Internment
YA/adult dystopia
"In the distance I see a funnel of smoke rising into the air.
Most of the town is at the book burning, so I should be safe.
Or, at least, safer."
I've said it before, and I'll say it again. The best dystopias
go just enough real life to create an air of plausibility or, in the
case of Samira Ahmed's Internment, near inevitability. They grab you,
scare the Hell out of you, and, hopefully, leave you motivated to do
whatever it takes to keep the story from happening.
In a chronology that could have been lifted from Hitler's
Germany a census has asked about religion, resulting in a Muslim
registry, exclusion laws have been enacted, books by Muslims have been
burned, and the president has warned Americans about the threat
Muslims pose. He fans the flames of fear and hate with a weekly speech
that bumps all other programming.
Layla's college professor has been fired for his religion.
After Layla was suspended for an innocuous act her parents didn't let
her return to high school to finish out her senior year. The whole
family lives in fear. But her parents cling to the belief that things
have to get better, a belief Layla can't buy into. [It was the kind
of belief that kept many Jews in Hitler's Germany until it was too
late to escape.]
"The thing is, it's not like half this country suddenly became
Islamaphobes because of any single event. But the lies, the rhetoric
calling refugees rapists and criminals, the fake news, the false
statistics, all gave those well-meaning people who say they're not
bigots cover to vote for a man who openly tweeted his hatred on a
nearly daily basis. Through the political dog whistles and hijabis
having their head scarves ripped off and mosques vandalized with
swastikas and the Muslims who went missing--through all this my
parents hoped and believed that things would get better. They seem to
have this eternal flame of hope.
But that's not me."
Their faith and hope are about to be really tested. In the
middle of the night armed officials burst into their home. They are
given ten minutes to gather their most necessary possessions and no
opportunity or means (their cell phones are confiscated) to say
goodbye to loved ones. They're permanently imprinted with ID numbers
that can be read by scanners (like the World War II concentration camp
prisoners had ID numbers tattoed on them).
Camp Mobius is in the middle of nowhere. It's surrounded by an
electric fence. Little contact with the rest of the world is
allowed. People are punished severely for the slightest protest or
misstep. Some disappear, never to be seen again. There is talk of
sites where people are tortured for information. There is constant
surveillance. There are even cameras in the housing units.
Layla's parents want to survive as a family. Their plan is to
keep quiet, do nothing to draw attention to themselves, and try to fly
under the radar. Layla, in contrast, is determined to fight back, no
matter how big the risk.
Ahmed's author's note begins, "When fascism comes to America, it
will come draped in the flag.' She discusses the very disturbing
trends in America that motivated her to write Internment, the brutal
history behind them, and her hope that America can change. She also
challenges us:
"There is no room for moral equivalency--certainly not the kind
that hears the cries of a toddler being ripped away from her parents
and justifies it by quoting the Bible, and definitely not the kind
that looks at Neo-Nazis and declares that some are 'very fine people'.
There are sides.
Make a choice."
On a purrrsonal note, it's the last day of 2019. The year has its ups
and downs for me. The big loss was my best little buddy of 16 years,
Joey cat. The good parts were doing really well in my masters
program, having UMaine send me to an international conference, my job,
my friends, and adopting Tobago. Although I'll always miss Joey and
treasure his memory, it feels good to jump out of bed and feel excited
to come back home because someone precious is waiting for me and to
have my energy back, to not be walking around with half a heart.
Statistics:
Years married: 30
Semesters (part time) accomplished: 3
Months at Job (as of 1/1/20): 19
Volunteer hours (2019): 124 1/2
Blood Donated: (2019): 3 pints
Tobago's (emergency medical) credit union account: $430
Books reviewed on my blog (total for 8 1/2 years): 1619
Tonight I will be seeing the New Year in with a dorkfest of reading
near the tree, ice cream, candy, and cat cuddling. :-). And of
course in 2020 you can expect me to discover and share beaucoups des
livres.
A great big shout out goes out to Joey and Tobago.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Tuesday, December 31, 2019
Sunday, December 29, 2019
The Read-Aloud Family
The Read-Aloud Family
Parenting
I waited until my Amber was four weeks old before I read her her
first board book. Her Florida Grammie had come to visit. I wanted
Amber's first literary experience to include the person who cultivated
in me my love for the printed word. I chose a volume in which Ruthie
Rabbit visited the seashore because of my mother's love of the ocean.
Mom has since passed. Amber has grown up and moved on to more
sophisticated fare. (They haven't written Ruthie Rabbit Gets Her PhD
In Physics). The memory of that moment in time is crystal clear and
precious.
Read alouds were a big part of my parenting. My kids and I were
extremely lucky. I was doing regular children's book reviews for the
Bangor Daily News. Publishers were constantly sending me big boxes of
books they wanted me to write about. My children were always so eager
to dive into these boxes, looking for hot off the press treasures.
Before bed, on rainy days, and at totally random times I'd get
requests. [Other techniques I used were leaving interesting books in
places where my children could discover them, letting them see me read
for pleasure, randomly sharing facts and passages as I read, and
reading what they recommended. We had very lively book discussions!]
In a neighborhood where this was not the norm the Hathaways were known
as that reading family.
My advisor who was also my professor for assessments and her
wife are expecting a baby. I will take great delight in assigning her
Sarah Mackenzie's The Read-Aloud Family as homework. But you don't
need her PhD to grasp and fall hard for this very valuable volume.
As a first time parent, Mackenzie had visions of the kind of
parent she wanted to be. She just wasn't sure how to get there. [A
common state of affairs. Those beautiful babies sadly don't come with
instruction booklets.] At a friend's house she discovered Jim
Trelease's The Read-Aloud Handbook and found it to be a real eye
opener. Not only did its ideas become guiding principles as she
raised and home schooled six children, but it inspired her to create a
pod cast which led to the writing of the book.
MacKenzie knows that even with the best of intentions reading
aloud can get lost in the turbulence of dailiness. Our days are
fragmented. We think we're no longer needed when the kids can read on
their own. We must compete with the fast action, bright lights, and
instant gratification of the screens. We may fear that we don't know
what books are best. She addresses these and so many other issues,
giving valuable strategies to help parents create and cherish those
magic, memory making moments that happen when families engage
themselves in stories.
In you have kids still to home or frequently visiting grands
you'll find The Read-Aloud Family to be a most excellent investment.
On a purrrsonal note, I have the answers to the 2 concerns my kids
have about my having a new cat. One is that the house isn't clean
enough. I am so on that! A lot of the stuff I thought I need I
really don't. So I am going through everything I own. A friend will
help me with a thrift shop run. I now have a real motive for a clean
house. The second is money. They're afraid that if Tobago needs an
operation like Joey did we'll put it on the card. But if Tobago has a
savings account with $2,000? So how do I do that without involving
Eugene or my day job money? First: gift money. I have $430 in
birthday and Christmas money. Then there's returnables money.
There's change. I have all those little banks full of change I can
kick in. I don't need a bunch of little banks. Finally I'll try to
get some side gigs like babysitting. I bet when I put in the gift
money and all the change I'll be a quarter of the way. There's a good
chance this time next year I'll be at least half way. I am once again
full of energy. I haven't had this kind of energy since Joey was
diagnosed with cancer.
A great big shout out goes out to the sweet little cat in my life who
means so much more to me than anything I can buy in a store.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Parenting
I waited until my Amber was four weeks old before I read her her
first board book. Her Florida Grammie had come to visit. I wanted
Amber's first literary experience to include the person who cultivated
in me my love for the printed word. I chose a volume in which Ruthie
Rabbit visited the seashore because of my mother's love of the ocean.
Mom has since passed. Amber has grown up and moved on to more
sophisticated fare. (They haven't written Ruthie Rabbit Gets Her PhD
In Physics). The memory of that moment in time is crystal clear and
precious.
Read alouds were a big part of my parenting. My kids and I were
extremely lucky. I was doing regular children's book reviews for the
Bangor Daily News. Publishers were constantly sending me big boxes of
books they wanted me to write about. My children were always so eager
to dive into these boxes, looking for hot off the press treasures.
Before bed, on rainy days, and at totally random times I'd get
requests. [Other techniques I used were leaving interesting books in
places where my children could discover them, letting them see me read
for pleasure, randomly sharing facts and passages as I read, and
reading what they recommended. We had very lively book discussions!]
In a neighborhood where this was not the norm the Hathaways were known
as that reading family.
My advisor who was also my professor for assessments and her
wife are expecting a baby. I will take great delight in assigning her
Sarah Mackenzie's The Read-Aloud Family as homework. But you don't
need her PhD to grasp and fall hard for this very valuable volume.
As a first time parent, Mackenzie had visions of the kind of
parent she wanted to be. She just wasn't sure how to get there. [A
common state of affairs. Those beautiful babies sadly don't come with
instruction booklets.] At a friend's house she discovered Jim
Trelease's The Read-Aloud Handbook and found it to be a real eye
opener. Not only did its ideas become guiding principles as she
raised and home schooled six children, but it inspired her to create a
pod cast which led to the writing of the book.
MacKenzie knows that even with the best of intentions reading
aloud can get lost in the turbulence of dailiness. Our days are
fragmented. We think we're no longer needed when the kids can read on
their own. We must compete with the fast action, bright lights, and
instant gratification of the screens. We may fear that we don't know
what books are best. She addresses these and so many other issues,
giving valuable strategies to help parents create and cherish those
magic, memory making moments that happen when families engage
themselves in stories.
In you have kids still to home or frequently visiting grands
you'll find The Read-Aloud Family to be a most excellent investment.
On a purrrsonal note, I have the answers to the 2 concerns my kids
have about my having a new cat. One is that the house isn't clean
enough. I am so on that! A lot of the stuff I thought I need I
really don't. So I am going through everything I own. A friend will
help me with a thrift shop run. I now have a real motive for a clean
house. The second is money. They're afraid that if Tobago needs an
operation like Joey did we'll put it on the card. But if Tobago has a
savings account with $2,000? So how do I do that without involving
Eugene or my day job money? First: gift money. I have $430 in
birthday and Christmas money. Then there's returnables money.
There's change. I have all those little banks full of change I can
kick in. I don't need a bunch of little banks. Finally I'll try to
get some side gigs like babysitting. I bet when I put in the gift
money and all the change I'll be a quarter of the way. There's a good
chance this time next year I'll be at least half way. I am once again
full of energy. I haven't had this kind of energy since Joey was
diagnosed with cancer.
A great big shout out goes out to the sweet little cat in my life who
means so much more to me than anything I can buy in a store.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
On Strike for Christmas
On Strike for Christmas
Adult holiday fiction
One of my absolute favorite family Christmas movies is On Strike
For Christmas. I was delighted to see that it was the adaptation of a
book when I saw that book on a shelf in my local thrift shop--mine for
a quarter. Yesterday I decided to read and review it on the sofa with
my beautiful tree still gracefully adorning our living room.
Even as guys are doing more of their share of housework and
childcare, doesn't it still seem that women do the lion's share of the
many tasks that make the holiday season spectacular? Not much seems
to have changed since the days when my mother addressed the cards,
baked the cookies, created the Christmas pageant costumes, trimmed
the tree, bought the presents, and got up at some ungodly hour to prep
the turkey for a noon feast. It was taken for granted that she would
and that a lot of women would. But what if women refused to play this
role? That's the delightful premise of On Strike for Christmas.
"'Hey, great time,' said the mooch. 'Thanks for having me.'
'No problem. We'll do it all again at Christmas,' Glen promised.
Behind him, Glen's wife, Laura, suddenly envisioned herself
going after her husband with the electric carving knife he's used
earlier on the turkey. 'In your dreams,' she growled..."
Laura works, cares for their two young children, takes care of
the house, and gets the meals on the table. During holiday season she
also has all the seasonal extra work including cooking for and
cleaning before and after the parties Glen is so fond of. For her the
holiday season is the most exhausting time of the year. So when Joy,
frustrated by her husband's Grinch like reaction to the gatherings she
loves so much, announces right after Thanksgiving at knitting club
that she is going on strike for Christmas Laura is quick to sign on.
And she isn't the only one. The strike even becomes a popular ongoing
story in their small town newspaper.
The husbands of the striking women have to take up the slack if
they want to have any kind of Christmas. At first they're all kinds
of optimistic. How hard can it be? As they learn their many mistakes
make the book quite funny. But there also is emotional depth to it
with emotional and relational insights, particularly when a
nonstriking woman faces a medical crisis.
People always ask me which is better if both book and movie are
available. Usually I say the book paws (Tobago and I are sharing the
sofa near the tree) down. When it comes to On Strike for Christmas
I'd say enjoy both. They complement each other beautifully.
On a purrrsonal note, Eugene and I don't have this problem. For one
thing we're happy holiday minimalists. Our paper Christmas card
giving/sending is highly selective. I have no problem with e cards.
And we don't try to include everyone we possibly know. He cuts down a
tree and I decorate it. We don't try to make the whole house look
like a page put of a Martha Stewart Live magazine. He does most of
the gift buying. We do the actual holiday meals with family. I make
the turkey and ham later in the week. The other thing is that, unlike
Joy and Bob, we accept the fact that Eugene is an introvert and I'm
not. If I want to attend an event that's not strictly family (I.e.
multicultural Thanksgiving, my program's Christmas party) I go solo.
That way we both can be happy rather than Eugene resenting me for
dragging him to events he has no interest in or me seeing Eugene as a
jail warden. Remember, marriage doesn't make a couple Siamese twins.
Actually this year Tobago's and my Christmas was like something out of
a Lifetime movie. Tobago was in the Waterville Humane Society
shelter. She's a beautiful, loving girl. She's sleek and black and
looks like a miniature panther with luminescent gold eyes and a white
chest patch. But anxieties triggered by noises and sudden movement
had her in a solo cage as opposed to a cat room and with serious
restrictions as to who could adopt her. I know how to win over
skittish felines. She needed me. I had lost my beloved Joey cat in
August. Although I managed to perform normally at school and work,
for colleagues, friends, and family, grief was becoming a life style.
Feeling sadness on going home, dreading weekends, and having to drag
myself out of bed was getting old after 130+ days. The counselor I
saw said I was fine--just needing a cat. My manager, Anna, spends
more time with me than anyone other than Eugene. She took me on a
road trip to Waterville. We dropped in at the Humane Society to say
hi to the kitties. There were so many lovely cats I was feeling
overwhelmed. Anna said not to worry. When I saw right one I would
know it. Actually Tobago knew it. Even with five other people in the
room she only had eyes for me. She rubbed against my hand through the
bars. When the cage door was opened she grabbed me with her front
paws and wouldn't let go. At home I put Tobaggo in the studio (which
has a nice under bed cat cave) and lay on the bed reading. Skittish
cats need to have control over the meet and greet. Soon she started
demanding attention and purring when I patted her or scratched her
behind the ears. In a matter of hours she was curled up with me. By
Christmas she was venturing into the larger house and bonding with
Eugene. Now she owns her domain. And doesn't she know it. I am
leaping out of bed in the morning, eager to see my sweet girl, and
really enjoying the vaca I'd dreaded. Tobago is a rescue cat, but I
think she rescued me every bit as much as I rescued her.
Great big shout outs go out to sweet Joey cat who was my purrrfect cat
for 16 years, loving and loyal to the very end, Tobago cat who came
into my life when I really needed her, Anna who brokered that sweet
deal, Eugene who responded to our new arrival by stocking up on cat
food and litter, and Leah, my advisor, a new puppy parent BTW, who
will understand that the research I planned on filling a lot of empty
vaca hours with probably won't happen because I am bonding with my
little panther. Also a shout out to you, my readers, with best wishes
for a safe and happy New Years Eve.
I don't really have a resolution. I don't need to resolve to take
good care of Tobago. She's the other half of my heart. What I will
do is continue to work on a better academics/work
/social life balance.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult holiday fiction
One of my absolute favorite family Christmas movies is On Strike
For Christmas. I was delighted to see that it was the adaptation of a
book when I saw that book on a shelf in my local thrift shop--mine for
a quarter. Yesterday I decided to read and review it on the sofa with
my beautiful tree still gracefully adorning our living room.
Even as guys are doing more of their share of housework and
childcare, doesn't it still seem that women do the lion's share of the
many tasks that make the holiday season spectacular? Not much seems
to have changed since the days when my mother addressed the cards,
baked the cookies, created the Christmas pageant costumes, trimmed
the tree, bought the presents, and got up at some ungodly hour to prep
the turkey for a noon feast. It was taken for granted that she would
and that a lot of women would. But what if women refused to play this
role? That's the delightful premise of On Strike for Christmas.
"'Hey, great time,' said the mooch. 'Thanks for having me.'
'No problem. We'll do it all again at Christmas,' Glen promised.
Behind him, Glen's wife, Laura, suddenly envisioned herself
going after her husband with the electric carving knife he's used
earlier on the turkey. 'In your dreams,' she growled..."
Laura works, cares for their two young children, takes care of
the house, and gets the meals on the table. During holiday season she
also has all the seasonal extra work including cooking for and
cleaning before and after the parties Glen is so fond of. For her the
holiday season is the most exhausting time of the year. So when Joy,
frustrated by her husband's Grinch like reaction to the gatherings she
loves so much, announces right after Thanksgiving at knitting club
that she is going on strike for Christmas Laura is quick to sign on.
And she isn't the only one. The strike even becomes a popular ongoing
story in their small town newspaper.
The husbands of the striking women have to take up the slack if
they want to have any kind of Christmas. At first they're all kinds
of optimistic. How hard can it be? As they learn their many mistakes
make the book quite funny. But there also is emotional depth to it
with emotional and relational insights, particularly when a
nonstriking woman faces a medical crisis.
People always ask me which is better if both book and movie are
available. Usually I say the book paws (Tobago and I are sharing the
sofa near the tree) down. When it comes to On Strike for Christmas
I'd say enjoy both. They complement each other beautifully.
On a purrrsonal note, Eugene and I don't have this problem. For one
thing we're happy holiday minimalists. Our paper Christmas card
giving/sending is highly selective. I have no problem with e cards.
And we don't try to include everyone we possibly know. He cuts down a
tree and I decorate it. We don't try to make the whole house look
like a page put of a Martha Stewart Live magazine. He does most of
the gift buying. We do the actual holiday meals with family. I make
the turkey and ham later in the week. The other thing is that, unlike
Joy and Bob, we accept the fact that Eugene is an introvert and I'm
not. If I want to attend an event that's not strictly family (I.e.
multicultural Thanksgiving, my program's Christmas party) I go solo.
That way we both can be happy rather than Eugene resenting me for
dragging him to events he has no interest in or me seeing Eugene as a
jail warden. Remember, marriage doesn't make a couple Siamese twins.
Actually this year Tobago's and my Christmas was like something out of
a Lifetime movie. Tobago was in the Waterville Humane Society
shelter. She's a beautiful, loving girl. She's sleek and black and
looks like a miniature panther with luminescent gold eyes and a white
chest patch. But anxieties triggered by noises and sudden movement
had her in a solo cage as opposed to a cat room and with serious
restrictions as to who could adopt her. I know how to win over
skittish felines. She needed me. I had lost my beloved Joey cat in
August. Although I managed to perform normally at school and work,
for colleagues, friends, and family, grief was becoming a life style.
Feeling sadness on going home, dreading weekends, and having to drag
myself out of bed was getting old after 130+ days. The counselor I
saw said I was fine--just needing a cat. My manager, Anna, spends
more time with me than anyone other than Eugene. She took me on a
road trip to Waterville. We dropped in at the Humane Society to say
hi to the kitties. There were so many lovely cats I was feeling
overwhelmed. Anna said not to worry. When I saw right one I would
know it. Actually Tobago knew it. Even with five other people in the
room she only had eyes for me. She rubbed against my hand through the
bars. When the cage door was opened she grabbed me with her front
paws and wouldn't let go. At home I put Tobaggo in the studio (which
has a nice under bed cat cave) and lay on the bed reading. Skittish
cats need to have control over the meet and greet. Soon she started
demanding attention and purring when I patted her or scratched her
behind the ears. In a matter of hours she was curled up with me. By
Christmas she was venturing into the larger house and bonding with
Eugene. Now she owns her domain. And doesn't she know it. I am
leaping out of bed in the morning, eager to see my sweet girl, and
really enjoying the vaca I'd dreaded. Tobago is a rescue cat, but I
think she rescued me every bit as much as I rescued her.
Great big shout outs go out to sweet Joey cat who was my purrrfect cat
for 16 years, loving and loyal to the very end, Tobago cat who came
into my life when I really needed her, Anna who brokered that sweet
deal, Eugene who responded to our new arrival by stocking up on cat
food and litter, and Leah, my advisor, a new puppy parent BTW, who
will understand that the research I planned on filling a lot of empty
vaca hours with probably won't happen because I am bonding with my
little panther. Also a shout out to you, my readers, with best wishes
for a safe and happy New Years Eve.
I don't really have a resolution. I don't need to resolve to take
good care of Tobago. She's the other half of my heart. What I will
do is continue to work on a better academics/work
/social life balance.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Saturday, December 28, 2019
Parkland
Parkland
Adult nonfiction IT
"'I'm going to be the next school shooter of 2018,' he said in
another segment. 'My goal is at least twenty people with an
AR-15...Location is Stoneman Douglas in Parkland, Florida...Here's the
plan: I'm going to take an Uber in the afternoon before 2:40 p.m.
From there, I'll go into the school campus, walk up the stairs, load
my bags and get my AR and shoot people down at...the main courtyard
and people will die.'"
The gunman entered his target Florida high school and opened
fire, killing seventeen people, mostly students. Each of them had
family and friends who would be devastated by the loss. Students hid
for hours wherever they could find shelter, sent what they thought
could be final messages to loved ones, and feared that the rampaging
killer would find them and end their lives. Terrified parents hurried
to the scene.
The Valentines Day Parkland shooting had a lot in common with
the mass shootings that are becoming much too common. A group of
students decided that they were going to fight back so others wouldn't
lose their lives or go through the trauma they had survived. Their
goal became to change this nation's gun laws so that other deranged
individuals wouldn't be able to get their hands on those lethal
weapons. They weren't going to settle for the "thoughts and prayers"
of politicians; they wanted action.
Dave Cullen had written the New York Times bestseller
Columbine. After ten years of researching and writing that book he
vowed never again. However nineteen years later, years during which,
cowed by the NRA, legislators failed to create laws that might have
prevented it, he found himself covering the Parkland shooting.
"Parkland changed everything--for the survivors, for the nation,
and definitely for me. I flew down the first weekend, but not to
depict the carnage or the grief. What drove me was the group of
extraordinary kids. I wanted to cover their response. There are
strains of sadness woven into this story, but this is not an account
of grief. These kids chose a story of hope."
Cullen got to really know the student leaders who created March
For Our Lives and their families. He takes readers behind the scenes
from the first march and walk out through the summer long national bus
tour and the midterm elections. This poignant and perceptive volume
is a must read for anyone who wants the litany of school shootings to
end. A solution is possible and we need to all be part of it.
On a purrrsonal note, I was vice chair on the Veazie School Committee
when we worked on making our school more shooter proof. I recall
looking at the chair who had very young children in the school. His
usually calm face was showing a stunned fear. The discussion was
reminding us all the next tragedy might not be somewhere else. We
need to be a nation where our kids don't have to be afraid to go to
school and we don't have to be afraid to send them.
A great big shout out goes out to all the fine folks working to get us
there.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction IT
"'I'm going to be the next school shooter of 2018,' he said in
another segment. 'My goal is at least twenty people with an
AR-15...Location is Stoneman Douglas in Parkland, Florida...Here's the
plan: I'm going to take an Uber in the afternoon before 2:40 p.m.
From there, I'll go into the school campus, walk up the stairs, load
my bags and get my AR and shoot people down at...the main courtyard
and people will die.'"
The gunman entered his target Florida high school and opened
fire, killing seventeen people, mostly students. Each of them had
family and friends who would be devastated by the loss. Students hid
for hours wherever they could find shelter, sent what they thought
could be final messages to loved ones, and feared that the rampaging
killer would find them and end their lives. Terrified parents hurried
to the scene.
The Valentines Day Parkland shooting had a lot in common with
the mass shootings that are becoming much too common. A group of
students decided that they were going to fight back so others wouldn't
lose their lives or go through the trauma they had survived. Their
goal became to change this nation's gun laws so that other deranged
individuals wouldn't be able to get their hands on those lethal
weapons. They weren't going to settle for the "thoughts and prayers"
of politicians; they wanted action.
Dave Cullen had written the New York Times bestseller
Columbine. After ten years of researching and writing that book he
vowed never again. However nineteen years later, years during which,
cowed by the NRA, legislators failed to create laws that might have
prevented it, he found himself covering the Parkland shooting.
"Parkland changed everything--for the survivors, for the nation,
and definitely for me. I flew down the first weekend, but not to
depict the carnage or the grief. What drove me was the group of
extraordinary kids. I wanted to cover their response. There are
strains of sadness woven into this story, but this is not an account
of grief. These kids chose a story of hope."
Cullen got to really know the student leaders who created March
For Our Lives and their families. He takes readers behind the scenes
from the first march and walk out through the summer long national bus
tour and the midterm elections. This poignant and perceptive volume
is a must read for anyone who wants the litany of school shootings to
end. A solution is possible and we need to all be part of it.
On a purrrsonal note, I was vice chair on the Veazie School Committee
when we worked on making our school more shooter proof. I recall
looking at the chair who had very young children in the school. His
usually calm face was showing a stunned fear. The discussion was
reminding us all the next tragedy might not be somewhere else. We
need to be a nation where our kids don't have to be afraid to go to
school and we don't have to be afraid to send them.
A great big shout out goes out to all the fine folks working to get us
there.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Friday, December 27, 2019
She He They Me
She He They Me
Adult nonfiction
"So how do you get started? In real life, gender has a lot of
rules to follow, but in this book, you're free to make them up as you
go along. Navigate through your gender adventure by making your
choice and then flipping to the corresponding number at the top of the
page."
Some of my favorite parenting memories involve reading aloud to
my children. [BTW, the next book on my to review stack is all about
family read alouds]. Anyway some of my daughters' favorite read
alouds involved Goosebumps books, especially the choose your own
endings ones. You may be familiar with them. Instead of reading the
book from front to back you make a decision on how you want the plot
to go whenever prompted to by the text. Basically you can read the
book a dozen times or so without without encountering the same exact
story twice.
I thought I'd never see this concept applied to anything but
juvenile literature. I'm very glad I was wrong. Robin Ryles' She He
They Me: For the Sisters, Misters, and Binary Resisters (Don't you
just love the subtitle?) brings this format to the far from binary
world of gender. If you get your hands on it you are in for quite the
adventure.
Think your path begins with birth and the doctor's gender
pronouncement? Wrong! You first look at the society you arrive in.
Gender may not exist. If it does there may not just be two options.
Many factors are explored as you go along your path choosing options.
Explore your truth or use your imagination. There are over a hundred
possible stories.
What are you waiting for?
On a purrrsonal note, Tobago had her first visit with her new vet.
She is the picture of feline health. Dr. Julie is smitten with her
new patient and happy for Tobago and me and the life together we now
have. In the family Tobago has charmed Eugene and Amber. I can't
imagine anyone resisting her catly charms. As I write this she is
curled up with me sleeping.
I know Tobago is a rescue cat. I also know we rescued each other. I
brought her into a home where her needs are met and she is treasured.
She is healing my heart. I will always miss Joey and treasure his
precious memory. But I'm not drowning in grief.
A week into vaca I haven't gotten around to research. I may get very
little done. Bonding with Tobago is so delightful I don't feel like
leaving the house unless I have to.
A great big shout out goes out Dr. Julie Keene who will help me keep
Tobago healthy just as she did for Joey and to Anna who took me on a
road trip to Waterville where I met my sweet little girl.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"So how do you get started? In real life, gender has a lot of
rules to follow, but in this book, you're free to make them up as you
go along. Navigate through your gender adventure by making your
choice and then flipping to the corresponding number at the top of the
page."
Some of my favorite parenting memories involve reading aloud to
my children. [BTW, the next book on my to review stack is all about
family read alouds]. Anyway some of my daughters' favorite read
alouds involved Goosebumps books, especially the choose your own
endings ones. You may be familiar with them. Instead of reading the
book from front to back you make a decision on how you want the plot
to go whenever prompted to by the text. Basically you can read the
book a dozen times or so without without encountering the same exact
story twice.
I thought I'd never see this concept applied to anything but
juvenile literature. I'm very glad I was wrong. Robin Ryles' She He
They Me: For the Sisters, Misters, and Binary Resisters (Don't you
just love the subtitle?) brings this format to the far from binary
world of gender. If you get your hands on it you are in for quite the
adventure.
Think your path begins with birth and the doctor's gender
pronouncement? Wrong! You first look at the society you arrive in.
Gender may not exist. If it does there may not just be two options.
Many factors are explored as you go along your path choosing options.
Explore your truth or use your imagination. There are over a hundred
possible stories.
What are you waiting for?
On a purrrsonal note, Tobago had her first visit with her new vet.
She is the picture of feline health. Dr. Julie is smitten with her
new patient and happy for Tobago and me and the life together we now
have. In the family Tobago has charmed Eugene and Amber. I can't
imagine anyone resisting her catly charms. As I write this she is
curled up with me sleeping.
I know Tobago is a rescue cat. I also know we rescued each other. I
brought her into a home where her needs are met and she is treasured.
She is healing my heart. I will always miss Joey and treasure his
precious memory. But I'm not drowning in grief.
A week into vaca I haven't gotten around to research. I may get very
little done. Bonding with Tobago is so delightful I don't feel like
leaving the house unless I have to.
A great big shout out goes out Dr. Julie Keene who will help me keep
Tobago healthy just as she did for Joey and to Anna who took me on a
road trip to Waterville where I met my sweet little girl.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Thursday, December 26, 2019
White Rage
White Rage
Adult nonfiction IT
"...White rage is not about visible violence, but rather it
works its way through the courts, the legislatures, and a range of
government bureaucracies. It wreaks havoc subtly, almost
imperceptibly. Too imperceptibly, certainly for a nation consistently
drawn to the spectacular--to what it can see. It's not the Klan.
White rage doesn't have to wear sheets, burn crosses, or take to the
streets. Working the halls of power, it can achieve its ends far more
effectively, far more destructively."
In her White Rage Carol Anderson (quoted above) comprehensively
describes this pernicious emotion and its tragic consequences. Whites
aren't triggered by the mere presence of blacks. We kidnapped them to
do the backbreaking work we didn't want to do, justifying the inhumane
conditions under which we owned them like we'd own horses by othering
them. We were fine with them as long as they stayed "in their place,"
especially if it suited our economic interests. Amazingly, though,
even under the most dire conditions they managed to assert their full
humanity and work toward freedom and equality for themselves and their
beloved children and to reject the subservient molds we tried to keep
them in. It was those "uppity," highly motivated, aspirational Blacks
who triggered our rage. Whenever, amazingly, against all odds, they
made progress toward full and equal citizenship we worked overtime to
return to the status quo.
Anderson supports her theory by delving deeply into five points
in history, some more current than we'd like to think. She starts off
with the period following the Civil War. Abraham Luncoln had blamed
that war on the Blacks, "But for your race among us, there could not
be war," conveniently forgetting that they hadn't come over
voluntarily to stir things up. Emancipation made slave holding whites
outraged over the loss of their "property." Attempts to gain rights
for freedmen added fuel to the flames. White vigilente groups like
the KKK wreaked horrific violence and intimidation. The Black Codes
restored slavery in all but name. And a myopia was started in which
seeing racism as the violent acts of mobs deflected attention from the
far more powerful and insidious systematic repression.
When World War I rolled around, with a lot of White men "over
there," industries in the North, hit by the double whammy of the need
to step up war time production and the dearth of workers, began
actively and very successfully courting Southern Blacks. Decent wages
for work and education for their children, not to mention escape from
a place where lynchings were considered entertainment and raping a
Black woman a White male rite of passage, were very powerful
inventives. But the Whites who had become well off by exploiting
Black sharecroppers were not happy campers.
"White reaction, with its veneer of legality and respectability,
answered, rising up to stop African Americans from controlling their
own destiny. Soon the South was blanketed with ant-enticement
statutes reminiscent of the Black Codes that again leveled exorbitant
licensing fees and chain-gang prison sentences for those 'luring'
blacks away from their employers..."
Here's one from my childhood. Racial and educational inequality
had become so blantant that even the Supreme Court couldn't ignore
it. Their Brown decision angered and frightened the Whites who
envisioned a slippery slope. If Black kids attended school with their
children it would lead to interracial dating, marriage, and sex of the
consensual nature (as opposed to White on Black rape which had been
condoned for centuries) producing mixed race children who would dilute
the "superior" White genetic stock. While enraged White housewives
screaming at little Black children captured public and press
attention, governmental and judicial maneuverings delayed enforcement
of and eventually castrated that ruling. It was not just in the
South, BTW, unless you consider Massachusetts a Southern state.
The hard won Civil Rights of the 60s (my teen years) led
government to pronounce the arrival of a color blind, equal
opportunity society. Whites, angered by politicians' portrayals of
Cadillac driving, steal chomping, Black welfare queens (conveniently
forgetting that the majority of recipients were, hello, Whites) began
to feel that their rights were being trampled on. And then there was
that fear that Black thugs were trying to bust out of their ghettos
and bring their drugs and crime into decent (read White)
neighborhoods. Even though more Whites than Blacks actually abused
substances, presidential wars on drugs, enforced by zero tolerance,
cops in schools, the myth of the remorseless teen super predator, and
manditory minimum sentences, left far too many Blacks serving
draconian prison sentences.
Here's what's very current. A lot of people were enraged when
American voters actually put a Black man in charge of our nation.
There are people working overtime to make sure that doesn't happen
again. Voter ID laws (ostensibly to prevent fraud which is actually
very rare), gerrymandering, the purging of voter lists right before
elections, and the gutting of the Voting Rights Act are eliminating
with surgical precision the people who potentially would vote for
Blacks.
Like a number of other books we looked at recently, White Rage
sends a crucial message to those of us who are White. Racism isn't
all the KKK and that obnoxious relative you have to chow down with on
holidays. Its most potent form is the systems of oppression that
allow us to use laws and governments to oppress and brutalize Blacks
from behind a veneer of civility. We must do all we can to dismantle
it, as I'm trying to do by bringing this fine book to your attention.
Read it, get very angry, and do something.
On a purrrsonal note, I now have Tobago's papers. She's actually 3.
I adopted her on her birthday. She's making incredible progress. She
curls up beside me now. She gives every indication of being happy.
And she even is confident enough to venture outside of her room to
check out more of the house. This afternoon she will have her first
visit to Veazie Vet. We'll see how that goes.
I had a wonderful Christmas. This year Eugene and I met up with all
our kids at Amber and Brian's to open all our gifts together and eat
breakfast. It was so much like the old times except without all those
tiny toy parts (think Legos and Polly Pockets) to pick up. Spending
precious time with the most important people in my life and coming
home to a sweet cat who was overjoyed to see me were what really made
my Christmas this year.
A great big shout out goes out to my family, our new member, and the
best little cat in the world who is sorely missed even in the midst of
celebration.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction IT
"...White rage is not about visible violence, but rather it
works its way through the courts, the legislatures, and a range of
government bureaucracies. It wreaks havoc subtly, almost
imperceptibly. Too imperceptibly, certainly for a nation consistently
drawn to the spectacular--to what it can see. It's not the Klan.
White rage doesn't have to wear sheets, burn crosses, or take to the
streets. Working the halls of power, it can achieve its ends far more
effectively, far more destructively."
In her White Rage Carol Anderson (quoted above) comprehensively
describes this pernicious emotion and its tragic consequences. Whites
aren't triggered by the mere presence of blacks. We kidnapped them to
do the backbreaking work we didn't want to do, justifying the inhumane
conditions under which we owned them like we'd own horses by othering
them. We were fine with them as long as they stayed "in their place,"
especially if it suited our economic interests. Amazingly, though,
even under the most dire conditions they managed to assert their full
humanity and work toward freedom and equality for themselves and their
beloved children and to reject the subservient molds we tried to keep
them in. It was those "uppity," highly motivated, aspirational Blacks
who triggered our rage. Whenever, amazingly, against all odds, they
made progress toward full and equal citizenship we worked overtime to
return to the status quo.
Anderson supports her theory by delving deeply into five points
in history, some more current than we'd like to think. She starts off
with the period following the Civil War. Abraham Luncoln had blamed
that war on the Blacks, "But for your race among us, there could not
be war," conveniently forgetting that they hadn't come over
voluntarily to stir things up. Emancipation made slave holding whites
outraged over the loss of their "property." Attempts to gain rights
for freedmen added fuel to the flames. White vigilente groups like
the KKK wreaked horrific violence and intimidation. The Black Codes
restored slavery in all but name. And a myopia was started in which
seeing racism as the violent acts of mobs deflected attention from the
far more powerful and insidious systematic repression.
When World War I rolled around, with a lot of White men "over
there," industries in the North, hit by the double whammy of the need
to step up war time production and the dearth of workers, began
actively and very successfully courting Southern Blacks. Decent wages
for work and education for their children, not to mention escape from
a place where lynchings were considered entertainment and raping a
Black woman a White male rite of passage, were very powerful
inventives. But the Whites who had become well off by exploiting
Black sharecroppers were not happy campers.
"White reaction, with its veneer of legality and respectability,
answered, rising up to stop African Americans from controlling their
own destiny. Soon the South was blanketed with ant-enticement
statutes reminiscent of the Black Codes that again leveled exorbitant
licensing fees and chain-gang prison sentences for those 'luring'
blacks away from their employers..."
Here's one from my childhood. Racial and educational inequality
had become so blantant that even the Supreme Court couldn't ignore
it. Their Brown decision angered and frightened the Whites who
envisioned a slippery slope. If Black kids attended school with their
children it would lead to interracial dating, marriage, and sex of the
consensual nature (as opposed to White on Black rape which had been
condoned for centuries) producing mixed race children who would dilute
the "superior" White genetic stock. While enraged White housewives
screaming at little Black children captured public and press
attention, governmental and judicial maneuverings delayed enforcement
of and eventually castrated that ruling. It was not just in the
South, BTW, unless you consider Massachusetts a Southern state.
The hard won Civil Rights of the 60s (my teen years) led
government to pronounce the arrival of a color blind, equal
opportunity society. Whites, angered by politicians' portrayals of
Cadillac driving, steal chomping, Black welfare queens (conveniently
forgetting that the majority of recipients were, hello, Whites) began
to feel that their rights were being trampled on. And then there was
that fear that Black thugs were trying to bust out of their ghettos
and bring their drugs and crime into decent (read White)
neighborhoods. Even though more Whites than Blacks actually abused
substances, presidential wars on drugs, enforced by zero tolerance,
cops in schools, the myth of the remorseless teen super predator, and
manditory minimum sentences, left far too many Blacks serving
draconian prison sentences.
Here's what's very current. A lot of people were enraged when
American voters actually put a Black man in charge of our nation.
There are people working overtime to make sure that doesn't happen
again. Voter ID laws (ostensibly to prevent fraud which is actually
very rare), gerrymandering, the purging of voter lists right before
elections, and the gutting of the Voting Rights Act are eliminating
with surgical precision the people who potentially would vote for
Blacks.
Like a number of other books we looked at recently, White Rage
sends a crucial message to those of us who are White. Racism isn't
all the KKK and that obnoxious relative you have to chow down with on
holidays. Its most potent form is the systems of oppression that
allow us to use laws and governments to oppress and brutalize Blacks
from behind a veneer of civility. We must do all we can to dismantle
it, as I'm trying to do by bringing this fine book to your attention.
Read it, get very angry, and do something.
On a purrrsonal note, I now have Tobago's papers. She's actually 3.
I adopted her on her birthday. She's making incredible progress. She
curls up beside me now. She gives every indication of being happy.
And she even is confident enough to venture outside of her room to
check out more of the house. This afternoon she will have her first
visit to Veazie Vet. We'll see how that goes.
I had a wonderful Christmas. This year Eugene and I met up with all
our kids at Amber and Brian's to open all our gifts together and eat
breakfast. It was so much like the old times except without all those
tiny toy parts (think Legos and Polly Pockets) to pick up. Spending
precious time with the most important people in my life and coming
home to a sweet cat who was overjoyed to see me were what really made
my Christmas this year.
A great big shout out goes out to my family, our new member, and the
best little cat in the world who is sorely missed even in the midst of
celebration.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Tuesday, December 24, 2019
On Fire
On Fire
Adult nonfiction IT
As I write this it is the day before Christmas. New Years will
follow close behind. Whatever other resolutions you make (or decide
not to make) there is one I would like each and every one of you to
take on: read something way out of your comfort zone, something
downright scary, something that makes the fantasies of Maine's
horrormeister, Stephen King, seem like Sesame Street fare, something
that will make you as angry as a wet hornet and unwilling to be
sedated...something that reflects the realities of our globe as we
enter the 1920s. In fact please read more than We need to
incorporate these books' inconvenient truths into our thinking and do
something about them. So beginning with this review books that qualify
will have a designation of IT in the genre/audience line beneath the
title.
"It has been over three decades since governments and scientists
started officially meeting to discuss the need to lower greenhouse gas
emissions to avoid the dangers of climate breakdown. In the
intervening years, we have heard countless appeals for action that
involve 'the children,' 'the grandchildren,' and 'generations to
come.' We were told that we owed it to them to move swiftly and
embrace change. We were warned that we were failing in our most
sacred duty to protect them. It was predicted that they would judge
us harshly if we failed to act on their behalf."
So what went wrong? Naomi Klein, quoted above, devotes her On
Fire: The Burning Case for a Green New Deal to answering this
question. Following her introduction fittingly titled "We Are The
Wildfire" the text consists of her powerful essays and speeches penned
and delivered over the past decade. In them she not only tackles the
burning issues of this age, but describes their intersectional
connection.
One chapter that really broke my heart was There's Nothing
Natural About Puerto Rico's Disaster. It opens with these words.
"When you systematically starve and neglect the very bones of a
society, rendering it dysfunctional on a good day, that society has
absolutely no capacity to weather a true crisis." It blows the
"natural disaster" and "act of God" explanations for the death and
disaster out of the water. The stage for devastation was set well
before Hurricane Maria took shape. An externally imposed and enforced
austerity program had shredded all the systems that need to be in
place for effective crisis response: health care, communication,
education, transportation, and even electricity and water.
"This is the deadly cocktail--not just a storm, but a storm
supercharged by climate change slamming headlong into a society
deliberately weakened by a decade of unrelenting austerity layered on
top of centuries of colonial extraction, with relief efforts that make
no attempt to disguise the fact that the lives of the poor exist
within our global system at a sharp discount."
Capitalism vs. The Climate (2011) opens with "There is simply no
way to square a belief system that vilifies collective action and
venerates total market freedom with a problem that demands collective
action on an unprecedented scale and a dramatic reining in of the
market forces that created and are deepening the crisis." Readers get
a revealing look at the Heartland Institute's Sixth International
Conference on Climate Change. Don't let the name fool you. This is a
gang of deniers who believe that claims of the phenomenon are veiled
attempts to steal Americans' freedom. These are people for whom
denial is a core facet of their identity, people who benefit from the
status quo and know that they personally have a lot to lose from the
lowering of global emmisions. These are powerful people who
Republicans champion and Democrats attempt to appease. With
progressives engaged in climate change and economic justice
effectively siloed from one another,
"The right, meanwhile, has a free hand to exploit the global
economic crisis that began in 2008 to cast climate action as a recipe
for economic Armegeddon, a surefire way to spike household costs and
to block new, much-needed jobs drilling for oil and laying new
pipelines. With virtually no loud voices offering a competing vision
of how a new economic paradigm could provide a way out of both the
economic and ecological crises, this fearmongering has had a ready
audience."
It will probably not come as much of a surprise that my favorite
chapters are the ones at the end that describe the Green New Deal, the
work that will be needed to achieve it, and the benefits that will
accrue to the great majority of us if we summon up the will and commit
ourselves to the necessary work to make it happen. And I love the
words with which Klein ends the book:
"But more than thirty years later, as surely as the glaciers are
melting and the ice sheets are breaking apart, that 'free-market'
ideology is dissolving too. In its place, a new vision of what
humanity can be is emerging. It is coming from the streets, from the
schools, from workplaces, and even from inside houses of government.
It's a vision that says that all of us, combined, make up the fabric
of society.
And when the future of life is at stake, there is nothing we
cannot achieve."
Amen to that!
I would give On Fire and all other Klein's finely researched,
truth telling books (recall we checked out No Is Not Enough) a IT!
On a purrrsonal note, I'm getting to know my new fur baby. Tobago is
a gorgeous year old feline. She's almost all black with a white bib
and luminescent golden eyes. She has the slender muscular build of a
panther. I call her my little psnther. She loves me, frequently
approaching me for attention and purring when I pet her. She gets
spooked by stuff like loud noises and fast movement. She spooked me
last night when she got into a small space I couldn't get her out of.
She seems happier now that I've restricted her to one room with safe
spaces under the bed and in the closet to retreat to. I won't be
doing much research this vaca. My main priority will be bonding with
Tobago.
My manager, Anna, is big on animal adoption. When she heard that the
Waterville Humane Society had 92 felines in need of homes she wanted
to help. So she took me on a road trip. When Tobago woke up from a
nap and saw me she did everything in her catly power to get my
attention. Why me? I have no clue. There were other people in the
room.
Great big shout outs go out to Anna, the fine folks at Waterville
Humane Society, and you, my readers who celebrate Christmas.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction IT
As I write this it is the day before Christmas. New Years will
follow close behind. Whatever other resolutions you make (or decide
not to make) there is one I would like each and every one of you to
take on: read something way out of your comfort zone, something
downright scary, something that makes the fantasies of Maine's
horrormeister, Stephen King, seem like Sesame Street fare, something
that will make you as angry as a wet hornet and unwilling to be
sedated...something that reflects the realities of our globe as we
enter the 1920s. In fact please read more than We need to
incorporate these books' inconvenient truths into our thinking and do
something about them. So beginning with this review books that qualify
will have a designation of IT in the genre/audience line beneath the
title.
"It has been over three decades since governments and scientists
started officially meeting to discuss the need to lower greenhouse gas
emissions to avoid the dangers of climate breakdown. In the
intervening years, we have heard countless appeals for action that
involve 'the children,' 'the grandchildren,' and 'generations to
come.' We were told that we owed it to them to move swiftly and
embrace change. We were warned that we were failing in our most
sacred duty to protect them. It was predicted that they would judge
us harshly if we failed to act on their behalf."
So what went wrong? Naomi Klein, quoted above, devotes her On
Fire: The Burning Case for a Green New Deal to answering this
question. Following her introduction fittingly titled "We Are The
Wildfire" the text consists of her powerful essays and speeches penned
and delivered over the past decade. In them she not only tackles the
burning issues of this age, but describes their intersectional
connection.
One chapter that really broke my heart was There's Nothing
Natural About Puerto Rico's Disaster. It opens with these words.
"When you systematically starve and neglect the very bones of a
society, rendering it dysfunctional on a good day, that society has
absolutely no capacity to weather a true crisis." It blows the
"natural disaster" and "act of God" explanations for the death and
disaster out of the water. The stage for devastation was set well
before Hurricane Maria took shape. An externally imposed and enforced
austerity program had shredded all the systems that need to be in
place for effective crisis response: health care, communication,
education, transportation, and even electricity and water.
"This is the deadly cocktail--not just a storm, but a storm
supercharged by climate change slamming headlong into a society
deliberately weakened by a decade of unrelenting austerity layered on
top of centuries of colonial extraction, with relief efforts that make
no attempt to disguise the fact that the lives of the poor exist
within our global system at a sharp discount."
Capitalism vs. The Climate (2011) opens with "There is simply no
way to square a belief system that vilifies collective action and
venerates total market freedom with a problem that demands collective
action on an unprecedented scale and a dramatic reining in of the
market forces that created and are deepening the crisis." Readers get
a revealing look at the Heartland Institute's Sixth International
Conference on Climate Change. Don't let the name fool you. This is a
gang of deniers who believe that claims of the phenomenon are veiled
attempts to steal Americans' freedom. These are people for whom
denial is a core facet of their identity, people who benefit from the
status quo and know that they personally have a lot to lose from the
lowering of global emmisions. These are powerful people who
Republicans champion and Democrats attempt to appease. With
progressives engaged in climate change and economic justice
effectively siloed from one another,
"The right, meanwhile, has a free hand to exploit the global
economic crisis that began in 2008 to cast climate action as a recipe
for economic Armegeddon, a surefire way to spike household costs and
to block new, much-needed jobs drilling for oil and laying new
pipelines. With virtually no loud voices offering a competing vision
of how a new economic paradigm could provide a way out of both the
economic and ecological crises, this fearmongering has had a ready
audience."
It will probably not come as much of a surprise that my favorite
chapters are the ones at the end that describe the Green New Deal, the
work that will be needed to achieve it, and the benefits that will
accrue to the great majority of us if we summon up the will and commit
ourselves to the necessary work to make it happen. And I love the
words with which Klein ends the book:
"But more than thirty years later, as surely as the glaciers are
melting and the ice sheets are breaking apart, that 'free-market'
ideology is dissolving too. In its place, a new vision of what
humanity can be is emerging. It is coming from the streets, from the
schools, from workplaces, and even from inside houses of government.
It's a vision that says that all of us, combined, make up the fabric
of society.
And when the future of life is at stake, there is nothing we
cannot achieve."
Amen to that!
I would give On Fire and all other Klein's finely researched,
truth telling books (recall we checked out No Is Not Enough) a IT!
On a purrrsonal note, I'm getting to know my new fur baby. Tobago is
a gorgeous year old feline. She's almost all black with a white bib
and luminescent golden eyes. She has the slender muscular build of a
panther. I call her my little psnther. She loves me, frequently
approaching me for attention and purring when I pet her. She gets
spooked by stuff like loud noises and fast movement. She spooked me
last night when she got into a small space I couldn't get her out of.
She seems happier now that I've restricted her to one room with safe
spaces under the bed and in the closet to retreat to. I won't be
doing much research this vaca. My main priority will be bonding with
Tobago.
My manager, Anna, is big on animal adoption. When she heard that the
Waterville Humane Society had 92 felines in need of homes she wanted
to help. So she took me on a road trip. When Tobago woke up from a
nap and saw me she did everything in her catly power to get my
attention. Why me? I have no clue. There were other people in the
room.
Great big shout outs go out to Anna, the fine folks at Waterville
Humane Society, and you, my readers who celebrate Christmas.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Sunday, December 22, 2019
The Good Sister
The Good Sister
Adult mystery
"My sister, my best friend, Becky.
And now: here we are.
Cot death, the defense says--unexplained.
Murder, the prosecution says.
I look at my sister in the dock.
The woman accused of murdering my child."
Martha is the successful sister in her family--the one with the
carefully curated seaside home, the professional husband, and the
reserved demeanor. When she and hubbie Scott decided it was time to
start a family she became pregnant with a baby girl, Layla.
Martha, however, was torn in her loyalties. She ran a nonprofit
she had created that provided a safe place for refugee children in
another country. Managing it at a distance while parenting a nearly
constantly crying baby was proving to be more than she had
anticipated. If only she could find someone to watch Layla during the
times she was most time crunched. But who could she trust enough?
Becky was the family's free spirit--the one who dropped out of
school, got pregnant early, and ended up in divorce court after a spur
of the moment affair; the one with a volatile temper and the ability
to express it. Being hired as an on call sitter let her drop some of
an array of part time jobs. But it was a far from ideal
arrangement. Being responsible for an impossible to soothe infant
wore on her nerves. And she had begun to feel that she was being
taken advantage of.
One night the unthinkable happens. Becky wakes up to find Layla
unresponsive. Nothing can be done to save her. Over the course of a
trial readers get to join the jury in listening to the witnesses,
sorting through the evidence, and determining what really happened on
that fateful night.
On a purrrsonal note, as much as I dearly and desperately want a cat
to love, I am becoming increasingly anxious that I might somehow fail
it. I am doing all I can to make the house feline safe. Maybe I
won't be a good enough human companion. The last time I felt such an
overwhelming mixture or yearning and anxiety was the last weeks of my
pregnancy with Amber. Even if I'm less than purrrfect I have better
than the streets or a shelter to offer.
Hopefully.
A great big shout out goes out to the best little cat in the world who
loved me.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult mystery
"My sister, my best friend, Becky.
And now: here we are.
Cot death, the defense says--unexplained.
Murder, the prosecution says.
I look at my sister in the dock.
The woman accused of murdering my child."
Martha is the successful sister in her family--the one with the
carefully curated seaside home, the professional husband, and the
reserved demeanor. When she and hubbie Scott decided it was time to
start a family she became pregnant with a baby girl, Layla.
Martha, however, was torn in her loyalties. She ran a nonprofit
she had created that provided a safe place for refugee children in
another country. Managing it at a distance while parenting a nearly
constantly crying baby was proving to be more than she had
anticipated. If only she could find someone to watch Layla during the
times she was most time crunched. But who could she trust enough?
Becky was the family's free spirit--the one who dropped out of
school, got pregnant early, and ended up in divorce court after a spur
of the moment affair; the one with a volatile temper and the ability
to express it. Being hired as an on call sitter let her drop some of
an array of part time jobs. But it was a far from ideal
arrangement. Being responsible for an impossible to soothe infant
wore on her nerves. And she had begun to feel that she was being
taken advantage of.
One night the unthinkable happens. Becky wakes up to find Layla
unresponsive. Nothing can be done to save her. Over the course of a
trial readers get to join the jury in listening to the witnesses,
sorting through the evidence, and determining what really happened on
that fateful night.
On a purrrsonal note, as much as I dearly and desperately want a cat
to love, I am becoming increasingly anxious that I might somehow fail
it. I am doing all I can to make the house feline safe. Maybe I
won't be a good enough human companion. The last time I felt such an
overwhelming mixture or yearning and anxiety was the last weeks of my
pregnancy with Amber. Even if I'm less than purrrfect I have better
than the streets or a shelter to offer.
Hopefully.
A great big shout out goes out to the best little cat in the world who
loved me.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Saturday, December 21, 2019
White Like Me
White Like Me
Adult nonfiction
"As a white man, born and raised in a society that has always
bestowed on me advantages that it has just as deliberately withheld
from people of color, I am not expected to think the way I do. I am
not expected to speak against and agitate in opposition to racism and
institutionalized white supremacy...historically white folks have made
something of a pastime out of ignoring racism or at least refusing to
call it out as a social problem to be remedied."
Tim Wise, quoted above, not only saw fit to call prejudice and
privilege out as a big time problem, but made it his vocation. He
studied it on the micro and macro levels, picking apart the strands of
his family heritage and his upbringing as well as researching the
larger picture. In White Like Me he weaves both strands together into
a spell binding narrative.
Wise tells readers a number of candid stories in which his
whiteness let him live a life that included book authorship instead of
jail time or worse. In high school he went to parties in white homes
in white neighborhoods that featured illicit drugs and underage
drinking. The police who sometimes dropped by (Could you keep the
noise down? The neighbors are complaining.) were very good at
ignoring the substance abuse going on.
"Had these house parties been in black neighborhoods they would
never have been allowed to go on at all, as large as they were, even
without a single illegal substance on the premises, and without a
single weapon in sight. But for whites, in white neighborhoods,
everything was different. Our illegality was looked at with a wink or
a nod."
Then there was the time Wise was lost in Idaho, driving through
a rural countryside to find the restaurant he was to meet his hosts
at. Luckily they called his cell phone and oriented him. If he'd
been driving without a cell phone he would have stopped at a farm
house to ask for directions.
"...I could have waltzed right up, even on a night as foggy as
that one, knocked on the door or rung the bell, smiled, and known that
when the door was opened there would be no reason to fear that my
presence would have prompted the owners to call the police or reach
for a gun."
Just like Wise, those of us who are white rock privilege, often
without even being aware of it. He schools us on what forms this
privilege takes, why we are so good at not recognizing it, why we need
to wake up already, and how we should join the fight to change
things. This book makes a significant contribution to the genre of
white privilege narratives.
On a purrrsonal note, Academic Showcase was awesome! Lots of people
asked me about my poster and were quite impressed with my
explanation. Dean Dana wants a photocopy of survey it was based on.
After Showcase we had the traditional Christmas party for members of
my program: good food, good conversation, and the much loved Yankee
swap. Thursday and Friday I worked my last shifts of the semester at
Wells. They were very light since most of our diners had already gone
home for the holidays. With Eugene at camp--no need to cook--I plan
to get my knee healed up all the way by writing with my knee elevated
on the sofa by the tree today and Sunday.
Good luck with all your holiday preparations!
A great big shout out goes out to all who were responsible for setting
up Academic Showcase and the Christmas party and to the best little
cat in the world who would have so loved our beautiful Christmas
tree. The holiday season was always sweet Joey's favorite time of the
year. I miss him so much more than words can ever express!
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"As a white man, born and raised in a society that has always
bestowed on me advantages that it has just as deliberately withheld
from people of color, I am not expected to think the way I do. I am
not expected to speak against and agitate in opposition to racism and
institutionalized white supremacy...historically white folks have made
something of a pastime out of ignoring racism or at least refusing to
call it out as a social problem to be remedied."
Tim Wise, quoted above, not only saw fit to call prejudice and
privilege out as a big time problem, but made it his vocation. He
studied it on the micro and macro levels, picking apart the strands of
his family heritage and his upbringing as well as researching the
larger picture. In White Like Me he weaves both strands together into
a spell binding narrative.
Wise tells readers a number of candid stories in which his
whiteness let him live a life that included book authorship instead of
jail time or worse. In high school he went to parties in white homes
in white neighborhoods that featured illicit drugs and underage
drinking. The police who sometimes dropped by (Could you keep the
noise down? The neighbors are complaining.) were very good at
ignoring the substance abuse going on.
"Had these house parties been in black neighborhoods they would
never have been allowed to go on at all, as large as they were, even
without a single illegal substance on the premises, and without a
single weapon in sight. But for whites, in white neighborhoods,
everything was different. Our illegality was looked at with a wink or
a nod."
Then there was the time Wise was lost in Idaho, driving through
a rural countryside to find the restaurant he was to meet his hosts
at. Luckily they called his cell phone and oriented him. If he'd
been driving without a cell phone he would have stopped at a farm
house to ask for directions.
"...I could have waltzed right up, even on a night as foggy as
that one, knocked on the door or rung the bell, smiled, and known that
when the door was opened there would be no reason to fear that my
presence would have prompted the owners to call the police or reach
for a gun."
Just like Wise, those of us who are white rock privilege, often
without even being aware of it. He schools us on what forms this
privilege takes, why we are so good at not recognizing it, why we need
to wake up already, and how we should join the fight to change
things. This book makes a significant contribution to the genre of
white privilege narratives.
On a purrrsonal note, Academic Showcase was awesome! Lots of people
asked me about my poster and were quite impressed with my
explanation. Dean Dana wants a photocopy of survey it was based on.
After Showcase we had the traditional Christmas party for members of
my program: good food, good conversation, and the much loved Yankee
swap. Thursday and Friday I worked my last shifts of the semester at
Wells. They were very light since most of our diners had already gone
home for the holidays. With Eugene at camp--no need to cook--I plan
to get my knee healed up all the way by writing with my knee elevated
on the sofa by the tree today and Sunday.
Good luck with all your holiday preparations!
A great big shout out goes out to all who were responsible for setting
up Academic Showcase and the Christmas party and to the best little
cat in the world who would have so loved our beautiful Christmas
tree. The holiday season was always sweet Joey's favorite time of the
year. I miss him so much more than words can ever express!
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Monday, December 16, 2019
On The Clock
On The Clock
Adult nonfiction
If you've been reading my recent blog posts you know that I've
been coping with the aftermath of a bad fall. It hasn't made my
student job in dining services easy since most shifts involve four or
five hours standing. However, I am very lucky to be working at UMaine
instead of in the real world. I was able to call in sick the supper
shift when my knee hurt too badly and I couldn't have climbed into the
high cab of my husband's truck. When I asked to be put on cashier
instead of dishroom my manager arranged for me to be trained. Where I
work I'm seen and treated as a human being whose health and safety are
considered important...
...which is something that every worker deserves just by virtue
of being human. It's also something unavailable to an increasing
percentage of our workforce. If you don't believe that I strongly
suggest that you read Emily Guendelsberger's On The Clock: What Low-
Wage Work Did to Me and How It Drives America Insane. An undercover
expose written in the fine tradition of Barbara Ehrenreich's Nickel
and Dimed, this book is a real eye opener.
Like Ehrenreich, Guendelsberger went undercover. It's a
necessity when researching big business. Those companies, bizarrely
designated as people by the Supreme Court, curate their images so
assiduously that more traditional methods of inquiry would uncover no
more that what they wish uncovered. She did not lie on her
applications or in interviews. She would have been honest in replying
to questions that were never asked. "...All three companies seemed
desperate to hire enough felony- and opiate-free bodies to keep up
with the massive turnover rate built into their business models.
Nobody called my references." Two of the workplaces she did time in
are familiar to probably all of us: Amazon and McDonald's. The
third, Convergys, is a call center that handles phone contact with
customers of large corporations.
Guendelsberger starts her narrative with a term with two
distinctly different meanings: in the weeds. In academia someone in
the weeds was entangled in unimportant details of an endeavor. For
blue collar workers being in the weeds means perpetually working at
maximum speed because you are always behind and there is no let up in
work demands. It's a state of being that is becoming the norm for
more and more of us thanks to algorithmic scheduling. In addition to
making workers' lives wildly unpredictable by greatly differing hours
week to week and last minute schedule posting...
"Businesses also save a ton of money by scheduling the absolute
minimum number of workers to handle the predicted business. And they
save even more by scheduling slightly fewer people than can handle the
predicted work at a reasonable pace. If workers can push themselves
to cover the duties of a sick coworker, doesn't that just mean they're
not giving it 100 percent the rest of the time? Why can't they work
that efficiently every shift?"
Most of us in college or graduate school can put our ultimate
effort into the stepped up demands of finals week when everything is
due. But keeping up that pace for the entirity of the semester
without the built in breaks that allow for catching up or getting
ahead would be unsustainable. It's even more unsustainable for
workers in the physically demanding service sector. It's not meant to
be sustainable. The fact that the businesses that hired Guendelsberg
did not even call her references shows a view of the worker as an
easily replaceable cog to be used and discarded rather than a human to
invest in and cultivate.
Reading On The Clock is like gaining access to a ring of Dante's
Inferno added in the 21st century. You will learn about how:
*serious and sustained pain is an expected part of working at an
Amazon warehouse, and management's response is painkiller vending
machines (never mind that OTC pain killer abuse is decisively linked
to liver and kidney damage) rather than scaling back worker
expectations to something more realistic or increasing breaks.
"...It feels like I've been hit by a garbage truck. Everything
hurts. My feet are the worst, but my back, shoulders, arms, and neck
feel terrible too...I even have a throbbing headache."
(In contrast, on my first work day after my fall my manager had
the napkin holders brought to me to fill instead of having me walk to
all the tables and one of my supervisors told me if I needed to leave
early I could just talk to her.)
*at Convergys ambulances are called so often for panic attacks that an
EMT would ask "Okay, who is it this time?" There are scripts to follow
and quotas to make. Some callers are irate. Workers are mandated to
respond with calmness to vitriole and abuse and to attempt to sell
additional products and services no matter the circumstances.
"Amazon workers complained about the physical stress of
technoTaylorism. But an alarming number of call-center reps mentioned
experiencing its mental stress, citing their jobs as the direct cause
of intense bouts of depression and anxiety as well as ulcers and other
physical results of stress. I could, unfortunately, fill yet another
twenty pages with stories from reps who said their jobs had driven
them to seriously consider self harm or suicide."
And then there's the intense scrutiny of worker time down to and
including bathroom breaks. A worker who had a doctor's note verifying
her digestive problems had a supervisor who would listen outside her
stall to see whether she really had diarrhea every time she used a
toilet. Can you imagine an adult human being having to undergo this
level of humiliation to earn a paycheck?
(Dining Services, in contrast, gets that if you gotta go, you
gotta go. You tell any coworker who might have to cover for you.
Like if you're serving you tell your runner.)
and *at McDonalds workers must perform a wide variety of tasks under
the constant pressure of impatient customer lines. Pushing people to
work faster than is safely possible leads to injuries. One day when
Guendelsberger checked the amount of coffee in the metal pots the
handle of one came loose, baptizing her in scalding hot liquid.
"That puts me in good company. According to a 2015 survey of US
fast-food workers by the National Council for Occupational Safety and
Health, 79 percent had been burned on the job in the previous year--
most more than once. And not everyone got off as easily as I did."
To top that off, many workers, including those with burns
serious enough to require medical attention are told by managers to
apply condiments to the afflicted area and keep on working.
(I can't even imagine that happening where I work. Burns are
rare and taken seriously.)
Even those of us who have so far had the great good fortune to
not have held down one of those jobs from Hell have to take On The
Clock very seriously. Guendelsburger, an educated journalist, ended
up in dire circumstances when the newspaper she had a decent job with
folded. She did all the right things educationally and vocationally
and got screwed. In a world where a lot of formerly secure good jobs
are being killed by automation and outsourcing very few of us are
really safe. So reading On The Clock and getting angry enough to
engage with others is not just the right thing to do and morally
decent. It's potentially self preservation.
Just do it, OK?
On a purrrsonal note, after cashiering instead of being in dishroom
Saturday and spending Sunday mostly reading and watching Home Alone 3
with Eugene my knee is well on the way to recovery. I am so looking
forward to Academic Showcase which will be held in the Dean's Suite
tomorrow. In fact I'm waiting about as patiently as a sugar hyped
first grader on Christmas Eve. I do hope lots of people ask me
questions about my poster!!!
A great big shout out goes out to UMaine managers and supervisors who
I appreciate even more than before since reading On The Clock.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
If you've been reading my recent blog posts you know that I've
been coping with the aftermath of a bad fall. It hasn't made my
student job in dining services easy since most shifts involve four or
five hours standing. However, I am very lucky to be working at UMaine
instead of in the real world. I was able to call in sick the supper
shift when my knee hurt too badly and I couldn't have climbed into the
high cab of my husband's truck. When I asked to be put on cashier
instead of dishroom my manager arranged for me to be trained. Where I
work I'm seen and treated as a human being whose health and safety are
considered important...
...which is something that every worker deserves just by virtue
of being human. It's also something unavailable to an increasing
percentage of our workforce. If you don't believe that I strongly
suggest that you read Emily Guendelsberger's On The Clock: What Low-
Wage Work Did to Me and How It Drives America Insane. An undercover
expose written in the fine tradition of Barbara Ehrenreich's Nickel
and Dimed, this book is a real eye opener.
Like Ehrenreich, Guendelsberger went undercover. It's a
necessity when researching big business. Those companies, bizarrely
designated as people by the Supreme Court, curate their images so
assiduously that more traditional methods of inquiry would uncover no
more that what they wish uncovered. She did not lie on her
applications or in interviews. She would have been honest in replying
to questions that were never asked. "...All three companies seemed
desperate to hire enough felony- and opiate-free bodies to keep up
with the massive turnover rate built into their business models.
Nobody called my references." Two of the workplaces she did time in
are familiar to probably all of us: Amazon and McDonald's. The
third, Convergys, is a call center that handles phone contact with
customers of large corporations.
Guendelsberger starts her narrative with a term with two
distinctly different meanings: in the weeds. In academia someone in
the weeds was entangled in unimportant details of an endeavor. For
blue collar workers being in the weeds means perpetually working at
maximum speed because you are always behind and there is no let up in
work demands. It's a state of being that is becoming the norm for
more and more of us thanks to algorithmic scheduling. In addition to
making workers' lives wildly unpredictable by greatly differing hours
week to week and last minute schedule posting...
"Businesses also save a ton of money by scheduling the absolute
minimum number of workers to handle the predicted business. And they
save even more by scheduling slightly fewer people than can handle the
predicted work at a reasonable pace. If workers can push themselves
to cover the duties of a sick coworker, doesn't that just mean they're
not giving it 100 percent the rest of the time? Why can't they work
that efficiently every shift?"
Most of us in college or graduate school can put our ultimate
effort into the stepped up demands of finals week when everything is
due. But keeping up that pace for the entirity of the semester
without the built in breaks that allow for catching up or getting
ahead would be unsustainable. It's even more unsustainable for
workers in the physically demanding service sector. It's not meant to
be sustainable. The fact that the businesses that hired Guendelsberg
did not even call her references shows a view of the worker as an
easily replaceable cog to be used and discarded rather than a human to
invest in and cultivate.
Reading On The Clock is like gaining access to a ring of Dante's
Inferno added in the 21st century. You will learn about how:
*serious and sustained pain is an expected part of working at an
Amazon warehouse, and management's response is painkiller vending
machines (never mind that OTC pain killer abuse is decisively linked
to liver and kidney damage) rather than scaling back worker
expectations to something more realistic or increasing breaks.
"...It feels like I've been hit by a garbage truck. Everything
hurts. My feet are the worst, but my back, shoulders, arms, and neck
feel terrible too...I even have a throbbing headache."
(In contrast, on my first work day after my fall my manager had
the napkin holders brought to me to fill instead of having me walk to
all the tables and one of my supervisors told me if I needed to leave
early I could just talk to her.)
*at Convergys ambulances are called so often for panic attacks that an
EMT would ask "Okay, who is it this time?" There are scripts to follow
and quotas to make. Some callers are irate. Workers are mandated to
respond with calmness to vitriole and abuse and to attempt to sell
additional products and services no matter the circumstances.
"Amazon workers complained about the physical stress of
technoTaylorism. But an alarming number of call-center reps mentioned
experiencing its mental stress, citing their jobs as the direct cause
of intense bouts of depression and anxiety as well as ulcers and other
physical results of stress. I could, unfortunately, fill yet another
twenty pages with stories from reps who said their jobs had driven
them to seriously consider self harm or suicide."
And then there's the intense scrutiny of worker time down to and
including bathroom breaks. A worker who had a doctor's note verifying
her digestive problems had a supervisor who would listen outside her
stall to see whether she really had diarrhea every time she used a
toilet. Can you imagine an adult human being having to undergo this
level of humiliation to earn a paycheck?
(Dining Services, in contrast, gets that if you gotta go, you
gotta go. You tell any coworker who might have to cover for you.
Like if you're serving you tell your runner.)
and *at McDonalds workers must perform a wide variety of tasks under
the constant pressure of impatient customer lines. Pushing people to
work faster than is safely possible leads to injuries. One day when
Guendelsberger checked the amount of coffee in the metal pots the
handle of one came loose, baptizing her in scalding hot liquid.
"That puts me in good company. According to a 2015 survey of US
fast-food workers by the National Council for Occupational Safety and
Health, 79 percent had been burned on the job in the previous year--
most more than once. And not everyone got off as easily as I did."
To top that off, many workers, including those with burns
serious enough to require medical attention are told by managers to
apply condiments to the afflicted area and keep on working.
(I can't even imagine that happening where I work. Burns are
rare and taken seriously.)
Even those of us who have so far had the great good fortune to
not have held down one of those jobs from Hell have to take On The
Clock very seriously. Guendelsburger, an educated journalist, ended
up in dire circumstances when the newspaper she had a decent job with
folded. She did all the right things educationally and vocationally
and got screwed. In a world where a lot of formerly secure good jobs
are being killed by automation and outsourcing very few of us are
really safe. So reading On The Clock and getting angry enough to
engage with others is not just the right thing to do and morally
decent. It's potentially self preservation.
Just do it, OK?
On a purrrsonal note, after cashiering instead of being in dishroom
Saturday and spending Sunday mostly reading and watching Home Alone 3
with Eugene my knee is well on the way to recovery. I am so looking
forward to Academic Showcase which will be held in the Dean's Suite
tomorrow. In fact I'm waiting about as patiently as a sugar hyped
first grader on Christmas Eve. I do hope lots of people ask me
questions about my poster!!!
A great big shout out goes out to UMaine managers and supervisors who
I appreciate even more than before since reading On The Clock.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Wednesday, December 11, 2019
Let Me Hear a Rhyme
Let Me Hear a Rhyme
YA/adult fiction
"I thought I'd see some reporters and cameras at the church.
For the past few days, I flipped through channels waiting to see
Steph's photo cross the screen, but everyone was busy talking about
President Clinton hooking up with that intern. Like, damn, don't
murders make the news no more?
Don't they know who Steph was? I mean, yeah, folks die every
day. But it's not every day you lose your main man."
Quadir (quoted above), Jarrell, and Jasmine, narrators of
Tiffany Jackson's Let Me Hear a Rhyme, are seriously grieving. A
seemingly ordinary end of summer has been blasted to bits by the
bullets that took Steph's life before he even graduated high school.
Quadir and Jarrell are his best friends. Tiffany is his kid sister
who has also recently lost her father.
Hip hop had been Steph's passion. He'd been working on
developing his own material, planning on becoming a performer. His
room is full of CDs, tapes, and notebooks full of rhymes. Jarrell
comes up with an idea. Steph could become posthumously famous if he,
Quadir, and Jasmine get his music in the right hands while maintaining
the illusion that he's still alive. That will prove to be a very
dangerous endeavor. The teens are dealing with some very unsavory
characters with connections, people who might get mighty angry if they
think they're getting played. If you enjoy a spine chilling
contemporary narrative you will find Let Me Hear a Rhyme to be a must
read.
On a personal note, fall semester is winding down. Next week is
finals. I had a very hectic few days getting ready for my theories
final which was this week, writing a big paper, and sending in a
poster proposal for the big conference in March...and of course
working. It's harder being on my feet for hours when my knee hurts
from my falling running for the bus. I will be so glad when it heals
up. Today I was supposed to work supper shift. But Eugene would have
picked me up. No way could I have climbed into a high cab pick up
truck. So I called in sick and volunteered with an on campus blood
drive where I could be sitting down and resting my knee. I have a lot
more empathy for people with physical disabilities.
A great big shout out goes out to my fellow students writing papers
and studying for exams and the profs who will have a whole lot of
grading to do.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
YA/adult fiction
"I thought I'd see some reporters and cameras at the church.
For the past few days, I flipped through channels waiting to see
Steph's photo cross the screen, but everyone was busy talking about
President Clinton hooking up with that intern. Like, damn, don't
murders make the news no more?
Don't they know who Steph was? I mean, yeah, folks die every
day. But it's not every day you lose your main man."
Quadir (quoted above), Jarrell, and Jasmine, narrators of
Tiffany Jackson's Let Me Hear a Rhyme, are seriously grieving. A
seemingly ordinary end of summer has been blasted to bits by the
bullets that took Steph's life before he even graduated high school.
Quadir and Jarrell are his best friends. Tiffany is his kid sister
who has also recently lost her father.
Hip hop had been Steph's passion. He'd been working on
developing his own material, planning on becoming a performer. His
room is full of CDs, tapes, and notebooks full of rhymes. Jarrell
comes up with an idea. Steph could become posthumously famous if he,
Quadir, and Jasmine get his music in the right hands while maintaining
the illusion that he's still alive. That will prove to be a very
dangerous endeavor. The teens are dealing with some very unsavory
characters with connections, people who might get mighty angry if they
think they're getting played. If you enjoy a spine chilling
contemporary narrative you will find Let Me Hear a Rhyme to be a must
read.
On a personal note, fall semester is winding down. Next week is
finals. I had a very hectic few days getting ready for my theories
final which was this week, writing a big paper, and sending in a
poster proposal for the big conference in March...and of course
working. It's harder being on my feet for hours when my knee hurts
from my falling running for the bus. I will be so glad when it heals
up. Today I was supposed to work supper shift. But Eugene would have
picked me up. No way could I have climbed into a high cab pick up
truck. So I called in sick and volunteered with an on campus blood
drive where I could be sitting down and resting my knee. I have a lot
more empathy for people with physical disabilities.
A great big shout out goes out to my fellow students writing papers
and studying for exams and the profs who will have a whole lot of
grading to do.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Saturday, December 7, 2019
Why Are All The Black Kids Sitting Together In The Cafeteria?
Why Are All The Black Kids Sitting Together In The Cafeteria?
Adult nonfiction
"Walk into any racially mixed high school cafeteria at lunchtime
and you will instantly notice that in the sea of adolescent faces,
there is an identifiable group of Black students sitting together.
Conversely, it could be pointed out that there are many groups of
White students sitting together as well, though people rarely comment
on that. The question on the tip of everyone's tongue is, 'Why are
the black kids sitting together?' Principals want to know, teachers
want to know, White students want to know, the Black students who
aren't sitting at the table want to know."
If you're anything like me you'll want to know. So you will be
quite pleased that, through the magic of inter library loan, I managed
to track down Beverly Daniel Tatum's Why Are All The Black Kids
Sitting Together In The Cafeteria? Although Tatum has her PhD and has
held prestigious positions like college president, she succeeds in
making her book one that her target audience--parents, educators, and
community leaders--can grasp. Sadly her topic remains so timely and
crucial her original 1997 volume has been supplanted by a 20th
anniversary edition. Among the points she makes are:
*We all grow up with racial identities. White is the "normative,"
color neutral or default option. If we want to make any useful
contributions to racial dialogues, we need to examine and come to
terms with the racial privilege that accrues to us because of skin
color.
*The election of a Black president doesn't put America into a post
racial utopia. We have a lot of systematic oppression going on and
hate crimes on the rise. "...we may be living in a color-silent
society, where we have learned to avoid talking about racial
difference. But even if we refrain from mentioning race, the evidence
is clear that we still notice racial categories, and that our
behaviors are guided by what we notice."
For Whites the journey from unaware participation in racism and
privilege to authentic alliance is challenging, complex, and full of
potential quitting points. Some of us will be too offended by new
information that calls into question cherished concepts like
meritocracy. Some of us won't want to rock the boat. After all,
we're the ones the system benefits. Many of us will be too afraid of
making mistakes that we fear will alienate either our white families
and communities or the non White communities we're tentatively
reaching out to try much of anything.
If you want to make this challenging but immensely rewarding
journey, this book is a must read. It's one of the best books on
racial identity and relations that I've ever seen. Professionals who
work with younger people in the middle school to college range will
find much useful information in the developmental perspective Tatum
takes.
On a purrrsonal note, we're at the tail end of the semester where it
can be a challenge to complete everything on time, especially for
those of us who don't have cars. Little things can loom big. I had
to buy 3 fold posterboard (the stuff kids do science fair projects
with) so I can get ready for Academic Showcase. This requires two
buses each way to Bangor. There was only one day showing no rain or
snow when I'd have 4 or 5 hours. Only the same day Eugene needed me
to go to the Credit Union--opposite direction, Orono. And before I set
off for that I got an email about the climate strike on campus. So
after I stopped by the credit union I was involved in that. I ended
up making a speech which was well received. Then it was off to Bangor
where I got my posterboard (and 4 cute shirts at Goodwill). I made
the big mistake of running to catch the bus to not miss the once an
hour connecting bus to Veazie and fell flat on my face. Luckily the
bus driver stopped. Luckily a girl on the bus had napkins so I didn't
bleed all over my winter coat. Very luckily I didn't lose my two
front teeth. I can't be ugly for
Academic Showcase. All that drama and by the time I made supper and
cleaned up from it the day was just about over.
Today walking hurt but I made it to work (with a one mile to the bus
stop) and worked my shift. I still have a fat lip and can hardly eat
a thing. But I am home and plan for tomorrow to be a studython--
getting ready for my final and writing my big paper.
A great big shout out goes out to all who participated in the climate
strike and the news people who covered it.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"Walk into any racially mixed high school cafeteria at lunchtime
and you will instantly notice that in the sea of adolescent faces,
there is an identifiable group of Black students sitting together.
Conversely, it could be pointed out that there are many groups of
White students sitting together as well, though people rarely comment
on that. The question on the tip of everyone's tongue is, 'Why are
the black kids sitting together?' Principals want to know, teachers
want to know, White students want to know, the Black students who
aren't sitting at the table want to know."
If you're anything like me you'll want to know. So you will be
quite pleased that, through the magic of inter library loan, I managed
to track down Beverly Daniel Tatum's Why Are All The Black Kids
Sitting Together In The Cafeteria? Although Tatum has her PhD and has
held prestigious positions like college president, she succeeds in
making her book one that her target audience--parents, educators, and
community leaders--can grasp. Sadly her topic remains so timely and
crucial her original 1997 volume has been supplanted by a 20th
anniversary edition. Among the points she makes are:
*We all grow up with racial identities. White is the "normative,"
color neutral or default option. If we want to make any useful
contributions to racial dialogues, we need to examine and come to
terms with the racial privilege that accrues to us because of skin
color.
*The election of a Black president doesn't put America into a post
racial utopia. We have a lot of systematic oppression going on and
hate crimes on the rise. "...we may be living in a color-silent
society, where we have learned to avoid talking about racial
difference. But even if we refrain from mentioning race, the evidence
is clear that we still notice racial categories, and that our
behaviors are guided by what we notice."
For Whites the journey from unaware participation in racism and
privilege to authentic alliance is challenging, complex, and full of
potential quitting points. Some of us will be too offended by new
information that calls into question cherished concepts like
meritocracy. Some of us won't want to rock the boat. After all,
we're the ones the system benefits. Many of us will be too afraid of
making mistakes that we fear will alienate either our white families
and communities or the non White communities we're tentatively
reaching out to try much of anything.
If you want to make this challenging but immensely rewarding
journey, this book is a must read. It's one of the best books on
racial identity and relations that I've ever seen. Professionals who
work with younger people in the middle school to college range will
find much useful information in the developmental perspective Tatum
takes.
On a purrrsonal note, we're at the tail end of the semester where it
can be a challenge to complete everything on time, especially for
those of us who don't have cars. Little things can loom big. I had
to buy 3 fold posterboard (the stuff kids do science fair projects
with) so I can get ready for Academic Showcase. This requires two
buses each way to Bangor. There was only one day showing no rain or
snow when I'd have 4 or 5 hours. Only the same day Eugene needed me
to go to the Credit Union--opposite direction, Orono. And before I set
off for that I got an email about the climate strike on campus. So
after I stopped by the credit union I was involved in that. I ended
up making a speech which was well received. Then it was off to Bangor
where I got my posterboard (and 4 cute shirts at Goodwill). I made
the big mistake of running to catch the bus to not miss the once an
hour connecting bus to Veazie and fell flat on my face. Luckily the
bus driver stopped. Luckily a girl on the bus had napkins so I didn't
bleed all over my winter coat. Very luckily I didn't lose my two
front teeth. I can't be ugly for
Academic Showcase. All that drama and by the time I made supper and
cleaned up from it the day was just about over.
Today walking hurt but I made it to work (with a one mile to the bus
stop) and worked my shift. I still have a fat lip and can hardly eat
a thing. But I am home and plan for tomorrow to be a studython--
getting ready for my final and writing my big paper.
A great big shout out goes out to all who participated in the climate
strike and the news people who covered it.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Thursday, December 5, 2019
This Chair Rocks
This Chair Rocks
Adult nonfiction
"I've never lied about my age--I have no problem saying 'I'm
sixty-five' loud and clear--but I sure know a lot of people who do.
People who've lied on resumes and on airlines and on dates. There was
the opera singer who fudged upward at the beginning of her career so
she could get cast as Norma, but was holding at thirty-nine and the
woman who loved passing off her granddaughters as her daughters, and
who was regularly connected to her bank's fraud department because she
couldn't remember what birth date she was using."
I bet you know at least person who's fudging her age: having
yet another 29th birthday or spending mad bucks on everything from
hair dye to toxin injections. Call it what it is: passing. As in
other forms of passing (for white, for straight) it happens in a
society where a false binary sorts humanity into normative and
despised other with serious penalties for being in the wrong group.
America is a decidedly ageist nation. Ashton Applewhite, quoted
above, spells out the whole sordid state of affairs in her This Chair
Rocks: A Manifesto Against Ageism, exposing practices that range from
discouraging to deadly including:
*how politicians pit younger and older voters against each other (well
we can increase funding for schools or "elder" housing, but not both)
to successfully ditract all of us from seeing how we're being screwed
by the greed of the wealthy and their bought and owned legislators;
*how language really matters. Words like elderly reinforce
stereotypes of senility, incompetence, and fragility. Internalizing
these stereotypes actually leads to earlier deaths;
*how unfounded stereotypes on the part of managers and other hirers
prevent older people from getting jobs for which they're perfectly
qualified;
and *how older patients tend to get both under treated and over
medicated.
"Like racism and sexism, ageism is not about how we look. It's
about what people in power want our appearance to mean. Ageism occurs
when the dominant group uses its power to oppress or exploit or
silence or simply ignore people who are much younger or significantly
older. We experience ageism any time someone assumes we're too old
for something--a task, a relationship, a haircut--instead of finding
our who we are and what we're capable of..."
The book isn't all gloom and doom though. Applewhite has plenty
of ways we can all work together to turn our current sorry state of
affairs around. She ends her introduction with this very inspiring
paragraph:
"This book is a call to wake up to the ageism in and around us,
embrace a much more nuanced and accurate view of growing older, cheer
up, and push back...What might an age-friendly world--friendly to all
ages, that is--look like? What can we do, individually and
collectively, to provoke the necessary change in consciousness, and
catalyze a necessary age movement to make it happen?
Let's find out."
Amen to that! You can start by reading the book.
On a purrrsonal note, I did have enough iron to donate blood
yesterday. Yay! I found out my blood pressure is 114/68 which is
EXCELLENT! I volunteered 4 1/2 hours at canteen. Then I went to a
most excellent study session for the theories final.
The next couple of weeks I will be achieving all my academics and work
shifts for the semester. I have the biggest incentive ever to offer
myself. When I have all the school stuff taken care of I am going to
check out the credible rumors that Old Town Animal Orphanage has some
cuddle cats. What I really want for Christmas is a feline friend.
And I have a lot to offer a home needing cat.
Great big shout outs go out to everyone involved in the blood drive,
the sweet little cat who I have to believe is out there, and the best
little cat in the world who left indellible paw prints on my heart.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"I've never lied about my age--I have no problem saying 'I'm
sixty-five' loud and clear--but I sure know a lot of people who do.
People who've lied on resumes and on airlines and on dates. There was
the opera singer who fudged upward at the beginning of her career so
she could get cast as Norma, but was holding at thirty-nine and the
woman who loved passing off her granddaughters as her daughters, and
who was regularly connected to her bank's fraud department because she
couldn't remember what birth date she was using."
I bet you know at least person who's fudging her age: having
yet another 29th birthday or spending mad bucks on everything from
hair dye to toxin injections. Call it what it is: passing. As in
other forms of passing (for white, for straight) it happens in a
society where a false binary sorts humanity into normative and
despised other with serious penalties for being in the wrong group.
America is a decidedly ageist nation. Ashton Applewhite, quoted
above, spells out the whole sordid state of affairs in her This Chair
Rocks: A Manifesto Against Ageism, exposing practices that range from
discouraging to deadly including:
*how politicians pit younger and older voters against each other (well
we can increase funding for schools or "elder" housing, but not both)
to successfully ditract all of us from seeing how we're being screwed
by the greed of the wealthy and their bought and owned legislators;
*how language really matters. Words like elderly reinforce
stereotypes of senility, incompetence, and fragility. Internalizing
these stereotypes actually leads to earlier deaths;
*how unfounded stereotypes on the part of managers and other hirers
prevent older people from getting jobs for which they're perfectly
qualified;
and *how older patients tend to get both under treated and over
medicated.
"Like racism and sexism, ageism is not about how we look. It's
about what people in power want our appearance to mean. Ageism occurs
when the dominant group uses its power to oppress or exploit or
silence or simply ignore people who are much younger or significantly
older. We experience ageism any time someone assumes we're too old
for something--a task, a relationship, a haircut--instead of finding
our who we are and what we're capable of..."
The book isn't all gloom and doom though. Applewhite has plenty
of ways we can all work together to turn our current sorry state of
affairs around. She ends her introduction with this very inspiring
paragraph:
"This book is a call to wake up to the ageism in and around us,
embrace a much more nuanced and accurate view of growing older, cheer
up, and push back...What might an age-friendly world--friendly to all
ages, that is--look like? What can we do, individually and
collectively, to provoke the necessary change in consciousness, and
catalyze a necessary age movement to make it happen?
Let's find out."
Amen to that! You can start by reading the book.
On a purrrsonal note, I did have enough iron to donate blood
yesterday. Yay! I found out my blood pressure is 114/68 which is
EXCELLENT! I volunteered 4 1/2 hours at canteen. Then I went to a
most excellent study session for the theories final.
The next couple of weeks I will be achieving all my academics and work
shifts for the semester. I have the biggest incentive ever to offer
myself. When I have all the school stuff taken care of I am going to
check out the credible rumors that Old Town Animal Orphanage has some
cuddle cats. What I really want for Christmas is a feline friend.
And I have a lot to offer a home needing cat.
Great big shout outs go out to everyone involved in the blood drive,
the sweet little cat who I have to believe is out there, and the best
little cat in the world who left indellible paw prints on my heart.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Wednesday, December 4, 2019
Big Little Lies
Big Little Lies
Adult mystery
"As Mrs. Ponder watched, one Elvis punched another across the
jaw. He staggered back into an Audrey. Two Elvises grabbed him from
behind and pulled him away. An Audrey buried her face in her hands
and turned aside, as though she couldn't bear to watch. Someone
shouted, 'Stop this!'
Indeed! What would your beautiful children think?
'Should I call the police?' wondered Mrs. Ponder out loud. But
then she heard the wail of a siren in the distance, at the same time
she heard a woman on the balcony begin to scream and scream."
If I was to ask you to guess the context in which the above
scenario takes place you'd probably guess wrong. Chapter 1 of Liane
Moriarty's Big Little Lies centers around a small Australian town's
public school. Mrs. Ponder is a neighbor whose property backs up on
the school playground. The moms and dads are behaving badly at the
school's trivia night to raise money to raise money to buy smart
boards for the classrooms. Before the night is over one of them will
be dead.
After setting that tantelizing scene, Moriarty takes readers
back six months to kindergarten orientation. The son of a newly
arrived and far from prosperous single mom (Jane) is accused of
hurting the gifted daughter of a high status career woman (Renee).
When school begins retaliations and counter retaliations commence.
But those aren't the only dramas among the kindy parents. Madeline's
ex husband and his new family have moved to town. Her youngest child
and his child are in the same class. The teenage daughter from the
first marriage is seeming to switch loyalties from the mom who
struggled to support her to the dad who abandoned her in infancy.
Wealthy Celeste and Perry's may not be quite what they portray on
social media.
The narrative is told from a lot of different perspectives.
You'll become privy to all the alliances and intrigues in that far
from sleepy small town. If you love a good mystery as much as I do
you'll get caught up in trying to deduce who the killer and victim
will turn out to be.
On a purrrsonal note, Monday night the meteorologists were gleefully
upgrading their Tuesday snow predictions from 2-5" to major storm. My
first thought was OMG! I didn't want class cancelled again. When I
woke up morning classes were cancelled until 10:00 which was fine with
me. Commuting was a challenge. The snow was mixed with sleet. When
I arrived on campus I saw an announcement that classes were cancelled
until the next day. I was so angry I ate three doughnuts when I went
in to work. The other students were so happy to have a snow day. I
was happy for them. I wanted to be happy too. But not only was my
class cancelled, but I couldn't feel the magic which was not
surprising since I wouldn't have sweet Joey cat to come home early
to. Amber says I didn't have a snow day since commuting and my shift
added up to eight hours. I'll take her word for that.
Today is the blood drive, which I'm very glad won't be snow
cancelled. I've been eating stuff to build my iron. If I can't
donate today I'll have to wait til next year. :P There will be an
exam prep session at 5:00. I'll go if I'm steady enough on my feet.
Great big shout outs go out to the other essential personnel who
managed to get through the storm to work and the best little cat in
the world who would have made the snow day magic even though I had to
work.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult mystery
"As Mrs. Ponder watched, one Elvis punched another across the
jaw. He staggered back into an Audrey. Two Elvises grabbed him from
behind and pulled him away. An Audrey buried her face in her hands
and turned aside, as though she couldn't bear to watch. Someone
shouted, 'Stop this!'
Indeed! What would your beautiful children think?
'Should I call the police?' wondered Mrs. Ponder out loud. But
then she heard the wail of a siren in the distance, at the same time
she heard a woman on the balcony begin to scream and scream."
If I was to ask you to guess the context in which the above
scenario takes place you'd probably guess wrong. Chapter 1 of Liane
Moriarty's Big Little Lies centers around a small Australian town's
public school. Mrs. Ponder is a neighbor whose property backs up on
the school playground. The moms and dads are behaving badly at the
school's trivia night to raise money to raise money to buy smart
boards for the classrooms. Before the night is over one of them will
be dead.
After setting that tantelizing scene, Moriarty takes readers
back six months to kindergarten orientation. The son of a newly
arrived and far from prosperous single mom (Jane) is accused of
hurting the gifted daughter of a high status career woman (Renee).
When school begins retaliations and counter retaliations commence.
But those aren't the only dramas among the kindy parents. Madeline's
ex husband and his new family have moved to town. Her youngest child
and his child are in the same class. The teenage daughter from the
first marriage is seeming to switch loyalties from the mom who
struggled to support her to the dad who abandoned her in infancy.
Wealthy Celeste and Perry's may not be quite what they portray on
social media.
The narrative is told from a lot of different perspectives.
You'll become privy to all the alliances and intrigues in that far
from sleepy small town. If you love a good mystery as much as I do
you'll get caught up in trying to deduce who the killer and victim
will turn out to be.
On a purrrsonal note, Monday night the meteorologists were gleefully
upgrading their Tuesday snow predictions from 2-5" to major storm. My
first thought was OMG! I didn't want class cancelled again. When I
woke up morning classes were cancelled until 10:00 which was fine with
me. Commuting was a challenge. The snow was mixed with sleet. When
I arrived on campus I saw an announcement that classes were cancelled
until the next day. I was so angry I ate three doughnuts when I went
in to work. The other students were so happy to have a snow day. I
was happy for them. I wanted to be happy too. But not only was my
class cancelled, but I couldn't feel the magic which was not
surprising since I wouldn't have sweet Joey cat to come home early
to. Amber says I didn't have a snow day since commuting and my shift
added up to eight hours. I'll take her word for that.
Today is the blood drive, which I'm very glad won't be snow
cancelled. I've been eating stuff to build my iron. If I can't
donate today I'll have to wait til next year. :P There will be an
exam prep session at 5:00. I'll go if I'm steady enough on my feet.
Great big shout outs go out to the other essential personnel who
managed to get through the storm to work and the best little cat in
the world who would have made the snow day magic even though I had to
work.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
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