And an adorable little ghostie.

More Halloween pictures from happier days. Here's a far from itsy
bitsy spider.

Have Black Lives Ever Mattered?

Have Black Lives Ever Mattered?

Adult nonfiction
"The pages ahead reflect the people's struggles in the invisible
sectors of American society, sectors which, by a terrible necessity,
are populated largely by Blacks, Latinos, immigrants, the
incarcerated, and those with little income. From that repression
comes solidarity, resistance, rebellion, and change."
Mumia Abu-Jamal's Have Black Lives Ever Mattered? consists of a
wide range of essays that originated as radio commentaries. Although
he and Asim expound on the same basic theme (the longevity, ubiquity,
and systemic entrenchment of racism and racial violence), Abu-Jamal
takes a different approach. After an introduction delineating the
ugly history of lethal American racial brutality he covers a time line
from 1998 to 2015. Each date he includes centers on an incident and
its meaning for Blacks. For example:
*March 4, 2012. A well respected federal judge sent a racist joke
demeaning Obama and his mother to his friends and got away with it.
Alpha Whites can perform racism while not being considered racists;
*July 14, 2013. George Zimmerman was acquitted of Trayvon Martin's
murder.
"What does it mean? Well, it means precisely what you think it
means: Black life is as cheap as day-old pretzels";
*December 4, 2014. A grand jury refuses to indict the cops who killed
Eric Garner even though this evil deed was videotaped. Grand juries
indict whom they wish and clear whom they wish, those whom they wish
to clear often being cops.
Its modest paperback size and compact, pithy pieces make Have
Black Lives Ever Mattered? a great errand running carry along--perfect
for all the waiting in social distanced lines necessitated by our
pandemic new normal.
On a purrrsonal note, the second half of my school week is passing
nicely. I've sent in assignment 4 in statistics and am ready to
tackle assignment 5.
Halloween is going to be weird compared to happier times. Normally I
have events to attend, people to admire my costume. This year my
"plan" is to read a scary book and eat candy and hand out candy to any
kids who come by trick or treating.
It's Thanksgiving, though, that has me freaked out. The big dinner is
an evening meal at the in-laws'. Since Eugene hunts he usually drops
me off at some ungodly hour of the morning. Opting out is seen as an
insult. So I feel like my "choices" are spending 11 hours fearing
that I'm in the asymptomatic stage and capable of killing my medically
frail mother-in-law who is at high risk due to comorbidities or doing
the ethical thing and having the in-laws and my husband pissed off.
(Jules)
Trick or treat is should not be just for hoomans. I'm hoping for
tuna. (Tobago).
A great shout out goes out to you, our readers, with best wishes for a
safe and happy Halloween.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway



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That was quite a change to the Bears Den's menu!

Here's a picture from last year's Halloween at UMaine--me in costume
spotting more yummy candy. I was even able to work in costume. The
shirt says to be a unicorn in a field of horses. Those are words I
live by.

We Can't Breathe

We Can't Breathe

Adult essays
"Then as now, locomotion sometimes can require treading the
slender border between life and death. Lately, headlines remind us of
all the same and different ways a black body can collide with its
inconvenience. Breathing. Walking. Waiting to cross at the light.
Using a golf club as a cane while crossing a Seattle intersection.
Heading home while carrying candy and a can of ice tea..."
In We Can't Breathe Jabari Asim combines poetic language and
inner structure with an essay format to add a fluidness and dynamism
that are so often lacking in short nonfiction pieces. His pieces have
a different coherence. It's more like the rythym running through a
piece of music. Take his piece, The Elements Of Strut, from which I
drew the introductory quote. He starts the essay with a definition of
strut:
"In ideal circumstances, the human body flows in a strut. A
jauntiness, an ease. A response to the rythyms that animate the
earth. To strut is to reflect the graceful rotation of the planet in
one's breath, in one's step, in the pace and melody of one's speech,
in one's swerve and laughter. I strut, therefore, I am."
Can you imagine a better, more mind/body/soul affirming definition?
The essay centers around the myriad ways in which, even under the most
adverse situations, Black bodies have striven to strut while White
oppressors have used a formidable diversity of methods and unfair
advantages to stifle their strut.
"What's going on there, George?
I'm with the Neighborhood Watch, and we've had some burglaries
and vandalisms lately. And this gentleman was walking in the
neighborhood...
Is he white, black, or Hispanic?
Black."
You probably have guessed that the George alluded to here is
George Zimmerman, the packing heat Florida Neighborhood Watch captain
who shot an unarmed teen, Trayvon Martin, who was doing nothing more
suspicious than returning from a trip to the store with Skittles and a
cold drink. Quotes from transcripts of his calls to police prior to
the incident are liberally sprinkled through the piece titled, Killing
Negroes. It shows how police and their minions killing Blacks is
nothing new in our nation's history. Asim goes back to the 1704 slave
patrols, forefathers of both neighborhood watch and modern policing,
and covers the ways in which police and posses have kept Blacks "in
their place" and alpha Whites rich. Zimmerman's quotes serve as a
painful reminder that this violent, abusive repression is still going
on.
We Can't Breathe will stir your soul and psyche so much you may
not even realize you're learning a lot. I recommend this fine book to
all Whites who aspire to become real allies to our Black neighbors and
friends.
On a purrrsonal note, I'm doing a lot of walking. In nearly 3 weeks I
haven't missed a day yet. Today I tried one of the hiking trails and
ended up lost near that new overpriced housing development. (More
mansions for the rich when we desperately need more affordable
housing). I walked 1 1/2 hours. And the weather is getting decidedly
colder.
I'm in the middle of a week long UMaine news literacy challenge. It
includes topics like telling reliable news sources from less reliable
ones and understanding the decisions behind what you are presented
with and how it is presented. I think everyone in America should take
this challenge. (Jules)
I stay in my nice warm home. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to Jen and her colleagues who are
providing this most excellent free educational opportunity.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


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This is one of my favorite oldies but goodies pictures. It's me
reading with my beloved cat companion, Joey. Not a day goes by that I
don't miss him and do my best to honor his memory.

Here's an oldie but goodie Halloween picture from last year. Me in my
costume in a costume contest. I was Tinkerbell gone bad and did the
whole day in character. I wore my costume at work. I did the trick
or treat on campus. I got so many compliments. Gosh, those were the
good days!

Hands Up Don't Shoot

Hands Up Don't Shoot

Adult nonfiction
In 2014 Michael Brown was shot in Ferguson, Missouri. Accounts
differ on the circumstances leading up to his death. But the fact
that his body was left out in the hot sun for four hours is
indisputable.
In 2015 Freddie Gray was arrested in Baltimore. Police ignored
his requests for an asthma inhaler. After receiving no medical
attention he was loaded unsecured into a transport van. After a week
in a coma he died of spinal injuries.
They were Black men. None of the police officers involved with
their deaths were convicted. At their times of death they were the
latest in a litany of murdered Black men and women whose police
officer killers served no time and in many cases weren't even
indicted. Long, heated protests flared up in both cities.
In Hands Up Don't Shoot criminal justice professor Jennifer
Cobbina examines the factors that led to those two cities flaring up
while public reactions to police murders of Blacks in other cities had
fizzled out. Her research team interviewed almost two hundred
Baltimore and Ferguson residents on a number of dimensions such as
experiences with and perceptions of local police and reasons for
protesting. They discovered that their data fit well with the
flashpoints model with its seven interconnected levels. This shows
why simple solutions, such as hiring more Black police officers, are
doomed to futility.
If you really want to understand and help solve the complex,
intermeshed problems the book covers you'll find Hands Up Don't Shoot
to be a must read.
On a purrrsonal note, Eugene went hunting Saturday so that made it a
work day for me. Sunday was amazing. Pastor Mariah incorporated a
poem I wrote into her sermon and people loved it. That filled my
heart with joy. Tobago cat has now started hymn singing in her own
language. When a hymn starts she jumps up near my laptop and begins
melodiously meowing. I managed a trip to Goodwill and got shirts and
other good stuff. And I had phone chats with all three of my kids.
Can't ask for more.
The temps are dipping. I'm now needing gloves if I do my walking in
the morning. (Jules)
I do have a most melodious meow. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to Pastor Mariah and our church family.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway




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Another goodie from Orono. That town has a mask mandate and demands
that people who own and run big housing complexes have prevention
plans and practices. Way to be proactive! Notice a masked Bananas
the bear (UMaine mascot) at the bottom.

Here is a great sign I saw in Orono yesterday. This is an excellent
one to share with little kids. I think this Halloween I'll be a mask
wearing super hero.

A Public Service Message

A Public Service Message

This is a first for my blog. But then these are dangerous times
for humans on Earth. Cold weather is setting in, making outside
socializing less feasible. Schools and colleges are in session.
Legions of science deniers are trying to get businesses, even bars,
open for business and people bare faced. Not surprisingly COVID rates
are going up.
I want you all to stay healthy. So here is a summary of COVID
prevention tips I've picked up from reliable agency newsletters and
medical professionals.
1) Keep up with the social distancing. Stay away from places you'll
be in close proximity to others, especially where you have to remove
your mask to eat or drink. Use your computer or phone to socialize.
2) Wear the mask correctly. Make sure it covers everything it's meant
to. Don't be deterred by slogans like if you wear a mask you're a
communist.
3) Don't touch your face. I think that's the hardest one because it's
a very hard-to-break habit, one we don't even notice.
4) Wash your hands frequently and long enough. If you're tired of
singing the Happy Birthday song sing happy retirement to those you
hope will lose on Election Day.
5) It's a pain in the neck. But don't let up on sanitizing commonly
touched surfaces like doorknobs and smart phones. Keep up with
laundry and wash bedding, sofa pillows, and towels frequently.
6) Keep up your health by sleeping enough, trying for 150 minutes of
exercise a week, and eating as well as possible.
7) Don't let yourself get too stressed and/or depressed. Be very
selective in your social media usage. Do the things you can safely
enjoy. I end each day with reading time. Stay in touch with your
people who bring you joy. If you can and want to adopt a rescue
animal. I can't imagine managing without my sweet Tobago. Meditation
and yoga are good choices.
8) Remember there is nothing weak about getting help. It's a very
strong choice. I plan on checking in with my school's counseling
center this coming week.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


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And I'm over the moon seeing this sign that says it all on someone's
lawn.

Of course I took my smart phone on my walk. I love this Orono store
window.

In Search Of Safety

In Search Of Safety

YA/adult nonfiction
"It was a long, long process. It took about five years to be
vetted. First they interviewed us individually, and then as a family;
that is, everyone living in our house. We had to make a case about
why we couldn't go back to our birth country. What happened to you?
Why do you fear going back?...?
Refugees are not opportunists seeking to take advantage of
America's welfare system or terrorists out to sabotage our way of
life. They are people for whom staying in their often beloved
countries is just not safe. Usually they've suffered brutality and
lost family members. Many have had far from temporary stays in
primitive, dangerous refugee camps. Then when the lucky chosen few
arrive in America they face many challenges.
Susan Kuklin brings this harsh reality to life in her In Search
Of Safety, Voices of Refugees, quoted above, a rich blend of narrative
and photographs. Five refugees tell their stories. Readers will meet
*Fraidon (Afghanistan) who had to flee with his wife and very young
children because after years of assisting the American military the
Taliban was out to kill him;
*Nathan (Myanmar) who grew up in a refugee camp after his parents were
persecuted by members of another ethnic group;
*Nyaroot (South Sudan) who had to flee with her family when the men
with the guns came;
*Shireen who was captured and brutally abused by Isis--18 of her
family members are still missing;
and *Dieudonne (Burundi) who fled an ethnic massacre with his family.
"Throughout the day we saw many people dead or dying. The
rivers that we crossed, rivers that were once crystal clear water,
were now flowing red with blood. We were alone, terrified, thinking
someone could catch us at any time. It was horrific."
This book is very personal for Kuklin. Her grandparents had to
flee the perils of Russia and Ukraine. "...When my ancestors left
home, they knew they would never again see the country of their
birth. Never again would they see their parents, aunts, and
uncles..." Seeing the similarities between their experiences and those
of present day refugees, she decided to thank the former by letting
the latter tell their stories.
Finding the refugees turned out to be harder than Kuklin
expected. For many potential subjects the experience was still too
raw and painful to relive. Overworked agencies didn't have time to
connect her with people. Although she lives in New York City, home to
many of our nation's newcomers, she had to travel to Nebraska for this
project.
Although In Search Of Safety is targetted to YA readers, it's at
least as relevant for adults. In fact, when there is frank discussion
of topics like rape, I would be cautious about sharing it with younger
teens, especially more sensitive ones. At least read it first.
It is one of the most powerful books on the subject I've ever
seen.
On a purrrsonal note, the rest of my school week went well.
Statistics class was super! The second half was review which is when
Craig asks us the questions. I answered nearly all of them. In that
class I am the Hermione Granger. (If you don't get that allusion you
really need to read the Harry Potter series). Last night Eugene was
saying we need to change banks because the credit union has limited
hours. (I used to bring the money in when I was commuting to school.)
I said I'd bring it in. He said "But you don't use the bus." Not now
with COVID cases climbing again. He said I'd get run over on Route
2. I've been walking it over 30 years. He left the money out and I
handled the walk just fine, especially since my BFF Lisa gave me a
ride part of the way. (Masks and she has a big car). So the money
got put in the credit union, no one got run over or contaged. I was
happy to pocket the $20 Eugene said I could have...
...and I've made it through the second week of my exercise program
without missing a day!!! I'm gonna really get in shape!!!
I hope you have a great and safe weekend! (Jules)
It is getting colder now. The growly thing goes on now to make the
house toasty warm. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to the legions of fuel delivery people
making their annointed rounds.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway



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I especially loved this part of the display from the other side of the
driveway!

I loved this seasonal display I saw while out walking. There was even
music to go with. Way to share the celebration!

This Stops Today

This Stops Today

Adult nonfiction
"I know there are no simple answers, but I do think change is
possible. I always taught my children to respect law enforcement and
to watch how they come across. Even after everything that has
happened, I certainly don't blame all officers for Eric's death--just
the opposite. I only wanted to see justice against those who
participated in my son's suffering and choking. They are the only
ones at fault in my opinion."
Gwen Carr had no plans to become an activist. She was nearing
the end of her working years and looking forward to retirement,
envisioning a more leisurely life. She was probably looking forward
to having more time with her beloved grandchildren.
Then one fateful day changed her life. Her first born son, Eric
Garner, was choked to death by police officers who even ignored his
desperate plea that he couldn't breathe. His death had been filmed
by cell phones and gone viral on the Internet.
Carr had already lost her younger son to violence. As most of
us would have been in a similar situation, she was initially overcome
with grief and loss. Then, however, she chose a path most of us would
have shied away from. She decided that if she could keep Eric's
murder in the public consciousness, his name on people's lips, maybe
she could get justice for him and help make it so other people
wouldn't suffer his fate.
"...This was my new mission and my purpose. It fulfilled me and gave
me the satisfaction that I was truly putting my energy where it had
the most impact. I wasn't sitting at home. I was out in the
community, on the evening news, and on the radio, telling everyone my
story."
In This Stops Today, Carr shares her evolution from reserved
grandmother to daring activist. She also introduces readers to her
family including the loving son who was taken much too soon. This
fine book is a must read for those who believe that Black lives have
to matter immensely.
On a purrrsonal note, the first part of this work week has been
spectacular for me. First thing Monday morning I learned that my
grade for statistics assignment three is 100% excellent!!! I was so
pleased and proud I walked two miles each way to Tradewinds to buy a
pint of Ben & Jerrys Cherry Garcia ice cream just for me (getting my
walking out of the way and taking more seasonal pictures to share with
you at the same time.) I have the potential to go from statistics geek
to statistics goddess. Then Tuesday I had my first wellness checkup
in a couple of decades. It turns out that I am the picture of
health: strong, steady heartbeat, clear lungs...all that good stuff.
And when I shared my action plan to eliminate most of my bad habits
and cut the rest down to size (as in I don't want to totally give up
candy and ice cream) to the nurse practitioner who examined me and
showed her my walking record notebook she said, "Jules, you're amazing."
I am damn lucky too. There are so many people who have really crappy
diagnoses through no fault of their own. Like my mother-in-law who
has had to cope with Parkinsons for decades and my neighbor who uses a
wheelchair because of multiple sclerosis. I am going to be very
grateful and push for medical research into chronic illnesses using
subjects across all demographics rather than the "sexy" stuff that
earns huge profits for Big Pharma. (Jules)
I am glad my hooman is the picture of health. I need her. And not
just for opening cans of food. (Tobago)
A great big shout out to Craig, the prof who really makes statistics
come to life, and the crew of Mabel Wadsworth Women's Health Center.
They are so awesome that I'm going to have a wellness checkup every
year instead of every other decade. And a great big shout out to you,
my readers. Please get your flu shot like I just did. You do not
want to get the double whammy of COVID and flu at the same time.
Trust us on that.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway



Sent from my iPod

I had been avoiding taking pictures of political signs. But I
couldn't resist this one. Maybe this is the population Susan Collins
is serving. Based on her voting record, I can't see her as helping
women (voting to confirm an antichoice supreme court judge with sexual
misconduct allegations against him) or people who aren't rich (voting
yes on massive tax cuts for the rich which are historically followed
by cuts in services for the poor and just getting by).

This is a picture my younger daughter sent me. She is every bit as
smart and talented and kind and ethical as she is gorgeous. When it
comes to kids I sure lucked out!

Two Can Keep A Secret

Two Can Keep A Secret

YA mystery
"This time it's not just graffiti. Three dolls hang from the
top of a mausoleum, nooses around their necks. They're all wearing
crowns and long, glittering dresses, drenched in red paint. And just
like at the cultural center, red letters drip like blood across the
white stone beneath them:
I'M BACK
PICK YOUR QUEEN, ECHO RIDGE
HAPPY HOMECOMING"
Echo Ridge, setting of Karen McManus' Two Can Keep A Secret, is
your basic quaint American small town...
...except for the fact that the main source of teen jobs is a
horror theme park whose name was changed from Murderland to Fright
Farm after...
...In Echo Ridge not all high school homecomings end well.
Ellery is coming to Echo Ridge to live with her grandmother
while her mother, Sadie, serves a court mandated rehab. Back in their
high school days Sadie was crowned homecoming queen while her twin
sister, Sarah, disappeared, never to be seen again. Although Ellery
and twin brother, Ezra, have never before set foot in Echo Ridge,
everyone knows who they are.
Malcolm has lived in Echo Ridge most of his life, much of it as
an outcast. Five years earlier the town's beloved homecoming queen,
Lacey, disappeared. Her body was discovered near the theme park
ferris wheel. Malcolm's brother, DeClan, as Lacey's boyfriend, was
chief suspect. When he left town the community's anger was diverted
to Malcolm.
Ominous omens are appearing. The upcoming homecoming may very
well have a sinister aftermath.
The narrative, told in Ellery and Malcolm's alternating voices,
is as spine chilling as the Fright Farm roller coaster. Come along
for a wild ride...
...if you dare.
A very good choice for a Halloween read!
On a purrrsonal note, I had a mostly good weekend. Tobago sat on my
lap for five minutes. It's the first time she ever has! I was so
filled with joy! I may yet have a lap cat. I finished my third
statistics assignment and had the heady feeling of really owning the
concepts. I talked to all three of my kids on the phone. At zoom
church after the service two of my friends were talking about how
excellent my poems are. And of course I had me some good reading.
The only source of stress was Eugene leaving his cell phone at home
when he did an overnight at camp. Out in the middle of nowhere with
no way to call for help in an emergency. Like if he was cutting up
wood and his chainsaw slipped. I was so glad to see him safely
home!!! (Jules)
I was so happy to see him too! (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to Eugene and our children.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


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Another morning walk picture. You can see what's coming up in a
couple of weeks. Wonder what Halloween will be like this year.

I took this milkweed picture walking this morning. I think there is
something lovely and graceful about the silky seeds emerging from the
pods and drifting on the wind. Also the monarch butterflies that need
this plant for survival.

One Good Thing About America

One Good Thing About America

Juvenile fiction
"Dear Oma,
We go to my new school today. It is very BIG. Mama and me and Jean-
Claude walk from the motel and find school. Mama write and write many
papers for the school..."
Anais, protagonist of Ruth Freeman's One Good Thing About
America, is making a much bigger adjustment than most kids changing
schools. She and her mother and little brother have immigrated from a
war torn African nation. The hotel they live in is a shelter.
For Anais English is a serious challenge. So much besides
language is also new: food, clothing, living in a city, holidays,
customs...even weather.
"...I looked and was thinking it was only a little feather
falling down. From a city bird. But then more white things were
falling. What is this, I said. Mama said it was snow. SNOW?..."
And she has more worries than most nine-year-olds. Her father and
older brother, are still in their home country, fleeing from the
military.
Anais' story is told in a series of letters to her beloved
grandmother who is also still in Africa. Oma wants her to say one
good thing about America in each letter. Sometimes it is very hard.
And sometimes it is easy, as when she first experiences Halloween
Trick Or Treat.
"...it was like a good dream! A best dream ever! So many kinds
of candy..."
Author Freeman was so impressed with an ELL (English Language
Learning) class she made an author's visit to that she went back to
school for a Masters in teaching and ELL certification. She now
teaches in an elementary school. In her author's note she tells us:
"In writing this story, I wanted to give readers a glimpse of
what it is like for a brand new student to arrive in an American
school from another culture. I hope readers will see that newcomers
who are trying to navigate life at school have often left family and
friends at home in their native country. Some have gone through a lot
of hardship to get here. They have so much to learn and to process
while they are still children..."
In a country where the president demonizes immigrants One Good
Thing About America should be in all school and and public libraries.
On a purrrsonal note, well I have some AWESOME news!!! I talked to
my advisor and she agreed that I should take the second statistics
class spring semester and that I should have an assessment
concentration. Remember when you were a kid and you had one thing you
wanted more than ANYTHING ELSE for Christmas or your birthday or
something and you got it? That's how I felt. I've managed to keep my
exercise up for a week. That's my pathetic pandemic best. Let's see
how I'm doing a week from now. (Jules)
My hooman is very happy. She talked to a little person in her zoom
box and acted like someone gave her tuna and nip. Hoomans are hard to
figure out. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to my advisor.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


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Another random nature picture from the trailer park.

The petunias Eugene planted for me last spring. I'm amazed that
they're still hanging in there given our current night temps.

When Stars Are Scattered

When Stars Are Scattered

YA Graphic novel
A picture is worth a thousand words. A good graphic novel shows
the truth of that adage. Victoria Jamieson and Omar Mohamed's When
Stars Are Scattered is one of the finest examples of this genre I've
ever seen.
Omar spent many of his growing up years in Dadaab, a refugee
camp in Kenya. He was born in Somalia. One day he was playing under
a tree when men with guns came. Seperated from his mother, his father
dead, he made the arduous and dangerous trek to the camp.
The camp is supposed to be a temporary shelter. But when the
story begins Omar has been there seven years. Very few people get to
resettle in countries like Canada and the United States. He is always
hungry. And every day is the same, centered on chores like waiting to
get water from the camp's one source.
One day a community organizer tries to convince Omar to attend
school. It's a hard sell. Who will take care of his younger brother,
Hassan, who is nonverbal and has a seizure disorder while he is in
class. What does he need education for anyway?
What will he decide? Read the book and see.
With it's perfect blend of narrative and illustration, When
Stars Are Scattered is the perfect way to introduce children and teens
to the complexities of overseas civil war.
Omar ends his author's note with a paragraph that is highly
relevant in these pandemic times:
"Please take away from the reading of this book an understanding
that you should never give up hope. In the camp, we were given
courage by our faith to always be patient and to never give up hope.
Things may seem impossible, but if you keep working hard and believe
in yourself, you can overcome anything in your path. I hope that my
story will inspire you to always persevere."
Coauthor Victoria hopes that the book will inspire schools and
communities to help both people in refugee camps and new refugee
families in their own neighborhoods.
On a purrrsonal note, recall I had a computer crisis Friday? It has
been resolved. My computer genius son, Adam, was able to diagnose the
problem and tell me what to do. That was a life saver where I'm going
to school on line.
I had a funny experience with Tobago. I was taking a bath and had
just lathered up my hair when Tobago was in the tub behind me, almost
up to her head. But she wasn't shredding the close at paw shower
curtain to get out. When I lifted her out I didn't get a single
scratch. She just walked out of the bathroom casually rather than
tear out as if the devil was on her tail. This did not go with my
previous cat experience. Some cats tolerate or like water immersion
but most don't. I rinsed my hair, dried off, dressed, and grabbed a
towel to look for Tobago. She was nearly dry. Wet cats usually take
forever. Then I realized Tobago has seal like fur. Perhaps more
water resistant cats would find water less aversive? Perhaps I'm
studying statistics too much?
Speaking of statistics, I got the grades for my first two
assignments: 92% and 94%. (Jules)
That was a very strange experience. (Tobago).
Great big shout outs go out to my son, Adam, and my statistics
professor, Craig.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway



Sent from my iPod

Here are some more of my wind chimes. I am sorta dreading the short
days and long nights and cold stormy weather of winter more than I do
in normal (non pandemic) years. Do you find the prospect a little
lonlier and scarier?

These are some of my more delicate wind chimes. One of the annual
tasks that makes me feel wistful is putting them safely in the shed in
anticipation of late fall and winter inclement weather. Guess I'll
tackle that task before I start supper.

Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry

Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry

Juvenile fiction
Cassie, narrator of Mildred Taylor's Roll of Thunder, Hear My
Cry, and her brothers, Stacey, Christopher John, and Little Man, are
growing up in a loving, close knit family. They're also luckier than
most of their peers, the children of sharecroppers. Their family owns
the land on which their home rests.
However, they're Black children growing up in the rural south
during the Depression. It's a time when few southern Whites would
recognize their worth or even humanity. And those whose pride lies in
their skin color do all they can to keep Blacks, even young children,
"in their place."
Microaggressions abound. Children who go to the White school
have a bus. The driver amuses them by speeding up to spray the
walking Black children with red clay dust or ditch water. The long
awaited textbooks the Black students get hand-me-downed from the White
school are battered and filthy. There's a heart breaking incident
when Cassie bumps into a White girl, Lillian Jean, whose father
insists she apologize. Sure her grandmother, Big Ma, will stick up
for her, she's stunned when:
"'I'm sorry, Miz Lillian Jean,' demanded Mr. Sims.
'Big Ma', I balked.
'Say it, child'."
There are much more sinister events taking place. Night Riders
terrorize the Black community. When three members of a Black family
are set on fire by the owners of a local store nothing is done about it.
Taylor's wonderful ability to think and write in the voice of a
child will have younger readers seeing the world through Cassie's eyes
and sharing in her experiences. This fine narrative will also touch
the hearts and minds of parents, maybe setting the stage for important
family discussions.
On a purrrsonal note, I hope you had a good weekend. I did. Eugene
went hunting all day with his brother Saturday. Then today he was
over in Winterport. I got plenty of statistics studying done. I've
almost completed Assignment 3. (Assignment 1 won't be due til October
23. Can't accuse me of waiting til the last minute.) I started an
exercise program for the 3rd time since the pandemic hit. (Before I
didn't have to because I had an active life.) I walked both days.
Saturday temps went into the 70s. I could open the windows, much to
Tobago's delight. Saturday night was a thunder storm. Tobago was
terrified. Sunday I went to zoom church. Connie told people about my
completing my 10th gallon at the Red Cross. People were impressed.
After the service we were randomly put in small group chat rooms.
(Now I know what a chat room is.) My group had a very lively
discussion. I had a lot to say.
Tomorrow is Indigenous People's Day. Please, if you enjoy a day off,
contemplate all they have suffered and the need for reparations.
(Jules)
Thunder hurts my delicate ears. It is much too loud. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to the indiginous peoples of our nation.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


Sent from my iPod

And doesn't this perfect flower just deserve to be a star. The wind
was gusting so much I was sure it would take ten or so tries for a non
blurry image. Got it on my first try.

I took this picture today while I was out walking. I just like the
way the berries contrasted with the leaves.

Then She Was Gone

Then She Was Gone

Adult mystery
"She'd made her beans on toast, sat and watched her eat it.
Hanna. Her middle child. The difficult one. The tiring one. The
one she wouldn't want to be stranded on a desert island with. And a
terrible thought shot through her, so fast she barely registered it.
It should be you missing and Ellie eating beans on toast."
Ellie (15) was her mother, Laurel's favorite child, her golden
girl. It would seem that she had an, if not idyllic, at least
enviable life. She excelled at school. She was being courted by the
boy of her dreams.
But one day she never returned from a trip to the library.
Intensive searches had yielded no clues to Ellie's disappearance
until a tenth anniversary reconstruction had uncovered the backpack
Ellie had taken to the library and some mangled human bones.
Those ten ten years have been hard ones for Laurel, protagonist
of Lisa Jewell's Then She Was Gone. Her marriage has ended in
divorce. Her remaining children have grown and flown. But even
before their physical departure they had checked out emotionally. Her
days have settled into a monotonous routine.
"...She worked in the marketing department of the shopping
center in High Barnet. Once a week she went to see her mother in an
old people's home in Enfield. Once a week she cleaned Hanna's flat.
The rest of the time she did things she pretended were important to
her, like buying plants to decorate her balcony with, like visiting
friends she no longer cared about to drink coffee she did not enjoy
and talk about things she had no interest in..."
Laurel's life seems to change for the better when, eating lunch
in a cafe, she catches the eye of handsome Floyd. A restaurant date
quickly morphs into a romance. Before you know it they're sleeping
together and meeting each other's families.
But Floyd may not be quite the person he's presenting himself
as. And he may even hold the key to Ellie's disappearance. His
younger daughter bears an uncanny resemblance to Laurel's missing child.
On a purrrsonal note, I am super discouraged. I opened my one and
only laptop. It didn't turn on. I charged it until the charger light
went green. I tried the on button. Nothing worked. I called IT at
the University. They were clueless. They gave me the Apple number.
The woman there said I'll have to get it repaired or replaced. As if
I can afford that. But school is on zoom. And the laptop is the only
device I have zoom on. My faith in computers' reliabilty is back down
to zero.
Jules Hathaway




Sent from my iPod

Tobago distracting me from statistics by being adorable. Could you
resist a sweet little face like that?

This is a selfie I took when I got home after donating blood. As you
can see I'm feeling great. Notice the sticker on my cat shirt.
I'm learning how to take selfies, but I still prefer pictures taken by
someone else.

Home Before Dark

Home Before Dark

Adult mystery
"Every house a story.
Ours is a ghost story.
It's also a lie.
And now that yet another person has died within these walls,
it's finally time to tell the truth."
Maggie has been known for most of her life as the girl from the
Book. When she was five her parents bought a fixer upper mansion in
rural Vermont filled with pricey antiques for a suspiciously low
price. The realtor had to admit that it was a stigmatized property.
Bad things had happened there including a murder-suicide involving a
young child. But where else could they get such a great property dirt
cheap?
Only the place turns out to be not such a bargain. Bad stuff
starts happening almost as soon as they move in. Snakes infest the
place. Lights and a record player go on in seemingly empty rooms.
Creepy noises make sleep impossible. Maggie is tormented by a trio of
menacing ghosts. Over a period of twenty days the horrors escalate so
rapidly that the family is forced to flee for their lives, leaving all
their possessions behind.
Maggie's father writes a memoir that becomes a viral best
seller. Some people believe every word. Others see it as a scam. As
a child and teen Maggie was isolated by peers who saw her as weird.
Even as an adult she's recognized by people who want juicy details.
What was it really like to live in Baneberry Hall for twenty days?
When her father dies he wills the place--now greatly run down--
to Maggie. She returns not only to renovate it enough to sell, but to
seek out the truth. She's convinced that the book was pure fabrication.
Or was it? As soon as she sets foot in the house manifestations
of peril and evil begin again. Surprisingly some locals say the story
is authentic.
What can she believe?
Chapters alternate between decades with Maggie narrating the
later ones and her father the earlier ones. Lovers of spine chilling
mysteries, especially Simone St. James fans, will find Home Before
Dark to be a must read.
On a purrrsonal note, I succeeded in donating blood yesterday,
completing my tenth gallon. I was so happy because, thanks to the
pandemic, I hadn't been able to donate since February. I ate iron
fortified cereal by the boxful. I intend to stay in the 99th
percentile. My friend who gave me a ride, Connie, also donated.
Saving lives makes for a good day trip. Afterward at Tradewinds she
paid for my candy and ice tea to celebrate my tenth gallon which I
greatly appreciated. My kids are so proud of me. (Jules)
My hooman is studying too much. It can't be good for anyone. I have
to keep sitting on the textbook to distract her with my total
adorableness. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to the Red Cross nurses and Connie and
my kids.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


Sent from my iPod

Another happy family picnic picture. You gotta celebrate good times
(safely) whenever you can.

My new Goodwill shirts. Both capture aspects of my purrrsonality.
The dilligent cat with the glasses is taking a short break from
studying statistics. Her fabulous feline friend is eagerly awaiting
the chance to dazzle the crowd in drag shows when it's once again safe
enough for public performances.
Seriously, if you have a little discretionary cash you should revisit
your local Goodwill, especially if you still haven't acquired a
Halloween costume. They have amazing stuff at bargain prices. And
they have strict COVID rules.

The Last Time I Lied

The Last Time I Lied

Adult mystery
"The Girls could be anywhere. That's what you realize as you
stand in the water, shivering hard. They're out there. Somewhere.
And it could take days to find them. Or weeks. There's a chance
they'll never be found."
Ah, sleep over camp. Those unforgettable memories: sleeping in
a cabin with friends, meals at the lodge, swimming, arts and crafts,
campfires, camper abduction...
What? No one vanished in the dead of the night at your camp?
Guess you didn't attend Camp Nightingale, the setting brought eerily
to life in Riley Sager's The Last Time I Lied.
It isn't just any old camp. It's rumored to be haunted.
Midnight Lake, the body of water it's situated on, is man made. It
was created by flooding a valley even though the residents of an
institution had not been able to leave. It's believed that their
spirits linger at the place of their untimely death...
...or worse.
Protagonist Emma first attends camp as a thirteen-year-old.
Arriving late, she's placed in a cabin with older girls and befriended
by popular and tempestuous Vivian who considers her a younger sister.
It turns out that Vivian has decided to investigate a mystery. One
day she shows Emma a strange box.
And one day Emma wakes up to find her three cabinmates missing.
Police and townspeople search the area intensively. The girls can't
be found. The camp is closed.
Emma becomes an artist haunted by the past. In every one of her
pictures she draws three girls and then paints a frightening forest
scene over them. She carries a guilty secret related to her
cabinmates' disappearance.
So when, fifteen years later, the camp is reopened and she's
invited to come back as an arts instructor, she returns, feeling that
she owes it to the missing girls to discover what happened to them...
...only the same malevolent forces that Vivian had sensed may
still be present and ready to menace Emma and a new group of campers.
On a purrrsonal note, I hope you had a good weekend. I did. Eugene
went to camp to hunt. I stayed to home with precious Tobago. I had a
productive work day. I let myself read five hours at night and
finished off my birthday candy. When Eugene got home Sunday we went
leaf peeping. We got subs for lunch. We stopped in at Goodwill and
he got me two cute cat shirts.
This Wednesday before class I'm going with my friend, Connie, to
donate blood. If I have enough iron to donate I'll have earned my 10
gallon pin. I've really been chowing down on iron rich foods. On the
way home we'll stop by a convenience store and I will get pringles,
chocolate candy, and a real soda. I have class Wednesday night. But
Thursday night I'll have me a reading and junk food party, which you
will benefit from when I review what I read. :-) (Jules)
They better not try to take my blood. I hate needles with a passion.
(Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to the mystery writers who create such
good reading escapes for pandemic times.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


Sent from my iPod

These are some of the treasures Amber put in my birthday box. The
earrings are my new favorites.
BTW if you're looking for any cool Halloween crafts or something batty
to celebrate National Bat Month, check out Amber's crafts blog: https://amberscraftaweek.blogspot.com
Bats are our friends. They chow down on a lot of insect pests.

This is a picture I took in the trailer park right after the storm. I
just thought it was a pretty scene. (Autumn in Maine is a great time
for nature photography.) But notice how tranquil it all looks. You'd
never guess.

Someone Knows

Someone Knows

Adult mystery
The mystery fans among you, my readers, are in luck. This
review and the next three will be of spine chillers of the best sort.
I have been indulging in one of my favorite nonguilty pleasures. I
hope I can entice you to join me.
"Nobody tells you that you'll do things when you're young that
are so stupid, so unbelievably stupid, so horifically stupid that
years later you won't be able to believe it. You'll be on your
laptop, or reading a book or pumping gas, and you'll find yourself
shaking your head because you'll be thinking no, no, no, I didn't do
that, I was not a part of that, it could not have happened."
Except that it did. In Lisa Scottoline's Someone Knows the
participants in a teen experience (those who lived to not tell about
it) are living the nightmare twenty years later.
Allie had existed in the shadow of Jill, the sister who had died
a year earlier of cystic fibrosis. With her mother falling apart and
her father focussed on making Jill's death not in vain she was pretty
much isolated. Sasha was the popular mean girl whose career parents
were away more often than not. David was under immense pressure from
his father to be a sports star and to be straight. Julian was the
spoiled scion of an ultrarich family who was obsessed with lust for
Sasha.
The discovery of a gun buried in the woods near their homes
brought this foursome into an uneasy pact to keep everyone else from
learning their secret...
...but you know about teens and secrets. Sasha invited a
newcomer, Kyle, to one of their meetings. Julian said Kyle must prove
himself by playing Russian roulette. There wasn't supposed to be a
bullet in the chamber...
...but...you guessed it.
Exactly twenty years after the incident David commits suicide.
Allie believes his death is related to the incident. This time she's
willing to reveal the long buried truth.
But someone will stop at nothing to keep this from happening.
On a purrrsonal note, in our last post Tobago revealed that we were
in the middle of a scary storm. We lost electricity for hours.
(101,000 Maine households lost power). Luckily I only lost 25 minutes
of zoom statistics. The second half was really fun. Craig was going
over some stuff people had questions on. He was asking us lots of
questions. I was answering a lot and feeling like, hey, I understand
this stuff. This morning I was in a zoom meeting. We were asked who
wanted to be on a subcommittee. Right after I said I will Tobago
popped up and said meow. "Well we have Jules and her cat." I have no
idea what I'll do this weekend. I have my duffle bag packed in case
Eugene and I are going to camp. Luckily Emily delivered a book fix
big enough for even camp. (Jules)
The big scary storm is over. (Tobago).
A great big shout out goes out to my stats professor, Craig, and my
personal bookmobile driver, Emily.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


Sent from my iPod

re: Cheap Facebook Traffic

hi
sidebarelegantnoreply

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