This is Brian rocking his Indiana Jones hat. I think it's a most
excellent look for him. Don't you?

This is my statistics in real life quest. Only the first of many, I'm
sure. I emailed it to Craig asking him to correct any mistakes. He
sent me a smiley face. YES!!!

How To Be Less Stupid About Race

How To Be Less Stupid About Race

Adult nonfiction
"...How could the same country that twice voted for an Ivy
League-educated black president end up electing an overt racist who
can barely string together two coherent sentences? Why do white
liberals who can't even confront their Trump-supporting friends and
family members think they can lead the 'Resistance'? Democrats who
didn't care about the mass deportations or the treatment of Muslims
under Obama suddenly care now that a Republican is now in charge..."
Crystal M. Fleming devotes her brilliant How To Be Less Stupid
About Race to addressing these and other mysteries. She considers
them a toxic product of living in a white supremacist society. As
Critical Race Theory tells us, racial stupidity and racist beliefs are
so systemic and endemic that it's difficult bordering on impossible
for people to see beneath the carefully constructed veneers to the
truth. They will live on as long as the people at the top (whites)
benefit from them.
"How To Be Less Stupid About Race explores how and why racial
stupidity has become so terribly pervasive and examines the cesspool
of stupid ideas, half-truths, and ridiculous misconceptions that have
thoroughly corrupted the way race and racism are presented in the
classroom, pop culture, media, and politics. The key idea that I'll
come back to again and again is that living in a racist society
exposes us all to absurd and harmful ideas that, in turn, help
maintain the racial status quo..."
If I was enabled to place one antiracist book into the hands of
every White older teen and adult in the United States, this would be
the book. It is that rare one with something to offer everyone
somewhere on (or even not yet on) a path to wokeness. After building
a solid foundation of basic concepts for the newcomer, Fleming goes on
to illuminate ideas that give people who have been contemplating
racism for decades something new to ponder.
There is also Fleming's unique voice. She makes academic
concepts accessible. She speaks her mind, often in delightfully
irreverent ways. She interweaves her own voyage from clueless
childhood to enlightened and radical college professorship throughout
her discourse.
Fleming knows that each person's journey is unique. But she
ends the book with a discussion of ten steps we can take in the right
direction. Some are:
"2) Critically assess your racial socialization [with a list of
thought/discussion prompts]...
6) Disrupt racist practices. Get comfortable calling shit out...
10) Choose an area of impact that leverages your unique talents."
Anyway if your life goals include throwing off the mental
shackles of ignorance and misinformation and helping create a more
just and fair America, you'll find How To Be Less Stupid About Race to
be a must read.
On a purrrsonal note, this has been a good week so far. The
University has totally committed to renaming Clarence Cook Little
Hall. It's right now named after a eugenicist and tobacco apologist.
Way to go UMaine! I finally found a safe ride to the Bangor Red
Cross. I'm devouring iron rich foods. If all goes well in a week
I'll earn my ten gallon pin!!! Also I was able to use what I'm
learning in statistics to calculate that, when it comes to frequency
of blood donating I'm 99th percentile! I am hard core. (Jules)
Outside is scary. Rain is pouring down. Wind is whooshing loudly and
blowing trees. I think it is time for a nap in my loft. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to all involved in getting Clarence
Cook Little's name off the psychology building and to the Red Cross
people and my ride.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway



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Can you believe Amber and Brain are hard core Goosebumps
affecianados? I treasure my memories of reading Goosebumps books to
Amber and Katie when they were younger and still living with Eugene
and me.

That is my son and his fiancée. They are a seriously cute couple. I
love to hang out with them.

#Never Again

#Never Again

YA/adult nonfiction
"When you open your eyes but the nightmare doesn't go away,
you've got no choice but to do something...since that day none of us
are the same. But we are alive. And in memory of those who are not,
we will remember and act for the rest of our lives." [David]
"I remember getting out of bed and going to the window. I
looked at the sunrise and all of a sudden it hit me, 'Oh my God, my
friends aren't seeing this.' That hit me so hard--my friends who had
been there just the day before were never going to see the sun rise
again." [Lauren]
Valentines Day morning siblings David and Lauren Hogg were simply
Marjory Stoneman Douglas (Parkland, Florida) High School students
attending classes. Lauren experienced it as a great day at first.
"Everybody was just so happy giving each other chocolates and flowers
and hugs." But in the afternoon they were trapped in a Hell on Earth,
a nightmare of hiding, comforting friends, sending 'I love you'
messages to parents they feared they'd never see again, and hoping
desperately that a rampaging shooter would not discover them. When
they finally got out of school they emerged into a war zone of police,
ambulances, students seeking safety, and parents desperately seeking
beloved children.
In #Never Again David and Lauren share their experiences of that
terrible day and its aftermath. They also talk about what they and
their peers are doing to help make sure other students don't have to
die or suffer through the trauma they survived and how they've
experienced cowardice on the part of many politicians and vicious
insults and threats from so called adults. They also candidly point
out that their access to politicians and press was facilitated by
their whiteness and affluence. Less wealthy students of color in
similar situations are basically ignored despite the fact that "...in
raw statistics, their odds of getting shot are twice as high as ours,
and a lot of American kids just like them live in places where they
have a higher death rate than soldiers in Afghanistan."
One of the most important parts of the book is the eleven point
strategy in the next-to-last chapter. Many of the points concern
common sense gun laws. The last is something we all can do--vote for
people who aren't NRA syncophants.
All of at least most of us have had to think personally of
school shootings. As a parent I've prayed for my children's safe
return from places in which they should have been totally safe. As a
school committee member I've worked with colleagues and school
administrators on active shooter plans. Before the pandemic switched
me to online learning I inspected all my UMaine classrooms and work
and socializing spaces for exits and hiding spaces.
Enough is enough already! Read #Never Again and share it with
friends and family members. Insist that your library get multiple
copies.
On a purrrsonal note, I hope your weekend was terrific. Mine was
purrrfect. Saturday was a family picinc in Amber and Brian's back
yard. Eugene was off hunting with his brother. I got a ride from
Katie and Jacob. Adam and Asia were there too. We really enjoyed the
chance to eat and talk together. We're very close as a family.
Quality time for sure. We met the outside squirrel that Brian feeds.
Amber gave me a late birthday present with really cool stuff like cat
earrings (now my favorites) and a pixie dust necklace. There was also
a cake mix and frosting. Eugene will be happy when I bake us a cake.
Today the weather was purrrfect--all sunny and summery. People were
out and about along with very excited dogs. (Tobago got the windows
open for a breeze). The leaves were looking autumn sharp while my
purple petunias and the random flowers people call weeds were still in
the game. I did some writing outside. As Mr. Rogers used to say, it
was a beautiful day in the neighborhood. Oh, yeah, Eugene was away
with his brother. So I attended zoom church. It was pretty good.
And I knit on Scarfzilla all the way through. (Jules).
All those dogs who would be on the lower tail of the normal curve of
animal intelligence got to be OUTSIDE strutting around while I, the
feline of superior smarts, had to look through the window! The
injustice of it all! (Tobago)
A great shout out goes out to our fabulous family.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


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This is the baby afghan I made for my advisor. I finished it Labor
Day weekend. To go with it I have a whole bunch of board books a
neighbor was going to throw out.
Well that's one gift down, a gazillion more to go. And you'll get to
see my progress.
If you have any crafts skills and materials I suspect, where we're in
a pandemic, homemade gifts will be especially appreciated. It's also
a good way to keep your hands busy while zooming.

My lack of income combined with lack of mobility is pushing me toward
going Little House On The Prairie (here I allude to the book series by
Laura Ingalls Wilder, not the tv show) when it comes to Christmas
presents. Below is the beginning of Scarfzilla, my gift to my son.

The Vanishing Half

The Vanishing Half

Adult fiction
"...The twins had been gone fourteen years, nearly as long as
anyone had ever known them. Vanished from bed after the Founders Day
dance, while their mother slept right down the hall...the town spent
all morning searching for them, calling their names through the woods,
wondering stupidly if they had been taken. Their disappearance seemed
as sudden as the rapture, all of Mallard the sinners left behind."
Deprived of her husband by a vigilente mob, Adele struggled to
provide for her twins. Eventually her burden became too great. She
pulled Stella and Desiree, protagonists of Brit Bennett's The
Vanishing Half, out of school after tenth grade. They'd had enough
education. Their income was needed. They spent the summer working as
maids for a wealthy White family. That was not what they wanted out
of life, especially Stella who resented being pulled out of school.
As their small home town of Mallard searched for them, Stella
and Desiree were settling down in New Orleans. At first they worked
together in a laundry. After awhile Stella got a more remunerative
and prestigious job that required her to pass for white. She did so
well she ended up in a gated community in California, married into a
White family. Desiree wed a Black man with a temper, fleeing to the
home she'd run away from with a very dark child after her husband
abused her once too often.
The twins haven't seen the last of each other. Decades after
their initial separation their daughters discover one another and
connect the dots. Lives will never again be the same.
Bennett based the book partially on the stories of her mother
who grew up in a town that was highly invested in colorism, in
striving for and judging on the basis of lightness. She knew that
coming from a place like that would profoundly effect one's self image
and life choices. In this book one twin embraces this value to the
ultimate degree while the other rejects it.
The Vanishing Half is one of the most engaging books I've read
all summer. It combines a captivating plot and characters it would be
hard not to care about with valuable insights into the ubiquity,
systematic nature, and microaggressions of racism.
On a purrrsonal note, looks like we're getting a belated taste of
summer. Wednesday I was able to sun dry my clothes. That made me so
happy. I was confused about some statistics class concepts. I went
to Craig's zoom office hours. He was very helpful.
It looks like the weekend will be nice too. Here's hoping you have a
special way to enjoy it. (Jules)
It's nice and hot out again, purrrfect for sun soaking. (Tobago).
A great big shout out goes out to statistics professor Craig. He's an
exempler of the person pursuing his purrrfect calling.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway



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I couldn't survive this pandemic shelter in place isolation if I
didn't keep dreaming of and believing in a better future for all
people (and dogs and cats) and this beautiful, fragile planet we all
inhabit.

Judging by the weather, I didn't buy these pajamas any too soon. Can
you believe they were only $5? Goodwill has incredible bargains and
good COVID protocols.

Zami: A New Spelling of My Name

Zami: A New Spelling of My Name

Adult nonfiction
"To whom do I owe the power behind my voice, what strength I
have become, yeasting up like the sudden blood from under the bruised
skin's blister...
To whom do I owe the symbols of my survival?"
Audre Lorde was born black, female, and gay into a world that
considered two aspects of her identity to be inferior and the third
taboo. As a child she encountered racism, even in her Catholic
school, as she reveals in discussing an incident in which her
principal requested her mother to give her a more "becoming" hair
style after her classmates made fun of her braids rather than address
the bullying.
"...At Saint Catherine's School, the Sisters of Charity were
downright hostile. Their racism was unadorned, unexcused, and
particularly painful because I was unprepared for it..."
Home had its own pains. Lorde's two older sister's excluded her
from their activities and secrets. She yearned for a little sister
she could be close to. Her mother was beloved and terrifying at the
same time, a big believer in corporal punishment with rigid standards
for daughterly behavior. When she came home heartbroken from losing
an election her mother gave her a beating.
"'Sure enough, didn't I tell you not to come in here bringing
down tears over some worthless fool election?' Smack! 'What the hell
you think we send you to school for?' Smack!..."
There is a lot of sadness in this book that follows Lorde's life
trajectory from birth to early adulthood. But there are also times of
triumph and discovery. And there are rich strands of myth, legend,
and current events woven throughout the volume.
If a deeply personal, unwhitewashed narrative of a woman growing
into a forbidden identity in a hostile culture is your cup of tea,
you'll find this book to be a must read.
On a purrrsonal note, the highlight of the first half of this week was
my birthday. It started sad because I was remembering how in
nonpandemic years I'd be surrounded by friends. I couldn't tune out
the isolation of shelter in place like I usually do. But I was
getting letters from friends. All my children called. Eugene got us
MacDonalds drive thru for my birthday supper. We stopped at Goodwill
where I bought sock monkey pajamas, 2 unicorn shirts, and 4 books for
my second spike library. At home something truly amazing happened.
My manager, Anna, stopped by. She had a cat toy for Tobago and yummy
cupcakes and a card signed by my supervisors and coworkers for me.
All the sweet messages made my heart sing. I miss them so much! Of
course I had candy for my evening reading and a beer happy hour. It
was amazingly good for a day for which I had low expectations.
As of today Tobago has been with Eugene and me nine months. (Jules)
The growly thing is awake. The house is nice and warm (Tobago).
A great big shout out goes out to everyone who helped to make my
birthday a happy one.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


Sent from my iPod

She also distracts Eugene from watching tv. She likes attention.

Every morning I study statistics. And look who does her best to
distract me.

Don't You Cry

Don't You Cry

Adult Mystery
Quinn works in a law office. She'd moved into an apartment to
get away from her controlling mother. She feels really good about her
relationship with her roommate. But one day she wakes up to find
Esther missing, her bedroom window wide open, letting in cold November
air. Esther does not come home. As hours turn into days Quinn gets
disturbing information--including allegations that sweet acting Esther
may have engineered her previous roommate's death.
Alex lives with his alcoholic father, his mother having walked
out on him when he was a child, and washes dishes at a cafe. In a
reversal of usual family roles, he must bankroll the household and
parent his parent, a lot of responsibility for a guy just out of high
school. One day Daddy Dearest complains about squatters in the
falling apart, allegedly haunted house across the street. The
newcomer, rather than being a wisp of mist or spectral shade, is a
flesh and blood woman. Even as he falls head over heels for her, Alex
must acknowledge that she's very strange, maybe even disturbed and
dangerous.
So what do those plot lines have to do with each other and with
the tragic drowning death of a five-year-old girl. You'll have to read
Mary Kubica's Don't You Cry to find out...
...just not on a stormy night when you're home alone.
On a purrrsonal note, I hope you had a good weekend. I sure did!
Saturday was Amber and Brian's zoom Halloween party. Katie and Jacob,
Adam and Asia, Brian's mom, and I (Eugene was up to camp) attended.
There was the costume contest. Then Amber let us each choose a pair
of Halloween earrings. I got the cat ones. Then mostly we talked and
chilled together. The family cats appeared from time to time. When
Katie and I got to talking about books we realized we've been
independently choosing the same mysteries. How cool is that? We all
had a great time being together. I started working on Adam's
Christmas scarfzilla. A benefit of non class zooms. Then Sunday I
was planning to go to zoom church. But Eugene wanted us to go for a
ride. So we did.
Tomorrow will be my birthday. It will certainly be a different one.
(Jules)
It is too cold now. When will the growly thing that blows hot air
wake up? (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to our wonderful family.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway




Sent from my iPod

Another Labor Day weekend guest. This camo clad frog found its way to
the camp back door for some sun soaking.

Eugene and Adam checking out the lake on Labor Day weekend.

Every Last Lie

Every Last Lie

Adult mystery
"A man stands before me, his words evasive and out of reach.
They float in the space between us like lightning bugs, flying swiftly
away as I try to gather them in my hands. 'Are you Mrs. Soldberg?' he
asks, and when I say that I am, he says, 'There's been an accident,
Ma'am.'"
Clara, protagonist of Mary Kubica's Every Last Lie, is in that
running on empty stage of new motherhood. Felix is a voraciously
hungry baby. As Clara is about to take her daughter, Maisie (4), to
ballet class he demands to be fed. Husband Nick takes on the ballet
run.
Only he never returns. A police officer notifies Clara that
there has been an accident. At the hospital she learns that Maisie is
fine. Nick will never regain consciousness. He's on a ventilator
until recipients can be located for organs and tissues.
The police say that Nick took a curve much too fast and slammed
into a tree. Clara believes that. Nick had a tendency to drive much
too fast. But then Maisie begins to have nightmares about a "bad man"
in a black car somehow being involved in the crash. Clara wonders if
the police have told her everything.
But then there are so many things Nick hasn't told Clara. His
dental business is tanking. A patient has filed a malpractice suit
and a protection order. He's taking unprescribed pills from his
medicine cabinet. A neighbor with anger management problems is
threatening him.
Mystery fans will want to join Clara in her pursuit of the truth.
On a purrrsonal note, looks like we're coming up on another weekend.
I hope your week was good. Mine was. I'm still keeping up with
statistics. At least I think I am. We'll see when the first
assignment is graded. I enjoy my phone talks with the kids, my cat
Tobago interrupting my studying by sitting on my textbook, the books
Emily gets me from the library, and my engagement in blogging,
crafting, and writing. If I let myself think about what I'm missing
in this new normal I feel sad. So I don't let myself. This Saturday
I will attend Amber's zoom Halloween party. Eugene will be at camp.
I may attend zoom church Sunday. Otherwise I'll be keeping engaged.
(Jules)
Of course I sit on the textbook. It's in my job description.
Studying too much without breaks can't be good for hoomans. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to Amber, Katie, Adam, and their
partners who we look forward to zooming with tomorrow.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway





Sent from my iPod

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Here are a couple of pages from my statistics notebook. Am I
organized or am I organized?

This picture is from Labor Day weekend. It's me blissed out at being
with Eugene and Adam. And, yes, that is a unicorn on my shirt.

Love You More

Love You More

Adult mystery
"I looked my husband in the eye. A single heartbeat of time.
Who do you love?
I made my decision. I set down my trooper's belt on the kitchen
table.
And he grabbed my Sig Sauer and opened fire.
To homicide detective D.D., called in on her day off, it's a
police officer's nightmare investigation. A state trooper's husband
lies dead on his kitchen floor. The officer, Tessa, has been severely
beaten. Open and shut case of self defense?
Maybe not. As a teen Tessa had shot and killed her best
friend's brother who had allegedly been trying to rape her. Was she
seriously unlucky twice? Or is this a deadly pattern? Was there any
reason she would be better off getting the husband out of the picture
while avoiding homicide charges?
And then there's Sophie, Tessa's 6-year-old daughter by a
previous marriage. She's gone missing. Amber alerts are landing no
solid leads. If she hasn't been killed by one of her parents she's
out there somewhere, potentially in danger.
If an action packed detective mystery with plenty of twists and
turns is your cup of tea, you are not going to want to miss out on
Lisa Gardner's Love You More.
On a purrrsonal note, autumn has arrived in Penobscot County, Maine by
weather if not by calander. Leaves are turning. I'm wearing long
sleeve shirts and jeans. Days are getting shorter. :P
Tobago is spending much more of her nights cuddled up with her
hoomans. Tonight is statistics class. I was so excited to study I
got up at 4:00 a.m. Amber, who is no fan of cooler weather, is
thinking of having her early Halloween party on zoom instead of in
person. We'll see how it goes. Eugene, who is no fan of zoom, will
go to camp for the weekend if the party is online. I will stay home
for it. Who knows? Maybe I'll be able to zoom attend church by zoom
for the first time in ages. (Jules)
Nights are getting too cold. My hoomans are nice and warm. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to my stats professor and my fellow
students.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


Sent from my iPod

My new calculator. The tool I need to own statistics and do research
years (hopefully decades) into the future.

My Halloween costume from Goodwill which I bought for Amber's outdoor
Halloween party. So far my smart phone is predicting 0% chance of
rain. I am so looking forward to seeing my children. It may be my
last chance this year.

Queenie

Queenie

Adult fiction
"'It's not putting black lives on a pedestal, I don't even know
what that means,' I said, my heart beating fast. 'It's saying that
black lives, at this point, and historically, do not, and have not
mattered, and that they should.' I looked first at Gina, then around
the room to see if anyone was going to back me up. Instead, I was met
with what I'd been trying to pretend hadn't been a room full of white
not-quite liberals whose opinions, like their money, had been
inherited."
Everywhere she goes Queenie, protagonist of Candice Carty-
Williams' novel of the same name, quoted above, is the only Black
person. She also has to deal with regular microaggressions. Even
total strangers touch her hair. While men approach her White friends
on the basis of mutual interests, guys want only one thing from her.
In those and other ways she's constantly reminded that her humanity
doesn't matter to many other people.
Then there are all these police officers killing unarmed Blacks
(and getting away with it) across the ocean. Queenie wants to cover
Black Lives Matter for the newspaper she writes for. Her editor tries
to talk her into writing something more "palatable" and accused of
having "a combatitive attitude." When she describes her idea at a
pitch meeting she's reminded that "All lives matter" and accused of
just putting some lives on a pedestal.
Race issues are not Queenie's only problems. Her long term
(White) boyfriend has decided that they need three months apart and
kicked her out of their shared apartment. She can only afford a far
from optimal living situation. Her self esteem is seriously damaged.
She starts making a series of really bad decisions that have her being
tested for sexually transmitted diseases on a regular basis.
Counseling doesn't seem to be an option. Her family sees getting
psychological help as an unforgivable weakness.
How can she break out of her seemingly unstoppable downward
spiral? You'll want to read the book to see. Queenie is an
unforgettable character it would be hard not to root for.
On a purrrsonal note, I thought I'd have a purely work weekend. I was
right about Saturday. Sunday Eugene and I ran some errands. He got
me the scientific calculator I need for statistics class and the
research I'll be doing the rest of my life with any luck. YES!!! We
had a nice visit with his brother. I wore my mask. We had a Burger
King picnic for lunch. Our last stop was Goodwill where I got three
books for my second peak library and a Halloween costume for Amber's
outside early Halloween party which is scheduled for next Saturday,
weather permitting.
The weather is getting more autumnal. I'm wearing jeans part of the
time. Leaves have started turning.
I'm working on rebuilding my reading speed. There are so many books I
need to review for you readers and never enough time. (Jules)
We had a nice weekend--my hoomans and me. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to Eugene.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


Sent from my iPod

A small part of the quilt I'm mending. I plan to have it done by the
time cold weather requires it to return to Eugene's and my bed. It
comes in really handy in cold Maine winters.

The baby afghan I finished up at camp.

Columbine

Columbine

Adult nonfiction
"And then...nothing. During the entire 1998-1999 school year,
not a single shooter emerged. The threat faded, and a distant
struggle took hold of the news. The slow disintegration of Yugoslovia
erupted again...The suburban menace of the school shooter had receded."
Except that it hadn't. In Colorado two teens, Eric Harris and
Dylan Klebold, spent that school year making elaborate plans for a
massacre which they hoped would dwarf previous ones in terms of body
count. Dave Cullen's Columbine, quoted above, takes readers through
their preparations, the massacre itself, and its complex aftermath.
That part, however, was not why I read the book. It promised to
help answer the questions that had been on my mind ever since
Columbine was breaking news: Why? How could two presumably
intelligent teens plan and carry out such a rampage, knowing full well
they'd be in the body count?
Eric and Dylan had left plenty of insight into their mental and
emotional states through tapes and diaries. Psychologists analyzed
their short lives and came to conclusions that strongly diverge from
the stereotypes that basically pop into people's minds--for example,
bullied kids taking revenge on jocks--when yet another school shooting
goes down.
Columbine is a very hard book to read. But it's an important
one for anyone who wants to understand school shootings and help
prevent future ones.
On a purrrsonal note, looks like we're coming up to another weekend.
It's been a nice week weather wise with moderating toward autumnal
temps and good sleeping nights. I'm still holding my own in
statistics class. I had started working on the baby afghan a half
hour every early morning. But I finished it at camp. So I once again
took up a project that actually is too big to travel. Quite awhile
ago a couple I met through Patch House (the coop I lived in two years
that was originally the home of trailblazing entomologist, Edith
Patch) were ready to throw out a quilt they'd made out of squares from
pants, a few with pockets. They were delighted to give it to me
instead. During the 33 years Eugene and I have used it tears and
holes have appeared. I'm mending it, mostly with patches taken from
no longer wearable clothes. No ecnomics involved--just pure
sentiment. As for the weekend, I think it will be a work one for me.
But you never know. (Jules)
Sentiment is good. Sentimental hoomans are good to sweet cats like
moi. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to you, my readers. Hope you have a
safe and wonderful weekend.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


Sent from my iPod

The two most important guys in my life: my husband, Eugene, and my
son, Adam. I was so lucky to be with them at camp over the weekend.
Notice how they have a synchronous way of standing? It's something
I've treasured since Adam was little older than toddler. I sure am
lucky to have them in my life.

All The Days Past, All The Days To Come

All The Days Past, All The Days To Come

YA fiction
I recall when Mildred Taylor's Roll Of Thunder, Hear My Cry
first came out in 1976. Reading it was a transformative experience
for me. Back then books by Black authors and books focussing on Black
protagonists were few and far between in the juvenile sections of most
public libraries.
Taylor had noticed the absence. In her author's note in All The
Days Past, All The Days To Come she said, "In 1976 when Roll Of
Thunder, Hear My Cry was published, I said that I wanted to show Black
heroes and heroines in my books, men and women who were missing from
books I read as a child. I also said I wanted to write a truthful
history of what life was like for Black people in America."
In that book Taylor's unique and powerful voice created a vivid
world for readers. Narrator Cassie, then a child, was surrounded by
her loving family. She was also growing up in a nation that did not
see her family's worth, or often humanity, and treated them with
indifference and cruelty because of the color of their skin.
In 2001 a prequel, The Land, was published. That was purported
to be the last book in a series that also included several novellas.
Imagine my surprise when I discovered a hot-off-the-press new volume--
a chance to spend more time with Cassie's clan, The Logan's!
In All The Days Past, All The Days To Come Cassie and her
brothers (Stacey, Christopher John, and Clayton Chester, also known as
Man) have grown up. World War II is in full swing. Christopher John
and Man have been drafted to risk their lives for a country that still
considers them dangerous and inferior second class citizens. Stacey
(who had a medical exemption) has moved North to Toledo with his wife
and babies to try to escape Jim Crow and its ever present racial
violence. When Cassie joins them she is only a few classes away from
being certified to teach but unsure if she wants to teach. It's her
mother's passion, not hers.
All The Days Past, All The Days To Come takes readers from World
War II to the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s. Readers get to see
the changes and consistencies in the nation, the Southern town of
Cassie's upbringing, and the family that remains united, even when
scattered across the country.
If you fell in love with the Logans, as I did, make sure to
catch up with them in All The Days Past, All The Days To Come. If you
haven't yet made their acquaintance, start for the earlier books.
Either way you're in for a heart warming but enraging literary
experience.
I look forward to a trip down memory lane to reread and review
Taylor's earlier masterpieces.
On a purrrsonal note, I had one of the most amazing long weekends of
my entire life. Adam was able to join Eugene and me at camp. We had
meals which Eugene prepared, took walks, did some target shooting, and
spent time including an outdoor campfire with Eugene's friends,
Richard and Karen and their older son, Ricky. But most of the time we
sat on the porch of our camp talking. I was able to finish the afghan
I was knitting for my advisor's baby. Adam surprised me by saying he
would like a hand knit scarf for Christmas. Most of my gifts will
have to be homemade this year. It was a magical experience for all of
us--being together. We also made plans for when things get safer,
like going back to Santa's Village as a family and Adam coming to camp
more often. That gives me so much to look forward to. After Adam had
to leave Eugene and I stayed over one more night (He won the card
game again) and came home to find Tobago purrrfectly happy to see us
back. (Jules)
Of course I was happy to see my hoomans. I needs my belly rubs.
(Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out Adam; Eugene; and Richard, Karen, and
Ricky Brown.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


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Here is my beautiful sunset. Being out in it with the evening breezes
and an insect and wind chime serenade made my soul soar.

I Can't Breathe

I Can't Breathe

Adult nonfiction
You probably saw or read about this news story in 2014. A
police officer put a choke hold on Eric Garner in the process of
trying to arrest him. He didn't let up the pressure even when Garner
managed to gasp out that he couldn't breathe. Those were his last
words.
This murder would have been easy for the police to fly under the
radar with. It happened in a part of town most of us wouldn't set
foot in. The victim was an underdog in every sense of the word. So
were the friends who saw him take his last tortured breath. But the
brutality was captured on video and exposed to the world.
So who was Eric Garner? Why did he have to die? Mat Taibbi's I
Can't Breathe explores both complex questions in depth.
In 2014 Taibbi had written a book that compared the police's
differential treatment of Whites and Blacks accused of crimes. He
intended to just write a magazine article on Garner. Only something
unexpected happened. He began to feel like he knew him and to like him.
"An outsider entering a neighborhood that had experienced a
world-shaking event like that might expect to hear stories of a saint
and a martyr. But Garner's friends cared about him too much to
slander him with false praise. Garner, I learned very early on, was a
man who was loved by his friends and by his family members not in
spite of his faults and not because of them, but because of the
totality of who he was--the fullness of his imperfect humanity."
In addition to giving us a much more complete picture of a
complex human being than the news media could have, Taibbi goes into
the historical background of racist policing in America, centering on
two factors in particular.
One is the quota system that can make policing more like selling
cars than like serving and protecting. At all levels of hierarchy
there is pressure to report a certain number of arrests, whether or
not there are enough reported crimes to justify them. If you're under
this kind of pressure, with nothing less than your job at stake,
you'll go where you'll feel most likely to find crime. If you believe
that Blacks are more likely to be thugs, you'll spend more time
investigating their neighborhoods and hoping to get lucky.
The other is the broken windows theory. It translates to: if you
overlook small stuff (broken windows, grafitti), larger bad stuff
(drugs, homicide) will happen. This, in concert with the quota
system, leads to unequally applied zero tolerance, stop and frisk, and
the school to jail pipeline.
If you want to get a real handle on racist policies and
practices in policing and ways they are covered up I Can't Breathe is
a must read.
On a purrrsonal note, statistics class was fantastic. Jodi had
installed zoom just fine. Thanks to studying the chapters and slides
ahead of time I was able to keep up just fine. Plus I have a great
lecturer for a professor. He loves his topic and sharing it with
students and it shows. Think Mr. Rogers discoursing on variables and
scales of measurement. He also can be very funny. Two and a half
hours flew. I think I'll do fine if I keep up with the due
dilligence. Tobago, of course made a regal appearance as she did at
my Decolonizing UMaine zoom this morning. Yesterday Emily brought me
ten library books. I am over the moon. Party on! Last night when I
was reading outside I was able to enjoy watching the most beautiful
sunset. It made my heart sing. It's not as spectacular in a picture,
but I took one to share anyway. (Jules).
Of course I drop in on zoom. I think it's weird. But people need to
see gorgeous kittys like moi. (Lady Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to my fellow statistics students, our
professor, Craig, Jodi for installing zoom, and Emily for bringing me
books.
Also a special pandemic shout out goes out to the Town of Orono for
mandating people to wear people to wear masks inside public spaces and
when interacting closely with others outside and large housing
complexes to provide the town with COVID-19 prevention plans. Way to
keep both townspeople and UMaine students safe!
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


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Here are my flowers and my manatee potato. Seriously, it is one
potato that grew like that.
Have you ever noticed that the veggies you buy at the store are
symetrical in shape? From gardening I can tell you that although
onions tend to be conformists, other veggies like potatoes and carrots
aren't. Growers throw out perfectly good produce because it's
perfectly delish and nutritious but differently shaped. What can we
do to end this wasteful practice?

Rest In Power

Rest In Power

Adult nonfiction
"The child I lost was a son, a boy who hadn't yet crossed the
final threshold to becoming a man. He had been seventeen for only
three brief weeks, still in the beautiful and turbulent passage
through childhood's last stages, still on his way to becoming.
Instead he will be remembered for the things he left behind."
It was February 26, 2012. Trayvon Martin was at his father's
girlfriend's home in a gated Florida community watching sports on tv.
He decided to go to a nearby convevience store to get Skittles and a
cold drink. It should have been a routine errand. It wasn't even
that late.
But the head of the community's neighborhood watch, George
Zimmerman, was making rounds. There had been burglaries in the area.
He was convinced that they weren't being taken seriously. "Those #%*+
they always get away." When he saw Trayvon, a Black teen wearing a
hoodie, he decided, with no other evidence, that he looked
suspicious. He got out of his vehicle packing heat. Moments later
Trayvon was dead, shot through the heart. Zimmerman was using
Florida's Stand Your Ground law to claim self defense, saying that he,
an adult with a gun facing an unarmed teen, feared for his life. When
Trayvon was in a morgue, Zimmerman was in his own bed.
If you read or saw news coverage of Trayvon's murder and were as
outraged as I was you'll want to read the inside story as revealed in
Rest In Power. It was written by the people who know Trayvon the
best--his grieving mother and father who endured what no parent should
ever have to. In addition to having to bury their beloved son, they
saw his reputation intentionally trashed. To get even the most
rudimentary steps toward justice they had to bare their hearts and
souls to the media and fight tirelessly.
I don't know how they did it. I would have totally fallen
apart. But they were determined to get justice for Trayvon, to show
the world who he truly was, and to prevent other children and teens
from being slain as brutally and senselessly.
"We tell this story in the hope that it will continue the
calling that Trayvon left for us to answer and that it might shine a
path for others who have lost, or will lose, children to senseless
violence. We tell it in the hope for healing, for bridging the gap
that separates America, between races and classes, between citizens
and the police. Most of all, we tell it for Trayvon, whose young soul
and lively spirit guide us in everything we do."
If that isn't incentive to read the book I don't know what is.
On a purrrsonal note, this is a very exciting day for me. I was out
and about. My friend, Diane, gave me a ride to cash in $39.95 worth
of bottles and cans. Of course we were masked. We stopped by
community garden and picked some veggies and flowers for me. Then we
went to another place to harvest potatoes. We found one shaped just
like a manatee. We saw wild turkeys and a v of geese. It was great
being outside and spending time with a good friend....
...and now in less than half I'll be zooming to my first online
statistics class. Yikes! I'll let you all know how it goes. (Jules)
She's going to be talking to the little people in the machine. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to my good gardening friend, Diane.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway




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