Orange for the Sunsets
Juvenile fiction
"Coach started reading where Asha had left off, but paused at
the sound of footsteps. The classroom door opened and the principal
gestured for their teacher to step outside. The whole class stayed
quiet. Leela's book fell to the floor. She looked at Asha. No.
No. No. Asha wanted to jump up and stop the principal from taking
away anyone else. Stop him from taking Leela..."
Set in 1972 Uganda, Tina Atheide's Orange for the Sunsets tells
about the aftermath of Idi Amin's decision to expel all Indians in a
particularly poignant format--a portrait of two best friends: Asha
(Indian) and Yesofu (African).
On the day of the announcement Asha, on her way to the store, is
caught in a mob. People are shouting, "Indians go home." But Uganda
is her home. She was born there. Why would the president want to
make her leave all she knows and loves for a place she's never been?
Yesofu wants to believe in a better future for Blacks in
Uganda: one in which they own land and shops and attain higher
education, one in which they aren't pretty much doomed to living in
shacks and doing menial work for Indians. (His mother is a servant
for Asha's family.) But is it really panning out? Aren't blacks even
worse off as the Indians who employed them are leaving? And why does
Amin's vision require exiling all Indians including his best friend?
A timeline has been set for all Indians to be gone. As tempers
flare, danger increases. Narrated in Asha and Yesofu's alternating
voices, Orange for the Sunsets is a very relevant cautionary tale.
Athaide was born in Uganda but fled to England with her parents
when Amin took power. Family members and friends arrived later with
their stories."
"...stories about how disbelief and denial quickly turned to
fear as violence, torture, and murder spread throughout Uganda. How
homes and businesses were lost. How families separated in the rush to
leave Uganda..."
Atheide researched the causes and consequences of the
expulsion. Orange for the Sunsets reflects the insights she gleaned.
Asha and Yesofu are characters she created.
"...Their story embodies tragedy, hope, and the strength of the
human spirit in the face of adversity. But more than anything, I
wanted the significance of their friendship to shine through..."
It certainly does. That's one of the reasons that Orange for
the Sunsets is such a poignant and powerful read.
On a purrrsonal note, I read two pieces today--one of which made me
full of despair and one of which gave me some hope. The one that
scared me said that in Italy doctors will not treat people 60 and
over. My partner and I both fall into that category. I want to
live. The one that gave me hope was written by an indigenous person.
You recall her ancestors were exposed to diseases they had no immunity
to intentionally by genocidal, land hungry Whites fueled by manifest
destiny? Their perspective involves sharing (as opposed to cramming
the garage with Charmin), working collectively, and protecting the
more vulnerable because their lives are worthwhile. Those of us who
survive the shitstorm should think on what kind of world we want to
live in. I know which of these versions of the future I want.
Frankly, I am equally afraid of the pandemic and this administration's
response to it which is obviously profit over people. For weeks we
should have had a national order to stay at home (except for emergency
errands and people absolutely essential who can't work from home) with
funds for helping people get the things we all need and some kind of
penalties that would deter those who still think it's a fraud from
running all over, potential being coronavirus Cathys and Carls. We
need to all take these measures to flatten the curve. NOW!!!
On a lighter note, today is first day of distance learning for me.
I'll let you know if I master zoom. (Jules)
Yesterday it snowed. Today it is sunny and snow is mostly gone. And
still no birdies. Where are the birdies? (Tobago)
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Tuesday, March 31, 2020
Sunday, March 29, 2020
Never Caught
Never Caught
Juvenile herstory
"...You are about to encounter a story of bravery and heroism
that will make you think differently about everything you have learned
regarding American history. This is a book about a young woman who,
in the face of great difficulty, did what no one imagined possible.
You are about to meet Ona Judge, a young enslaved woman who was the
human property of two of the most well-known people in the history of
the United States. Ona was enslaved by George and Martha Washington."
Yep, you read that right--the father of our country. Ironically
while he was leading the fight to free the colonies from domination by
England he owned a whole lot of people who did the heavy lifting on
his estate and tended to the personal wants of his family. Ona Judge
was one of the latter. When she was only ten she had to leave the
slave quarters, where she lived with her family, to wait on Martha at
any time of day or night. When George was elected president Ona was
one of the few slaves who was trusted enough to accompany the first
family to their presidential residence--hundreds of miles from her
people at a time when horse and buggy was state of the art
transportation.
Even then under different circumstances Ona might have stayed
with the Washingtons. Only one day Martha needed a wedding gift for a
headstrong, volatile granddaughter. And, hey, back then nothing said
"Good luck in your new life together" quite like a captive human
being. Ona knew what her prospective recipient was like. No way was
she going there! To rescue herself, she had to flee, a very perilous
undertaking with the fugitive slave law in effect.
In Never Caught Erica Armstrong Dunbar and Kathleen Van Cleeve
bring Ona's amazing story to life for young readers. It's a strong
choice for two reasons. It helps children get a feel for what life
was like for kids born into slavery. It also juxtaposes personal
narrative quite neatly with historical happenings.
You might want to read it or the adult version yourself. You'll
probably never see George Washington in quite the same way again. But
you'll discover Ben Franklin to have been much more than a penner of
pithy adages.
On a purrrsonal note, one of the things I'm really enjoying these days
is my phone conversations with my grown kids. Yesterday Adam shared
an observation that I'd like to pass on. He was saying how lucky we
were able to enjoy the big holiday celebrations of Thanksgiving and
Christmas before coronavirus came to town. It would have been so much
harder if the family had been split up then. We can look forward to
getting back together in the future. This morning I started cross
stitching Christmas ornaments. It's an affirmation that we will live
to celebrate future Christmases. Maybe you can do something to get
ready for Christmas or another event you're looking forward to. It
can affirm hope in a very scary time.
Eugene bought practical stuff like hamburger, canned veggies, and cat
food at the store. He also bought freezer pops which are another of
my favorite signs of spring.
I'm making hash browns from scratch to keep some smaller potatoes from
going to waste. With Eugene being the only one working now I am
getting very good at seeing that no food gets thrown out. (Jules)
More cat food! Chicken is always in good taste. My hoomans won't let
me starve. They have their priorities right. (Tobago)
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile herstory
"...You are about to encounter a story of bravery and heroism
that will make you think differently about everything you have learned
regarding American history. This is a book about a young woman who,
in the face of great difficulty, did what no one imagined possible.
You are about to meet Ona Judge, a young enslaved woman who was the
human property of two of the most well-known people in the history of
the United States. Ona was enslaved by George and Martha Washington."
Yep, you read that right--the father of our country. Ironically
while he was leading the fight to free the colonies from domination by
England he owned a whole lot of people who did the heavy lifting on
his estate and tended to the personal wants of his family. Ona Judge
was one of the latter. When she was only ten she had to leave the
slave quarters, where she lived with her family, to wait on Martha at
any time of day or night. When George was elected president Ona was
one of the few slaves who was trusted enough to accompany the first
family to their presidential residence--hundreds of miles from her
people at a time when horse and buggy was state of the art
transportation.
Even then under different circumstances Ona might have stayed
with the Washingtons. Only one day Martha needed a wedding gift for a
headstrong, volatile granddaughter. And, hey, back then nothing said
"Good luck in your new life together" quite like a captive human
being. Ona knew what her prospective recipient was like. No way was
she going there! To rescue herself, she had to flee, a very perilous
undertaking with the fugitive slave law in effect.
In Never Caught Erica Armstrong Dunbar and Kathleen Van Cleeve
bring Ona's amazing story to life for young readers. It's a strong
choice for two reasons. It helps children get a feel for what life
was like for kids born into slavery. It also juxtaposes personal
narrative quite neatly with historical happenings.
You might want to read it or the adult version yourself. You'll
probably never see George Washington in quite the same way again. But
you'll discover Ben Franklin to have been much more than a penner of
pithy adages.
On a purrrsonal note, one of the things I'm really enjoying these days
is my phone conversations with my grown kids. Yesterday Adam shared
an observation that I'd like to pass on. He was saying how lucky we
were able to enjoy the big holiday celebrations of Thanksgiving and
Christmas before coronavirus came to town. It would have been so much
harder if the family had been split up then. We can look forward to
getting back together in the future. This morning I started cross
stitching Christmas ornaments. It's an affirmation that we will live
to celebrate future Christmases. Maybe you can do something to get
ready for Christmas or another event you're looking forward to. It
can affirm hope in a very scary time.
Eugene bought practical stuff like hamburger, canned veggies, and cat
food at the store. He also bought freezer pops which are another of
my favorite signs of spring.
I'm making hash browns from scratch to keep some smaller potatoes from
going to waste. With Eugene being the only one working now I am
getting very good at seeing that no food gets thrown out. (Jules)
More cat food! Chicken is always in good taste. My hoomans won't let
me starve. They have their priorities right. (Tobago)
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Saturday, March 28, 2020
Identity Politics
Identity Politics
Adult nonfiction
"While many politicians and analysts have lauded identity
politics for its ability to bring the voices of marginalized peoples
to the forefront, it has also been criticized for its inherent
divisiveness. The cacaphony surrounding identity politics has only
become louder in recent years, with the polarization of contemporary
politics. In the United States, much attention has been given to
President Donald Trump's identity politics based on white, working
class identity which secured him the presidency in the fall of
2016. Some argue that the failure of identity politics led to this
divisive election, while others argue that identity politics is the
only thing that can 'fix' rampant racism and sexism--even as it's
being used on the extreme right to quell marginalized voices."
Identity Politics (quoted above) includes pieces such as:
*Mark Lilla argues that a "fixation on diversity" on college campuses
and in the media leaves people too narrowly focussed to work on larger
issues like the economy;
*Amanda Taub discusses the trends that are causing many whites to feel
under siege and needing to fight back;
*Michael Eric Dyson fills readers in on what Donald Trump doesn't know
about Black people;
and *Sarah Smarsh opines about liberals' biases rendering them unable
to really understand the lives of people in "Trump Country."
With over three dozen succinct pieces, there is a wide range of
views. This compact book is a fine choice for when you have small
chunks of reading time.
On a purrrsonal note, I did something exciting today. I hung my
laundry outside to dry. For me it's a sign of spring when it's warm
enough for me to do so. Actually I even looked forward to it back in
the day when I had a life. Other than that my biggest achievement was
moving my three miniature Christmas trees to a hopefully less cat
accessible location in the studio. For a being lacking opposable
thumbs Tobago is really good at pulling off the tiny ornaments. I
read and took notes on Internet coronavirus prevention articles with
the intensity with which I studied up for my program's legendary rite
of passage theories final exam. I walked outside an hour, looking for
signs of spring and practicing social distancing. I came home to find
another of my favorite signs of spring--my daffodils starting to poke
green shoots above the ground. This filled my heart with joy.
One thing about this staying to home bit has surprised me. I thought
I'd have nothing to write in my journal beyond the weather and what I
cooked for supper. I'm writing as much as ever. I also thought I'd
really cut down on posting reviews because I'd run out of content for
purrrsonal notes. Not hardly. (Jules)
Why did my hooman move the trees? I liked them where they were. And
where are the birdies? (Tobago)
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"While many politicians and analysts have lauded identity
politics for its ability to bring the voices of marginalized peoples
to the forefront, it has also been criticized for its inherent
divisiveness. The cacaphony surrounding identity politics has only
become louder in recent years, with the polarization of contemporary
politics. In the United States, much attention has been given to
President Donald Trump's identity politics based on white, working
class identity which secured him the presidency in the fall of
2016. Some argue that the failure of identity politics led to this
divisive election, while others argue that identity politics is the
only thing that can 'fix' rampant racism and sexism--even as it's
being used on the extreme right to quell marginalized voices."
Identity Politics (quoted above) includes pieces such as:
*Mark Lilla argues that a "fixation on diversity" on college campuses
and in the media leaves people too narrowly focussed to work on larger
issues like the economy;
*Amanda Taub discusses the trends that are causing many whites to feel
under siege and needing to fight back;
*Michael Eric Dyson fills readers in on what Donald Trump doesn't know
about Black people;
and *Sarah Smarsh opines about liberals' biases rendering them unable
to really understand the lives of people in "Trump Country."
With over three dozen succinct pieces, there is a wide range of
views. This compact book is a fine choice for when you have small
chunks of reading time.
On a purrrsonal note, I did something exciting today. I hung my
laundry outside to dry. For me it's a sign of spring when it's warm
enough for me to do so. Actually I even looked forward to it back in
the day when I had a life. Other than that my biggest achievement was
moving my three miniature Christmas trees to a hopefully less cat
accessible location in the studio. For a being lacking opposable
thumbs Tobago is really good at pulling off the tiny ornaments. I
read and took notes on Internet coronavirus prevention articles with
the intensity with which I studied up for my program's legendary rite
of passage theories final exam. I walked outside an hour, looking for
signs of spring and practicing social distancing. I came home to find
another of my favorite signs of spring--my daffodils starting to poke
green shoots above the ground. This filled my heart with joy.
One thing about this staying to home bit has surprised me. I thought
I'd have nothing to write in my journal beyond the weather and what I
cooked for supper. I'm writing as much as ever. I also thought I'd
really cut down on posting reviews because I'd run out of content for
purrrsonal notes. Not hardly. (Jules)
Why did my hooman move the trees? I liked them where they were. And
where are the birdies? (Tobago)
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Friday, March 27, 2020
The Witches Are Coming
The Witches Are Coming
Adult nonfiction
"Just like Trump, America loves to lie about itself, and
Americans love to eat those lies up--anything that obliterates our
sins, that tells us everything will be okay, that makes us the
infallible, gallant protagonist in the story of Earth. We must root
out the assumptions we swallow as fact and the facts we deny. We must
not just examine but actively counter the disastrous, death grip of
mediocre white men on our past century's art, media, and politics. We
must start telling true stories about who we are, who is free and who
is not, what we are doing to the planet."
Recall last year we met Lindy West through her Shrill, a memoir
of her evolution from shy child to badass social media presence. I
don't know about you, but I closed that book hoping I'd hear more from
her soon. That wish was answered beautifully. The Witches Are Coming
beautifully lives up to its predecessor.
West doesn't mean witches in any of the traditional senses of
the word. They're not the peaked hat wearing, broom riding characters
children dress up as at Halloween, not the legendary voodoo
practitioners of the deep South, not the modern day practitioners of
legit spirituality. But they do have a lot in common with the alleged
witches who were legally and brutally murdered in the 17th century.
In both cases the labeling was done to women with inconvenient voices
by white males in power who wanted to get rid of them.
Recently, in a movement leading to and beyond #Me Too, women
were insisting that no means no, consent (which does not include being
too scared to object or too unconscious to try to) is a necessary
preamble to sex, and rule violaters will be prosecuted.
"...In 2017, Harvey Weinstein, the Hollywood mogul behind half
of your favorite shit, everything from Pulp Fiction to Project Runway,
was exposed as a serial sexual preditor. Dozens of women accused
Weinstein of rape and sexual abuse, a pattern of coercive behavior
that had lasted three decades despite being an open secret in
Hollywoif and the press. Through some combination of time, rage,
incremental political victories, and femenist sweat, we did not let
him do it anymore."
Then this slippery slope thing came into play. It's sorta like
how the NRA convinces its rank and file that if we keep military grade
weapons out of the hands of school shooters (who have usually given
notice on social media) the police will be taking the passed down from
grandpa hunting rifles of the sportspeople who lock guns and ammo in
seperate locales, have the talk with the kids, and wouldn't pull the
trigger until verifying they're looking at the species they have a
permit for. Calling serial preditors to account suddenly endangers
any human with a working penis. What if it's consensual and she has
second thoughts? You might destroy the future of some innocent high
school or college athlete. Does harmless flirting go the way of the
dinosaur? And how are men and women supposed to work together, never
mind date and be fruitful and multiply?
The alpha males of society, up to and including the president,
are preying on the fears of the pack. They are telling guys that if
they give in to what they see as political correctness they're all
going down, that there's a witch hunt going on.
"But the 'witch hunt' deflection isn't only for rape! It has
the power to transform pretty much any accusation against a man into
an unfair--nay, unconstitutional--and unfounded smear campaign.
Accused of racism? Witch hunt! Accused of undermining the integrity
of democracy? Witch hunt! Accused of willfully letting children die
in concentration camps on the Southern border of the United States? A
pure, unadulterated, hysterical,bitchy witch hunt!!!"
Luckily West sees no need to appease the aggressors or to prove
that she isn't what she's been called. Rather than being cowed by the
W word, she owns it.
"So fine, if you insist. This is a witch hunt. We're witches,
and we're hunting you."
Chapter by chapter, West skillfully dissects the evils of our
time from lack of abortion access through the demonization of women's
righteous anger to the denial of every ism in play and the lies that
sustain them. If you read just one book during the shitstorm let it
be this one. Read it and be angry, angry enough to join the coven and
start helping to change the world.
This bad ass witch (sheltering with my bad ass familiar) is
sincerely hoping that wherever she is riding out the coronavirus
crisis, West is working on a third book.
On a purrrsonal note, Can you believe that it's been just two weeks
since normal life ended? It feels to me like months. The new routine
for getting Tobago's meds was like getting hooch during prohibition
minus the gangsters. Coming back home I felt like an extra (cast of
billions) in a Stephen King movie where even the author doesn't know
if the monster will win.
I did have one beautiful bright spot in my day. I found Joey's old
brush and tried it on Tobago. She put her paws on my leg and moved
around, purring gleefully, letting me brush her all over. It just made
my day to make my little friend so happy!
I also thought of a way to be useful. I have a lot of yarn in my shed
I'll never get around to using. Something about the demands of grad
school. I decided to put the word out to local knitters that if I
have anything they can use they can have it for a pandemic special
price of free. I'll even arrange a properly social distanced pick
up. I bet some of them fear running out of yarn the way I fear
running out of books. (Jules)
Ah, the spa treatment!!! It feels so good!!! My hoomans are the
best. I am one lucky cat! (Tobago)
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"Just like Trump, America loves to lie about itself, and
Americans love to eat those lies up--anything that obliterates our
sins, that tells us everything will be okay, that makes us the
infallible, gallant protagonist in the story of Earth. We must root
out the assumptions we swallow as fact and the facts we deny. We must
not just examine but actively counter the disastrous, death grip of
mediocre white men on our past century's art, media, and politics. We
must start telling true stories about who we are, who is free and who
is not, what we are doing to the planet."
Recall last year we met Lindy West through her Shrill, a memoir
of her evolution from shy child to badass social media presence. I
don't know about you, but I closed that book hoping I'd hear more from
her soon. That wish was answered beautifully. The Witches Are Coming
beautifully lives up to its predecessor.
West doesn't mean witches in any of the traditional senses of
the word. They're not the peaked hat wearing, broom riding characters
children dress up as at Halloween, not the legendary voodoo
practitioners of the deep South, not the modern day practitioners of
legit spirituality. But they do have a lot in common with the alleged
witches who were legally and brutally murdered in the 17th century.
In both cases the labeling was done to women with inconvenient voices
by white males in power who wanted to get rid of them.
Recently, in a movement leading to and beyond #Me Too, women
were insisting that no means no, consent (which does not include being
too scared to object or too unconscious to try to) is a necessary
preamble to sex, and rule violaters will be prosecuted.
"...In 2017, Harvey Weinstein, the Hollywood mogul behind half
of your favorite shit, everything from Pulp Fiction to Project Runway,
was exposed as a serial sexual preditor. Dozens of women accused
Weinstein of rape and sexual abuse, a pattern of coercive behavior
that had lasted three decades despite being an open secret in
Hollywoif and the press. Through some combination of time, rage,
incremental political victories, and femenist sweat, we did not let
him do it anymore."
Then this slippery slope thing came into play. It's sorta like
how the NRA convinces its rank and file that if we keep military grade
weapons out of the hands of school shooters (who have usually given
notice on social media) the police will be taking the passed down from
grandpa hunting rifles of the sportspeople who lock guns and ammo in
seperate locales, have the talk with the kids, and wouldn't pull the
trigger until verifying they're looking at the species they have a
permit for. Calling serial preditors to account suddenly endangers
any human with a working penis. What if it's consensual and she has
second thoughts? You might destroy the future of some innocent high
school or college athlete. Does harmless flirting go the way of the
dinosaur? And how are men and women supposed to work together, never
mind date and be fruitful and multiply?
The alpha males of society, up to and including the president,
are preying on the fears of the pack. They are telling guys that if
they give in to what they see as political correctness they're all
going down, that there's a witch hunt going on.
"But the 'witch hunt' deflection isn't only for rape! It has
the power to transform pretty much any accusation against a man into
an unfair--nay, unconstitutional--and unfounded smear campaign.
Accused of racism? Witch hunt! Accused of undermining the integrity
of democracy? Witch hunt! Accused of willfully letting children die
in concentration camps on the Southern border of the United States? A
pure, unadulterated, hysterical,bitchy witch hunt!!!"
Luckily West sees no need to appease the aggressors or to prove
that she isn't what she's been called. Rather than being cowed by the
W word, she owns it.
"So fine, if you insist. This is a witch hunt. We're witches,
and we're hunting you."
Chapter by chapter, West skillfully dissects the evils of our
time from lack of abortion access through the demonization of women's
righteous anger to the denial of every ism in play and the lies that
sustain them. If you read just one book during the shitstorm let it
be this one. Read it and be angry, angry enough to join the coven and
start helping to change the world.
This bad ass witch (sheltering with my bad ass familiar) is
sincerely hoping that wherever she is riding out the coronavirus
crisis, West is working on a third book.
On a purrrsonal note, Can you believe that it's been just two weeks
since normal life ended? It feels to me like months. The new routine
for getting Tobago's meds was like getting hooch during prohibition
minus the gangsters. Coming back home I felt like an extra (cast of
billions) in a Stephen King movie where even the author doesn't know
if the monster will win.
I did have one beautiful bright spot in my day. I found Joey's old
brush and tried it on Tobago. She put her paws on my leg and moved
around, purring gleefully, letting me brush her all over. It just made
my day to make my little friend so happy!
I also thought of a way to be useful. I have a lot of yarn in my shed
I'll never get around to using. Something about the demands of grad
school. I decided to put the word out to local knitters that if I
have anything they can use they can have it for a pandemic special
price of free. I'll even arrange a properly social distanced pick
up. I bet some of them fear running out of yarn the way I fear
running out of books. (Jules)
Ah, the spa treatment!!! It feels so good!!! My hoomans are the
best. I am one lucky cat! (Tobago)
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Thursday, March 26, 2020
Southern Lady Code
Southern Lady Code
Adult humor
"No fairy tale begins: 'Once upon a time, he blindfolded me in
the back seat of a car.' No fantasy has another woman's hair clogging
up the drains. A suitcase full of gowns doesn't make you a princess.
Be careful what you wish for, Cinderella's house was infested with
mice."
Helen Ellis, author of Southern Lady Code (a technique of saying
something not so nice in a nice way if you don't have anything nice to
say), is fluent in that discourse. It's the very colorful voice
through which she narrates her collection of stories. This book is
the perfect accompaniment to a dark beer (providing you're 21 or over)
and your choice of salty snacks. However, it would probably be laugh
out loud funny if you read it stone cold sober.
Ellis is old enough to have decided that the strategies probably
necessary to get pregnant in her forties would be too much work. Her
ultrasouthern mother still addresses her by first and middle names
when scolding her, something most of our parents gave up on when we
passed them in height or started high school.
"Helen Michelle, some women would be beaten with a bag of
oranges for sass talk like that. You married a saint. Clean the
goddamned table."
In fact the first essay is concerned with a housecleaning binge,
motivated by her hubby's request for a clean dining room table,
followed by an epic backslide. Other episodes include getting access
to the pill in a household in which birth control advice contained
gems such as "And don't let anybody touch your woo-woo!"; mistakenly
stealing an expensive trench coat, learning the correct way to get
high, and growing up in a haunted house.
With or without the beer, you will probably find the book really
funny. Here on coronavirus day 13 we need a laugh. So why not indulge?
On a purrrsonal note, I had two good things happen yesterday (apart
from waking up alive without symptoms, having enough food for the
family including Tobago, and having Eugene come home safely from work
which I am so not taking for granted). One is a minor miracle. With
UMaine classes turning on line, I was in deep doo doo. I had about as
much knowledge of how to install and access zoom as I do how to
conduct heart surgery. When we had the trial run I was the only one
who couldn't figure out how to join in. Then a tech person from
UMaine's IT department talked me step by step (over the phone) through
installing zoom and promised to help me connect the first post break
actual class. He saved my semester. It was also warm enough for me
to take a long awaited walk. The only other person I saw was a woman
driving by. We exchanged a smile and wave from enough of a distance
to deserve a World Health Organization stamp of approval. (Jules)
It is spring already. The days are getting longer. It's getting
warmer out. So where are the birdies? Inquiring cats want to know.
(Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to all the tech fluent people who are
helping the rest of us adjust to the new normal of distance work/
school (You are ROCK STARS!) and to my daughter, Amber, who taught her
physics class by zoom for the first time (You go, Girl!)
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult humor
"No fairy tale begins: 'Once upon a time, he blindfolded me in
the back seat of a car.' No fantasy has another woman's hair clogging
up the drains. A suitcase full of gowns doesn't make you a princess.
Be careful what you wish for, Cinderella's house was infested with
mice."
Helen Ellis, author of Southern Lady Code (a technique of saying
something not so nice in a nice way if you don't have anything nice to
say), is fluent in that discourse. It's the very colorful voice
through which she narrates her collection of stories. This book is
the perfect accompaniment to a dark beer (providing you're 21 or over)
and your choice of salty snacks. However, it would probably be laugh
out loud funny if you read it stone cold sober.
Ellis is old enough to have decided that the strategies probably
necessary to get pregnant in her forties would be too much work. Her
ultrasouthern mother still addresses her by first and middle names
when scolding her, something most of our parents gave up on when we
passed them in height or started high school.
"Helen Michelle, some women would be beaten with a bag of
oranges for sass talk like that. You married a saint. Clean the
goddamned table."
In fact the first essay is concerned with a housecleaning binge,
motivated by her hubby's request for a clean dining room table,
followed by an epic backslide. Other episodes include getting access
to the pill in a household in which birth control advice contained
gems such as "And don't let anybody touch your woo-woo!"; mistakenly
stealing an expensive trench coat, learning the correct way to get
high, and growing up in a haunted house.
With or without the beer, you will probably find the book really
funny. Here on coronavirus day 13 we need a laugh. So why not indulge?
On a purrrsonal note, I had two good things happen yesterday (apart
from waking up alive without symptoms, having enough food for the
family including Tobago, and having Eugene come home safely from work
which I am so not taking for granted). One is a minor miracle. With
UMaine classes turning on line, I was in deep doo doo. I had about as
much knowledge of how to install and access zoom as I do how to
conduct heart surgery. When we had the trial run I was the only one
who couldn't figure out how to join in. Then a tech person from
UMaine's IT department talked me step by step (over the phone) through
installing zoom and promised to help me connect the first post break
actual class. He saved my semester. It was also warm enough for me
to take a long awaited walk. The only other person I saw was a woman
driving by. We exchanged a smile and wave from enough of a distance
to deserve a World Health Organization stamp of approval. (Jules)
It is spring already. The days are getting longer. It's getting
warmer out. So where are the birdies? Inquiring cats want to know.
(Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to all the tech fluent people who are
helping the rest of us adjust to the new normal of distance work/
school (You are ROCK STARS!) and to my daughter, Amber, who taught her
physics class by zoom for the first time (You go, Girl!)
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Wednesday, March 25, 2020
Indebted
Indebted
Adult nonfiction
"Financially college might seem like a purely economic matter,
but even the most apparently simple economic activities are shaped by
cultural values, practices, and commitments. The funding system's
componants, however-- the 529 account, the Free Application For
Federal Student Aid, the Expected Family Contribution, the Parent PLUS
loan program, the Direct Loan Program--reference primarily the
exchange of money and obligation to pay. Their explicit message is
that they have a purely economic function. But, as a social
scientist, I have learned to look for the cultural mandates embedded
in such economic vehicles."
Most of us are well aware of the student debt crisis.
Educational debt has passed credit card debt in amount. Many of us
wonder how it got to this point. Caitlin Zaloom, an economic
anthropologist, had the expertise and credentials to actually
investigate this sorry state of affairs. Her first challenge was
locating students and families who would share their fiscal stories.
"...American families generally don't talk openly about their wealth,
their investments, or their debt. Sex, politics, religion--Americans
are far more likely to discuss these sensitive topics with friends,
neighbors, and relatives than they are to share information about how
much money they make, save, and owe..." Fortunately she was able to
conduct more than 160 interviews over a period of three years. She
was able to get to know a subset of her families more in depth. Her
sharing of their struggles throughout the book makes it eminently
readable for those of us who aren't economic amthropologists.
You probably won't be surprised by some of her findings. Over
the past few decades college has become a lot less affordable.
Financing has shifted from primarily grants with a few loans thrown in
to primarily loans. Family expected contributions are way more than
many families have resources up front to pay. In many families,
students and parents are saddled with debt in a time when a degree
does not automatically lead to a job that pays enough to survive, let
alone start paying back.
What will surprise most of us are the moral imperatives hidden
in all the financial jargon. Sending one's children to college
becomes an obligation for responsible parents. A very narrow
definition of family on the FAFSA privileges the individualistic
nuclear families over those that include grandparents and other kin.
The focus on budgeting favors families that have the stability to do
so (say large salaries) over the ones where hourly wages and varying
hours per week make finances far from predictable, the families like
the one my kids were born into. The paragraph I quote below has very
ominous implications.
"This emphasis on jobs contains yet another moral premise; that
the value of higher education is primarily financial rather than about
open futures. Students should choose courses of study and careers for
their potential income, not kidding themselves about following a
passion or commitment that has little prospect of earning them a good
salary, and not taking time for personal exploration, such as taking
'frivolous' courses in the arts or liberal studies. As for parents,
in addition to getting and staying married, the morally tinged
assumption is that they will have no problem paying back their loans
if they manage their careers well, no matter how the conditions in
their fields might evolve."
Not only is the above logic based on faulty assumptions (that
the vocation skill set students acquire will align with the
requirements of the future career place; that parents, in a society
that sees many as expendable cogs, will be able to manage their
careers at all, never mind well) it points to a peril never directly
mentioned in the book: the continuation of our capitalism on steroids
status quo. With both generations mired in long term debt, people
won't dare to stand up for the revolutionary changes we need. With
liberal studies branded as frivolous and avoided, students won't gain
the critical thinking and collaborative skills needed for any kind of
resistance or solving huge problems like climate change. If that
doesn't scare you, I don't know what will.
If you have a child or grandchild with college aspirations, find
yourself in need of going back to school like I did, or want to be a
member of a society that is fair, just, and not speeding toward
extinction, Indebted is a must read.
On a purrrsonal note, my attempt at accessing zoom was a total
unmitigated failure. I followed the steps the professor wrote in the
email. I was on the phone with two more tech savvy people, one who is
actually in my class and who called the professor twice. Tobago tried
to help by walking across the keyboard when Georgia asked if there was
anyone in the house who could help me. I tried my best for 48 minutes
and only succeeded in getting a splitting headache. Today I will try
the next step and call the IT people. But what good is zoom (or any
other technology) if you can't access it by following directions
exactly? (Jules)
The president thinks America can be back to normal with everyone at
work and in school and going on cruised by Easter? What part of
pandemic does he not understand? Someone cut off his supply of nip.
(Tobago)
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"Financially college might seem like a purely economic matter,
but even the most apparently simple economic activities are shaped by
cultural values, practices, and commitments. The funding system's
componants, however-- the 529 account, the Free Application For
Federal Student Aid, the Expected Family Contribution, the Parent PLUS
loan program, the Direct Loan Program--reference primarily the
exchange of money and obligation to pay. Their explicit message is
that they have a purely economic function. But, as a social
scientist, I have learned to look for the cultural mandates embedded
in such economic vehicles."
Most of us are well aware of the student debt crisis.
Educational debt has passed credit card debt in amount. Many of us
wonder how it got to this point. Caitlin Zaloom, an economic
anthropologist, had the expertise and credentials to actually
investigate this sorry state of affairs. Her first challenge was
locating students and families who would share their fiscal stories.
"...American families generally don't talk openly about their wealth,
their investments, or their debt. Sex, politics, religion--Americans
are far more likely to discuss these sensitive topics with friends,
neighbors, and relatives than they are to share information about how
much money they make, save, and owe..." Fortunately she was able to
conduct more than 160 interviews over a period of three years. She
was able to get to know a subset of her families more in depth. Her
sharing of their struggles throughout the book makes it eminently
readable for those of us who aren't economic amthropologists.
You probably won't be surprised by some of her findings. Over
the past few decades college has become a lot less affordable.
Financing has shifted from primarily grants with a few loans thrown in
to primarily loans. Family expected contributions are way more than
many families have resources up front to pay. In many families,
students and parents are saddled with debt in a time when a degree
does not automatically lead to a job that pays enough to survive, let
alone start paying back.
What will surprise most of us are the moral imperatives hidden
in all the financial jargon. Sending one's children to college
becomes an obligation for responsible parents. A very narrow
definition of family on the FAFSA privileges the individualistic
nuclear families over those that include grandparents and other kin.
The focus on budgeting favors families that have the stability to do
so (say large salaries) over the ones where hourly wages and varying
hours per week make finances far from predictable, the families like
the one my kids were born into. The paragraph I quote below has very
ominous implications.
"This emphasis on jobs contains yet another moral premise; that
the value of higher education is primarily financial rather than about
open futures. Students should choose courses of study and careers for
their potential income, not kidding themselves about following a
passion or commitment that has little prospect of earning them a good
salary, and not taking time for personal exploration, such as taking
'frivolous' courses in the arts or liberal studies. As for parents,
in addition to getting and staying married, the morally tinged
assumption is that they will have no problem paying back their loans
if they manage their careers well, no matter how the conditions in
their fields might evolve."
Not only is the above logic based on faulty assumptions (that
the vocation skill set students acquire will align with the
requirements of the future career place; that parents, in a society
that sees many as expendable cogs, will be able to manage their
careers at all, never mind well) it points to a peril never directly
mentioned in the book: the continuation of our capitalism on steroids
status quo. With both generations mired in long term debt, people
won't dare to stand up for the revolutionary changes we need. With
liberal studies branded as frivolous and avoided, students won't gain
the critical thinking and collaborative skills needed for any kind of
resistance or solving huge problems like climate change. If that
doesn't scare you, I don't know what will.
If you have a child or grandchild with college aspirations, find
yourself in need of going back to school like I did, or want to be a
member of a society that is fair, just, and not speeding toward
extinction, Indebted is a must read.
On a purrrsonal note, my attempt at accessing zoom was a total
unmitigated failure. I followed the steps the professor wrote in the
email. I was on the phone with two more tech savvy people, one who is
actually in my class and who called the professor twice. Tobago tried
to help by walking across the keyboard when Georgia asked if there was
anyone in the house who could help me. I tried my best for 48 minutes
and only succeeded in getting a splitting headache. Today I will try
the next step and call the IT people. But what good is zoom (or any
other technology) if you can't access it by following directions
exactly? (Jules)
The president thinks America can be back to normal with everyone at
work and in school and going on cruised by Easter? What part of
pandemic does he not understand? Someone cut off his supply of nip.
(Tobago)
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Tuesday, March 24, 2020
Girl, Stop Apologizing
Girl, Stop Apologizing
Adult nonfiction
"If every woman who heard that what if in her heart allowed it
to feed the flame in her belly to pursue who she might be, not only
would she shock herself with what she's capable of, but she'd astound
everyone else as well. I'm convinced that if she--if we--just lived
life in pursuit of that question, the effect on the world around us
would be atomic."
Do you have a dream that stays just that--a dream? You aren't
any further along in its pursuit than last year?
There's no denying that it can be a real challenge to take a
dream from fantasy to real life. Getting where I am today was no walk
in the park. I had to get myself accepted into a competitive graduate
school program when I'd been out of school for decades. People
thought I was selfish or out of my mind. Then I had to find a way to
earn the money to bankroll my tuition, fees, and books. Computer
skills were and continue to be a struggle, as you'll see in my
purrrsonal note.
Outside forces aren't the only challenges we face when we set
life changing goals. Sometimes fears, self doubt, internalized
negative messages, and the desire to please others (or at least not
rock the boat) can sabotage our best intentions. Rachel Hollis,
author of Girl, Stop Apologizing, knows about all of the things that
can stand in the way of dream chasing. Writing with a balance of
directness and humor, she cuts them down to size. Addressing the fear
of not being wired to be goal oriented, she says,
"The thing is, I totally understand why you'd think that. If
you didn't come into the world already having mastered something it
was just never meant to be. Walking, speaking, eating solid foods
without choking to death, driving a car, spelling, using a computer--
all of that was just naturally a part of 'who you were' from birth,
right?"
Hollis divides her tutorial into three sections. The first
debunks a wide range of excuses: Not enough time, I'm not enough to
succeed, Fear of failure... Any of these sound familiar? What will
they think? is especially timely in a world where we're subject to the
opinions not only of family, in-laws, friends, and frenemies, but to
those of Internet critics with far too much venom and time to mind
other people's business. The flow chart on the relative weight of
other people's opinions is priceless.
The second section covers behaviors to adopt such as asking for
help and not asking for permission. My favorite chapter is the one on
learning to say no. It's a very good word with a bad reputation.
We're brought up to think it's selfish. So yes becomes the default
response. I know too many intelligent professional women who say yes
through gritted teeth while mentally berating themselves. Learn to
say no loudly and unequivocally. Last year someone asked me to return
to school committee. I think "Hell, no!" got the point across.
The third section describes skills to acquire. Persistance is
my favorite of the bunch. Most of us have to rock that quality to get
where we want to go. We can't let set backs and challenges deter us.
According to Hollis, "A goal is a dream with its work boots on.
A goal is a dream you've decided to make real. A goal is a destination
you're working toward instead of an idea you're only considering or
hoping for..." If you're ready to turn your dream into a goal Girl,
Stop Apologizing can be a great source of advice and inspiration.
On a purrrsonal note, computers continue to be a challenge for me.
You know how UMaine classes are now virtual? My class is going to use
something called zoom. We're going to try it out tonight to get ready
for next week. I'll be at home with no tech support. And the
professor has said something about working out glitches. My gut is
saying, if I have to wade out of my comfort zone, can't it at least be
into glitchless turf? But I'll be navigating the abyss along with my
classmates who have some clue what they're doing.
My daughter, Amber, has told me that Mathilda, my computer, can save
me from a very bad fate: running out of books to read while stuck at
home. She says Mathilda can connect with Fogler Library and enable me
to borrow and read ebooks. Maybe that could work with Orono Library
too. I thought you needed those kindle things to download books. As
of last night my before bed book reading time is now HAPPY HOUR! It
gives me something to look forward to all day.
My big achievement yesterday was making mac and cheese that was so
good Eugene took seconds. (Jules)
It sneaked up on us last night when it was too dark to see out the
windows. This morning everything is covered with that white snow
stuff. One of my hoomans is put plowing it. Didn't mother nature get
the memo that's it's spring now? How can birdies migrate back to
this? (Tobago)
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"If every woman who heard that what if in her heart allowed it
to feed the flame in her belly to pursue who she might be, not only
would she shock herself with what she's capable of, but she'd astound
everyone else as well. I'm convinced that if she--if we--just lived
life in pursuit of that question, the effect on the world around us
would be atomic."
Do you have a dream that stays just that--a dream? You aren't
any further along in its pursuit than last year?
There's no denying that it can be a real challenge to take a
dream from fantasy to real life. Getting where I am today was no walk
in the park. I had to get myself accepted into a competitive graduate
school program when I'd been out of school for decades. People
thought I was selfish or out of my mind. Then I had to find a way to
earn the money to bankroll my tuition, fees, and books. Computer
skills were and continue to be a struggle, as you'll see in my
purrrsonal note.
Outside forces aren't the only challenges we face when we set
life changing goals. Sometimes fears, self doubt, internalized
negative messages, and the desire to please others (or at least not
rock the boat) can sabotage our best intentions. Rachel Hollis,
author of Girl, Stop Apologizing, knows about all of the things that
can stand in the way of dream chasing. Writing with a balance of
directness and humor, she cuts them down to size. Addressing the fear
of not being wired to be goal oriented, she says,
"The thing is, I totally understand why you'd think that. If
you didn't come into the world already having mastered something it
was just never meant to be. Walking, speaking, eating solid foods
without choking to death, driving a car, spelling, using a computer--
all of that was just naturally a part of 'who you were' from birth,
right?"
Hollis divides her tutorial into three sections. The first
debunks a wide range of excuses: Not enough time, I'm not enough to
succeed, Fear of failure... Any of these sound familiar? What will
they think? is especially timely in a world where we're subject to the
opinions not only of family, in-laws, friends, and frenemies, but to
those of Internet critics with far too much venom and time to mind
other people's business. The flow chart on the relative weight of
other people's opinions is priceless.
The second section covers behaviors to adopt such as asking for
help and not asking for permission. My favorite chapter is the one on
learning to say no. It's a very good word with a bad reputation.
We're brought up to think it's selfish. So yes becomes the default
response. I know too many intelligent professional women who say yes
through gritted teeth while mentally berating themselves. Learn to
say no loudly and unequivocally. Last year someone asked me to return
to school committee. I think "Hell, no!" got the point across.
The third section describes skills to acquire. Persistance is
my favorite of the bunch. Most of us have to rock that quality to get
where we want to go. We can't let set backs and challenges deter us.
According to Hollis, "A goal is a dream with its work boots on.
A goal is a dream you've decided to make real. A goal is a destination
you're working toward instead of an idea you're only considering or
hoping for..." If you're ready to turn your dream into a goal Girl,
Stop Apologizing can be a great source of advice and inspiration.
On a purrrsonal note, computers continue to be a challenge for me.
You know how UMaine classes are now virtual? My class is going to use
something called zoom. We're going to try it out tonight to get ready
for next week. I'll be at home with no tech support. And the
professor has said something about working out glitches. My gut is
saying, if I have to wade out of my comfort zone, can't it at least be
into glitchless turf? But I'll be navigating the abyss along with my
classmates who have some clue what they're doing.
My daughter, Amber, has told me that Mathilda, my computer, can save
me from a very bad fate: running out of books to read while stuck at
home. She says Mathilda can connect with Fogler Library and enable me
to borrow and read ebooks. Maybe that could work with Orono Library
too. I thought you needed those kindle things to download books. As
of last night my before bed book reading time is now HAPPY HOUR! It
gives me something to look forward to all day.
My big achievement yesterday was making mac and cheese that was so
good Eugene took seconds. (Jules)
It sneaked up on us last night when it was too dark to see out the
windows. This morning everything is covered with that white snow
stuff. One of my hoomans is put plowing it. Didn't mother nature get
the memo that's it's spring now? How can birdies migrate back to
this? (Tobago)
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Monday, March 23, 2020
The Bold World
The Bold World
Adult memoir
"A friend of mine once told me, 'Parenthood means delivering
optimism to your children.' But I'm filled with only pessimism about
the future. It's clear that dark envelopes light, bad beats up on
good. Women do, in fact, break. Smiling requires an effort I just
don't have. And joy? It's packed up its bags and gone elsewhere."
I think most of us who have children anywhere from diapers to
closing in on diplomas can relate to the sentiments expressed by Jodie
Patterson in the prologue to her The Bold World: A Memoir Of Family
And Transformation. I'm pretty sure many of us are experiencing
similar emotions in this modern day plague time even if the kids are
grown and flown and in touch by social media or phone.
At that low point in her life Patterson had a grueling work
schedule, a husband, an ex husband, and five children. Her method of
coping had been setting goals and going all out to achieve them. The
one thing that sent her over the edge was an announcement by her then
toddler, Penelope, that had totally blindsided her. She'd had to come
home to figure her life out.
Home lies at the core of Patterson's life. She came from a long
line of strong women: a great great grandmother who had chosen not to
pass as white despite the serious privilege and safety it would have
given her, a great grandmother who obtained a college degree in the
early 1900s, a time during which black women were not being steered
toward higher education, and a grandmother who had books signed by her
good friend, James Baldwin. Protesting for civil rights and being
arrested and jailed were part of family life in the civil rights era.
Her parents had worked dilligently to give their children a life in
which they would not receive inadequate resources or feel second
class, at one point founding and running a school for Black children.
In Patterson's growing up home, however, sexism had been an
unpleasant and unexamined reality. Her parents had occuppied
traditional spheres. When she'd graduated college her father had
encouraged her to do what she loved. But when she suggested grad
school, he'd shut her down. It was for 'gay, fat, or ugly women'--
women who, being unable to net a husband, would have to provide for
themselves. Her skin color could land her a prime catch.
"We weren't equals, not in his mind. And we might never be.
Men pursued degrees, as he had, so they could change the world. But
women need only be smart enough to marry well, raise outstanding
children, and run an efficient household..."
Patterson's most profound challenge had hit her within the
context of home and family. Her third born child had shown from just
about the beginning an intolerance for all things frilly and pink, a
preference for her brother's clothes and activities, and a temper
whenever thwarted. Patterson had sensed that the changes that made
Penelope happy--a short haircut and boys' clothes--were only the tip
of the iceberg. She was right. One day, when asked why she was
always angry, Penelope replied, "Because everyone thinks I'm a girl,
Mama--and I'm not."
As challenging as wrapping her mind around and helping her
family accept the identity that would make Penelope feel comfortable
in his own skin would be, Patterson had an even bigger mandate. How
could she help create a world in which people who did not fit the
gender binary would be safe and valued? How much of her family's
privacy would she be able to give up to be an advocate? How could she
deal with the Blacks who saw her as being distracted from the more
pressing problems related to racism?
"Everything else, then, is 'white people's problems.' These are
the soft issues--issues that often deal with the emotional life, and
as such should be relegated to side conversations and spoken of only
behind closed doors, if at all...it's a conversation that,
historically, we just haven't had time for. Why? Because we still
exist in a time when Black lives don't matter."
In The Bold World Patterson deals candidly and insightfully with
the complexities and intersectionalities of her evolving life. This
makes the book a must read for all of us navigating the complex and
intersectional world we call twenty-first century America.
On a purrrsonal note, today is a celebration in my household. Today
is the third anniversary of Tobago's adoption from Waterville Humane
Society. I have a special treat planned for both of us. Today I will
have a tuna sandwich and share the tuna with my little sidekick. To a
cat nothing says party on like albacore tuna. My eating habits have
changed a lot recently. I've gone from what do I want? to what is in
danger or being discarded? This morning I shared leftover mashed
potatoes with Tobago.
Much to her credit, unlike the many cats I see in memes, Tobago has no
interest whatsoever in shredding toilet paper. What she attacks and
tries to devour is lined paper. This makes it a challenge for me. It
isn't good for her. Plus last semester the laptop that was given me
committed electronic suicide, taking out the few documents I had
entrusted to it. Once burned, twice wary. As much as I like
Mathilda, I am making sure I have a tangible copy of everything I
write. (Jules)
Those hoomans outside my window. What are they doing? They are not
staying six feet away from each other. Haven't they heard about
coronavirus? Haven't they heard about science? Will life ever be
normal again? I miss the days when Corona was bubbly stuff my hoomans
liked to drink. (Tobago)
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult memoir
"A friend of mine once told me, 'Parenthood means delivering
optimism to your children.' But I'm filled with only pessimism about
the future. It's clear that dark envelopes light, bad beats up on
good. Women do, in fact, break. Smiling requires an effort I just
don't have. And joy? It's packed up its bags and gone elsewhere."
I think most of us who have children anywhere from diapers to
closing in on diplomas can relate to the sentiments expressed by Jodie
Patterson in the prologue to her The Bold World: A Memoir Of Family
And Transformation. I'm pretty sure many of us are experiencing
similar emotions in this modern day plague time even if the kids are
grown and flown and in touch by social media or phone.
At that low point in her life Patterson had a grueling work
schedule, a husband, an ex husband, and five children. Her method of
coping had been setting goals and going all out to achieve them. The
one thing that sent her over the edge was an announcement by her then
toddler, Penelope, that had totally blindsided her. She'd had to come
home to figure her life out.
Home lies at the core of Patterson's life. She came from a long
line of strong women: a great great grandmother who had chosen not to
pass as white despite the serious privilege and safety it would have
given her, a great grandmother who obtained a college degree in the
early 1900s, a time during which black women were not being steered
toward higher education, and a grandmother who had books signed by her
good friend, James Baldwin. Protesting for civil rights and being
arrested and jailed were part of family life in the civil rights era.
Her parents had worked dilligently to give their children a life in
which they would not receive inadequate resources or feel second
class, at one point founding and running a school for Black children.
In Patterson's growing up home, however, sexism had been an
unpleasant and unexamined reality. Her parents had occuppied
traditional spheres. When she'd graduated college her father had
encouraged her to do what she loved. But when she suggested grad
school, he'd shut her down. It was for 'gay, fat, or ugly women'--
women who, being unable to net a husband, would have to provide for
themselves. Her skin color could land her a prime catch.
"We weren't equals, not in his mind. And we might never be.
Men pursued degrees, as he had, so they could change the world. But
women need only be smart enough to marry well, raise outstanding
children, and run an efficient household..."
Patterson's most profound challenge had hit her within the
context of home and family. Her third born child had shown from just
about the beginning an intolerance for all things frilly and pink, a
preference for her brother's clothes and activities, and a temper
whenever thwarted. Patterson had sensed that the changes that made
Penelope happy--a short haircut and boys' clothes--were only the tip
of the iceberg. She was right. One day, when asked why she was
always angry, Penelope replied, "Because everyone thinks I'm a girl,
Mama--and I'm not."
As challenging as wrapping her mind around and helping her
family accept the identity that would make Penelope feel comfortable
in his own skin would be, Patterson had an even bigger mandate. How
could she help create a world in which people who did not fit the
gender binary would be safe and valued? How much of her family's
privacy would she be able to give up to be an advocate? How could she
deal with the Blacks who saw her as being distracted from the more
pressing problems related to racism?
"Everything else, then, is 'white people's problems.' These are
the soft issues--issues that often deal with the emotional life, and
as such should be relegated to side conversations and spoken of only
behind closed doors, if at all...it's a conversation that,
historically, we just haven't had time for. Why? Because we still
exist in a time when Black lives don't matter."
In The Bold World Patterson deals candidly and insightfully with
the complexities and intersectionalities of her evolving life. This
makes the book a must read for all of us navigating the complex and
intersectional world we call twenty-first century America.
On a purrrsonal note, today is a celebration in my household. Today
is the third anniversary of Tobago's adoption from Waterville Humane
Society. I have a special treat planned for both of us. Today I will
have a tuna sandwich and share the tuna with my little sidekick. To a
cat nothing says party on like albacore tuna. My eating habits have
changed a lot recently. I've gone from what do I want? to what is in
danger or being discarded? This morning I shared leftover mashed
potatoes with Tobago.
Much to her credit, unlike the many cats I see in memes, Tobago has no
interest whatsoever in shredding toilet paper. What she attacks and
tries to devour is lined paper. This makes it a challenge for me. It
isn't good for her. Plus last semester the laptop that was given me
committed electronic suicide, taking out the few documents I had
entrusted to it. Once burned, twice wary. As much as I like
Mathilda, I am making sure I have a tangible copy of everything I
write. (Jules)
Those hoomans outside my window. What are they doing? They are not
staying six feet away from each other. Haven't they heard about
coronavirus? Haven't they heard about science? Will life ever be
normal again? I miss the days when Corona was bubbly stuff my hoomans
liked to drink. (Tobago)
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Saturday, March 21, 2020
Dying Of Whiteness
Dying Of Whiteness
Adult nonfiction
"Before Donald Trump could implement his agenda--in some cases,
before he even took the oath of office--reporters and pundits were
already tallying the negative implications of his proposals for many
Americans. This isn't surprising; changes in government inevitably
create winners and losers. The twist here is that Trump's plans would
hurt the working class white populations who formed the core for his
own base."
Years into the Trump presidency people are still trying to
figure out why so many people voted against their own interests,
pulling for a man whose policies would endanger their wellbeing and
sometimes their lives. Jonathan Metzel, quoted above, author of Dying
Of Whiteness, went on the road to explore this topic. He talked to
many people in states where a recent political act could be considered
especially salient in this respect:
*Missouri, where gun laws had been drastically loosened;
*Tennessee, where the decision was made to not expand Medicaid;
and *Kansas, where drastic austerity budgets were making the well off
richer while wreaking havoc on infrastructure and education.
What Metzel discovered was what he calls the castle doctrine.
Until fairly recently in American history Whiteness was considered the
measure of all things. It procured privileges both economic and
psychological. Only now, with minorities poised to become the
majority and tales spreading that immigrants, welfare queens, and
blacks are prospering at their expense, many lower income Whites are
feeling beseiged and endangered.
"As I've shown, the construction of whiteness as a castle under
siege, and the policies that sustain it, comes with certain benefits--
such as the ability to carry guns in public without being seen as a
suspect. But this construction works over time to obscure the plagues
that arise from within the castle walls. Ever-more guns, or ever-more
tax cuts or health system rejections, promise to make the citizenry
great again or to afford protection but in reality only weaken the
foundation and heighten the calculus of risk. Threat then emerges not
from shady gun dealers, insane persons, immigrants, or protesters but
from the far more existential threats to well-being posed by the king,
the queen, the prince, the subjects, and perhaps most important, from
the royal self."
Talk about a perfect image for being White in Trump's America!
If you want to understand why so many of us support the president's
plans and policies or to help create a safer, more equitable America
when the coronavirus shitstorm dies down, Dying Of Whiteness is a must
read.
On a purrrsonal note, when our kids were little the approach of winter
meant potential hardship. My partner's work hours went down as
heating oil became a necessity. Eugene would stock on nonperishables
in advance, clipping coupons to make his money go further. (Being the
driver in the family, he did the shopping.) In the neighborhood he was
admired as being a good provider. He's using that skill again in the
current crisis. Only he isn't taking stocking up too much and putting
others at risk of losing out. Today I was amused to see that along
with the meat, canned veggies, and spray cleaner was a catnip
toy. :-) He really loves our little rescue cat. Even as he tells her
she's spoiled he scratches her belly. Last night they looked up in
unison from the sofa where they were watching tv. (Jules).
I am one lucky cat. On my third birthday I got adopted to a lovely
home with food, toys, nip, cozy napping spots, and two hoomans who
adore me. A rescue cat's dream come true. During this shitstorm a
lot of floofs and goggies may have longer waits for homes. And don't
forget kitten season is on the way. But there are things you can do.
1) If you possibly can adopt a rescue critter. You will gain a
faithful friend who will enhance your health and keep you from being
lonely. 2) If a long term commitment is out of the picture, fostering
a kitten or puppy will make him or her more adoptable. 3) All the
animals in the shelters need food, supplies, and medical care. An
online fundraiser for your favorite shelter would help them carry out
their very important work. Remember you can't buy love, but you can
rescue it.
Jules and Tobago Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"Before Donald Trump could implement his agenda--in some cases,
before he even took the oath of office--reporters and pundits were
already tallying the negative implications of his proposals for many
Americans. This isn't surprising; changes in government inevitably
create winners and losers. The twist here is that Trump's plans would
hurt the working class white populations who formed the core for his
own base."
Years into the Trump presidency people are still trying to
figure out why so many people voted against their own interests,
pulling for a man whose policies would endanger their wellbeing and
sometimes their lives. Jonathan Metzel, quoted above, author of Dying
Of Whiteness, went on the road to explore this topic. He talked to
many people in states where a recent political act could be considered
especially salient in this respect:
*Missouri, where gun laws had been drastically loosened;
*Tennessee, where the decision was made to not expand Medicaid;
and *Kansas, where drastic austerity budgets were making the well off
richer while wreaking havoc on infrastructure and education.
What Metzel discovered was what he calls the castle doctrine.
Until fairly recently in American history Whiteness was considered the
measure of all things. It procured privileges both economic and
psychological. Only now, with minorities poised to become the
majority and tales spreading that immigrants, welfare queens, and
blacks are prospering at their expense, many lower income Whites are
feeling beseiged and endangered.
"As I've shown, the construction of whiteness as a castle under
siege, and the policies that sustain it, comes with certain benefits--
such as the ability to carry guns in public without being seen as a
suspect. But this construction works over time to obscure the plagues
that arise from within the castle walls. Ever-more guns, or ever-more
tax cuts or health system rejections, promise to make the citizenry
great again or to afford protection but in reality only weaken the
foundation and heighten the calculus of risk. Threat then emerges not
from shady gun dealers, insane persons, immigrants, or protesters but
from the far more existential threats to well-being posed by the king,
the queen, the prince, the subjects, and perhaps most important, from
the royal self."
Talk about a perfect image for being White in Trump's America!
If you want to understand why so many of us support the president's
plans and policies or to help create a safer, more equitable America
when the coronavirus shitstorm dies down, Dying Of Whiteness is a must
read.
On a purrrsonal note, when our kids were little the approach of winter
meant potential hardship. My partner's work hours went down as
heating oil became a necessity. Eugene would stock on nonperishables
in advance, clipping coupons to make his money go further. (Being the
driver in the family, he did the shopping.) In the neighborhood he was
admired as being a good provider. He's using that skill again in the
current crisis. Only he isn't taking stocking up too much and putting
others at risk of losing out. Today I was amused to see that along
with the meat, canned veggies, and spray cleaner was a catnip
toy. :-) He really loves our little rescue cat. Even as he tells her
she's spoiled he scratches her belly. Last night they looked up in
unison from the sofa where they were watching tv. (Jules).
I am one lucky cat. On my third birthday I got adopted to a lovely
home with food, toys, nip, cozy napping spots, and two hoomans who
adore me. A rescue cat's dream come true. During this shitstorm a
lot of floofs and goggies may have longer waits for homes. And don't
forget kitten season is on the way. But there are things you can do.
1) If you possibly can adopt a rescue critter. You will gain a
faithful friend who will enhance your health and keep you from being
lonely. 2) If a long term commitment is out of the picture, fostering
a kitten or puppy will make him or her more adoptable. 3) All the
animals in the shelters need food, supplies, and medical care. An
online fundraiser for your favorite shelter would help them carry out
their very important work. Remember you can't buy love, but you can
rescue it.
Jules and Tobago Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Friday, March 20, 2020
Hill Women
Hill Women
Adult nonfiction
"You don't go to Owsley County, Kentucky without a reason. You
can't take a wrong turn and accidentally end up there. It's miles to
the nearest interstate, and there's no hotel in town. It doesn't
cater to outsiders."
Recall yesterday in Dignity we were looking at the people most
of America has written off as being stupid and lazy for being left
behind by a ruthlessly individualistic and greedy society? It was
written by a man who had managed to see beyond the stereotypes to
their resiliency and sense of community in the face of problems too
complicated to be solved by any one program. In Hill Women Cassie
Chambers looks at a community many people have stereotyped and
demonized since the 2016 election--the people who voted "against their
own interests" for Donald Trump. These are her people, the community
she was born into and returned to after acquiring all the advantages
of an elite education, people who constantly face daunting challenges
with grit, creativity, and compassion for one another.
"Some people look at this image of poverty with a sense of
disgust: they see unkempt humans living in unkempt homes. Others view
it with a sense of pity: those poor people, trapped in such awful
circumstances. I try to look at it with a sense of respect: to
remember how hard they are working to survive in the overlooked corner
of the world they call home."
The sheroes of Chambers' story are the important women in her
life, each of whom faced daunting challenges. Her grandmother, as a
teen, had married into a life of raising seven children while laboring
over tasks we can achieve with the flick of a switch or turn of a
faucet: fetching water from a well, stoking the fire in the coal
stove that heated the whole house. There's her Aunt Ruth whose
ambition to be the first in her family to graduate from high school
were detailed by rheumatic fever and no way of keeping up on lessons.
With her siblings moving and starting families of their own, she
became the one to take on the backbreaking labor of helping her
sharecropper parents stay afloat. There's her mother, Wilma, who
managed to not only finish high school, but graduate from college,
balancing classwork with work and parenting.
"I don't have enough ways to honor them, these women of the
Appalachian hills. Women who built a support system for me and
others. The best way I know is to tell their stories."
Those stories are well worth reading.
Chambers doesn't gloss over the challenges they and their
families and community faced and continue to face. But she also sees
the strength, resilience, and generosity of her people. She rejects a
colleague's suggestion that if life there is so hard move the people
somewhere else.
"I believe the mountains are worth saving. People here work
hard, care about their families, are surrounded by natural beauty.
They are connected to the land and to one another in a deep and
meaningful way. There are unique values and strengths in mountain
communities."
Our country, armed with the myth of meritocracy, tends to react
to impoverished communities in stereotyped ways. We turn our back on
them, smug in the belief that if they worked harder and made better
choices they would not be suffering. Or else we operate on a savior
mentality, bringing in a simplistic solution and washing our hands of
the problem when the results don't turn out the way we expected.
I believe that Chambers would like to see solutions more along
the lines of what happened in my trailer park in 2010. In the twenty
years I'd then lived there it had passed from one slumlord to
another. We'd lived with challenges like contaminated water and
unsanded streets. Then a new challenge emerged--the park being put up
for sale for alternate uses. We'd seen what had happened in other
parks with people with nowhere else to go losing housing. Somebody
came up with the idea of becoming a cooperative. Yeah, right. People
struggling to get by paycheck to paycheck are going to buy the
property they live on? When Coastal Enterprises came in to help us
figure out how they did it with respect. We were the experts. We
were the ones who knew our community. They were there to support our
decisions. Today I see the signs of pride in ownership--the school
bus shelter, the sanding truck, the better appearance of the whole
place. And every time I turn on the tap I recall when pricey
purchased water was the only protection from fecal contamination.
Basically I think Chambers wants for her community what we all
want for ourselves--the three aspects of dignity: a way to provide for
the basic needs of self and others, reason to believe that with hard
work things can get better, and being treated with respect and valued
as having assets as well as deficits. Rather than writing her
community off as flyover country or rushing in with savior mentality,
she would like the rest of us to lend our resources to them while
respecting their expertise and agency.
On a purrrsonal note, last night for the first time in nearly a week I
went further than my mailbox--a short trip to WalMart with my
husband. I saw the associates stocking and sanitizing. I thought on
how they lack sick days or the option of distance working or any of
the protections middle class people take for granted. I tried to
thank each one. But we owe them so much more, not only during a
pandemic (although that really exacerbates inequities), but each and
every day--work that is rewarded with dignity in all three dimensions
(Jules)
Hoomans, if you are getting discouraged from the coronavirus and not
knowing what will happen here is a project. Think of all the things
you plan to do when the crisis lets up. Draw pictures and put them up
where you can see them. My Jules hooman does and that gives her
hope. And don't forget that your floof (cat) or goggie (dog) is here
to cheer you up. Remember you can't buy love but you can rescue it.
A great big shout out goes out to WalMart and other store frontline
workers who do their best to enable the public to not run out of food
and supplies for hygiene and cleaning.
Jules and Tobago Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"You don't go to Owsley County, Kentucky without a reason. You
can't take a wrong turn and accidentally end up there. It's miles to
the nearest interstate, and there's no hotel in town. It doesn't
cater to outsiders."
Recall yesterday in Dignity we were looking at the people most
of America has written off as being stupid and lazy for being left
behind by a ruthlessly individualistic and greedy society? It was
written by a man who had managed to see beyond the stereotypes to
their resiliency and sense of community in the face of problems too
complicated to be solved by any one program. In Hill Women Cassie
Chambers looks at a community many people have stereotyped and
demonized since the 2016 election--the people who voted "against their
own interests" for Donald Trump. These are her people, the community
she was born into and returned to after acquiring all the advantages
of an elite education, people who constantly face daunting challenges
with grit, creativity, and compassion for one another.
"Some people look at this image of poverty with a sense of
disgust: they see unkempt humans living in unkempt homes. Others view
it with a sense of pity: those poor people, trapped in such awful
circumstances. I try to look at it with a sense of respect: to
remember how hard they are working to survive in the overlooked corner
of the world they call home."
The sheroes of Chambers' story are the important women in her
life, each of whom faced daunting challenges. Her grandmother, as a
teen, had married into a life of raising seven children while laboring
over tasks we can achieve with the flick of a switch or turn of a
faucet: fetching water from a well, stoking the fire in the coal
stove that heated the whole house. There's her Aunt Ruth whose
ambition to be the first in her family to graduate from high school
were detailed by rheumatic fever and no way of keeping up on lessons.
With her siblings moving and starting families of their own, she
became the one to take on the backbreaking labor of helping her
sharecropper parents stay afloat. There's her mother, Wilma, who
managed to not only finish high school, but graduate from college,
balancing classwork with work and parenting.
"I don't have enough ways to honor them, these women of the
Appalachian hills. Women who built a support system for me and
others. The best way I know is to tell their stories."
Those stories are well worth reading.
Chambers doesn't gloss over the challenges they and their
families and community faced and continue to face. But she also sees
the strength, resilience, and generosity of her people. She rejects a
colleague's suggestion that if life there is so hard move the people
somewhere else.
"I believe the mountains are worth saving. People here work
hard, care about their families, are surrounded by natural beauty.
They are connected to the land and to one another in a deep and
meaningful way. There are unique values and strengths in mountain
communities."
Our country, armed with the myth of meritocracy, tends to react
to impoverished communities in stereotyped ways. We turn our back on
them, smug in the belief that if they worked harder and made better
choices they would not be suffering. Or else we operate on a savior
mentality, bringing in a simplistic solution and washing our hands of
the problem when the results don't turn out the way we expected.
I believe that Chambers would like to see solutions more along
the lines of what happened in my trailer park in 2010. In the twenty
years I'd then lived there it had passed from one slumlord to
another. We'd lived with challenges like contaminated water and
unsanded streets. Then a new challenge emerged--the park being put up
for sale for alternate uses. We'd seen what had happened in other
parks with people with nowhere else to go losing housing. Somebody
came up with the idea of becoming a cooperative. Yeah, right. People
struggling to get by paycheck to paycheck are going to buy the
property they live on? When Coastal Enterprises came in to help us
figure out how they did it with respect. We were the experts. We
were the ones who knew our community. They were there to support our
decisions. Today I see the signs of pride in ownership--the school
bus shelter, the sanding truck, the better appearance of the whole
place. And every time I turn on the tap I recall when pricey
purchased water was the only protection from fecal contamination.
Basically I think Chambers wants for her community what we all
want for ourselves--the three aspects of dignity: a way to provide for
the basic needs of self and others, reason to believe that with hard
work things can get better, and being treated with respect and valued
as having assets as well as deficits. Rather than writing her
community off as flyover country or rushing in with savior mentality,
she would like the rest of us to lend our resources to them while
respecting their expertise and agency.
On a purrrsonal note, last night for the first time in nearly a week I
went further than my mailbox--a short trip to WalMart with my
husband. I saw the associates stocking and sanitizing. I thought on
how they lack sick days or the option of distance working or any of
the protections middle class people take for granted. I tried to
thank each one. But we owe them so much more, not only during a
pandemic (although that really exacerbates inequities), but each and
every day--work that is rewarded with dignity in all three dimensions
(Jules)
Hoomans, if you are getting discouraged from the coronavirus and not
knowing what will happen here is a project. Think of all the things
you plan to do when the crisis lets up. Draw pictures and put them up
where you can see them. My Jules hooman does and that gives her
hope. And don't forget that your floof (cat) or goggie (dog) is here
to cheer you up. Remember you can't buy love but you can rescue it.
A great big shout out goes out to WalMart and other store frontline
workers who do their best to enable the public to not run out of food
and supplies for hygiene and cleaning.
Jules and Tobago Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Thursday, March 19, 2020
Dignity
Dignity
Adult nonfiction
"Much of the back row of America, both white and black, is
humiliated. The good jobs they could get straight out of high school
and [sic] gave the stability of a life long career have left. The
churches providing them a place in the world have been cast as
irrational, backward, and lacking. The communities that provided
pride are dying, and into this vacuum have come drugs. Their entire
worldview is collapsing, and then they are told this is their own
fault: they suck at school and are dumb, not focussed enough, not
disciplined enough."
What do you think of when you hear the word dignity? For me it
has three componants. The first is having a way to provide for the
basic needs of self and loved ones. It's hard to have dignity when
your children are crying because they're hungry and an eviction notice
has been put on your door. The second is the belief that what you
need to sustain life will continue to be available and that, with
work, one can do a little better. [My partner has worked in
construction practically since high school graduation. When our Adam
was in elementary school the allure of the big machines was quite
strong. One day when he said, "When I grow up I'm going to be a
construction worker just like you," Eugene replied, "No, you won't.
You'll do better. You'll go to college. You'll work with your head,
not your hands."] The third is being validated by the world, treated
as somebody of worth."
Using my definition of dignity, a lot of people are being denied
it: people of color, Muslims, immigrants, and the folks Chris Arnade,
author of Dignity, describes as back row. [Recall in school how the
strivers sat up front and the unengaged congregated in the back row?]
They're the folks who remember when life was better for them, the ones
whose hearts Trump reached when he promised to make America great again.
Arnade made it out of a Southern working class town and had it
all: the money, the prestige, the career, the home in a posh
neighborhood--only to find there was something missing. As he became
less engaged in his work, he began spending time in a neighborhood he
was warned to stay out of (too dangerous) soliciting stories and
taking pictures.
During this time Arnade was asked to leave his job. Unlike most
of us, he didn't have to scramble to find another one right off. He
became more involved in the neighborhood and then took his act on the
road, visiting cities across America, staying in the "too dangerous,"
neglected, left behind sections. He talked to the people wherever
they were, finding them eager to share their stories with someone who
wasn't there to pass judgement on them or to save their souls. He
learned about the many ways in which they felt disrespected by those
who had left them behind.
"It was three years of seeing just how messy life really is.
How filled with pain, injustice, ambiguity, and problems too big for
any one problem to address. It was also three years of seeing how
resilient people can be, how community can thrive anywhere, even amid
pain and poverty.
Most of all I ended up finding what is often overlooked in
stigmatized neighborhoods: dignity."
Dignity is a must read for all who want to make America just and
equitable, especially those who keep on asking why "they" vote against
"their best interests".
On a purrrsonal note, last night before bed I found a treat I forgot
I'd bought: a big toffee sea salt chocolate bar. Maybe that, like the
beer from Adam and the Peeps Eugene surprised me with, somehow lifted
my spirits. But this morning I seem to have turned a corner. For the
first time since Friday I wanted to get out of bed and am motivated to
work. I've recaptured my sense of purpose and usefulness. I've
slowed my reading to do other stuff so I maybe won't run out of books
before the shitstorm is over (Jules).
Days is getting longer. More sunlight to nap in. But where is the
birdies? Isn't they supposed to come back from going South for the
winter. Today is officially spring, birdies. Get with the program.
(Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to all who are working to help our most
vulnerable citizens weather this coronavirus shitstorm.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"Much of the back row of America, both white and black, is
humiliated. The good jobs they could get straight out of high school
and [sic] gave the stability of a life long career have left. The
churches providing them a place in the world have been cast as
irrational, backward, and lacking. The communities that provided
pride are dying, and into this vacuum have come drugs. Their entire
worldview is collapsing, and then they are told this is their own
fault: they suck at school and are dumb, not focussed enough, not
disciplined enough."
What do you think of when you hear the word dignity? For me it
has three componants. The first is having a way to provide for the
basic needs of self and loved ones. It's hard to have dignity when
your children are crying because they're hungry and an eviction notice
has been put on your door. The second is the belief that what you
need to sustain life will continue to be available and that, with
work, one can do a little better. [My partner has worked in
construction practically since high school graduation. When our Adam
was in elementary school the allure of the big machines was quite
strong. One day when he said, "When I grow up I'm going to be a
construction worker just like you," Eugene replied, "No, you won't.
You'll do better. You'll go to college. You'll work with your head,
not your hands."] The third is being validated by the world, treated
as somebody of worth."
Using my definition of dignity, a lot of people are being denied
it: people of color, Muslims, immigrants, and the folks Chris Arnade,
author of Dignity, describes as back row. [Recall in school how the
strivers sat up front and the unengaged congregated in the back row?]
They're the folks who remember when life was better for them, the ones
whose hearts Trump reached when he promised to make America great again.
Arnade made it out of a Southern working class town and had it
all: the money, the prestige, the career, the home in a posh
neighborhood--only to find there was something missing. As he became
less engaged in his work, he began spending time in a neighborhood he
was warned to stay out of (too dangerous) soliciting stories and
taking pictures.
During this time Arnade was asked to leave his job. Unlike most
of us, he didn't have to scramble to find another one right off. He
became more involved in the neighborhood and then took his act on the
road, visiting cities across America, staying in the "too dangerous,"
neglected, left behind sections. He talked to the people wherever
they were, finding them eager to share their stories with someone who
wasn't there to pass judgement on them or to save their souls. He
learned about the many ways in which they felt disrespected by those
who had left them behind.
"It was three years of seeing just how messy life really is.
How filled with pain, injustice, ambiguity, and problems too big for
any one problem to address. It was also three years of seeing how
resilient people can be, how community can thrive anywhere, even amid
pain and poverty.
Most of all I ended up finding what is often overlooked in
stigmatized neighborhoods: dignity."
Dignity is a must read for all who want to make America just and
equitable, especially those who keep on asking why "they" vote against
"their best interests".
On a purrrsonal note, last night before bed I found a treat I forgot
I'd bought: a big toffee sea salt chocolate bar. Maybe that, like the
beer from Adam and the Peeps Eugene surprised me with, somehow lifted
my spirits. But this morning I seem to have turned a corner. For the
first time since Friday I wanted to get out of bed and am motivated to
work. I've recaptured my sense of purpose and usefulness. I've
slowed my reading to do other stuff so I maybe won't run out of books
before the shitstorm is over (Jules).
Days is getting longer. More sunlight to nap in. But where is the
birdies? Isn't they supposed to come back from going South for the
winter. Today is officially spring, birdies. Get with the program.
(Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to all who are working to help our most
vulnerable citizens weather this coronavirus shitstorm.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Tuesday, March 17, 2020
Infinite Hope
Infinite Hope
Juvenile/YA/adult nonfiction
Ashley Bryan is a beloved, award winning artist and children's
book illustrator. In 1943 he received a notice that would change the
course of his life. Those notices changed a lot of guys' lives.
America was embroiled in World War II. He was drafted. Throughout
his years in the military he drew constantly, even using pieces of
brown toilet paper when more traditional materials were not available.
He saved his artwork and transported it back to America, only to
put it away. Like other returning Black servicemen, he'd lived
through not only trauma and devastation, but through cruel racism on
the part of the military. It was a part of his life he wanted to get
past. Eventually only his family knew that he'd been in the military.
Fast forward to the 1980s. At a children's literature seminar
Bryan mentioned that he kept a sketch pad in his gas mask during World
War II. After showing slides made from some of his drawings he put
them up for a few more decades, painting the beauty of Maine's Little
Cranberry Island.
Fortunately recently Bryan was asked to do paintings based on
his World War II drawings.
"Fifty years ago, those paintings would have been dark--grays
and blacks. But in really looking at these sketches now, I saw a
beauty there--the beauty of the shared human experience. And I was
able to face these sketches, face these memories and emotions, and
turn them into the special world created by the men [he served
with]...I would paint them in full color, filled with the vibrancy and
life I had put into my garden paintings. I was ready."
Infinite Hope is an amazing mix of words, photographs, sketches,
and paintings. There are journal excerpts and letters to a dear
friend. In each two page spread there is so much to linger over.
This fine volume will fascinate folks well beyond its target
demographics.
In a 1944 letter to his friend Eva Bryan made the following
poignant prediction:
"...Since Peace is the only recourse remaining for a
civilization that is at last far too developed in the means of
extinction for its own good it seems that we will resort to it and
make it work this time and for ever."
If only!!!!!!!
On a purrrsonal note (from Tobago), it has come to my attention that
some hoomans might get bored from staying to home. Here is my list.
If you follow it you will keep plenty busy.
1) Spend some of the time washing your hands and sanitizing surfaces.
2) Play with your floofs (cats) and goggies (dogs) and little hoomans.
3) Read some good books.
4) Try out recipes you never get around to trying when you're on the go.
5) Get crafty, paint, knit, crochet, wood work, make collages...
6) Write the great American novel.
7) Enjoy floof and goggie memes on the Internet.
8) Nap.
9) Stay in touch with friends and family by phone and Internet. Check
in on medically fragile hoomans to make sure they're OK.
10) If you must, play video games and watch tv.
11) Plan how you are going to party it up when this shitstorm is over
and you are released from captivity.
And don't forget that you can't buy love, but you can rescue it.
A great big shout out goes out to our readers whom we hope are finding
some way to enjoy St. Patrick's Day.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile/YA/adult nonfiction
Ashley Bryan is a beloved, award winning artist and children's
book illustrator. In 1943 he received a notice that would change the
course of his life. Those notices changed a lot of guys' lives.
America was embroiled in World War II. He was drafted. Throughout
his years in the military he drew constantly, even using pieces of
brown toilet paper when more traditional materials were not available.
He saved his artwork and transported it back to America, only to
put it away. Like other returning Black servicemen, he'd lived
through not only trauma and devastation, but through cruel racism on
the part of the military. It was a part of his life he wanted to get
past. Eventually only his family knew that he'd been in the military.
Fast forward to the 1980s. At a children's literature seminar
Bryan mentioned that he kept a sketch pad in his gas mask during World
War II. After showing slides made from some of his drawings he put
them up for a few more decades, painting the beauty of Maine's Little
Cranberry Island.
Fortunately recently Bryan was asked to do paintings based on
his World War II drawings.
"Fifty years ago, those paintings would have been dark--grays
and blacks. But in really looking at these sketches now, I saw a
beauty there--the beauty of the shared human experience. And I was
able to face these sketches, face these memories and emotions, and
turn them into the special world created by the men [he served
with]...I would paint them in full color, filled with the vibrancy and
life I had put into my garden paintings. I was ready."
Infinite Hope is an amazing mix of words, photographs, sketches,
and paintings. There are journal excerpts and letters to a dear
friend. In each two page spread there is so much to linger over.
This fine volume will fascinate folks well beyond its target
demographics.
In a 1944 letter to his friend Eva Bryan made the following
poignant prediction:
"...Since Peace is the only recourse remaining for a
civilization that is at last far too developed in the means of
extinction for its own good it seems that we will resort to it and
make it work this time and for ever."
If only!!!!!!!
On a purrrsonal note (from Tobago), it has come to my attention that
some hoomans might get bored from staying to home. Here is my list.
If you follow it you will keep plenty busy.
1) Spend some of the time washing your hands and sanitizing surfaces.
2) Play with your floofs (cats) and goggies (dogs) and little hoomans.
3) Read some good books.
4) Try out recipes you never get around to trying when you're on the go.
5) Get crafty, paint, knit, crochet, wood work, make collages...
6) Write the great American novel.
7) Enjoy floof and goggie memes on the Internet.
8) Nap.
9) Stay in touch with friends and family by phone and Internet. Check
in on medically fragile hoomans to make sure they're OK.
10) If you must, play video games and watch tv.
11) Plan how you are going to party it up when this shitstorm is over
and you are released from captivity.
And don't forget that you can't buy love, but you can rescue it.
A great big shout out goes out to our readers whom we hope are finding
some way to enjoy St. Patrick's Day.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Unfollow
Unfollow
Adult memoir
"I didn't understand what was going on at first. The signs simply
appeared one day and never left, like some undeniable force of
nature. I'd guess Topekans experienced their arrival that way, as
well. My mother's family had been a well-known and polarizing
presence in the city for decades--but in my memory, the picketing is
the beginning, and it started at Gage Park.
I think most of us have heard of Westboro Baptist Church.
Neither they nor their critics have been publicity shy. I know I was
horrified at the things they said and did, especially when they
picketed the funerals of soldiers, telling their loved ones that their
deaths were a good thing. I'm sure I'm not the only one who has
wondered how they can be so cruel. Now we have some answers. In her
memoir, Unfollow, Megan Phelps-Roper tells the story of growing up in,
starting to privately question, and ultimately leaving the
organization she was raised in all her life.
Megan was literally born into Westboro Baptist Church. Her
fundamentalist preacher grandfather founded it. She and her ten
siblings were brought up on a strict predestination based
interpretation of the Bible: we're the only ones who get to right.
Everyone else will burn in Hell for all eternity. She was a small
child when her community began picketing with anti gay signs at a
small park on a regular basis. When counterprotesters showed up
calling them Nazis and hatemongers her grandfather considered it a
sign of divine approval. Weren't Jesus and the twelve hated and
persecuted by their contemporaries? "...'In fact,' Gramps would roar
during his Sunday sermons, 'I'd be supremely afraid if the people of
this evil city were on our side.' Woe unto you, when all men shall
speak well of you! for so did their fathers to the false prophets."
Unquestioning obedience was demanded of Westboro Baptist
Children and discipline was often harsh. But there was a lot of love
in what was for the most part an extended family. Siblings and
cousins were plentiful and enjoyed a lot of the same things their
"bound for Hell" public school peers did. Megan especially loved the
sense of unity and commaraderie that prevailed in the community.
But community inclusion had its limits. Members who did not
totally toe the line were kicked out. Sometimes this meant losing
home and family as well as church. Some members ran away. Whether by
force or choice, departed members were considered to have gone over to
the evil side, never to be spoken of kindly again. On the morning of
Megan's high school graduation it was her brother Josh.
"...We'd been together since my birth precisely seventeen months
after his, but I'd never see him again. I'd never speak to him
again. He hadn't said goodbye. Why did he leave? Where did he go?
What was our family without him?..."
So when Megan began to have her own discontent with the church
and its flaws it was a struggle. Could she leave the only family,
home, and community she had never known and join the outside world,
many of whose members had reason to hate her?...
...Well you'll have to read the book and see.
Actually, even if you have no interest whatsoever in Westboro
Baptist Church in particular or religion in general, there is a lot to
be gained from reading the book. Megan points out that in many other
arenas, say politics, people are thinking in black and white, us and
them whom we have nothing to learn from, and compromise as taboo.
I am, for instance, harboring quite uncharitable thoughts about
all those people who run around, unable to see coronavirus as a clear
and present danger, serving as potential taxis for pathogens, and the
state and national officials who won't make them stay home already
unless work or emergency make that impossible and compensate hourly
workers for whom paycheck loss will be catastrophic. By emergency I
mean heart attack or running out of food, not stuff like wine tastings.
On a purrrsonal note (from Tobago), I don't get this thing about
toilet paper. Hoomans hoarding it, fist fighting over it, and calling
the police when they run out. I can see running out of food or
sanitizer as a crisis. But toilet paper? Puhleeze! What did hoomans
put on their babies' butts before pampers came along? Cloth diapers.
Pull your clothes that are so stained or holey or butt ugly that any
thrift shop would consign them to the dumpster and towels that have
lost their fuzz and cut them into squares, taking off stuff like
sequins and zippers that might scratch. Remember to wash them in the
hot water cycle. Shredded newspapers can fill in if you run out of
cat litter. In an emergency we floofs can eat canned tuna or chicken
and goggies eat everything including stuff you don't want them to om
nom.
So stock up on food, wash your hands, sanitize surfaces, don't touch
your face, and as much as possible stay home with your floof or
goggie. We are ace companions and stress busters. If you don't have
a furry friend yet, there are plenty at your local shelter. Your home
and love could be their dream come true. Remember you can't buy love,
but you can rescue it.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult memoir
"I didn't understand what was going on at first. The signs simply
appeared one day and never left, like some undeniable force of
nature. I'd guess Topekans experienced their arrival that way, as
well. My mother's family had been a well-known and polarizing
presence in the city for decades--but in my memory, the picketing is
the beginning, and it started at Gage Park.
I think most of us have heard of Westboro Baptist Church.
Neither they nor their critics have been publicity shy. I know I was
horrified at the things they said and did, especially when they
picketed the funerals of soldiers, telling their loved ones that their
deaths were a good thing. I'm sure I'm not the only one who has
wondered how they can be so cruel. Now we have some answers. In her
memoir, Unfollow, Megan Phelps-Roper tells the story of growing up in,
starting to privately question, and ultimately leaving the
organization she was raised in all her life.
Megan was literally born into Westboro Baptist Church. Her
fundamentalist preacher grandfather founded it. She and her ten
siblings were brought up on a strict predestination based
interpretation of the Bible: we're the only ones who get to right.
Everyone else will burn in Hell for all eternity. She was a small
child when her community began picketing with anti gay signs at a
small park on a regular basis. When counterprotesters showed up
calling them Nazis and hatemongers her grandfather considered it a
sign of divine approval. Weren't Jesus and the twelve hated and
persecuted by their contemporaries? "...'In fact,' Gramps would roar
during his Sunday sermons, 'I'd be supremely afraid if the people of
this evil city were on our side.' Woe unto you, when all men shall
speak well of you! for so did their fathers to the false prophets."
Unquestioning obedience was demanded of Westboro Baptist
Children and discipline was often harsh. But there was a lot of love
in what was for the most part an extended family. Siblings and
cousins were plentiful and enjoyed a lot of the same things their
"bound for Hell" public school peers did. Megan especially loved the
sense of unity and commaraderie that prevailed in the community.
But community inclusion had its limits. Members who did not
totally toe the line were kicked out. Sometimes this meant losing
home and family as well as church. Some members ran away. Whether by
force or choice, departed members were considered to have gone over to
the evil side, never to be spoken of kindly again. On the morning of
Megan's high school graduation it was her brother Josh.
"...We'd been together since my birth precisely seventeen months
after his, but I'd never see him again. I'd never speak to him
again. He hadn't said goodbye. Why did he leave? Where did he go?
What was our family without him?..."
So when Megan began to have her own discontent with the church
and its flaws it was a struggle. Could she leave the only family,
home, and community she had never known and join the outside world,
many of whose members had reason to hate her?...
...Well you'll have to read the book and see.
Actually, even if you have no interest whatsoever in Westboro
Baptist Church in particular or religion in general, there is a lot to
be gained from reading the book. Megan points out that in many other
arenas, say politics, people are thinking in black and white, us and
them whom we have nothing to learn from, and compromise as taboo.
I am, for instance, harboring quite uncharitable thoughts about
all those people who run around, unable to see coronavirus as a clear
and present danger, serving as potential taxis for pathogens, and the
state and national officials who won't make them stay home already
unless work or emergency make that impossible and compensate hourly
workers for whom paycheck loss will be catastrophic. By emergency I
mean heart attack or running out of food, not stuff like wine tastings.
On a purrrsonal note (from Tobago), I don't get this thing about
toilet paper. Hoomans hoarding it, fist fighting over it, and calling
the police when they run out. I can see running out of food or
sanitizer as a crisis. But toilet paper? Puhleeze! What did hoomans
put on their babies' butts before pampers came along? Cloth diapers.
Pull your clothes that are so stained or holey or butt ugly that any
thrift shop would consign them to the dumpster and towels that have
lost their fuzz and cut them into squares, taking off stuff like
sequins and zippers that might scratch. Remember to wash them in the
hot water cycle. Shredded newspapers can fill in if you run out of
cat litter. In an emergency we floofs can eat canned tuna or chicken
and goggies eat everything including stuff you don't want them to om
nom.
So stock up on food, wash your hands, sanitize surfaces, don't touch
your face, and as much as possible stay home with your floof or
goggie. We are ace companions and stress busters. If you don't have
a furry friend yet, there are plenty at your local shelter. Your home
and love could be their dream come true. Remember you can't buy love,
but you can rescue it.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Monday, March 16, 2020
Secondhand
Secondhand
Adult nonfiction
I'm thinking of a largely unregulated business that involves
smuggling, law breaking, international alliances, and now and then the
Mafia. If you're guessing the marketing of drugs or weapons you are
also right. But I'm thinking of the movement of secondhand goods
around the world. As someone who acquires nearly all that I need or
want from yard sales and thrift shops, I thought I knew the world of
secondhand. Only it turns out what I didn't know would fill a book.
Luckily in Secondhand: Travels In The New Global Garage Sale Adam
Minter has created that book.
"Between 1967 and 2017, the money that Americans spent annually
on stuff--from sofas to cell phones--increased almost twentyfold.
Some of that stuff will become treasured heirlooms worthy of future
generations. Some will be buried in landfills, turned to ash by
incinerators, or--in some rare cases--recycled into new goods and
heirlooms..."
In 2014 Minter's Junkyard Planet introduced readers to the
international scrap recycling business. He had mixed feelings about
the letters and invitations he was receiving. Rather than relating to
industrial recycling processes, they were discoursing on more intimate
reuse and resale of no longer wanted objects.
Then the subject became more personal for Minter himself. His
mother died. He and his sister, grown up with families of their own,
inhabited small spaces.
"Our problem wasn't unique. Around the world, questions about
what to do with the material leftovers of a life are becoming as much
a part of the mourning process as the funeral. There's so much, and
the children all live somewhere else. Who's to clean it out?"
Most of Minter's mother's worldly possessions were donated to
Goodwill. He believed that they would be put to good use. But, being
a consumate researcher at heart, he wanted to verify his belief. When
he turned to government data it was lacking. That meant he had to
travel around the world to places where people collected, fixed, and
sold discarded things. In Secondhand he takes you with him and
introduces you to the people who make livings from extending the lives
of our discards and the places where this happens. It is a
fascinating journey. Among the many insights I gleaned along the way,
two in particular stand out in my mind:
The first was the sheer complexity of the worldwide trade. The
shirt I drop off at a thrift shop may end up, not in Penobscot County
or even Maine, but half the world away in Ghana. Even rags that are
created from garments that have been downgraded from wearable can be
shipped across oceans. Consumers in countries with rising standards
of living will opt for new items, decreasing the demand for second
hand goods that will increasingly end up in landfills or incinerated,
which is so not good for our planet.
The second is that much of what we learn about secondhood goods
reflects American biases. Minter wants us to take a second look at
the scene of Africans processing used computers. We've been taught
that it's an evil caused by developed countries dumping electronic
debris rather than dutifully recycling componants. He would have us
see it as people with agency and ingenuity extending the life of
products for people who could not afford first hand items.
A lot of people complain that Goodwill is too pricey in contrast
to other thrifts and wonder why. Now I know. They've changed their
modus operendi. When I was a kid they were known for hiding the
handicapped. Now they raise funds so that people with disabilities
and other vocational liabilities can be trained and enabled to find
jobs in the real world. To do so they have to employ a business
rather than charity model to keep up the level of funding required.
That is just one of the conversation worthy gems I also gleaned.
Secondhand is a must read for anyone who wants to see used goods
incorporated into a much more sustainable global economy or simply is
curious about where things end up after passing through the Goodwill
donations door.
On a purrrsonal note, nearly all my possessions that are not gifts are
acquired second hand. This year I did buy a well made, good looking
jacket that proclaims my proclaims my educational program. It's
something I plan to wear a long time on a regular basis. (I am hoping
that the mother of the bride dress Amber plans to buy me is not too
ornate to use after the wedding as professional or fancy wear.) But
otherwise, hello, Goodwill.
I know that an available alternative would be to create a small
wardrobe of sustainably sourced pieces. This week a friend was
wearing cute virtuous overalls. But $50! Way out of my league. I
actually considered that option during one election season. I toured
a whole shop of virtuous garments and realized that even if I had the
cash I wouldn't because they were all so bland and boring. I want
clothes that reflect my playful, vibrant inner self rather than make
me look like a Susan Collins wannabe And, yes, I have the sin of
vanity. I love it when the undergrads say stuff like "Where did you
get those silver high tops?" or "I love all your cat shirts"
I am also aware of all the books urging a minimalist home.
(Minter says they inspire much more admiration than emulation.)
Thanks, but no thanks! I would be so not inspired by a monk's cell
decor. The treasures in my studio bring me joy and jump start my
creativity. And for many I am extending their usefulness. Can you
imagine our landfills if we all went Marie Kondo?
A great big shout out goes out to all who are working on ways to make
the world of second hand a vibrant and viable part of a truly
sustainable global economy.
Jules and Tobago Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
I'm thinking of a largely unregulated business that involves
smuggling, law breaking, international alliances, and now and then the
Mafia. If you're guessing the marketing of drugs or weapons you are
also right. But I'm thinking of the movement of secondhand goods
around the world. As someone who acquires nearly all that I need or
want from yard sales and thrift shops, I thought I knew the world of
secondhand. Only it turns out what I didn't know would fill a book.
Luckily in Secondhand: Travels In The New Global Garage Sale Adam
Minter has created that book.
"Between 1967 and 2017, the money that Americans spent annually
on stuff--from sofas to cell phones--increased almost twentyfold.
Some of that stuff will become treasured heirlooms worthy of future
generations. Some will be buried in landfills, turned to ash by
incinerators, or--in some rare cases--recycled into new goods and
heirlooms..."
In 2014 Minter's Junkyard Planet introduced readers to the
international scrap recycling business. He had mixed feelings about
the letters and invitations he was receiving. Rather than relating to
industrial recycling processes, they were discoursing on more intimate
reuse and resale of no longer wanted objects.
Then the subject became more personal for Minter himself. His
mother died. He and his sister, grown up with families of their own,
inhabited small spaces.
"Our problem wasn't unique. Around the world, questions about
what to do with the material leftovers of a life are becoming as much
a part of the mourning process as the funeral. There's so much, and
the children all live somewhere else. Who's to clean it out?"
Most of Minter's mother's worldly possessions were donated to
Goodwill. He believed that they would be put to good use. But, being
a consumate researcher at heart, he wanted to verify his belief. When
he turned to government data it was lacking. That meant he had to
travel around the world to places where people collected, fixed, and
sold discarded things. In Secondhand he takes you with him and
introduces you to the people who make livings from extending the lives
of our discards and the places where this happens. It is a
fascinating journey. Among the many insights I gleaned along the way,
two in particular stand out in my mind:
The first was the sheer complexity of the worldwide trade. The
shirt I drop off at a thrift shop may end up, not in Penobscot County
or even Maine, but half the world away in Ghana. Even rags that are
created from garments that have been downgraded from wearable can be
shipped across oceans. Consumers in countries with rising standards
of living will opt for new items, decreasing the demand for second
hand goods that will increasingly end up in landfills or incinerated,
which is so not good for our planet.
The second is that much of what we learn about secondhood goods
reflects American biases. Minter wants us to take a second look at
the scene of Africans processing used computers. We've been taught
that it's an evil caused by developed countries dumping electronic
debris rather than dutifully recycling componants. He would have us
see it as people with agency and ingenuity extending the life of
products for people who could not afford first hand items.
A lot of people complain that Goodwill is too pricey in contrast
to other thrifts and wonder why. Now I know. They've changed their
modus operendi. When I was a kid they were known for hiding the
handicapped. Now they raise funds so that people with disabilities
and other vocational liabilities can be trained and enabled to find
jobs in the real world. To do so they have to employ a business
rather than charity model to keep up the level of funding required.
That is just one of the conversation worthy gems I also gleaned.
Secondhand is a must read for anyone who wants to see used goods
incorporated into a much more sustainable global economy or simply is
curious about where things end up after passing through the Goodwill
donations door.
On a purrrsonal note, nearly all my possessions that are not gifts are
acquired second hand. This year I did buy a well made, good looking
jacket that proclaims my proclaims my educational program. It's
something I plan to wear a long time on a regular basis. (I am hoping
that the mother of the bride dress Amber plans to buy me is not too
ornate to use after the wedding as professional or fancy wear.) But
otherwise, hello, Goodwill.
I know that an available alternative would be to create a small
wardrobe of sustainably sourced pieces. This week a friend was
wearing cute virtuous overalls. But $50! Way out of my league. I
actually considered that option during one election season. I toured
a whole shop of virtuous garments and realized that even if I had the
cash I wouldn't because they were all so bland and boring. I want
clothes that reflect my playful, vibrant inner self rather than make
me look like a Susan Collins wannabe And, yes, I have the sin of
vanity. I love it when the undergrads say stuff like "Where did you
get those silver high tops?" or "I love all your cat shirts"
I am also aware of all the books urging a minimalist home.
(Minter says they inspire much more admiration than emulation.)
Thanks, but no thanks! I would be so not inspired by a monk's cell
decor. The treasures in my studio bring me joy and jump start my
creativity. And for many I am extending their usefulness. Can you
imagine our landfills if we all went Marie Kondo?
A great big shout out goes out to all who are working on ways to make
the world of second hand a vibrant and viable part of a truly
sustainable global economy.
Jules and Tobago Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Sunday, March 15, 2020
No Stopping Us Now
No Stopping Us Now
Adult herstory
"This is the story of women and age in America, from the
colonies to the twenty-first century, from Martha Washington to
Hillary Clinton. There were definitely some points when getting older
was easier than others. That's always been the case, throughout
history, around the planet. "Herodotus tells us of some tribes who
worshipped their elders as gods and of others who ate them," wrote
historian Dr. David Hackett Fischer. The extremes in America,
fortunately, have been somewhat less dire."
Remember a couple of years ago we read Gail Collins' When
Everything Changed, the well researched and highly readable story of
American women from 1960 to the present? Well I've got great news.
She's back! In No Stopping Us Now she brings us "The Adventures of
Older Women in American History."
Even as many of us ask about pronouns rather than assuming he or
sheness, value racial diversity, have begun to see class issues, and
have some idea what intersectionality is all about, few grasp ageism
and its many manifestations. One of my missions in life has become
explaining why terms like elderly and senior citizen, admonitions to
dress one's age, ads on my husband's favorite oldies shows being
limited to those for medicines for chronic illness, funerals, and
cremation, and so many other things too often seen as innocuous are
microaggressions already. So when I saw the book I was very eager to
gain an historical perspective on this shit older women have had to
put up with probably ever since when Eve hit menopause.
Let me tell you, that book was all I'd hoped for and much more.
It starts with the Colonial days when long lives were so rare people
who didn't die young were supposedly favored by God over everyone else
and got the best seats in church services. Only older women were
supposed to wear dark clothes and caps, put aside what earthly
pleasures they could have sneaked in between being fruitful and
multiplying, raising the children that didn't die in infancy, and
manufacturing everything from cloth and garments to soap and candles
in their younger years, and look forward to death as the passage to
heaven. It ends up with Hillary Clinton campaigning for president in
pantsuits and octogenarian Ruth Bader Ginsburg getting in a workout
before a day on the Supreme Court bench. In between you get times like:
*the nineteenth century when industrialization was making the
household skills (see above paragraph) formerly passed on from
grandmothers and mothers irrelevant and older women were relegated to
the back pews of churches. "...with the aged, we have few
sympathies. They belong to a generation that has passed away..."
*the turn of the (19th to 20th) century when college educated women
were getting vocational options other than marriage, women's clubs
were evolving from pure contemplation to social activism, and
cosmetics to create a younger look were no longer taboo; *World War II
when a lot of Rosie the Riveter's work chums were older women,
*the 1960's when we were taught not to trust anyone over 30,
and *the 1970's when nursing home residents were being drugged into
submission and housewives of all ages were self medicating with
Mother's Little Helpers ("What a drag it is getting old.") which Betty
Friedan took as confirmation that housework is indeed horrific.
The research is thorough. There's lots of interesting
information. The book is written with humor. And most of us, whether
in self isolation or quarantine, will have plenty enough time to read
it. I think that you'll agree with me that, no matter how much work
still needs to be done in the fight against ageism, we're a lot better
off than our ancestors.
On a purrrsonal note, well there's something that is very much
stopping me now. And it's the damn coronavirus. My partner and son
got my laptop hooked up to the home router so I can do online school
when break is over. Now I have to meet up with someone at UMaine to
learn how to use zoom. Which means a ten mile round trip walking
since the kids have decided public transport is not safe enough. I SO
ENVY people who can drive! I am limited to where I can go on foot.
A great big shout out goes out to all who are working to contain and
stop the coronavirus and my sweet kitty who is helping me maintain a
vestige of normalcy in a world gone mad.
Jules and Tobago Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult herstory
"This is the story of women and age in America, from the
colonies to the twenty-first century, from Martha Washington to
Hillary Clinton. There were definitely some points when getting older
was easier than others. That's always been the case, throughout
history, around the planet. "Herodotus tells us of some tribes who
worshipped their elders as gods and of others who ate them," wrote
historian Dr. David Hackett Fischer. The extremes in America,
fortunately, have been somewhat less dire."
Remember a couple of years ago we read Gail Collins' When
Everything Changed, the well researched and highly readable story of
American women from 1960 to the present? Well I've got great news.
She's back! In No Stopping Us Now she brings us "The Adventures of
Older Women in American History."
Even as many of us ask about pronouns rather than assuming he or
sheness, value racial diversity, have begun to see class issues, and
have some idea what intersectionality is all about, few grasp ageism
and its many manifestations. One of my missions in life has become
explaining why terms like elderly and senior citizen, admonitions to
dress one's age, ads on my husband's favorite oldies shows being
limited to those for medicines for chronic illness, funerals, and
cremation, and so many other things too often seen as innocuous are
microaggressions already. So when I saw the book I was very eager to
gain an historical perspective on this shit older women have had to
put up with probably ever since when Eve hit menopause.
Let me tell you, that book was all I'd hoped for and much more.
It starts with the Colonial days when long lives were so rare people
who didn't die young were supposedly favored by God over everyone else
and got the best seats in church services. Only older women were
supposed to wear dark clothes and caps, put aside what earthly
pleasures they could have sneaked in between being fruitful and
multiplying, raising the children that didn't die in infancy, and
manufacturing everything from cloth and garments to soap and candles
in their younger years, and look forward to death as the passage to
heaven. It ends up with Hillary Clinton campaigning for president in
pantsuits and octogenarian Ruth Bader Ginsburg getting in a workout
before a day on the Supreme Court bench. In between you get times like:
*the nineteenth century when industrialization was making the
household skills (see above paragraph) formerly passed on from
grandmothers and mothers irrelevant and older women were relegated to
the back pews of churches. "...with the aged, we have few
sympathies. They belong to a generation that has passed away..."
*the turn of the (19th to 20th) century when college educated women
were getting vocational options other than marriage, women's clubs
were evolving from pure contemplation to social activism, and
cosmetics to create a younger look were no longer taboo; *World War II
when a lot of Rosie the Riveter's work chums were older women,
*the 1960's when we were taught not to trust anyone over 30,
and *the 1970's when nursing home residents were being drugged into
submission and housewives of all ages were self medicating with
Mother's Little Helpers ("What a drag it is getting old.") which Betty
Friedan took as confirmation that housework is indeed horrific.
The research is thorough. There's lots of interesting
information. The book is written with humor. And most of us, whether
in self isolation or quarantine, will have plenty enough time to read
it. I think that you'll agree with me that, no matter how much work
still needs to be done in the fight against ageism, we're a lot better
off than our ancestors.
On a purrrsonal note, well there's something that is very much
stopping me now. And it's the damn coronavirus. My partner and son
got my laptop hooked up to the home router so I can do online school
when break is over. Now I have to meet up with someone at UMaine to
learn how to use zoom. Which means a ten mile round trip walking
since the kids have decided public transport is not safe enough. I SO
ENVY people who can drive! I am limited to where I can go on foot.
A great big shout out goes out to all who are working to contain and
stop the coronavirus and my sweet kitty who is helping me maintain a
vestige of normalcy in a world gone mad.
Jules and Tobago Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Friday, March 13, 2020
Rad Women Worldwide
Rad Women Worldwide
YA/adult herstory
"Think of this book as a journey around the world: the 40
stories take place on every continent, and span millinia. They tell
about the lives and accomplishments of bold, brave women who lived
awesome, exciting, revolutionary, historic, and world-changing lives--
in other words, they're rad...in the face of doubt and danger, they
defied tradition, broke rules, and kept going. They spoke up, they
sang, they wrote, they fought."
Kate Schatz's Rad Women Worldwide beautifully lives up to the
promise of its welcome, partly quoted above. Although it's targeted
to a YA audience, most of outside its target demographics can enjoy
meeting up with a diverse band of sheroes. Some whom I had never
heard of include:
*Liv Arneson (Norway) and Anne Bancroft (USA) who made the arduous,
painful, and risky 94 day trek across Antarctica, motivated to keep on
going by the website through which three million schoolchildren
worldwide kept track of their progress;
*Faith Bandler (Australia) who dedicated over ten years of her life to
securing rights for her country's indigenous peoples;
and *Policarpa "La Pola" Salaverietta (Columbia), a nineteenth century
spy and revolutionary who, when caught by the Spanish, refused to
renounce her activities to save her life.
If you're ever in need of inspiration for yourself or your
daughters I cannot think of a finer book.
On a purrrsonal note, it was the last day before March break at
UMaine. The mood was very sad, more like a funeral than the start of
a vaca. I cleared out my locker, borrowed more books, and spent time
with friends whom I'll really miss. Mostly I was there to help
process food from dining for Black Bear Exchange. There was an
impromptu graduation ceremony for about 300 students. I was on the
way to process food when I saw my daughter Amber who is getting her
PhD. I so wanted to be there for her. But I knew I was needed
elsewhere. She understood.
I am very angry at all the presidents and other legislators of both
parties who did nothing over decades to prepare our nation for an
eventual pandemic. They were warned by scientists. We're in the
shitstorm we're in at least partly because they were asleep at the
wheel.
A great big shout out goes out to Amber and the other wonderful
students who are making a really big transition under really crappy
circumstances.
Jules and Tobago Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
YA/adult herstory
"Think of this book as a journey around the world: the 40
stories take place on every continent, and span millinia. They tell
about the lives and accomplishments of bold, brave women who lived
awesome, exciting, revolutionary, historic, and world-changing lives--
in other words, they're rad...in the face of doubt and danger, they
defied tradition, broke rules, and kept going. They spoke up, they
sang, they wrote, they fought."
Kate Schatz's Rad Women Worldwide beautifully lives up to the
promise of its welcome, partly quoted above. Although it's targeted
to a YA audience, most of outside its target demographics can enjoy
meeting up with a diverse band of sheroes. Some whom I had never
heard of include:
*Liv Arneson (Norway) and Anne Bancroft (USA) who made the arduous,
painful, and risky 94 day trek across Antarctica, motivated to keep on
going by the website through which three million schoolchildren
worldwide kept track of their progress;
*Faith Bandler (Australia) who dedicated over ten years of her life to
securing rights for her country's indigenous peoples;
and *Policarpa "La Pola" Salaverietta (Columbia), a nineteenth century
spy and revolutionary who, when caught by the Spanish, refused to
renounce her activities to save her life.
If you're ever in need of inspiration for yourself or your
daughters I cannot think of a finer book.
On a purrrsonal note, it was the last day before March break at
UMaine. The mood was very sad, more like a funeral than the start of
a vaca. I cleared out my locker, borrowed more books, and spent time
with friends whom I'll really miss. Mostly I was there to help
process food from dining for Black Bear Exchange. There was an
impromptu graduation ceremony for about 300 students. I was on the
way to process food when I saw my daughter Amber who is getting her
PhD. I so wanted to be there for her. But I knew I was needed
elsewhere. She understood.
I am very angry at all the presidents and other legislators of both
parties who did nothing over decades to prepare our nation for an
eventual pandemic. They were warned by scientists. We're in the
shitstorm we're in at least partly because they were asleep at the
wheel.
A great big shout out goes out to Amber and the other wonderful
students who are making a really big transition under really crappy
circumstances.
Jules and Tobago Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Thursday, March 12, 2020
A Place To Belong
A Place To Belong
Juvenile fiction
"This was the thing about Japan: she had never been there. Her
parents had told her her entire life that it was important to be
American. It was important to talk just a little more loudly than
some of the girls who were being raised to be more Japanese. It was
important to make eye contact and not cover your mouth when you
laughed, like some of the more Japanese girls did. Basically, the way
to be Japanese in America was to be more American than the Americans.
And now she was being told she would need to be more Japanese."
Hanako, narrator of Cynthia Kadohata's A Place To Belong, has
known more sorrow than anyone should have to in a lifetime. Following
Pearl Harbor her family has lost all their possessions including the
restaurant her father had worked so hard to establish and been forced
to survive in prison camps. Now the war is over. She and her parents
and little brother are on a boat about to go off to an uncertain
future in the ancestral land she has never seen, sent by Americans who
still consider them evil.
Hanako's family is going to live with her father's parents,
tenant farmers, in a small village near Hiroshima. That area is
relatively unscathed and green. But the residents live in dire
poverty. Hanako's grandparents often don't have enough to eat, even
though they labor in the fields just about all the time.
Hanako comes to love her grandparents deeply. She finally
starts to make friends at school. Then her life is shaken by yet
another decision beyond her control.
On a purrrsonal note, last night it was announced that University of
Maine will go online for classes after March break. As of the 22nd
the dorms will be closed for the rest of the semester. A lot of
people are worse off than me. Some people who don't have access to
wifi where they live could lose a semester. With all the travel bans
I bet some international students can't get home.
I worked my last day at dining today. Last night and today were so
sad. We're like family and want to take care of each other. Every
goodbye was breaking my heart. I'll miss my friends in my program and
my undergrads too.
Tomorrow I have to go on campus to get my poster and stuff on my
locker. Then Saturday is day one of what feels like house arrest but
is the only sane and sensible thing to do. Mixing and mingling
spreads the virus.
A great shout out goes out to you, my readers. Stock up on good books
at your library before it closes. I'm sure the librarians will be
lenient about late fees given the circumstances. I'll be reading and
reviewing plenty. Stay to home as much as possible. Wash your
hands. Drink fluids. Get rest. Avoid crowds. And stay off the damn
cruise ships. OK? I'm pulling for us to make it through this shit
storm.
jules and tobago hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile fiction
"This was the thing about Japan: she had never been there. Her
parents had told her her entire life that it was important to be
American. It was important to talk just a little more loudly than
some of the girls who were being raised to be more Japanese. It was
important to make eye contact and not cover your mouth when you
laughed, like some of the more Japanese girls did. Basically, the way
to be Japanese in America was to be more American than the Americans.
And now she was being told she would need to be more Japanese."
Hanako, narrator of Cynthia Kadohata's A Place To Belong, has
known more sorrow than anyone should have to in a lifetime. Following
Pearl Harbor her family has lost all their possessions including the
restaurant her father had worked so hard to establish and been forced
to survive in prison camps. Now the war is over. She and her parents
and little brother are on a boat about to go off to an uncertain
future in the ancestral land she has never seen, sent by Americans who
still consider them evil.
Hanako's family is going to live with her father's parents,
tenant farmers, in a small village near Hiroshima. That area is
relatively unscathed and green. But the residents live in dire
poverty. Hanako's grandparents often don't have enough to eat, even
though they labor in the fields just about all the time.
Hanako comes to love her grandparents deeply. She finally
starts to make friends at school. Then her life is shaken by yet
another decision beyond her control.
On a purrrsonal note, last night it was announced that University of
Maine will go online for classes after March break. As of the 22nd
the dorms will be closed for the rest of the semester. A lot of
people are worse off than me. Some people who don't have access to
wifi where they live could lose a semester. With all the travel bans
I bet some international students can't get home.
I worked my last day at dining today. Last night and today were so
sad. We're like family and want to take care of each other. Every
goodbye was breaking my heart. I'll miss my friends in my program and
my undergrads too.
Tomorrow I have to go on campus to get my poster and stuff on my
locker. Then Saturday is day one of what feels like house arrest but
is the only sane and sensible thing to do. Mixing and mingling
spreads the virus.
A great shout out goes out to you, my readers. Stock up on good books
at your library before it closes. I'm sure the librarians will be
lenient about late fees given the circumstances. I'll be reading and
reviewing plenty. Stay to home as much as possible. Wash your
hands. Drink fluids. Get rest. Avoid crowds. And stay off the damn
cruise ships. OK? I'm pulling for us to make it through this shit
storm.
jules and tobago hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Liberty Arrives!
Liberty Arrives!
Juvenile nonfiction
Most of us probably can't imagine our nation's East Coast
without the Statue of Liberty raising her torch to welcome the
homeless and tempest tossed to our shore. I bet you'll be as amazed
as I was to learn that her installation almost didn't happen. That's
the sobering message of Robert Byrd's Liberty Arrives!
In 1876 America was about to turn one hundred. A wealthy French
man wanted to send a lavish friendship gift from his country.
Sculptor Frederic Auguste Bartholdi had a vision for an enormous
copper statue. It was agreed that France would pay for the sculpture
and America the pedestal on which she'd stand. France kept her part
of the bargain. Lady Liberty was packed and shipped in 1885...
...to a United States that hadn't raised the money for her
pedestal. Just like now, the very rich were being very stingy.
Fortunately Joseph Pulitzer was disgusted with their greed. As owner
of the New York World, he had a bully pulpit for carrying out some
really old style crowd sourcing.
Read the book to see how he got the poor and lowly to achieve
what the rich and haughty refused to do.
On a purrrsonal note, I got more pawsitive feedback on Tobago's
contribution to my most recent post than to anything else I've tried
since I started this blog nearly nine years ago. So my kitty girl
will get her chances to produce content on a semiregular basis. Here's
my baby!
Well the hoomans have been acting even more strangely than normal this
week--walking around talking about losing an hour of sleep? How does
this even make sense? Sleep is always there. You just close your
eyes and it finds you. And what's with these things that go beep beep
beep and scare them out of bed? If they got rid of those things I bet
they could find all the sleep they claim to have lost.
A great big shout out goes out to those hoomans who have the sense to
feed their animal companions when their beep beep boxes get them out
of bed.
Don't forget: you can't buy love, but you can rescue it.
Tobago Anna Hathaway
And Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile nonfiction
Most of us probably can't imagine our nation's East Coast
without the Statue of Liberty raising her torch to welcome the
homeless and tempest tossed to our shore. I bet you'll be as amazed
as I was to learn that her installation almost didn't happen. That's
the sobering message of Robert Byrd's Liberty Arrives!
In 1876 America was about to turn one hundred. A wealthy French
man wanted to send a lavish friendship gift from his country.
Sculptor Frederic Auguste Bartholdi had a vision for an enormous
copper statue. It was agreed that France would pay for the sculpture
and America the pedestal on which she'd stand. France kept her part
of the bargain. Lady Liberty was packed and shipped in 1885...
...to a United States that hadn't raised the money for her
pedestal. Just like now, the very rich were being very stingy.
Fortunately Joseph Pulitzer was disgusted with their greed. As owner
of the New York World, he had a bully pulpit for carrying out some
really old style crowd sourcing.
Read the book to see how he got the poor and lowly to achieve
what the rich and haughty refused to do.
On a purrrsonal note, I got more pawsitive feedback on Tobago's
contribution to my most recent post than to anything else I've tried
since I started this blog nearly nine years ago. So my kitty girl
will get her chances to produce content on a semiregular basis. Here's
my baby!
Well the hoomans have been acting even more strangely than normal this
week--walking around talking about losing an hour of sleep? How does
this even make sense? Sleep is always there. You just close your
eyes and it finds you. And what's with these things that go beep beep
beep and scare them out of bed? If they got rid of those things I bet
they could find all the sleep they claim to have lost.
A great big shout out goes out to those hoomans who have the sense to
feed their animal companions when their beep beep boxes get them out
of bed.
Don't forget: you can't buy love, but you can rescue it.
Tobago Anna Hathaway
And Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Monday, March 9, 2020
Women In Stem
Women In Stem
Juvenile biography
These days in higher education there is a great deal of interest
in getting women into the STEM fields that too many people still
consider men's work. I think one positive step that we can take is to
surround our youngest girls with irresistible stories of woman
mathematicians, engineers, and scientists--stories that inspire and
show, rather than just tell, that women belong. I found two wonderful
volumes at Orono Public Library.
Katherine Johnson (Suzanne Slade's A Computer Called Katherine)
faced two obstacles: being a girl and being black. (As we are
reminded in the artist's note, Katherine grew up in a time of
segregated schools when separate was far from being equal and many
black children didn't even start high school.) From the beginning she
loved numbers. She even tried counting the stars in the sky. In
school she skipped grades, passing her older brother. Starting
college at fifteen, she exhausted the school's math classes and needed
harder ones created just for her. Her after graduation career gave
new meaning to the saying: the sky's the limit.
She recently died at the age of 101. Now that's something to
aspire to!
Can you imagine, as a child, submitting a name for a newly
discovered planet and having it chosen?Venetia Burney did just that.
You can read about her in Alice B. McGinty's The Girl Who Named Pluto.
The year was 1930. Venetia's class was studying the solar
system. She lived in a household where she was encouraged to ask
questions. Her grandfather was the retired head librarian of Oxford
University. Can you imagine the dinner conversations that went in
that home?
In addition to the planets, Venetia was fascinated by
mythology. The linking together of those interests gave her a
suggestion for a name for Planet X.
Both of these books are most excellent reads for girls who dream
big.
[Tobago insisted on creating content for the purrrsonal note and shout
out for this review.]
On a purrrsonal note, today is one of the most excellent observations
of the year: national nap day. Of course we cats celebrate it each
and every day, but you hoomans need to be reminded. Honestly! How do
you think we stay so breathtakingly beautiful and maintain the energy
to wake you up in the wee hours of the morning? Next time your
eyelids start drooping, instead of reaching for coffee or an energy
drink, try recharging with a cat nap.
A great big shout out goes out to all hoomans who foster and adopt
rescue cats (All right. And rescue goggies [dogs] too) and to Anna
who drove my Jules to Waterville Humane Society just so she could take
me home and make me part of her family on my 3rd birthday and two days
before Christmas (with the big colorful scratching post set up in the
living room).
Don't forget that you can't buy live, but you can adopt it!!!
Tobago Anna Hathaway
And Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile biography
These days in higher education there is a great deal of interest
in getting women into the STEM fields that too many people still
consider men's work. I think one positive step that we can take is to
surround our youngest girls with irresistible stories of woman
mathematicians, engineers, and scientists--stories that inspire and
show, rather than just tell, that women belong. I found two wonderful
volumes at Orono Public Library.
Katherine Johnson (Suzanne Slade's A Computer Called Katherine)
faced two obstacles: being a girl and being black. (As we are
reminded in the artist's note, Katherine grew up in a time of
segregated schools when separate was far from being equal and many
black children didn't even start high school.) From the beginning she
loved numbers. She even tried counting the stars in the sky. In
school she skipped grades, passing her older brother. Starting
college at fifteen, she exhausted the school's math classes and needed
harder ones created just for her. Her after graduation career gave
new meaning to the saying: the sky's the limit.
She recently died at the age of 101. Now that's something to
aspire to!
Can you imagine, as a child, submitting a name for a newly
discovered planet and having it chosen?Venetia Burney did just that.
You can read about her in Alice B. McGinty's The Girl Who Named Pluto.
The year was 1930. Venetia's class was studying the solar
system. She lived in a household where she was encouraged to ask
questions. Her grandfather was the retired head librarian of Oxford
University. Can you imagine the dinner conversations that went in
that home?
In addition to the planets, Venetia was fascinated by
mythology. The linking together of those interests gave her a
suggestion for a name for Planet X.
Both of these books are most excellent reads for girls who dream
big.
[Tobago insisted on creating content for the purrrsonal note and shout
out for this review.]
On a purrrsonal note, today is one of the most excellent observations
of the year: national nap day. Of course we cats celebrate it each
and every day, but you hoomans need to be reminded. Honestly! How do
you think we stay so breathtakingly beautiful and maintain the energy
to wake you up in the wee hours of the morning? Next time your
eyelids start drooping, instead of reaching for coffee or an energy
drink, try recharging with a cat nap.
A great big shout out goes out to all hoomans who foster and adopt
rescue cats (All right. And rescue goggies [dogs] too) and to Anna
who drove my Jules to Waterville Humane Society just so she could take
me home and make me part of her family on my 3rd birthday and two days
before Christmas (with the big colorful scratching post set up in the
living room).
Don't forget that you can't buy live, but you can adopt it!!!
Tobago Anna Hathaway
And Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Sunday, March 8, 2020
Imagine
Imagine
Picture book
"If I picked chamomile flowers as a child
in the windy fields and whispered
to their fuzzy faces
imagine."
Juan Felipe Herrera has written poetry, YA novels, short
stories, and juvenile literature. From 2015 to 2017 he was America's
Poet Laureate. In Imagine he shares his life story with children
through a series of vignettes.
We meet him as an overall clad child and see him go on to become:
*a migrant moving from village to village;
*a child starting school not knowing English;
*a teen writing poetry and playing guitar...
Each vignette closes with the word imagine. But Herrera doesn't
just want his child readers to imagine his life. He ends the book
with "imagine what you could do."
On a purrrsonal note, here is something I do not like to imagine--the
damn Coronavirus. It's like nothing that's happened in my life. In
fact the flu it resembles too much at the end of World War I predated
my mother. Will universities shut down? Will there be quarantines
here in Maine? Will big pharma develop a vaccine and not price it out
of the means of anyone but the rich? Your guess is as good as mine.
Are we in more danger from the virus or our reaction to it? Who
knows? So beyond stocking up on what my family will need in the event
of a quarantine (namely food for us all and books for me) and doing
stuff like sleeping and hydrating and choosing nutritious foods and
avoiding large gatherings life is basically out of my control. So
I'll try not to stress needlessly. Take it day to day and do my best.
A great big shout out goes out to the scientists and others who are
working overtime to stem and stop that nasty mess.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Picture book
"If I picked chamomile flowers as a child
in the windy fields and whispered
to their fuzzy faces
imagine."
Juan Felipe Herrera has written poetry, YA novels, short
stories, and juvenile literature. From 2015 to 2017 he was America's
Poet Laureate. In Imagine he shares his life story with children
through a series of vignettes.
We meet him as an overall clad child and see him go on to become:
*a migrant moving from village to village;
*a child starting school not knowing English;
*a teen writing poetry and playing guitar...
Each vignette closes with the word imagine. But Herrera doesn't
just want his child readers to imagine his life. He ends the book
with "imagine what you could do."
On a purrrsonal note, here is something I do not like to imagine--the
damn Coronavirus. It's like nothing that's happened in my life. In
fact the flu it resembles too much at the end of World War I predated
my mother. Will universities shut down? Will there be quarantines
here in Maine? Will big pharma develop a vaccine and not price it out
of the means of anyone but the rich? Your guess is as good as mine.
Are we in more danger from the virus or our reaction to it? Who
knows? So beyond stocking up on what my family will need in the event
of a quarantine (namely food for us all and books for me) and doing
stuff like sleeping and hydrating and choosing nutritious foods and
avoiding large gatherings life is basically out of my control. So
I'll try not to stress needlessly. Take it day to day and do my best.
A great big shout out goes out to the scientists and others who are
working overtime to stem and stop that nasty mess.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Saturday, March 7, 2020
Yo Soy Muslim
Yo Soy Muslim
Picture book
"It has been said
if you climb a tree
to the very top and laugh,
your smile will touch the sky."
Mark Gonzales' Yo Soy Muslim is a father's letter to his beloved
daughter. It was inspired by his own daughter. The first pages abound
with joyous imagination.
Sadly the father must tell his child that not all the world will
value her as he does. He gives her positive ways in which she can
respond to prejudice. I especially love the following lines:
"No matter what they say
know you are wondrous.
A child of crescent moons,
a builder of mosques,
a descendent of brilliance,
an ancestor in training."
Yo Soy Muslim is a book to share with all our children.
On a purrrsonal note, it turns out I had no reason to worry about
Amber's bridal shower. It was wonderful. It wasn't at all formal--
just a lovely celebration of Amber and Brian and their love for each
other. There was a nice blend of family and Amber and Brian's school
friends. The food was great--even waffles you could put toppings on.
(I had strawberries, blueberries, maple syrup, and whipped cream).
Everyone was engaged in and loved the games. I won how well do you
know the bride and groom? with a perfect score. Amber had good times
too which would make it a purrrfect event.
As we get closer to the wedding itself, remind me I have nothing
to worry about...
...even though it will be in a [yikes!] country club.
A great big shout out goes out to all who attended the bridal shower
and the sweet little cat I came home to.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Picture book
"It has been said
if you climb a tree
to the very top and laugh,
your smile will touch the sky."
Mark Gonzales' Yo Soy Muslim is a father's letter to his beloved
daughter. It was inspired by his own daughter. The first pages abound
with joyous imagination.
Sadly the father must tell his child that not all the world will
value her as he does. He gives her positive ways in which she can
respond to prejudice. I especially love the following lines:
"No matter what they say
know you are wondrous.
A child of crescent moons,
a builder of mosques,
a descendent of brilliance,
an ancestor in training."
Yo Soy Muslim is a book to share with all our children.
On a purrrsonal note, it turns out I had no reason to worry about
Amber's bridal shower. It was wonderful. It wasn't at all formal--
just a lovely celebration of Amber and Brian and their love for each
other. There was a nice blend of family and Amber and Brian's school
friends. The food was great--even waffles you could put toppings on.
(I had strawberries, blueberries, maple syrup, and whipped cream).
Everyone was engaged in and loved the games. I won how well do you
know the bride and groom? with a perfect score. Amber had good times
too which would make it a purrrfect event.
As we get closer to the wedding itself, remind me I have nothing
to worry about...
...even though it will be in a [yikes!] country club.
A great big shout out goes out to all who attended the bridal shower
and the sweet little cat I came home to.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Fight Like A Mother
Fight Like A Mother
Adult nonfiction
December 14, 2012 was a day many of us will never forget. I had
just stopped by Asa Adams Elementary which was one of the schools
covered by the school committee I was then vice chair of. I have no
clue what business I'd been there to conduct because people directed
my attention to breaking coverage of the Sandy Hook shooting. It
kinda knocked all other thoughts out of my head.
My children were in school: my daughters at the University of
Maine, my son starting his first year at Bangor High. I couldn't
imaging the horror experienced by the children and teachers trapped in
a worst nightmare come to life in a place where (damn it) they
deserved to feel safe or the terror experienced by the parents rushing
to the scene, some to be confronted with the worst kind of loss
imaginable.
That same morning Shannon Watts was at home folding laundry when
she heard the news. Like my kids her children were all in school.
Her heart broke for the small, terrified children and the parents
frantically racing to the school, some to be confronted by the need to
bury a beloved son or daughter.
"Devastatingly, what had happened inside the school was worse
than anyone could have imagined. That morning, a twenty-year-old man
had used a semiautomatic rifle and two semiautomatic pistols to shoot
his way through the locked doors of a small-town elementary school--an
iconic representation of the innocence of childhood--and murder six
educators and twenty first-graders as they hid in bathrooms and
closets."
Watts knew that the empty condolences unaccompanied by action
once again being offered by pundits and officials were not enough.
She went online to find a community of like minded people...
...and came up empty. There were small groups working on local
issues, but nothing of the magnitude she envisioned. She created a
Facebook page which she titled One Million Moms for Gun Control (later
renamed Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America).
"This site is dedicated to action on gun control--not just dialogue
about anti-gun violence. Change will require action by angry
Americans outside of Washington, DC..."
Watts immediately began getting likes and messages. Other women
had been traumatized and angered by news of Sandy Hook. They wanted
to join her organization before she even realized that she had one.
And what an organization! Moms Demand Action became David to the
powerful NRA (and their minions in government) Goliath. Within six
years a highly organized cadre of hundreds of thousands of volunteers
had become a force to be reckoned with, helping get good gun safety
bills passed and bad gun bills axed all over the country.
Watts' Fight Like A Mother tells the fascinating history of her
organization through a very effective lens. Each chapter is framed
around an activist strategy such as "Build the Plane as You Fly It"
and (my favorite) "Channel Your Inner Badass." That's because she
knows that there are a lot of moms with potential to be effective
activists sitting on the sideline for reasons like lack of self
confidence. The goal of the book is to get them knowledgeable,
confident, and inspired enough to make a difference in the world.
Whether you're on the sidelines, angry or worried about events
in the world, and wanting to find out how to channel these feelings
into something more productive than depression and anxiety, a seasoned
activist wanting to learn new ways to be effective, or anywhere in
between, you will find Fight Like A Mother to be a must read. Believe
me--it will charge your batteries.
On a purrrsonal note, I can't remember when I wasn't an activist. I
was a little kid when my parents led a successful fight to save our
working waterfront neighborhood from Urban Renewal. That taught me
that if something wrong is going down you fight even if the odds feel
stacked against you. It took me three years, for example, to get
elected to school committee in a town where I was largely considered
trailer park trash. Once elected, I served 11 years as a voice for
lower income children and families, over half of my tenure as vice
chair or chair. Currently I fit my activism in with the demands of
working my way through graduate school while commuting and maintaining
home and family. I mostly volunteer through working canteen and
donating (one pint away from ten gallons) at Red Cross blood drives,
shelf reading in the juvenile wing of Orono Public Library, fighting
food insecurity through a community garden and an on campus food
pantry, and taking part in lots of UMaine events. What I love best is
being an empowering influence on the many undergraduates who trust
their Aunt Jules.
A great big shout out goes out to the moms (and allies) out there
fighting for a better world for our children because we are beautiful,
bold, and badass.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
December 14, 2012 was a day many of us will never forget. I had
just stopped by Asa Adams Elementary which was one of the schools
covered by the school committee I was then vice chair of. I have no
clue what business I'd been there to conduct because people directed
my attention to breaking coverage of the Sandy Hook shooting. It
kinda knocked all other thoughts out of my head.
My children were in school: my daughters at the University of
Maine, my son starting his first year at Bangor High. I couldn't
imaging the horror experienced by the children and teachers trapped in
a worst nightmare come to life in a place where (damn it) they
deserved to feel safe or the terror experienced by the parents rushing
to the scene, some to be confronted with the worst kind of loss
imaginable.
That same morning Shannon Watts was at home folding laundry when
she heard the news. Like my kids her children were all in school.
Her heart broke for the small, terrified children and the parents
frantically racing to the school, some to be confronted by the need to
bury a beloved son or daughter.
"Devastatingly, what had happened inside the school was worse
than anyone could have imagined. That morning, a twenty-year-old man
had used a semiautomatic rifle and two semiautomatic pistols to shoot
his way through the locked doors of a small-town elementary school--an
iconic representation of the innocence of childhood--and murder six
educators and twenty first-graders as they hid in bathrooms and
closets."
Watts knew that the empty condolences unaccompanied by action
once again being offered by pundits and officials were not enough.
She went online to find a community of like minded people...
...and came up empty. There were small groups working on local
issues, but nothing of the magnitude she envisioned. She created a
Facebook page which she titled One Million Moms for Gun Control (later
renamed Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America).
"This site is dedicated to action on gun control--not just dialogue
about anti-gun violence. Change will require action by angry
Americans outside of Washington, DC..."
Watts immediately began getting likes and messages. Other women
had been traumatized and angered by news of Sandy Hook. They wanted
to join her organization before she even realized that she had one.
And what an organization! Moms Demand Action became David to the
powerful NRA (and their minions in government) Goliath. Within six
years a highly organized cadre of hundreds of thousands of volunteers
had become a force to be reckoned with, helping get good gun safety
bills passed and bad gun bills axed all over the country.
Watts' Fight Like A Mother tells the fascinating history of her
organization through a very effective lens. Each chapter is framed
around an activist strategy such as "Build the Plane as You Fly It"
and (my favorite) "Channel Your Inner Badass." That's because she
knows that there are a lot of moms with potential to be effective
activists sitting on the sideline for reasons like lack of self
confidence. The goal of the book is to get them knowledgeable,
confident, and inspired enough to make a difference in the world.
Whether you're on the sidelines, angry or worried about events
in the world, and wanting to find out how to channel these feelings
into something more productive than depression and anxiety, a seasoned
activist wanting to learn new ways to be effective, or anywhere in
between, you will find Fight Like A Mother to be a must read. Believe
me--it will charge your batteries.
On a purrrsonal note, I can't remember when I wasn't an activist. I
was a little kid when my parents led a successful fight to save our
working waterfront neighborhood from Urban Renewal. That taught me
that if something wrong is going down you fight even if the odds feel
stacked against you. It took me three years, for example, to get
elected to school committee in a town where I was largely considered
trailer park trash. Once elected, I served 11 years as a voice for
lower income children and families, over half of my tenure as vice
chair or chair. Currently I fit my activism in with the demands of
working my way through graduate school while commuting and maintaining
home and family. I mostly volunteer through working canteen and
donating (one pint away from ten gallons) at Red Cross blood drives,
shelf reading in the juvenile wing of Orono Public Library, fighting
food insecurity through a community garden and an on campus food
pantry, and taking part in lots of UMaine events. What I love best is
being an empowering influence on the many undergraduates who trust
their Aunt Jules.
A great big shout out goes out to the moms (and allies) out there
fighting for a better world for our children because we are beautiful,
bold, and badass.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Most Loved in All The World
Most Loved in All The World
Picture book
"Mama works hard in the field.
My hands are too little. My job is to bring water.
Mama's hands are bleeding 'cause she pick so much cotton.
I'm too little, but I wish I could help."
Even after long days in the field, even on days she's bleeding
from being whipped, the Mama in Tonya Cherie Hegamin's Most Loved in
All The World (set in American slavery times) stitches by firelight,
working on a very special quilt. It isn't for the Big House. It
isn't for Massa to sell.
The child narrator wonders about the quilt, especially about a
carefully crafted little girl with a smiling embroidered face. Mama
tells her the quilt child "is the most loved in all the world."
One night mother and child tiptoe out of their cabin to go to a
meeting. Mama wants more for her precious child than the existence
she endures. The quilt is the gift she gives her when she sends her
off to freedom.
This is a book to share, only not with really little kids. It
can lead to conversations about the harsh realities of slavery, not
only in the past, but sadly in today's world.
On a purrrsonal note, I'm about to go to my older daughter, Amber's
bridal shower. Of course I am happy that she's marrying her best
friend. But mostly I'm nervous. The shower and wedding will be much
more formal than mine were. I have no mother of the bride script.
It's all going to be photographed and put on social media. Usually I
have no qualms about either. Yesterday I was filmed dancing to soul
music and volunteering in Black Bear Exchange in an apron and about
the ugliest hair net ever invented. But I don't know if my dress and
hair are OK. I don't want to ruin everything. Eugene is lucky. He
can show up in jeans, shirt, and work boots.
But as I typed this review into my iPod I realized how
privileged I am to have these concerns. I can't imagine what it would
be like to know that the only way to give your beloved daughter more
than your own nightmare existence is to never see her again. This is
not a relic of the past. In today's world too many people are still
in this no win situation.
A great big shout out goes out to Amber and her beloved fiancée, Brian.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Picture book
"Mama works hard in the field.
My hands are too little. My job is to bring water.
Mama's hands are bleeding 'cause she pick so much cotton.
I'm too little, but I wish I could help."
Even after long days in the field, even on days she's bleeding
from being whipped, the Mama in Tonya Cherie Hegamin's Most Loved in
All The World (set in American slavery times) stitches by firelight,
working on a very special quilt. It isn't for the Big House. It
isn't for Massa to sell.
The child narrator wonders about the quilt, especially about a
carefully crafted little girl with a smiling embroidered face. Mama
tells her the quilt child "is the most loved in all the world."
One night mother and child tiptoe out of their cabin to go to a
meeting. Mama wants more for her precious child than the existence
she endures. The quilt is the gift she gives her when she sends her
off to freedom.
This is a book to share, only not with really little kids. It
can lead to conversations about the harsh realities of slavery, not
only in the past, but sadly in today's world.
On a purrrsonal note, I'm about to go to my older daughter, Amber's
bridal shower. Of course I am happy that she's marrying her best
friend. But mostly I'm nervous. The shower and wedding will be much
more formal than mine were. I have no mother of the bride script.
It's all going to be photographed and put on social media. Usually I
have no qualms about either. Yesterday I was filmed dancing to soul
music and volunteering in Black Bear Exchange in an apron and about
the ugliest hair net ever invented. But I don't know if my dress and
hair are OK. I don't want to ruin everything. Eugene is lucky. He
can show up in jeans, shirt, and work boots.
But as I typed this review into my iPod I realized how
privileged I am to have these concerns. I can't imagine what it would
be like to know that the only way to give your beloved daughter more
than your own nightmare existence is to never see her again. This is
not a relic of the past. In today's world too many people are still
in this no win situation.
A great big shout out goes out to Amber and her beloved fiancée, Brian.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
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