big shout out to all who participated in the 2019 Clean Sweep!
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
My Soul Looks Back In Wonder
My Soul Looks Back In Wonder
Adult nonfiction
"Fifty years after the Brown decision, the question remains:
How much did it matter? The burden of race still weighs down much of
American life, but the answer is easy: the gains from those years were
enormous--a dramatic change often obscured because the road ahead
remains so long, because so much damage was done in the previous 200
years. But in changing American life for the better, in starting the
process of rescuing the nation from the cruelest part of its own
history, the Civil Rights Movement is a glorious luminescent,
critically important chapter. It is American democracy at its very
best."
When we read about the Civil Rights Movement--those bright,
shining years in the 1950s and 60s--usually the same acknowledged
authorities contribute pieces and quotes. Juan Williams' My Soul
Looks Back In Wonder is more interesting because it's more inclusive.
It's a bright, vibrant patchwork quilt of experiences and
perspectives. Some of the essays you'll read are:
*A Dream Is A Good Place To Start by Endesha Ida Mae Holland. She was
sexually molested on her 11th birthday by a white man because, "...no
white man wanted to die without having sex with a black woman." Later,
abandoned by her baby daddy, she had to take up street walking to
support her child. But she was able to earn respect in the movement
and her PhD.
*A Blinding Flash Opened Our Eyes. Carolyn Maull survived the bombing
of the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church. The four girls who died
putting on their choir robes were her close friends.
and *Unprincipled Principal. Jose Angel Gutierrez had looked up to
his high school principal, John Lair, until the man invalidated a
student vote in order to avoid race mixing. Years later, as school
board chair, he was able to lay down the rules for his former nemesis.
In her afterward Marian Wright Edelman reminds readers we still
have far to go.
"Is the American dream big enough to include Dr. King's and our
dream for our own children and grandchildren? It must be. But we
must stand together to do whatever it takes to get America to live up
to its promise of justice and equality. Dr. King is not coming back.
You and I must build a 21st civil rights movement for our children."
Amen to that!
On a personal note, clean sweep week was intense. Monday through
Thursday we sorted stuff. We got it all done in the nick of time like
always. Late Thursday afternoon Lisa announced that we had to stop
and eat. She needed help bringing stuff in from her car. She had
pizza, chicken tenders, meatball subs, and other good stuff...even
blonde brownies. We had a feast. And we got to take food home. I
packed up subs, roast beef, Swiss cheese, chicken tenders, and blonde
brownies. I so won't have to cook while Eugene is at camp. We stayed
a bit late to finish pricing and got silly toward the end. Me and
Georgia vs the guys. I told Lisa we'd beat our former record of over
$6,000. She wasn't so sure. Did we?
You'll have to read the the next review to find out.
A great big shout out goes out to this year's clean sweep crew.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"Fifty years after the Brown decision, the question remains:
How much did it matter? The burden of race still weighs down much of
American life, but the answer is easy: the gains from those years were
enormous--a dramatic change often obscured because the road ahead
remains so long, because so much damage was done in the previous 200
years. But in changing American life for the better, in starting the
process of rescuing the nation from the cruelest part of its own
history, the Civil Rights Movement is a glorious luminescent,
critically important chapter. It is American democracy at its very
best."
When we read about the Civil Rights Movement--those bright,
shining years in the 1950s and 60s--usually the same acknowledged
authorities contribute pieces and quotes. Juan Williams' My Soul
Looks Back In Wonder is more interesting because it's more inclusive.
It's a bright, vibrant patchwork quilt of experiences and
perspectives. Some of the essays you'll read are:
*A Dream Is A Good Place To Start by Endesha Ida Mae Holland. She was
sexually molested on her 11th birthday by a white man because, "...no
white man wanted to die without having sex with a black woman." Later,
abandoned by her baby daddy, she had to take up street walking to
support her child. But she was able to earn respect in the movement
and her PhD.
*A Blinding Flash Opened Our Eyes. Carolyn Maull survived the bombing
of the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church. The four girls who died
putting on their choir robes were her close friends.
and *Unprincipled Principal. Jose Angel Gutierrez had looked up to
his high school principal, John Lair, until the man invalidated a
student vote in order to avoid race mixing. Years later, as school
board chair, he was able to lay down the rules for his former nemesis.
In her afterward Marian Wright Edelman reminds readers we still
have far to go.
"Is the American dream big enough to include Dr. King's and our
dream for our own children and grandchildren? It must be. But we
must stand together to do whatever it takes to get America to live up
to its promise of justice and equality. Dr. King is not coming back.
You and I must build a 21st civil rights movement for our children."
Amen to that!
On a personal note, clean sweep week was intense. Monday through
Thursday we sorted stuff. We got it all done in the nick of time like
always. Late Thursday afternoon Lisa announced that we had to stop
and eat. She needed help bringing stuff in from her car. She had
pizza, chicken tenders, meatball subs, and other good stuff...even
blonde brownies. We had a feast. And we got to take food home. I
packed up subs, roast beef, Swiss cheese, chicken tenders, and blonde
brownies. I so won't have to cook while Eugene is at camp. We stayed
a bit late to finish pricing and got silly toward the end. Me and
Georgia vs the guys. I told Lisa we'd beat our former record of over
$6,000. She wasn't so sure. Did we?
You'll have to read the the next review to find out.
A great big shout out goes out to this year's clean sweep crew.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Sunday, May 19, 2019
The Hiding Game
The Hiding Game
Juvenile nonfiction
Gwen Strauss' The Hiding Game is one of the most unusual
Holocaust narratives I've ever read. It's the story of her great
uncle Daniel, a man who helped smuggle 2,200 people out of Nazi
controlled France and save 4,000 people by keeping them hidden and fed.
The story is told in the voice of a real child, Aube, who was
one of those smuggled out. In 1940 she and her parents had been
fleeing from place to place, hiding from the Nazis who had taken over
their country. That was when the family became part of the group at
the Villa Air-Bel. It was a seemingly magical place where art and
music helped keep fear at bay. On Sundays artists and writers would
visit. Of course all lived in fear of a raid. Even children had to
know where to hide. Then one day the police arrived.
Although the story line and illustrations would be fascinating
for children, there is a whole other layer of meaning for adults. The
list of residents and visitors is a who's who of writers and artists
of that time.
On a personal note, since Joey's diagnosis I've only snapped at one
other person. A guy said it was just another day. I said, "Don't
tell me that! There's no such thing." Then I explained that when your
beloved cat has cancer every good day is a blessing and a miracle. My
patience with myself, however is fraying. Today I almost put ketchup
instead of mayo on Eugene's cucumber sandwich. I'm getting so tired
of making dumb mistakes, misplacing things, and being paralyzed by the
simplest decisions. Do I have too many pairs of jeans feels like what
is the formula for world peace.
A great big shout goes out to all who are willing to put up with the
person I am right now.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile nonfiction
Gwen Strauss' The Hiding Game is one of the most unusual
Holocaust narratives I've ever read. It's the story of her great
uncle Daniel, a man who helped smuggle 2,200 people out of Nazi
controlled France and save 4,000 people by keeping them hidden and fed.
The story is told in the voice of a real child, Aube, who was
one of those smuggled out. In 1940 she and her parents had been
fleeing from place to place, hiding from the Nazis who had taken over
their country. That was when the family became part of the group at
the Villa Air-Bel. It was a seemingly magical place where art and
music helped keep fear at bay. On Sundays artists and writers would
visit. Of course all lived in fear of a raid. Even children had to
know where to hide. Then one day the police arrived.
Although the story line and illustrations would be fascinating
for children, there is a whole other layer of meaning for adults. The
list of residents and visitors is a who's who of writers and artists
of that time.
On a personal note, since Joey's diagnosis I've only snapped at one
other person. A guy said it was just another day. I said, "Don't
tell me that! There's no such thing." Then I explained that when your
beloved cat has cancer every good day is a blessing and a miracle. My
patience with myself, however is fraying. Today I almost put ketchup
instead of mayo on Eugene's cucumber sandwich. I'm getting so tired
of making dumb mistakes, misplacing things, and being paralyzed by the
simplest decisions. Do I have too many pairs of jeans feels like what
is the formula for world peace.
A great big shout goes out to all who are willing to put up with the
person I am right now.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
From Far Away
From Far Away
Picture book
From Far Away by Robert Munsch and Saoussan Askar is a wonderful
way to introduce young children to the challenges younger immigrants
face. Told from Saoussan's real life experience, it highlights
aspects youngsters might find confusing and scary.
Saoussan and her parents had to flee their war torn country when
a bomb made the roof of their home fall in. Her father left first and
earned money for plane tickets. In America he told her to listen to
her teacher. Only she had no idea what her teacher and classmates
were saying. In fact she didn't know enough English to ask permission
to go to the bathroom.
If this doesn't create empathy I don't know what will.
On a personal note, I can relate to that experience. In high school
one summer I was supposed to study abroad in England. Of course I
knew English. At the last minute I was switched to Mexico. I did not
know a word of Spanish. I was told that was fine. The older daughter
of the family I'd stay with was fluent in English and eager to
translate...
...Only she was away the night I arrived. I remember sitting in
a parlor where I couldn't understand a word anyone was saying and
wondering if they thought I was mentally deficient. Then my bladder
felt like it was going to burst. I drew a picture of a bathroom with
a question mark. Not my finest moment.
A great big shout out goes out to all who welcome strangers into their
midst and help them feel at home.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Picture book
From Far Away by Robert Munsch and Saoussan Askar is a wonderful
way to introduce young children to the challenges younger immigrants
face. Told from Saoussan's real life experience, it highlights
aspects youngsters might find confusing and scary.
Saoussan and her parents had to flee their war torn country when
a bomb made the roof of their home fall in. Her father left first and
earned money for plane tickets. In America he told her to listen to
her teacher. Only she had no idea what her teacher and classmates
were saying. In fact she didn't know enough English to ask permission
to go to the bathroom.
If this doesn't create empathy I don't know what will.
On a personal note, I can relate to that experience. In high school
one summer I was supposed to study abroad in England. Of course I
knew English. At the last minute I was switched to Mexico. I did not
know a word of Spanish. I was told that was fine. The older daughter
of the family I'd stay with was fluent in English and eager to
translate...
...Only she was away the night I arrived. I remember sitting in
a parlor where I couldn't understand a word anyone was saying and
wondering if they thought I was mentally deficient. Then my bladder
felt like it was going to burst. I drew a picture of a bathroom with
a question mark. Not my finest moment.
A great big shout out goes out to all who welcome strangers into their
midst and help them feel at home.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
When You Look Out The Window
When You Look Out The Window
Juvenile nonfiction
In When You Look Out The Window Gayle Pitman turns an act most
people perform on a regular basis into important insights into LGBTQ
history. The picture window in question belonged to Phyllis Lyon and
Del Martin, one of America's most famous lesbian couples. They shared
the house it's part of for 53 years. Lyon still lives there.
Readers will learn about LGBTQ history landmarks visible from
that window. Some of them are:
*a church created to welcome gays and lesbians when most denominations
shunned and condemned them,
*a community space that is focussed on feminism,
and *a solar powered LGBTQ community center.
Information is given to help parents, caregivers, and educators
make good use of this valuable resource.
On a personal note, we're having really strange weather. It's nearly
June and I am in fuzzy footed one piece pajamas every night. We're
having a lot of rainy days and even the sunny ones have real wind
chill. Please note this is a comment, not a complaint. The only
weather that gets to me is the muggy, humid stuff that makes me heat
sick.
A great big shout out goes out to the best little cat in the world who
is napping on my lap. I wish I could forget cooking supper so as not
to disturb him.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile nonfiction
In When You Look Out The Window Gayle Pitman turns an act most
people perform on a regular basis into important insights into LGBTQ
history. The picture window in question belonged to Phyllis Lyon and
Del Martin, one of America's most famous lesbian couples. They shared
the house it's part of for 53 years. Lyon still lives there.
Readers will learn about LGBTQ history landmarks visible from
that window. Some of them are:
*a church created to welcome gays and lesbians when most denominations
shunned and condemned them,
*a community space that is focussed on feminism,
and *a solar powered LGBTQ community center.
Information is given to help parents, caregivers, and educators
make good use of this valuable resource.
On a personal note, we're having really strange weather. It's nearly
June and I am in fuzzy footed one piece pajamas every night. We're
having a lot of rainy days and even the sunny ones have real wind
chill. Please note this is a comment, not a complaint. The only
weather that gets to me is the muggy, humid stuff that makes me heat
sick.
A great big shout out goes out to the best little cat in the world who
is napping on my lap. I wish I could forget cooking supper so as not
to disturb him.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
From The Heart Of Africa
From The Heart Of Africa
Juvenile nonfiction
What is your favorite aphorism? Every society has them--pithy
phrases through which to distill wisdom.
*A stitch in time saves nine.
*Haste makes waste.
*The early bird gets the worm.
Those are a few I grew up hearing.
Eric Walters' From The Heart of Africa brings readers some
memorable sayings from different cultures that make up the continent
of Africa and their meanings. Some of my favorites are:
*I pointed out to you the stars, but all you saw was the tip of my
finger." (Sukumo People, Tanzania). I think a contemporary American
version could be: "I tried to point out to you the stars, but you
wouldn't look up from the screen of your smart phone."
*"When in the middle of the river, do not insult the
crocodile." (Baoule People, Cote D'Ivoire). That's one a lot of
American government officials really need to hear.
*"You must judge a man by the work of his hands." (Northern Africa).
Not by wealth, celebrity status, number of social media followers etc.
The one that fits best with my life now is, "Do not follow the
path. Go to where there is no path to begin the trail." (Ashanti
people, Ghana).
In a society that would consign women who took significant time
out of career world to raise children to retail or fast food, I am
trying to blaze my own graduate school path to show that we have the
right to follow our dreams. There's no statue of limitations on a
mind being a terrible thing to waste.
The illustrations are a real treat. Each is done by a different
artist, many of whom are citizens of African countries.
Even if you have no children, From The Heart of Africa is a
great investment. It's a volume one can return to again and again for
inspiration. Also part of the author's royalties go to help authors
in Kenya.
On a purrrsonal note, this is an all Joey weekend. Other than
sleeping at night, he is getting to set my schedule. When he wants to
cuddle or play or look out the window I'm there. Everything else gets
pushed to when he's sleeping. It's sorta like bringing a new baby
home from the hospital. Joey seems to be enjoying the love. And I am
feeling contentment. These good days are precious for both of us and
for my children who want him to be surrounded by love now more than
ever.
A great big shout out goes out to the best little cat in the world.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile nonfiction
What is your favorite aphorism? Every society has them--pithy
phrases through which to distill wisdom.
*A stitch in time saves nine.
*Haste makes waste.
*The early bird gets the worm.
Those are a few I grew up hearing.
Eric Walters' From The Heart of Africa brings readers some
memorable sayings from different cultures that make up the continent
of Africa and their meanings. Some of my favorites are:
*I pointed out to you the stars, but all you saw was the tip of my
finger." (Sukumo People, Tanzania). I think a contemporary American
version could be: "I tried to point out to you the stars, but you
wouldn't look up from the screen of your smart phone."
*"When in the middle of the river, do not insult the
crocodile." (Baoule People, Cote D'Ivoire). That's one a lot of
American government officials really need to hear.
*"You must judge a man by the work of his hands." (Northern Africa).
Not by wealth, celebrity status, number of social media followers etc.
The one that fits best with my life now is, "Do not follow the
path. Go to where there is no path to begin the trail." (Ashanti
people, Ghana).
In a society that would consign women who took significant time
out of career world to raise children to retail or fast food, I am
trying to blaze my own graduate school path to show that we have the
right to follow our dreams. There's no statue of limitations on a
mind being a terrible thing to waste.
The illustrations are a real treat. Each is done by a different
artist, many of whom are citizens of African countries.
Even if you have no children, From The Heart of Africa is a
great investment. It's a volume one can return to again and again for
inspiration. Also part of the author's royalties go to help authors
in Kenya.
On a purrrsonal note, this is an all Joey weekend. Other than
sleeping at night, he is getting to set my schedule. When he wants to
cuddle or play or look out the window I'm there. Everything else gets
pushed to when he's sleeping. It's sorta like bringing a new baby
home from the hospital. Joey seems to be enjoying the love. And I am
feeling contentment. These good days are precious for both of us and
for my children who want him to be surrounded by love now more than
ever.
A great big shout out goes out to the best little cat in the world.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Malala: A Brave Girl From Pakistan
Malala: A Brave Girl From Pakistan
Iqbal: A Brave Boy From Pakistan
Juvenile biography
Any adult who has spent years reading picture books will
recognize Jeanette Winters' unique illustration style. Any fan of
hers will respect her ability to create empathy in young readers by
introducing them to people facing real challenges. Recently I
discovered a Jeanette Winters' treat: the true life stories of two
kids striving to make a difference in their native land.
Imagine that you had grown up without being allowed an
education--even basic literacy. How many of the tasks you do easily
would be a challenge or even impossible?
In the Pakistan of Malala Yousafzai's childhood the Taliban,
extreme religious fundamentalists, held sway. They tried to prevent
girls from learning, even burning down and bombing schools. When she
was eleven Malala began speaking out against this injustice. Even
getting shot in the head at close range didn't stop her.
What were you doing when you were four? Maybe you attended
preschool. Most likely you played with friends and siblings. I bet
you looked forward to Halloween. I'm confident you did not work full
time.
Iqbal Masih was only four when his parents couldn't pay back a
$12 loan from a man who ran a carpet factory. For years he worked
long days weaving carpets with other little kids, all chained to the
looms. When he was freed he worked to rescue other children. Death
threats didn't deter him. It took a bullet to stop him. He was only
twelve.
I encourage parents to share this book with their children. It
will provoke questions and jump start productive conversations.
On a personal note,...I'm getting paid. Lisa Morin can do that
because I now work on campus. Imagine getting $11 an hour for doing
one of your favorite things in the world. So far I've mostly been
sorting clothes. And there are still mountains more to do. I'm in a
really fun group. Lisa likes us to talk as we work. We get plenty of
time to eat. We're in snack food central. And Friday Lisa took us
all to Dairy Queen and treated us to Blizzards.
A great big shout out goes out to this year's Clean Sweep Crew!
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Iqbal: A Brave Boy From Pakistan
Juvenile biography
Any adult who has spent years reading picture books will
recognize Jeanette Winters' unique illustration style. Any fan of
hers will respect her ability to create empathy in young readers by
introducing them to people facing real challenges. Recently I
discovered a Jeanette Winters' treat: the true life stories of two
kids striving to make a difference in their native land.
Imagine that you had grown up without being allowed an
education--even basic literacy. How many of the tasks you do easily
would be a challenge or even impossible?
In the Pakistan of Malala Yousafzai's childhood the Taliban,
extreme religious fundamentalists, held sway. They tried to prevent
girls from learning, even burning down and bombing schools. When she
was eleven Malala began speaking out against this injustice. Even
getting shot in the head at close range didn't stop her.
What were you doing when you were four? Maybe you attended
preschool. Most likely you played with friends and siblings. I bet
you looked forward to Halloween. I'm confident you did not work full
time.
Iqbal Masih was only four when his parents couldn't pay back a
$12 loan from a man who ran a carpet factory. For years he worked
long days weaving carpets with other little kids, all chained to the
looms. When he was freed he worked to rescue other children. Death
threats didn't deter him. It took a bullet to stop him. He was only
twelve.
I encourage parents to share this book with their children. It
will provoke questions and jump start productive conversations.
On a personal note,...I'm getting paid. Lisa Morin can do that
because I now work on campus. Imagine getting $11 an hour for doing
one of your favorite things in the world. So far I've mostly been
sorting clothes. And there are still mountains more to do. I'm in a
really fun group. Lisa likes us to talk as we work. We get plenty of
time to eat. We're in snack food central. And Friday Lisa took us
all to Dairy Queen and treated us to Blizzards.
A great big shout out goes out to this year's Clean Sweep Crew!
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Snails Are Just My Speed!
Snails Are Just My Speed!
Juvenile nonfiction
I bet you overlook snails--except for the shelless ones that are
called slugs if you're a gardener. You may realize that they, under
the name escargot, are on the menu in really posh French restaurants.
But otherwise you consider them pretty dull and prosaic--if you think
about them at all.
Kevin McCloskey's Snails Are Just My Speed! should cure you of
that delusion. Did you know that:
*Snails can be found at every habitat on earth from mountain top to
under seas;
*some snails are hairy, some as see through as glass;
and *they can be over a foot long or small enough to fit through the
eye of a needle?
These lowly creatures may even have contributed to our image of
Cupid. You'll have to read the book to discover how.
Did you know that way long ago maidens (unmarried girls) would
get up early to look for snail tracks to see if they could see the
initials of their future husbands in them?
I have a favorite snail story. Mom and Dad took Harriet and me
to the kind of restaurant where you have to wear a church dress and
patent leather shoes and be on VERY BEST BEHAVIOR. I noticed a couple
eating something very strange looking and asked them what it was.
They explained how snails are called escargot and considered a
delicacy in France. The woman fed me one, showing me how she dipped
it in garlic butter. I said it was delicious and thanked them for
sharing. A little later a waitperson presented me with a big white
bakery box full of the most delectable pastries. It was a reward from
the couple for my delightful curiosity.
Sorry for that digression. Unless, of course, you enjoyed it.
Books like Snails Are Just My Speed! are a wonderful way to introduce
children to the fascinating, but underrated, creatures we share this
planet with.
On a personal note, it's clean sweep time here at UMaine. That's the
two weeks during which all the stuff students leave behind in the
dorms is gleaned and sorted in preparation for the yard sale all other
yard sales wish they were. The proceeds go to the Bodwell Center for
Volunteerism to fund programs like Black Bear Exchange. It's one of
my favorite times of the year. I've volunteered for ages, but this
year...
A great big shout out goes out to the people who have participated in
and patronized Clean Sweep over the years.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile nonfiction
I bet you overlook snails--except for the shelless ones that are
called slugs if you're a gardener. You may realize that they, under
the name escargot, are on the menu in really posh French restaurants.
But otherwise you consider them pretty dull and prosaic--if you think
about them at all.
Kevin McCloskey's Snails Are Just My Speed! should cure you of
that delusion. Did you know that:
*Snails can be found at every habitat on earth from mountain top to
under seas;
*some snails are hairy, some as see through as glass;
and *they can be over a foot long or small enough to fit through the
eye of a needle?
These lowly creatures may even have contributed to our image of
Cupid. You'll have to read the book to discover how.
Did you know that way long ago maidens (unmarried girls) would
get up early to look for snail tracks to see if they could see the
initials of their future husbands in them?
I have a favorite snail story. Mom and Dad took Harriet and me
to the kind of restaurant where you have to wear a church dress and
patent leather shoes and be on VERY BEST BEHAVIOR. I noticed a couple
eating something very strange looking and asked them what it was.
They explained how snails are called escargot and considered a
delicacy in France. The woman fed me one, showing me how she dipped
it in garlic butter. I said it was delicious and thanked them for
sharing. A little later a waitperson presented me with a big white
bakery box full of the most delectable pastries. It was a reward from
the couple for my delightful curiosity.
Sorry for that digression. Unless, of course, you enjoyed it.
Books like Snails Are Just My Speed! are a wonderful way to introduce
children to the fascinating, but underrated, creatures we share this
planet with.
On a personal note, it's clean sweep time here at UMaine. That's the
two weeks during which all the stuff students leave behind in the
dorms is gleaned and sorted in preparation for the yard sale all other
yard sales wish they were. The proceeds go to the Bodwell Center for
Volunteerism to fund programs like Black Bear Exchange. It's one of
my favorite times of the year. I've volunteered for ages, but this
year...
A great big shout out goes out to the people who have participated in
and patronized Clean Sweep over the years.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Trans Teen Survival Guide
Trans Teen Survival Guide
YA/adult nonfiction
"Chances are that the reason you're starting to read this book
is because you're wondering if you're trans or not. Or that you've
already figured out that you're trans and you need some more
information. Or perhaps someone close to you might be trans. We're
glad you decided that this book might be of help to you and we really
help it will be. It contains valuable information that we wish we'd
had access to when growing up, and it's so amazing to be able to share
this with you."
I was thrilled to see Owl and Fox Fisher's Trans Teen Survival
Guide at Orono Public Library for several reasons. My brother, Harte,
was born my sister, Harriet. I have UMaine friends who are in various
stages of transitioning and see the beauty of their becoming their
true selves. Sadly other friends struggle to find some way of
affording the treatments they need and others have families whose love
and financial support are contingent on them presenting as their
assigned gender. To be oneself or be loved is a cruel choice to have
to make. I am also not the CIS girl my parents were promised when I
graduated to the air breathing world. I was thrilled to learn that
I'm gender fluid or two spirit, not weird or unwilling or unable to
grow up to be a June Cleaver wannabe.
Trans Teen Survival Guide is a gem of a read for a bunch of
reasons;
The book is written by authors who know what they're talking
about. They understand growing up trans from a "been there, done
that" perspective. As shown in the above paragraph, their voice is
direct and conversational. Research and personal narrative are nicely
balanced. And observations by other members of the trans community
are included.
There is information galore. The topics covered in depth include:
*coming out or not coming out;
*choosing a new name and pronoun;
*hormone therapies;
*surgeries;
*dating;
and *making legal changes.
There is an emphasis on there being no right or wrong way to be--
just what makes you comfortable and happy. Although coming out may be
liberating for some people, it can be downright dangerous for others.
Clothes and hair can be as idiosyncratic as you wish. Ditto with
professions and hobbies.
There is also an emphasis on self care which is vital. Being
anything but binary can be an exhausting challenge. There are
reminders that being trans is only part of one's identity. And there
are so many methods for chilling and relaxing.
Despite teen being in the title and a YA (middle/high school)
designation I would extend the demographics upward. The book is highly
relevant for the college crowd and current and future student affairs
professionals. Also many people currently discover their
nonbinaryness and need the basics quite a bit later in life.
On a personal note, I really appreciated the chapter on names and
pronouns. Even when I was little Julia never really fit. Especially
when I discovered that family name went far enough back to belong to
at least one slave owner. Eeew! I went through a series of
nicknames. When I was raising the kids I went by my middle name,
Emily. But when I started coming into my own Emily was like a
suffocating whale bone corset intended to return me to a pre
pregnancies waist size. Jules was my perfect identity fitting name.
When people call me Jules I feel validated. When people insist on
Julia or Emily it can feel like a micro (or not so micro) aggression.
And to people who say, "But Julia is such a pretty name.", it is--it
just isn't me.
A great big shout out goes out to all the people in my life who lift
my spirits by calling me Jules.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
YA/adult nonfiction
"Chances are that the reason you're starting to read this book
is because you're wondering if you're trans or not. Or that you've
already figured out that you're trans and you need some more
information. Or perhaps someone close to you might be trans. We're
glad you decided that this book might be of help to you and we really
help it will be. It contains valuable information that we wish we'd
had access to when growing up, and it's so amazing to be able to share
this with you."
I was thrilled to see Owl and Fox Fisher's Trans Teen Survival
Guide at Orono Public Library for several reasons. My brother, Harte,
was born my sister, Harriet. I have UMaine friends who are in various
stages of transitioning and see the beauty of their becoming their
true selves. Sadly other friends struggle to find some way of
affording the treatments they need and others have families whose love
and financial support are contingent on them presenting as their
assigned gender. To be oneself or be loved is a cruel choice to have
to make. I am also not the CIS girl my parents were promised when I
graduated to the air breathing world. I was thrilled to learn that
I'm gender fluid or two spirit, not weird or unwilling or unable to
grow up to be a June Cleaver wannabe.
Trans Teen Survival Guide is a gem of a read for a bunch of
reasons;
The book is written by authors who know what they're talking
about. They understand growing up trans from a "been there, done
that" perspective. As shown in the above paragraph, their voice is
direct and conversational. Research and personal narrative are nicely
balanced. And observations by other members of the trans community
are included.
There is information galore. The topics covered in depth include:
*coming out or not coming out;
*choosing a new name and pronoun;
*hormone therapies;
*surgeries;
*dating;
and *making legal changes.
There is an emphasis on there being no right or wrong way to be--
just what makes you comfortable and happy. Although coming out may be
liberating for some people, it can be downright dangerous for others.
Clothes and hair can be as idiosyncratic as you wish. Ditto with
professions and hobbies.
There is also an emphasis on self care which is vital. Being
anything but binary can be an exhausting challenge. There are
reminders that being trans is only part of one's identity. And there
are so many methods for chilling and relaxing.
Despite teen being in the title and a YA (middle/high school)
designation I would extend the demographics upward. The book is highly
relevant for the college crowd and current and future student affairs
professionals. Also many people currently discover their
nonbinaryness and need the basics quite a bit later in life.
On a personal note, I really appreciated the chapter on names and
pronouns. Even when I was little Julia never really fit. Especially
when I discovered that family name went far enough back to belong to
at least one slave owner. Eeew! I went through a series of
nicknames. When I was raising the kids I went by my middle name,
Emily. But when I started coming into my own Emily was like a
suffocating whale bone corset intended to return me to a pre
pregnancies waist size. Jules was my perfect identity fitting name.
When people call me Jules I feel validated. When people insist on
Julia or Emily it can feel like a micro (or not so micro) aggression.
And to people who say, "But Julia is such a pretty name.", it is--it
just isn't me.
A great big shout out goes out to all the people in my life who lift
my spirits by calling me Jules.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Saturday, May 18, 2019
A Good Kind of Trouble
A Good Kind of Trouble
Juvenile fiction
"I slump on my seat and start picking at a blob of ink stuck on
my desk. I hate when a teacher assumes that just because I'm Black,
I'll know all about slavery and stuff like that. I'm the only black
student in the class, so I know everyone's staring at me, trying to
see if I have bat wings or hairy armpits. Like being Black is a whole
different species."
Shay, protagonist of Lisa Moore Ramee's A Good Kind of Trouble,
is finding junior high quite challenging.
First there's the matter of Friendship. She, Julia, and
Isabella are long time best friends, sure they'll never grow apart.
But cracks have started to appear in their relationship. Julia has
started to spend time with a group she might like better. Minus
braces, Isabella has become a knockout. In Shay's mind she might be
too attractive, perhaps attracting the boy Shay has a crush on.
Then there's a volatile situation in Shay's town. The trial of
a white policewoman accused of shooting an unarmed black man is going
on. People are pretty sure that, despite video of the incident, a not
guilty verdict will ensue. Shay has always gone out of her way to
avoid getting in trouble. The prospect makes her hands itch. But
what if obedience will only lead to oppression and discrimination
continuing? What if getting fairness and justice requires having the
courage to rock the boat.
A Good Kind of Trouble is Ramee's brilliant debut novel. I'll
be expecting more greatness from this talented newcomer.
On a purrrsonal note, Joey keeps doing better. He's eating well,
putting on a little weight, and having more energy and alertness and
more interest in the world around him. He has a new favorite cuddle
spot where we can gaze out the window together. He is lavish with
muzzles and purr songs. I am treasuring our time together. Every
good day he has feels like a blessing, a miracle.
Oh, yeah, for anyone wanting to look sensational for a prom, wedding,
or other upcoming spring social event my daughter, Amber, has some
really awesome nail painting designs on her crafts blog:
Http://amberscraftaweek.blogspot.com
A great big shout out goes out to the best little cat in the world who
loves me.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile fiction
"I slump on my seat and start picking at a blob of ink stuck on
my desk. I hate when a teacher assumes that just because I'm Black,
I'll know all about slavery and stuff like that. I'm the only black
student in the class, so I know everyone's staring at me, trying to
see if I have bat wings or hairy armpits. Like being Black is a whole
different species."
Shay, protagonist of Lisa Moore Ramee's A Good Kind of Trouble,
is finding junior high quite challenging.
First there's the matter of Friendship. She, Julia, and
Isabella are long time best friends, sure they'll never grow apart.
But cracks have started to appear in their relationship. Julia has
started to spend time with a group she might like better. Minus
braces, Isabella has become a knockout. In Shay's mind she might be
too attractive, perhaps attracting the boy Shay has a crush on.
Then there's a volatile situation in Shay's town. The trial of
a white policewoman accused of shooting an unarmed black man is going
on. People are pretty sure that, despite video of the incident, a not
guilty verdict will ensue. Shay has always gone out of her way to
avoid getting in trouble. The prospect makes her hands itch. But
what if obedience will only lead to oppression and discrimination
continuing? What if getting fairness and justice requires having the
courage to rock the boat.
A Good Kind of Trouble is Ramee's brilliant debut novel. I'll
be expecting more greatness from this talented newcomer.
On a purrrsonal note, Joey keeps doing better. He's eating well,
putting on a little weight, and having more energy and alertness and
more interest in the world around him. He has a new favorite cuddle
spot where we can gaze out the window together. He is lavish with
muzzles and purr songs. I am treasuring our time together. Every
good day he has feels like a blessing, a miracle.
Oh, yeah, for anyone wanting to look sensational for a prom, wedding,
or other upcoming spring social event my daughter, Amber, has some
really awesome nail painting designs on her crafts blog:
Http://amberscraftaweek.blogspot.com
A great big shout out goes out to the best little cat in the world who
loves me.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Tuesday, May 14, 2019
The Girls
The Girls
Adult fiction
"I noticed their hair first, long and uncombed. Then their
jewelery catching the sun. The three of them were far enough away
that I saw only the periphery of their features, but it didn't matter--
I knew they were different from everyone else in the park. Families
milling in a vague line, waiting for sausages and burgers from the
open grill. Women in checked blouses, scooting into their boyfriends'
sides, kids tossing eucalyptus buttons at the feral-looking chickens
that overran the strip. These long-haired girls seemed to glide above
all that was happening all around them. Like royalty in exile."
It's the summer of 1969. Evie, protagonist of Emma Cline's The
Girls, is in a state of angst, alienation, and ennui. Her parents are
divorced, her father out of the picture. Her mother, desperate for a
new husband, is dating a series of gross losers. Her crush has taken
off with his pregnant girlfriend. She and her long term best friend
are drifting apart. In September, while her peers start at the local
high school, she's getting shipped off to boarding school to shape up.
Evie's first sight of the girls is not her last. They appear
one day when her bike has broken down beyond her ability to fix it.
They invite her to load the bike into their van and visit them.
Russell would want them to be hospitable.
The ranch Evie is taken to teems with people including a cluster
of young children left to their own devices. Russell is the leader,
the guru, the one whose every whim (including sexual) must be
satisfied. He teaches his followers to abandon the outside with its
emphasis on material possessions and vanity.
"We were, Russell told us, starting a new kind of society. Free
from racism, free from exclusion, and free from hierarchy. We were in
the service of a deeper love. That's how he said it, a deeper love,
his voice booming from the ramshackle house in the California
grasslands, and we played together like dogs, tumbling and biting and
breathless with sun shock. We were barely adults, most of us, and our
teeth were still milky and new. We ate whatever was put in front of
us. Oatmeal that gummed up in the throat. Ketchup on bread, chipped
beef from a can. Potatoes soggy with PAM."
Evie becomes a habitué of the ranch. The lifestyles and aspirati
ons of her family and neighbors seem cheap and superficial in
contrast. She desperately tries to please the enigmatic Suzanne with
whom she shares a volatile intimacy. She has no idea that her
adoptive family will perform a viciously violent act that will change
their future irrevocably before the summer is over.
On a personal note, last night the weather people were making all
kinds of dire predictions: torrential rain mixed with snow. I put
off my errands, covered my blooming daffodils, and hunkered down.
While I was sleeping they downgraded to interminemt showers. That's
what we got. It may have been gray outside, but it was sunny inside.
Joey cat was having a good day. He was even able to sit on his catio
and watch cat tv. I found a new way to perk up his appetite. If I
put a cat treat on his food he'll eat the treat and some of the food.
And the beautiful Mothers Day flowers Katie gave me really brighten up
the kitchen.
A great big shout out goes out to the best little cat in the world
with hopes and prayers for many more good days.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult fiction
"I noticed their hair first, long and uncombed. Then their
jewelery catching the sun. The three of them were far enough away
that I saw only the periphery of their features, but it didn't matter--
I knew they were different from everyone else in the park. Families
milling in a vague line, waiting for sausages and burgers from the
open grill. Women in checked blouses, scooting into their boyfriends'
sides, kids tossing eucalyptus buttons at the feral-looking chickens
that overran the strip. These long-haired girls seemed to glide above
all that was happening all around them. Like royalty in exile."
It's the summer of 1969. Evie, protagonist of Emma Cline's The
Girls, is in a state of angst, alienation, and ennui. Her parents are
divorced, her father out of the picture. Her mother, desperate for a
new husband, is dating a series of gross losers. Her crush has taken
off with his pregnant girlfriend. She and her long term best friend
are drifting apart. In September, while her peers start at the local
high school, she's getting shipped off to boarding school to shape up.
Evie's first sight of the girls is not her last. They appear
one day when her bike has broken down beyond her ability to fix it.
They invite her to load the bike into their van and visit them.
Russell would want them to be hospitable.
The ranch Evie is taken to teems with people including a cluster
of young children left to their own devices. Russell is the leader,
the guru, the one whose every whim (including sexual) must be
satisfied. He teaches his followers to abandon the outside with its
emphasis on material possessions and vanity.
"We were, Russell told us, starting a new kind of society. Free
from racism, free from exclusion, and free from hierarchy. We were in
the service of a deeper love. That's how he said it, a deeper love,
his voice booming from the ramshackle house in the California
grasslands, and we played together like dogs, tumbling and biting and
breathless with sun shock. We were barely adults, most of us, and our
teeth were still milky and new. We ate whatever was put in front of
us. Oatmeal that gummed up in the throat. Ketchup on bread, chipped
beef from a can. Potatoes soggy with PAM."
Evie becomes a habitué of the ranch. The lifestyles and aspirati
ons of her family and neighbors seem cheap and superficial in
contrast. She desperately tries to please the enigmatic Suzanne with
whom she shares a volatile intimacy. She has no idea that her
adoptive family will perform a viciously violent act that will change
their future irrevocably before the summer is over.
On a personal note, last night the weather people were making all
kinds of dire predictions: torrential rain mixed with snow. I put
off my errands, covered my blooming daffodils, and hunkered down.
While I was sleeping they downgraded to interminemt showers. That's
what we got. It may have been gray outside, but it was sunny inside.
Joey cat was having a good day. He was even able to sit on his catio
and watch cat tv. I found a new way to perk up his appetite. If I
put a cat treat on his food he'll eat the treat and some of the food.
And the beautiful Mothers Day flowers Katie gave me really brighten up
the kitchen.
A great big shout out goes out to the best little cat in the world
with hopes and prayers for many more good days.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Between The Lines
Between The Lines
Juvenile biography
We think of football players as rough and tumble gridiron
giants, tackling opponents in a quest for victory. We think of
artists as quieter, more gentle souls, plying paints or pastels to
share their feelings and visions. How can one person be both? Read
Sandra Neil Wallace's Between The Lines and see.
Ernest Barnes grew up in the segregated south. He loved to
draw. As a child he used sticks to create pictures in the mud. Later
he carried a sketch book around capturing scenes from his neighborhood.
"He drew the junkman peddling hubcaps.
Families walking home from church.
The old man snoring on the green sofa in the vacant lot while
the kids played football."
Blacks were not welcome in museums. Ernest's mother inspired
him by showing him the paintings in the house where she worked as a
maid.
Ernest was growing up in a neighborhood where most of his peers
dreamed of becoming professional athletes. He had no desire to be on
a high school team. However, when he hit 6'3" the football coach made
a visit to his home with a donation for his mother's church.
Ernest had a talent for football. He became captain of his
team. He graduated high school with 26 scholarship offers. He went
right from college to the pros. It was a Cinderella story with one
flaw...
...Ernest still wanted to draw in a profession that wasn't
receptive to artistic expression. He was fined every time his coach
caught him sketching. One day his notepad was torn up. His coach said
if he could forget art he could be a great player.
Quitting football was a scary Mdecision for Ernest. How would
he support himself?
Read the book and find out.
On a personal note, I am learning how awesome and amazing my adult
kids are. When I learned that Joey cat has cancer one of my biggest
worries was how to tell them. They grew up with him. They love him
so much! When they found out they amazed me. They are being so
loving and generous and honest. Together we're figuring out how best
to tend to Joey. We're all supporting each other. It's like we've
gone from the days where Eugene and I took care of them to a new space
where we take care of each other. It feels like a miracle.
A great big shout out goes out to my amazing kids.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile biography
We think of football players as rough and tumble gridiron
giants, tackling opponents in a quest for victory. We think of
artists as quieter, more gentle souls, plying paints or pastels to
share their feelings and visions. How can one person be both? Read
Sandra Neil Wallace's Between The Lines and see.
Ernest Barnes grew up in the segregated south. He loved to
draw. As a child he used sticks to create pictures in the mud. Later
he carried a sketch book around capturing scenes from his neighborhood.
"He drew the junkman peddling hubcaps.
Families walking home from church.
The old man snoring on the green sofa in the vacant lot while
the kids played football."
Blacks were not welcome in museums. Ernest's mother inspired
him by showing him the paintings in the house where she worked as a
maid.
Ernest was growing up in a neighborhood where most of his peers
dreamed of becoming professional athletes. He had no desire to be on
a high school team. However, when he hit 6'3" the football coach made
a visit to his home with a donation for his mother's church.
Ernest had a talent for football. He became captain of his
team. He graduated high school with 26 scholarship offers. He went
right from college to the pros. It was a Cinderella story with one
flaw...
...Ernest still wanted to draw in a profession that wasn't
receptive to artistic expression. He was fined every time his coach
caught him sketching. One day his notepad was torn up. His coach said
if he could forget art he could be a great player.
Quitting football was a scary Mdecision for Ernest. How would
he support himself?
Read the book and find out.
On a personal note, I am learning how awesome and amazing my adult
kids are. When I learned that Joey cat has cancer one of my biggest
worries was how to tell them. They grew up with him. They love him
so much! When they found out they amazed me. They are being so
loving and generous and honest. Together we're figuring out how best
to tend to Joey. We're all supporting each other. It's like we've
gone from the days where Eugene and I took care of them to a new space
where we take care of each other. It feels like a miracle.
A great big shout out goes out to my amazing kids.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Mama Africa!
Mama Africa!
Juvenile herstory
"Miriam sang as soon as she could talk and danced as soon as she
could walk.
She sang folk songs as her mother played the drums.
She sang pop songs for her brother and his friends.
She sang hymns with her sisters in the Sunday school choir.
'Music gets deep down inside me and starts to shake things up'
she said.
And from deep inside Miriam began to shake up the world."
Miriam Makeba, protagonist of Kathryn Erskine's Mama Africa!,
was growing up in hard times. In South Africa apartheid was the law
of the land. Baases (whites) were intent on keeping blacks oppressed
and silenced. They raided their homes and took them away, sometimes
never to return. They arrested those who left their neighborhoods
without passes.
One tragic incident in the book illustrates the cruelty of the
system especially clearly. Miriam and some of her friends were in a
two car collision. Ambulance drivers took only the white passangers
from the other car. One of Miriam's friends was critically injured.
By the time she found help he was dead.
Miriam used her voice to protest the evils of her country and
empower her people. This was risky business. When she left her
country she was not allowed to return--even when her mother was very
sick.
Her songs were reaching people in the outside world, people who
were outraged once they weren't in the dark.
Erskine had a special reason for writing the book. As a white
child she spent several years in South Africa under apartheid. She
and her mother covertly listened to Miriam's music which had been
banned. She attended a segregated school and saw first hand the
cruelties and oppressions inflicted on blacks.
"What inspires me about Miriam Makeba is her resilience, her
refusal to give up, and her unfailing dedication to her people, which
drove her to battle impossible odds. I have often thought: If she
could do it, why can't we all use our voices, our song, to confront
the thinly veiled apartheid of the United States and inhumane
treatment anywhere in the world?"
On a personal note, my daughter, Amber, has made quite an
achievement. She is now officially a PhD candidate!!! She's on the
way to becoming the first woman in the family to have a PhD. My mom
sorta got pregnant. Mea culpa. And I'm just on my masters. She also
earned a leadership award. I am so proud of her!
A great big shout out goes out to the future Dr. Hathaway!!!
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile herstory
"Miriam sang as soon as she could talk and danced as soon as she
could walk.
She sang folk songs as her mother played the drums.
She sang pop songs for her brother and his friends.
She sang hymns with her sisters in the Sunday school choir.
'Music gets deep down inside me and starts to shake things up'
she said.
And from deep inside Miriam began to shake up the world."
Miriam Makeba, protagonist of Kathryn Erskine's Mama Africa!,
was growing up in hard times. In South Africa apartheid was the law
of the land. Baases (whites) were intent on keeping blacks oppressed
and silenced. They raided their homes and took them away, sometimes
never to return. They arrested those who left their neighborhoods
without passes.
One tragic incident in the book illustrates the cruelty of the
system especially clearly. Miriam and some of her friends were in a
two car collision. Ambulance drivers took only the white passangers
from the other car. One of Miriam's friends was critically injured.
By the time she found help he was dead.
Miriam used her voice to protest the evils of her country and
empower her people. This was risky business. When she left her
country she was not allowed to return--even when her mother was very
sick.
Her songs were reaching people in the outside world, people who
were outraged once they weren't in the dark.
Erskine had a special reason for writing the book. As a white
child she spent several years in South Africa under apartheid. She
and her mother covertly listened to Miriam's music which had been
banned. She attended a segregated school and saw first hand the
cruelties and oppressions inflicted on blacks.
"What inspires me about Miriam Makeba is her resilience, her
refusal to give up, and her unfailing dedication to her people, which
drove her to battle impossible odds. I have often thought: If she
could do it, why can't we all use our voices, our song, to confront
the thinly veiled apartheid of the United States and inhumane
treatment anywhere in the world?"
On a personal note, my daughter, Amber, has made quite an
achievement. She is now officially a PhD candidate!!! She's on the
way to becoming the first woman in the family to have a PhD. My mom
sorta got pregnant. Mea culpa. And I'm just on my masters. She also
earned a leadership award. I am so proud of her!
A great big shout out goes out to the future Dr. Hathaway!!!
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Libba; The Magnificent Musical Life of Elizabeth Cotten
Libba; The Magnificent Musical Life of Elizabeth Cotten
Juvenile herstory
"Libba Cotten heard music everywhere. She heard it in the river
when she brought in water for her mother. She heard it in the ax when
she chopped wood for kindling. She heard it in the freight trains
moving down the tracks near her home."
In addition to hearing music, Libba made it. She taught herself
to play her brother's guitar--backwards and upside down because she
was left handed. When he left home she earned the money for a guitar
of her own. She wrote her first song before her thirteenth birthday.
Not everyone was a fan. Her pastor didn't want her playing "The
Devil's Music."
Life wasn't easy for black girls and women back in the day. It
sure sidetracked Libba's plans. Her beloved guitar lay silent until
she got a job as a housekeeper for the Seeger family. (Maybe you've
heard of Pete Seeger.) Their home was filled with musicians and
music. One day she started playing...
...and the rest was herstory.
Libba is now an inspiration to me. She was in her sixties when
she recorded her first album. She was still touring and recording in
her eighties.
Let her inspire you!
On a personal note, I was in my sixties when I started graduate school
and hope to be working and researching well into my eighties. In
connection to this I was really touched by the Mothers' Day gift Adam
and his fiancée, Asia, gave me--a beautiful flowered backpack filled
with school supplies and candy.
A great big shout out goes out to the precious family members and
friends who believe in me and my dream.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile herstory
"Libba Cotten heard music everywhere. She heard it in the river
when she brought in water for her mother. She heard it in the ax when
she chopped wood for kindling. She heard it in the freight trains
moving down the tracks near her home."
In addition to hearing music, Libba made it. She taught herself
to play her brother's guitar--backwards and upside down because she
was left handed. When he left home she earned the money for a guitar
of her own. She wrote her first song before her thirteenth birthday.
Not everyone was a fan. Her pastor didn't want her playing "The
Devil's Music."
Life wasn't easy for black girls and women back in the day. It
sure sidetracked Libba's plans. Her beloved guitar lay silent until
she got a job as a housekeeper for the Seeger family. (Maybe you've
heard of Pete Seeger.) Their home was filled with musicians and
music. One day she started playing...
...and the rest was herstory.
Libba is now an inspiration to me. She was in her sixties when
she recorded her first album. She was still touring and recording in
her eighties.
Let her inspire you!
On a personal note, I was in my sixties when I started graduate school
and hope to be working and researching well into my eighties. In
connection to this I was really touched by the Mothers' Day gift Adam
and his fiancée, Asia, gave me--a beautiful flowered backpack filled
with school supplies and candy.
A great big shout out goes out to the precious family members and
friends who believe in me and my dream.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Schomburg: The Man Who Built A Library
Schomburg: The Man Who Built A Library
Juvenile biography
"Arturo Schomburg was more than a book lover, more than a
mailroom clerk at Banker's Trust, where he supervised eleven white
men, unheard-of-authority for a black man at that time. He learned
early on that history was not history unless it was complete from all
angles. Like a detective, he hunted for clues and found facts.
Affirming the role of African descendents in building nations and
shaping cultures."
Schomburg: The Man Who Built A Library is a must acquire for
school and public libraries. It's narrated in free verse by Carole
Boston Weatherford and illustrated in dynamic paintings by Eric
Velasquez, two giants of today's multicultural literature scene. It
introduces readers to Arturo Schomburg, a visionary who let nothing
get in the way of his mission: discovering and writing about the
contributions of blacks.
Schomburg was born in 1874 in Puerto Rico. In his early years
he spent time in a cigar factory. The workers paid him to occupy
their minds while they worked by reading. He became a big fan of
literacy. When he was in fifth grade his undoubtedly white teacher
dropped a bombshell. Blacks had no heroes to look up to, no history
to be proud of. Most kids in his situation would have been crushed.
He, however, was inspired to show the world whites weren't the only
ones who had a past worth celebrating.
Schomburg was only seventeen when he immigrated to America.
Although he had professional aspirations, he was unable to realize
them. His school records had been destroyed. He went to work for a
law firm as a clerk and messanger, studied English at night school,
and was active in politics.
Schomburg was anything but wealthy. Still the desire to unlock
the history of his people burned in him. Self described as having the
"book hunting disease," he became a habitué of rare book stores.
Fortunately many of the volumes he found were sold cheaply by whites
who did not recognize their worth. He became a respected participant
in the Harlem Renaissance and a writer, lecturer, and researcher.
Schomburg's collection grew by leaps and bounds until his wife
gave him an ultimatum. There were full bookcases all over their home--
even in the bathroom. A private collector made him a generous offer.
But he had other plans...
...Read the book to learn about them.
On a personal note, I've been asked how I'm doing. This time is
bittersweet. I take joy in Joey being in a good stretch thanks to
renewed appetite. But I know a cure is not going to happen.
No drugs are involved. I'm drinking even less than my modest usual.
The only addictive substances are books. My most wonderful resources
are the family members and friends who love Joey and me.
I sleep fine so far. Meals have become like the homework for a gen ed
class...not fun but ya gotta do it to pass. Decisions are confusing.
At Dunkin Donuts I went with jelly because I figured you can't go
wrong with jelly. Then telling the worker at Subway what to put on my
sandwich felt like advanced calculus.
I'm glad I have time between the semester and clean sweep to spend
with Joey and learn as much as I can about how to take the best care
of him.
A great big shout out goes out to the best little cat in the world.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile biography
"Arturo Schomburg was more than a book lover, more than a
mailroom clerk at Banker's Trust, where he supervised eleven white
men, unheard-of-authority for a black man at that time. He learned
early on that history was not history unless it was complete from all
angles. Like a detective, he hunted for clues and found facts.
Affirming the role of African descendents in building nations and
shaping cultures."
Schomburg: The Man Who Built A Library is a must acquire for
school and public libraries. It's narrated in free verse by Carole
Boston Weatherford and illustrated in dynamic paintings by Eric
Velasquez, two giants of today's multicultural literature scene. It
introduces readers to Arturo Schomburg, a visionary who let nothing
get in the way of his mission: discovering and writing about the
contributions of blacks.
Schomburg was born in 1874 in Puerto Rico. In his early years
he spent time in a cigar factory. The workers paid him to occupy
their minds while they worked by reading. He became a big fan of
literacy. When he was in fifth grade his undoubtedly white teacher
dropped a bombshell. Blacks had no heroes to look up to, no history
to be proud of. Most kids in his situation would have been crushed.
He, however, was inspired to show the world whites weren't the only
ones who had a past worth celebrating.
Schomburg was only seventeen when he immigrated to America.
Although he had professional aspirations, he was unable to realize
them. His school records had been destroyed. He went to work for a
law firm as a clerk and messanger, studied English at night school,
and was active in politics.
Schomburg was anything but wealthy. Still the desire to unlock
the history of his people burned in him. Self described as having the
"book hunting disease," he became a habitué of rare book stores.
Fortunately many of the volumes he found were sold cheaply by whites
who did not recognize their worth. He became a respected participant
in the Harlem Renaissance and a writer, lecturer, and researcher.
Schomburg's collection grew by leaps and bounds until his wife
gave him an ultimatum. There were full bookcases all over their home--
even in the bathroom. A private collector made him a generous offer.
But he had other plans...
...Read the book to learn about them.
On a personal note, I've been asked how I'm doing. This time is
bittersweet. I take joy in Joey being in a good stretch thanks to
renewed appetite. But I know a cure is not going to happen.
No drugs are involved. I'm drinking even less than my modest usual.
The only addictive substances are books. My most wonderful resources
are the family members and friends who love Joey and me.
I sleep fine so far. Meals have become like the homework for a gen ed
class...not fun but ya gotta do it to pass. Decisions are confusing.
At Dunkin Donuts I went with jelly because I figured you can't go
wrong with jelly. Then telling the worker at Subway what to put on my
sandwich felt like advanced calculus.
I'm glad I have time between the semester and clean sweep to spend
with Joey and learn as much as I can about how to take the best care
of him.
A great big shout out goes out to the best little cat in the world.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Our Guys
Our Guys
Adult nonfiction
"Seated behind the parents were the pumped-up athletes who were
friends of the defendants and their younger brothers. And more:
grandparents, parents, teenagers, friends, ministers. Breathe deeply
and you could imagine the smell of fresh-cut grass and barbeques in
the courtroom. Judge Cohen--who lived in Maplewood, an attractive
upper-middle class New Jersey suburb, who drove a red convertible
sports car, who had a son who wrestled in school--recognized those
faces. They looked like the faces he had spent much of his life
with. Hard-working, churchgoing people. People who sent their kids
to the Little League, who belonged to the Civic Association."
Judge Cohen, described above, presided over a trial that
captured the attention of a nation. In 1989 in Glen Ridge, New
Jersey, a very upscale suburb, a group of golden boys, star athletes
from the town's elite, was accused of gang raping a mentally
challenged peer, shoving a stick, a broom handle, and a baseball bat
into her vagina. How could this happen? Why would teens raised in
the lap of luxury, kids who were hometown heroes and had everything in
their favor, do such a thing? What had gone wrong? How had a serpant
have entered Paradise?
Columbia University professor Bernard Lefkowitz attempts to
answer these and similar questions in his extensively researched Our
Guys: The Glen Ridge Rape and the Secret Life of the Perfect Suburb.
Readers get intimate looks at the lives of the major players and the
society the teens grew up in--one in which adults looked the other way
when confronted with things they didn't want to see in their towns,
their schools, even their own families. I found it to be quite a
disturbing, thought provoking cautionary tale.
What struck me most strongly was the role of binary and power
imbalances in the legal process and administration of justice. Four
in particular were on display.
The first was athletes and their supporters versus the non
sports obsessed. The accused played prominent roles in high school
team sports. When the news broke that they were accused of about a
vile a crime as one could commit, the public reaction was concern on
their behalf. The futures of these promising young men (our guys),
somehow more promising than non jocks, were in jeopardy. This slant
portrays them as victims, rather than active participants.
Strongly related to this is people without disabilities versus
people with them. Because of the victim's intellectual impairment, a
lot of people, even some who believed that the incident had happened,
believed that ignoring her pain and suffering and any trauma that
would effect her future was an acceptable price to pay to keep "our
guys" out of jail. Although the victim and the accused grew up in the
same town, there is the persistent implication that they belonged
while she was an outsider.
The accused were male; the victim was female. This imbalance
permeated the book. For example, the victim was often portrayed as a
seductress the "poor boys" found impossible to resist. Most telling,
however, was that her previous sexual history was put on full display
while theirs were never alluded to. Lefkowitz discovered that as
early as middle school the boys were getting away with sexual
behaviors such as touching female peers in unwanted ways and
masturbating in front of them.
Finally, the families of the accused were powerful, socially
connected, and well off. Their status worked for them and their
parents had deep pockets. Shenanigans such as underage alcohol
possession, theft, country club vandalism, and the total trashing of a
disliked peer's home, acts that would have gotten less well off kids
in deep trouble, were overlooked when parents pulled out checkbooks.
Besides being a spellbinding read, Our Guys is a cautionary
tale. Glen Ridge, rather than being an aberation, is representative
of number of nice towns. I can imagine something like this happening
in the suburb in which I live. How about you?
On a personal note, my sibling has severe brain damage. He was she in
high school and about as savvy on peer interactions as I am on nuclear
physics. I can easily imagine teen age Harriet being victimized by
entitled boys and revictimized in court. I had to testify against a
guy who attempted to rape me. It's a hostile environment and a
challenge for even someone who is fully mentally capable to navigate.
Never mind someone with the social savvy of a first grader.
A great big shout out goes out to the author for uncovering and
sharing these inconvenient truths.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"Seated behind the parents were the pumped-up athletes who were
friends of the defendants and their younger brothers. And more:
grandparents, parents, teenagers, friends, ministers. Breathe deeply
and you could imagine the smell of fresh-cut grass and barbeques in
the courtroom. Judge Cohen--who lived in Maplewood, an attractive
upper-middle class New Jersey suburb, who drove a red convertible
sports car, who had a son who wrestled in school--recognized those
faces. They looked like the faces he had spent much of his life
with. Hard-working, churchgoing people. People who sent their kids
to the Little League, who belonged to the Civic Association."
Judge Cohen, described above, presided over a trial that
captured the attention of a nation. In 1989 in Glen Ridge, New
Jersey, a very upscale suburb, a group of golden boys, star athletes
from the town's elite, was accused of gang raping a mentally
challenged peer, shoving a stick, a broom handle, and a baseball bat
into her vagina. How could this happen? Why would teens raised in
the lap of luxury, kids who were hometown heroes and had everything in
their favor, do such a thing? What had gone wrong? How had a serpant
have entered Paradise?
Columbia University professor Bernard Lefkowitz attempts to
answer these and similar questions in his extensively researched Our
Guys: The Glen Ridge Rape and the Secret Life of the Perfect Suburb.
Readers get intimate looks at the lives of the major players and the
society the teens grew up in--one in which adults looked the other way
when confronted with things they didn't want to see in their towns,
their schools, even their own families. I found it to be quite a
disturbing, thought provoking cautionary tale.
What struck me most strongly was the role of binary and power
imbalances in the legal process and administration of justice. Four
in particular were on display.
The first was athletes and their supporters versus the non
sports obsessed. The accused played prominent roles in high school
team sports. When the news broke that they were accused of about a
vile a crime as one could commit, the public reaction was concern on
their behalf. The futures of these promising young men (our guys),
somehow more promising than non jocks, were in jeopardy. This slant
portrays them as victims, rather than active participants.
Strongly related to this is people without disabilities versus
people with them. Because of the victim's intellectual impairment, a
lot of people, even some who believed that the incident had happened,
believed that ignoring her pain and suffering and any trauma that
would effect her future was an acceptable price to pay to keep "our
guys" out of jail. Although the victim and the accused grew up in the
same town, there is the persistent implication that they belonged
while she was an outsider.
The accused were male; the victim was female. This imbalance
permeated the book. For example, the victim was often portrayed as a
seductress the "poor boys" found impossible to resist. Most telling,
however, was that her previous sexual history was put on full display
while theirs were never alluded to. Lefkowitz discovered that as
early as middle school the boys were getting away with sexual
behaviors such as touching female peers in unwanted ways and
masturbating in front of them.
Finally, the families of the accused were powerful, socially
connected, and well off. Their status worked for them and their
parents had deep pockets. Shenanigans such as underage alcohol
possession, theft, country club vandalism, and the total trashing of a
disliked peer's home, acts that would have gotten less well off kids
in deep trouble, were overlooked when parents pulled out checkbooks.
Besides being a spellbinding read, Our Guys is a cautionary
tale. Glen Ridge, rather than being an aberation, is representative
of number of nice towns. I can imagine something like this happening
in the suburb in which I live. How about you?
On a personal note, my sibling has severe brain damage. He was she in
high school and about as savvy on peer interactions as I am on nuclear
physics. I can easily imagine teen age Harriet being victimized by
entitled boys and revictimized in court. I had to testify against a
guy who attempted to rape me. It's a hostile environment and a
challenge for even someone who is fully mentally capable to navigate.
Never mind someone with the social savvy of a first grader.
A great big shout out goes out to the author for uncovering and
sharing these inconvenient truths.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Monday, May 13, 2019
All American Boys
All American Boys
YA fiction
"There was blood pooling in my mouth--tasted like metal. There
were tears pooling in my eyes. I could see someone looking at me,
quickly fading into a watery blur. Everything was sidewise. Wrong.
My eyes were clogged, plugged by the pressure. All I could make out
were the washed-out grunts of the man leaning over me, hurting me,
telling me to stop fighting even though I wasn't fighting, and then
the piercing sound of sirens pulling up.
My brain exploded into a million thoughts and only one thought
at the same time--
please
don't
kill me."
Jason Reynolds and Brendan Kiely's All American Boys is a
narrative ripped out of today's headlines. A black teen goes into a
neighborhood store to buy chips. A series of unfortunate moments
leads to his being charged with shoplifting. The arresting officer
beats him so brutally that he has to spend about a week in the
hospital. At the boy's school and in the community where both reside
reactions are mixed. Some people are outraged. Some say the cop was
just doing his job. Some want to avoid the topic by any means possible.
The story unfolds from the perspectives of two very memorable
narrators.
Rashad is the boy who was beaten. He's also an artist, a
basketball player, and a member of JROTC. As he lies in the hospital
bed, in considerable pain, he has a lot to think about. His dad, a
former soldier turned cop with a staunch belief that things will work
out if you play by the rules, is sure he must have done something.
His older brother, Spoony [Randolph], sees the matter in terms of
Racial injustice.
"But he could've been [killed]. For a bag of chips that he was
gonna pay for! For having brown skin and wearing his jeans a certain
way..."
His mom's caught in the middle. And then things start happening
at school, beginning with a message spray painted near the stairs.
Quinn is the older of two sons of a woman who was widowed when
her husband was killed on a tour of duty overseas. Quinn's best
friend, Guzzo, is the younger brother of the police officer, Paul. In
fact Paul had taken Quinn under his wing after he lost his father.
Quinn is being told that Paul is the real victim--being crucified for
just doing his job. But he's seen a video. The man brutally beating
an already subdued black boy doesn't square with either his mentor or
someone "just doing his job." School is starting to feel like a mine
field.
"At first you could tell the teachers were deliberately avoiding
discussing it, but it was pretty much all we (the students) talked
about between classes or at lunch. I say 'we,' but I was still trying
to take Coach's advice and ignore all distractions [from winning games
and impressing college scouts], so when it came up I tried not to
engage. But it was frigging impossible."
Spread out over eight days, All American Boys evokes thought
provoking questions even as it delivers a suspenseful and down to
earth narrative.
On a personal note, I had a wonderful Mothers Day spread over two
Days. Saturday was a picnic at Amber and Brian's with Eugene, Katie,
and Jacob as well. After Katie and Jacob came back to the house and
spent time with precious Joey. Sunday Eugene and I paid respects to
his mom and then went on a ride. We got subs for lunch and a did a
Goodwill run. I got some really nice clothes including two cat shirts.
A great big shout out goes out to my wonderful family including the
best little cat in the world.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
YA fiction
"There was blood pooling in my mouth--tasted like metal. There
were tears pooling in my eyes. I could see someone looking at me,
quickly fading into a watery blur. Everything was sidewise. Wrong.
My eyes were clogged, plugged by the pressure. All I could make out
were the washed-out grunts of the man leaning over me, hurting me,
telling me to stop fighting even though I wasn't fighting, and then
the piercing sound of sirens pulling up.
My brain exploded into a million thoughts and only one thought
at the same time--
please
don't
kill me."
Jason Reynolds and Brendan Kiely's All American Boys is a
narrative ripped out of today's headlines. A black teen goes into a
neighborhood store to buy chips. A series of unfortunate moments
leads to his being charged with shoplifting. The arresting officer
beats him so brutally that he has to spend about a week in the
hospital. At the boy's school and in the community where both reside
reactions are mixed. Some people are outraged. Some say the cop was
just doing his job. Some want to avoid the topic by any means possible.
The story unfolds from the perspectives of two very memorable
narrators.
Rashad is the boy who was beaten. He's also an artist, a
basketball player, and a member of JROTC. As he lies in the hospital
bed, in considerable pain, he has a lot to think about. His dad, a
former soldier turned cop with a staunch belief that things will work
out if you play by the rules, is sure he must have done something.
His older brother, Spoony [Randolph], sees the matter in terms of
Racial injustice.
"But he could've been [killed]. For a bag of chips that he was
gonna pay for! For having brown skin and wearing his jeans a certain
way..."
His mom's caught in the middle. And then things start happening
at school, beginning with a message spray painted near the stairs.
Quinn is the older of two sons of a woman who was widowed when
her husband was killed on a tour of duty overseas. Quinn's best
friend, Guzzo, is the younger brother of the police officer, Paul. In
fact Paul had taken Quinn under his wing after he lost his father.
Quinn is being told that Paul is the real victim--being crucified for
just doing his job. But he's seen a video. The man brutally beating
an already subdued black boy doesn't square with either his mentor or
someone "just doing his job." School is starting to feel like a mine
field.
"At first you could tell the teachers were deliberately avoiding
discussing it, but it was pretty much all we (the students) talked
about between classes or at lunch. I say 'we,' but I was still trying
to take Coach's advice and ignore all distractions [from winning games
and impressing college scouts], so when it came up I tried not to
engage. But it was frigging impossible."
Spread out over eight days, All American Boys evokes thought
provoking questions even as it delivers a suspenseful and down to
earth narrative.
On a personal note, I had a wonderful Mothers Day spread over two
Days. Saturday was a picnic at Amber and Brian's with Eugene, Katie,
and Jacob as well. After Katie and Jacob came back to the house and
spent time with precious Joey. Sunday Eugene and I paid respects to
his mom and then went on a ride. We got subs for lunch and a did a
Goodwill run. I got some really nice clothes including two cat shirts.
A great big shout out goes out to my wonderful family including the
best little cat in the world.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Report From Ground Zero
Report From Ground Zero
Adult nonfiction
My most vivid 9/11 memory was from the day after. When I
arrived at Adam's nursery school to take him home, one of the
assistant said the teacher had to talk to me. She was concerned about
Adam. During centers (free play) time he had carefully constructed
two tall towers and then, with the class watching, had smashed a toy
plane into them. Was he acting out? Was something going on they
should know about? I reassured them that play is how children process
and interpret confusing and frightening events in the world. He was
also, it turns out, explaining to the other kids why their parents
were so stressed. These very loving moms and dads (who evidently had
no older kids in public school) had not let their children know a
thing about the World Trade Center, thinking it would be too scary.
They could not, however, hide their own anxieties.
This is the same Adam who, at three or four, walked away from a
bad bike riding fall. On his own initiative, he bought his seriously
broken helmet to school for sharing time to show his classmates why
they should never get on a bike without one. He's putting himself
through college as a fire fighter and EMT. If not for Adam, I would
never have read Dennis Smith's Report From Ground Zero: The Story Of
The Rescue Efforts At The World Trade Center. I would have been too
much of a wimp to engage in a real life story with so much horror and
tragedy.
I am so glad I read the book. Before I did the sheer numbers
(of victims, monetary loss, devastation) overwhelmed me. It all
seemed too large for me to wrap my mind around. Smith, who is a
published author as well as a firefighter, breaks it all down for
readers, making it up close and personal. He gives us a day by day
account of the tragedy and its aftermath, generously sharing his
thoughts and feelings as well as the unfolding drama. He also gives
many colleagues--firefighters and other first responders--the chance
to tell their stories.
I was horrified by what they had to face. If Dante was updating
his Inferno this book could have inspired him to create another ring
of Hades. First responders had to not only experience things nobody
should have to, but to react in highly volatile, unpredictable
situations, knowing the slightest slip could lead to their deaths and
those of beloved colleagues and innocent civilians.
I was struck by the profound sadness. Readers are reminded that
each of the victims was a unique individual with a precious life
missed immensely by friends and family. Some of the companies that
responded suffered such huge losses. The people in those companies
had relied on each other for years. The mind picture that will stay
with me the longest was that of those poor first responder fathers
searching desperately for their first responder sons.
Report From Ground Zero serves up lots of food for thought.
On a personal note, some of my daffodils have been blossoming,
transforming practically in front of my eyes on this warm, sunny day.
A great big shout out goes out to our first responders who risk their
lives to save us.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
My most vivid 9/11 memory was from the day after. When I
arrived at Adam's nursery school to take him home, one of the
assistant said the teacher had to talk to me. She was concerned about
Adam. During centers (free play) time he had carefully constructed
two tall towers and then, with the class watching, had smashed a toy
plane into them. Was he acting out? Was something going on they
should know about? I reassured them that play is how children process
and interpret confusing and frightening events in the world. He was
also, it turns out, explaining to the other kids why their parents
were so stressed. These very loving moms and dads (who evidently had
no older kids in public school) had not let their children know a
thing about the World Trade Center, thinking it would be too scary.
They could not, however, hide their own anxieties.
This is the same Adam who, at three or four, walked away from a
bad bike riding fall. On his own initiative, he bought his seriously
broken helmet to school for sharing time to show his classmates why
they should never get on a bike without one. He's putting himself
through college as a fire fighter and EMT. If not for Adam, I would
never have read Dennis Smith's Report From Ground Zero: The Story Of
The Rescue Efforts At The World Trade Center. I would have been too
much of a wimp to engage in a real life story with so much horror and
tragedy.
I am so glad I read the book. Before I did the sheer numbers
(of victims, monetary loss, devastation) overwhelmed me. It all
seemed too large for me to wrap my mind around. Smith, who is a
published author as well as a firefighter, breaks it all down for
readers, making it up close and personal. He gives us a day by day
account of the tragedy and its aftermath, generously sharing his
thoughts and feelings as well as the unfolding drama. He also gives
many colleagues--firefighters and other first responders--the chance
to tell their stories.
I was horrified by what they had to face. If Dante was updating
his Inferno this book could have inspired him to create another ring
of Hades. First responders had to not only experience things nobody
should have to, but to react in highly volatile, unpredictable
situations, knowing the slightest slip could lead to their deaths and
those of beloved colleagues and innocent civilians.
I was struck by the profound sadness. Readers are reminded that
each of the victims was a unique individual with a precious life
missed immensely by friends and family. Some of the companies that
responded suffered such huge losses. The people in those companies
had relied on each other for years. The mind picture that will stay
with me the longest was that of those poor first responder fathers
searching desperately for their first responder sons.
Report From Ground Zero serves up lots of food for thought.
On a personal note, some of my daffodils have been blossoming,
transforming practically in front of my eyes on this warm, sunny day.
A great big shout out goes out to our first responders who risk their
lives to save us.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Outer Order Inner Calm
Outer Order Inner Calm
Adult nonfiction
One of my pet peeves in the world of literature (which would a
peeve in my tv watching life if I actually had one) is the fetish on
decluttering which people approach with religious fervor. Minimalism
is the end all and be all. Rooms are to look like stage sets rather
than places people actually live. By removing the excess stuff from
our lives we will reach nirvana, achieve new heights personally and
professionally, lose those extra forty pounds, win the Nobel Peace
Prize...
You might have guessed I'm a skeptic. If my partner and I can
find what we need when we need it, if there are no health and safety
issues, if there are clean clothes to change into...it's all good.
Right now the living room sports a thicket of fishing rods set where
no one will trip over them. And my studio, with its musical snow
globes and legions of stuffed animals--my favorite spot in the house--
would be a minimalist's nightmare.
Although that subgenre is one I avoid, it occurred to me that I
might do my readers a favor by finding a less one-size-fits all
member. I found it in Gretchen Rubin's Outer Order Inner Calm.
Rubin hooked me when she advised readers not to organize just
for the purpose of organizing (or for fear of judgement). People have
different organizational needs: "Declaring that we'd all be happier
with less (or with more) is like every movie should be 120 minutes
long. Every movie has a right length, and people differ in the number
of possessions with which they can meaningfully engage."
I also really like Rubin's division of material into five
sections. The first involves making choices, sorting the valuable
from the meh. Practical suggestions are blended with reminders that
one person's meh is another person's treasure. The second is all
about creating order out of the keeper stuff. The third part, my
favorite, stresses the importance of understanding yourself and the
people with whom you share space. This is crucial when you have
widely differing needs for organization. The fourth part is about
cultivating useful habits to maintain your Eden once you've achieved
it. The fifth is about adding beauty.
For me, organizations are routine for spring and autumn. As the
kids grew up it was a matter of what they no longer needed. Two
adults, three children, and a cat in a trailer was quite the
challenge, especially before I had a shed for stuff like Christmas
ornaments and off season clothes and equipment. I'd set up a free
pile for people in the neighborhood. In between I have a plastic bag
for stuff I realize we can do without.
When the girls moved out of the room they'd grown up in there
was still a lot of nonfurniture stuff in it which began to attract
other stuff. It became the junk drawer's cousin on steroids.
Fortunately I realized that it could become my writers' studio. I
started right in sorting and organizing. I even lugged out the huge
falling apart recliner and swapped the bigger bureau for a couple of
small ones in better condition. I found the perfect bed side bookcase
in someone's free pile. I was able to set up and adorn my artificial
Christmas tree year round. Finally I had a beautiful place for
writing, reading, and crafting. Joey had his cat patio (his cat bed
on a coffee table in front of a window. And the bed made it possible
to sleep with an open window on especially muggy nights.
One thing we need to realize, however, is that the decluttering
perspective with its assumption that overabundance is always the
problem is a highly privileged one. For Stephanie Land (recall we
just met her in Maid) and so many others life is a struggle to acquire
enough. You work in pain if even over the counter meds are too
pricey. You watch your child eat if there's only enough for one.
Even for people with irregular hours some of the advice would
not make sense. Overbuying when you can is good strategy. My
partner's stocking up on nonperishables for the winter with heating
oil would be required was well respected. That object that might come
in handy could be what jump starts a vehicle you can't afford to have
professionally fixed. And that gift without a definite
recipient...OMG, your mom's birthday is next week!!!
The biggest change in my attitude came with my student on campus
job. Every hour I worked reaped $10 (now $11) minus tax. I was able
to not only pay part time tuition, fees, and books, but have money
left over for stuff like vetinary care for Joey. Now I can shed
surplus, knowing if I run out I can make a Goodwill run.
So read the book and employ any suggestions you find useful.
Just remember it's not something Moses picked up on the top of Mt.
Sianai. And don't let your relative privilege blind you to the people
for whom replacing a child's outgrown sneakers, rather than
decluttering her room, is the big challenge.
On a personal note, ironically, as I write this, I'm on the biggest
organizing project of my life. It's a tribute to how awesome my
studio is. The kids have decided Adam's old room should become
Eugene's man cave. After I've cleaned it out and Adam has taken what
he still wants they're going to out in some exercise stuff. There are
shelves for stuff like tools. (No tv though. It's next door to the
studio.) In addition to that I'm reorganizing my shed. I want to use
a couple of the smaller bookcases in there so I have to make space for
them.
A great big shout out goes out to Joey cat who is watching the world
go by from his cat patio. That is actually wonderful progress. He's
taking an interest, once again, in the world around him.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
One of my pet peeves in the world of literature (which would a
peeve in my tv watching life if I actually had one) is the fetish on
decluttering which people approach with religious fervor. Minimalism
is the end all and be all. Rooms are to look like stage sets rather
than places people actually live. By removing the excess stuff from
our lives we will reach nirvana, achieve new heights personally and
professionally, lose those extra forty pounds, win the Nobel Peace
Prize...
You might have guessed I'm a skeptic. If my partner and I can
find what we need when we need it, if there are no health and safety
issues, if there are clean clothes to change into...it's all good.
Right now the living room sports a thicket of fishing rods set where
no one will trip over them. And my studio, with its musical snow
globes and legions of stuffed animals--my favorite spot in the house--
would be a minimalist's nightmare.
Although that subgenre is one I avoid, it occurred to me that I
might do my readers a favor by finding a less one-size-fits all
member. I found it in Gretchen Rubin's Outer Order Inner Calm.
Rubin hooked me when she advised readers not to organize just
for the purpose of organizing (or for fear of judgement). People have
different organizational needs: "Declaring that we'd all be happier
with less (or with more) is like every movie should be 120 minutes
long. Every movie has a right length, and people differ in the number
of possessions with which they can meaningfully engage."
I also really like Rubin's division of material into five
sections. The first involves making choices, sorting the valuable
from the meh. Practical suggestions are blended with reminders that
one person's meh is another person's treasure. The second is all
about creating order out of the keeper stuff. The third part, my
favorite, stresses the importance of understanding yourself and the
people with whom you share space. This is crucial when you have
widely differing needs for organization. The fourth part is about
cultivating useful habits to maintain your Eden once you've achieved
it. The fifth is about adding beauty.
For me, organizations are routine for spring and autumn. As the
kids grew up it was a matter of what they no longer needed. Two
adults, three children, and a cat in a trailer was quite the
challenge, especially before I had a shed for stuff like Christmas
ornaments and off season clothes and equipment. I'd set up a free
pile for people in the neighborhood. In between I have a plastic bag
for stuff I realize we can do without.
When the girls moved out of the room they'd grown up in there
was still a lot of nonfurniture stuff in it which began to attract
other stuff. It became the junk drawer's cousin on steroids.
Fortunately I realized that it could become my writers' studio. I
started right in sorting and organizing. I even lugged out the huge
falling apart recliner and swapped the bigger bureau for a couple of
small ones in better condition. I found the perfect bed side bookcase
in someone's free pile. I was able to set up and adorn my artificial
Christmas tree year round. Finally I had a beautiful place for
writing, reading, and crafting. Joey had his cat patio (his cat bed
on a coffee table in front of a window. And the bed made it possible
to sleep with an open window on especially muggy nights.
One thing we need to realize, however, is that the decluttering
perspective with its assumption that overabundance is always the
problem is a highly privileged one. For Stephanie Land (recall we
just met her in Maid) and so many others life is a struggle to acquire
enough. You work in pain if even over the counter meds are too
pricey. You watch your child eat if there's only enough for one.
Even for people with irregular hours some of the advice would
not make sense. Overbuying when you can is good strategy. My
partner's stocking up on nonperishables for the winter with heating
oil would be required was well respected. That object that might come
in handy could be what jump starts a vehicle you can't afford to have
professionally fixed. And that gift without a definite
recipient...OMG, your mom's birthday is next week!!!
The biggest change in my attitude came with my student on campus
job. Every hour I worked reaped $10 (now $11) minus tax. I was able
to not only pay part time tuition, fees, and books, but have money
left over for stuff like vetinary care for Joey. Now I can shed
surplus, knowing if I run out I can make a Goodwill run.
So read the book and employ any suggestions you find useful.
Just remember it's not something Moses picked up on the top of Mt.
Sianai. And don't let your relative privilege blind you to the people
for whom replacing a child's outgrown sneakers, rather than
decluttering her room, is the big challenge.
On a personal note, ironically, as I write this, I'm on the biggest
organizing project of my life. It's a tribute to how awesome my
studio is. The kids have decided Adam's old room should become
Eugene's man cave. After I've cleaned it out and Adam has taken what
he still wants they're going to out in some exercise stuff. There are
shelves for stuff like tools. (No tv though. It's next door to the
studio.) In addition to that I'm reorganizing my shed. I want to use
a couple of the smaller bookcases in there so I have to make space for
them.
A great big shout out goes out to Joey cat who is watching the world
go by from his cat patio. That is actually wonderful progress. He's
taking an interest, once again, in the world around him.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
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