Looks like our bear chum is ready for the April showers.
Sent from my U.S.Cellular© Smartphone
Tuesday, March 29, 2022
This Is Your Time
This Is Your Time
Ice Breaker
Breaking The Ice
The theme of today's juvenile nonfiction round up is ice
breakers: brave kids going into places where they'd previously been
excluded by reason of color or gender and paving their way for their
peers.
In 1960 Ruby Bridges became the first Black child to go to a
previously all white school in New Orleans. This tiny first grader
had to be escorted to and from school every day by federal marshals.
Her life was in danger from the crowds of angry segregationists who
threw things at her and threatened her. She and her teacher were the
only ones in the classroom. The white children's parents had pulled
them out of school.
Sixty years later Bridges wrote a love letter to today's
children in the form of a book, This Is Your Time. She shares her
painful and confusing early experiences. But she also talks about her
conversations with children all around the world who haven't learned
prejudice and the hope they give her. And she inspires kids to help
make change happen.
The black and white photographs complement the text
beautifully. The abusive crowds of irate segregationists are in vivid
contrast to the tiny, neatly dressed girl child.
Parents of young children, please share this book with your sons
and daughters and be ready to candidly answer why questions.
"When Mabel gets to the front
they send her away.
'Colored are not allowed,' they say.
It's 1930 and only white skaters
are allowed on the ice."
Mabel Fairbanks, protagonist of Rose Vina's ice breaker, had a
tempestuous early life. At eight she was orphaned and sent from the
Florida Everglades to New York City to live with a brother. At nine
she was homeless in the Big Apple.
Mabel's life began to turn around when a family took her in. On
a frozen lake she discovered a passion for figure skating. But when
that ice melted she was not allowed in a nearby ice rink because of
the color of her skin.
That was only the first obstacle Mabel faced in her mission to
make the world of ice skating competition open to Blacks. Sports
loving children will really enjoy this inspiring narrative.
In 1977 Manon Rheaume watched her brothers play ice hockey and
yearned to join them. Only that was a nonstarter. Ice hockey, along
with football and baseball, was considered guys only.
But one day the kids' team that Manon's dad coached was short a
goalie. Manon was sure she could fill in. She didn't have hockey
skates. But she had plenty of experience playing with her brothers
who always put her on goal.
Manon's first game made it clear that she loved the sport as
much as she thought she would and had the necessary talent to develop
through practice.
And the rest is herstory.
Sports loving kids will adore Angie Bullaro's Breaking The Ice.
On a purrrsonal note, Monday was the first day masks became optional
rather than mandatory at work. It was part of UMaine's new rules. We
got the news last Friday and had the weekend to make our decisions. I
wasn't at all surprised that most people opted to ditch. I also don't
blame them. It gets really hard to breathe. But I'm taking the yes
option. Doing tables means I'm in the floor interacting with between
six and eight hundred customers a shift as opposed to behind a
plexiglass shield or sequestered scrubbing pots. I'll unmask when
Anthony Fauci does--not one day sooner. I'm not angry with my
unmasked colleagues. I do think the rush to go back to "normal" is
premature, especially with rumors of a deltacron combining omicron's
contagiouness with delta's severity. (Jules)
We're still seeing snow. Isn't it supposed to be spring? That's what
the calendar says. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to my fellow still masking folks and
the scientists who are urging us to still exercise caution.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Ice Breaker
Breaking The Ice
The theme of today's juvenile nonfiction round up is ice
breakers: brave kids going into places where they'd previously been
excluded by reason of color or gender and paving their way for their
peers.
In 1960 Ruby Bridges became the first Black child to go to a
previously all white school in New Orleans. This tiny first grader
had to be escorted to and from school every day by federal marshals.
Her life was in danger from the crowds of angry segregationists who
threw things at her and threatened her. She and her teacher were the
only ones in the classroom. The white children's parents had pulled
them out of school.
Sixty years later Bridges wrote a love letter to today's
children in the form of a book, This Is Your Time. She shares her
painful and confusing early experiences. But she also talks about her
conversations with children all around the world who haven't learned
prejudice and the hope they give her. And she inspires kids to help
make change happen.
The black and white photographs complement the text
beautifully. The abusive crowds of irate segregationists are in vivid
contrast to the tiny, neatly dressed girl child.
Parents of young children, please share this book with your sons
and daughters and be ready to candidly answer why questions.
"When Mabel gets to the front
they send her away.
'Colored are not allowed,' they say.
It's 1930 and only white skaters
are allowed on the ice."
Mabel Fairbanks, protagonist of Rose Vina's ice breaker, had a
tempestuous early life. At eight she was orphaned and sent from the
Florida Everglades to New York City to live with a brother. At nine
she was homeless in the Big Apple.
Mabel's life began to turn around when a family took her in. On
a frozen lake she discovered a passion for figure skating. But when
that ice melted she was not allowed in a nearby ice rink because of
the color of her skin.
That was only the first obstacle Mabel faced in her mission to
make the world of ice skating competition open to Blacks. Sports
loving children will really enjoy this inspiring narrative.
In 1977 Manon Rheaume watched her brothers play ice hockey and
yearned to join them. Only that was a nonstarter. Ice hockey, along
with football and baseball, was considered guys only.
But one day the kids' team that Manon's dad coached was short a
goalie. Manon was sure she could fill in. She didn't have hockey
skates. But she had plenty of experience playing with her brothers
who always put her on goal.
Manon's first game made it clear that she loved the sport as
much as she thought she would and had the necessary talent to develop
through practice.
And the rest is herstory.
Sports loving kids will adore Angie Bullaro's Breaking The Ice.
On a purrrsonal note, Monday was the first day masks became optional
rather than mandatory at work. It was part of UMaine's new rules. We
got the news last Friday and had the weekend to make our decisions. I
wasn't at all surprised that most people opted to ditch. I also don't
blame them. It gets really hard to breathe. But I'm taking the yes
option. Doing tables means I'm in the floor interacting with between
six and eight hundred customers a shift as opposed to behind a
plexiglass shield or sequestered scrubbing pots. I'll unmask when
Anthony Fauci does--not one day sooner. I'm not angry with my
unmasked colleagues. I do think the rush to go back to "normal" is
premature, especially with rumors of a deltacron combining omicron's
contagiouness with delta's severity. (Jules)
We're still seeing snow. Isn't it supposed to be spring? That's what
the calendar says. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to my fellow still masking folks and
the scientists who are urging us to still exercise caution.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Sunday, March 27, 2022
Five Days
Five Days
Adult nonfiction
"...The violence [police brutality] was physical but correlated
with the emotional violence that was often its cause or consequence.
And the violence was pervasive, a factor in every decision you made--
which streets you walked down, what time you started and ended your
day, whom you trusted. The most quotidian decisions were shaped by
determined abnormalities. You called it life."
Freddie Gray, born in Baltimore, had the odds against him all of
his too short life. His mother was an illiterate woman with an
addiction to heroin. He was born premature and spent the first months
of his life in the hospital. When he was two he was diagnosed with
elevated levels of lead in his blood. The toxin led to academic and
behavioral challenges that made school a struggle.
April 12, 2015 Gray was arrested. He was put in leg irons and
placed in a police van. He arrived at the police station
unconscious. April 14 he underwent emergency surgery. April 19 he
was declared dead.
Gray's murder was the straw that broke the camel's back for many
Baltimore residents. Peaceful protests escalated into conflicts
between citizens and police. Eventually the National Guard was called
in.
Wes Moore's Five Days: The Fiery Reckoning Of An American City
describes five pivotal days (April 25-29) from the perspectives of
eight very diverse participants including:
*Tawanda, an activist whose brother had been killed by the police two
years earlier;
*Partee, a police officer facing situations his training had nowhere
near prepared him for;
*Anthony, running a roller skating rink that was keeping a lot of kids
off the streets;
and *Jenny, a public defender in the juvenile justice system.
In his author's note Moore discusses some of the deep rooted
systemic injustices behind the citizens' anger and uprising. This is
a great read for those new to Black Lives Matter.
On a purrrsonal note, this was a very important weekend for me.
Yesterday was the Dirigo Leadership Conference. My presentation (my
first big presentation) was late in the afternoon. I used my backpack
project as an example of how people can use their skills, interests/
passions, connections, and knowledge of local challenges to create
programs where they live. I think it went well. I came early and did
the whole program. I found the other presentations interesting and
the food delicious. I learned that Dirigo Leadership Society isn't
just for undergrads. I've done enough to earn the first level badge.
Two more badges and I can get inducted. Where I love leadership ops
like Tobago loves cat treats... (Jules)
She should go for it and buy me more cat treats. (Tobago)
A great big shout out to all who did all the on the site directing and
behind the scenes work that made the conference run so smoothly.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"...The violence [police brutality] was physical but correlated
with the emotional violence that was often its cause or consequence.
And the violence was pervasive, a factor in every decision you made--
which streets you walked down, what time you started and ended your
day, whom you trusted. The most quotidian decisions were shaped by
determined abnormalities. You called it life."
Freddie Gray, born in Baltimore, had the odds against him all of
his too short life. His mother was an illiterate woman with an
addiction to heroin. He was born premature and spent the first months
of his life in the hospital. When he was two he was diagnosed with
elevated levels of lead in his blood. The toxin led to academic and
behavioral challenges that made school a struggle.
April 12, 2015 Gray was arrested. He was put in leg irons and
placed in a police van. He arrived at the police station
unconscious. April 14 he underwent emergency surgery. April 19 he
was declared dead.
Gray's murder was the straw that broke the camel's back for many
Baltimore residents. Peaceful protests escalated into conflicts
between citizens and police. Eventually the National Guard was called
in.
Wes Moore's Five Days: The Fiery Reckoning Of An American City
describes five pivotal days (April 25-29) from the perspectives of
eight very diverse participants including:
*Tawanda, an activist whose brother had been killed by the police two
years earlier;
*Partee, a police officer facing situations his training had nowhere
near prepared him for;
*Anthony, running a roller skating rink that was keeping a lot of kids
off the streets;
and *Jenny, a public defender in the juvenile justice system.
In his author's note Moore discusses some of the deep rooted
systemic injustices behind the citizens' anger and uprising. This is
a great read for those new to Black Lives Matter.
On a purrrsonal note, this was a very important weekend for me.
Yesterday was the Dirigo Leadership Conference. My presentation (my
first big presentation) was late in the afternoon. I used my backpack
project as an example of how people can use their skills, interests/
passions, connections, and knowledge of local challenges to create
programs where they live. I think it went well. I came early and did
the whole program. I found the other presentations interesting and
the food delicious. I learned that Dirigo Leadership Society isn't
just for undergrads. I've done enough to earn the first level badge.
Two more badges and I can get inducted. Where I love leadership ops
like Tobago loves cat treats... (Jules)
She should go for it and buy me more cat treats. (Tobago)
A great big shout out to all who did all the on the site directing and
behind the scenes work that made the conference run so smoothly.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Friday, March 25, 2022
The Myth Of Closure
The Myth Of Closure
Adult nonfiction
Poor Tobago cat was napping peacefully in her cat bed. She was
some startled when I yelled, "Yes, my God, yes!!!"
I had just read these words in Pauline Boss' The Myth Of Closure:
"My point is this: Continuing to use the term "closure"
perpetuates the myth that losses and grief have a prescribed time for
ending--or never starting--and that it's emotionally healthier to
close the door on suffering than to face it and learn to live with it."
When Joey, the precious medically fragile tuxedo cat who had
been my beloved companion for sixteen years died I heard every
platitude in the book from loving friends eager for me to stop
grieving and achieve closure. Even though I was probably clinically
depressed I did not want a closure that would strip not only the
sadness but the joy of our journey together. I felt that the
bittersweet blend that let me keep him in my heart with my memories--
his dandelion fluff fur, his strong purrr, the warmth with which he
welcomed me home, the times he curled up on my lap or draped himself
across my neck when I read, his silly antics--intact and also
sometimes grieve was preferable to an sedated forgetting.
"Death ends a life, not a relationship."
Boss validates me. She reminds us that the rush to closure is
not a universal response to loss or forced change. It's a Western way
of dealing with loss. In many cultures there is an ongoing connection
with the dead even ancestors who left quite awhile ago. In America,
with our drive to get back in control of our emotions and lives, we
aren't comfortable with prolonged sadness in ourselves or others.
"The task is to let go of the person we lost but keep them
present in our heart and mind as we gradually rebuild our lives in new
ways. But this takes time and thus requires patience on the part of
those around us..."
If the rush to closure was not an optimal reaction to loss
before the pandemic, it's become even more problematic since.
Basically a pathogenic microorganism has been taking millions of
lives while bringing life as usual to a screeching halt.
"During the time of the pandemic, life became a constancy of loss and
uncertainty. So many deaths, so many obscure losses, harder to
notice, but still causing grief and uncertainty. As family members
and close friends were physically cut off from one another, each
became an ambiguous loss to the other. Not only did we lose their
company, but we also lost our sense of security."
Even if there is a definitive end to the pandemic Boss cautions
against a wholesale rush to closure. Instead she offers six
guidelines toward increasing the kind of resilience that can allow us
to live with (rather than slamming the door on) ambiguity and loss.
There is no order of taking these measures and no time limit.
Who should read this book? Anyone who is living through the
pandemic with its continued losses and uncertainties.
On a purrrsonal note, when Joey was diagnosed with cancer his vet told
me how I could use an apetite building medicine to give him a sizeable
chunk of good time. But we also talked about the difference between
keeping him alive for him and keeping him alive for me. Our last
summer together was incredibly beautiful. But one morning I knew we
were in danger of crossing the line. Stroking his soft fur I talked
about all the good times we'd shared, told him he'd always live on in
my heart, and gave him permission to leave when staying became too
hard. He passed two days later with me there to say goodbye.
But he is still very much with me. I see him in the pictures I have,
the home we shared, the kindness in my children who grew up loving a
medically frail cat, and in the person I evolved into during the
miracle of our years together. Without him I would not be me. And I
truly believe that that transcendent part of him, what we tend to call
soul, lives on. I believe that we will meet up again in some kind of
heaven or in some other forms if reincarnation is a thing. I believe
that a love as great as the one we shared can not be killed.
A great big shout goes out to precious Joey whose unconditional love
and loyalty I treasured and continued to treasure.
Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
Poor Tobago cat was napping peacefully in her cat bed. She was
some startled when I yelled, "Yes, my God, yes!!!"
I had just read these words in Pauline Boss' The Myth Of Closure:
"My point is this: Continuing to use the term "closure"
perpetuates the myth that losses and grief have a prescribed time for
ending--or never starting--and that it's emotionally healthier to
close the door on suffering than to face it and learn to live with it."
When Joey, the precious medically fragile tuxedo cat who had
been my beloved companion for sixteen years died I heard every
platitude in the book from loving friends eager for me to stop
grieving and achieve closure. Even though I was probably clinically
depressed I did not want a closure that would strip not only the
sadness but the joy of our journey together. I felt that the
bittersweet blend that let me keep him in my heart with my memories--
his dandelion fluff fur, his strong purrr, the warmth with which he
welcomed me home, the times he curled up on my lap or draped himself
across my neck when I read, his silly antics--intact and also
sometimes grieve was preferable to an sedated forgetting.
"Death ends a life, not a relationship."
Boss validates me. She reminds us that the rush to closure is
not a universal response to loss or forced change. It's a Western way
of dealing with loss. In many cultures there is an ongoing connection
with the dead even ancestors who left quite awhile ago. In America,
with our drive to get back in control of our emotions and lives, we
aren't comfortable with prolonged sadness in ourselves or others.
"The task is to let go of the person we lost but keep them
present in our heart and mind as we gradually rebuild our lives in new
ways. But this takes time and thus requires patience on the part of
those around us..."
If the rush to closure was not an optimal reaction to loss
before the pandemic, it's become even more problematic since.
Basically a pathogenic microorganism has been taking millions of
lives while bringing life as usual to a screeching halt.
"During the time of the pandemic, life became a constancy of loss and
uncertainty. So many deaths, so many obscure losses, harder to
notice, but still causing grief and uncertainty. As family members
and close friends were physically cut off from one another, each
became an ambiguous loss to the other. Not only did we lose their
company, but we also lost our sense of security."
Even if there is a definitive end to the pandemic Boss cautions
against a wholesale rush to closure. Instead she offers six
guidelines toward increasing the kind of resilience that can allow us
to live with (rather than slamming the door on) ambiguity and loss.
There is no order of taking these measures and no time limit.
Who should read this book? Anyone who is living through the
pandemic with its continued losses and uncertainties.
On a purrrsonal note, when Joey was diagnosed with cancer his vet told
me how I could use an apetite building medicine to give him a sizeable
chunk of good time. But we also talked about the difference between
keeping him alive for him and keeping him alive for me. Our last
summer together was incredibly beautiful. But one morning I knew we
were in danger of crossing the line. Stroking his soft fur I talked
about all the good times we'd shared, told him he'd always live on in
my heart, and gave him permission to leave when staying became too
hard. He passed two days later with me there to say goodbye.
But he is still very much with me. I see him in the pictures I have,
the home we shared, the kindness in my children who grew up loving a
medically frail cat, and in the person I evolved into during the
miracle of our years together. Without him I would not be me. And I
truly believe that that transcendent part of him, what we tend to call
soul, lives on. I believe that we will meet up again in some kind of
heaven or in some other forms if reincarnation is a thing. I believe
that a love as great as the one we shared can not be killed.
A great big shout goes out to precious Joey whose unconditional love
and loyalty I treasured and continued to treasure.
Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Wednesday, March 23, 2022
The Chandler Legacies
The Chandler Legacies
YA fiction
Fall semester is about to begin at an elite private school,
Chandler. A lot more than physics and sports is going to go down
before the school year is over. Get ready to see some very dark
shadows in the abode of the priviliged when you pick up Abdi
Nazemian's The Chandler Legacies.
"Beth sighs. All she wants is to be one of these girls. Maybe
someday to date one of them. But they'll always see her as a day
student, even when she's a boarder. Because she's a townie. It's
like they can smell it on her."
Going into her sophomore year, Beth is an anomoly--a student
whose family resides in town who lives in the dorms. Her townie
parents hate her living there. Actually she often feels alone and
invisible. Her freshman roommate, Brunson had ostracized her.
"...Her dad is still paying off her mom's medical bills, and
even though Brunson has a lot of financial aid, this school is still
the most expensive thing they've undertaken that's not cancer..."
Brunson, also a sophomore, isn't the carefree teen Beth imagines
her to be. For much of her life she's had to care for her deathly ill
mother who is now in remission and much younger sister. She joins
every club and activity possible to keep her many unwanted emotions
from surfacing.
"Maybe it's true. Maybe it's why she wants to be an actress so
badly. To be immortal. But it's more than that..."
Spence (senior) is the only daughter of a white Chandler dad and
a supermodel of color mother. She wants to dedicate her life to
acting and writing. Who needs math or science? College doesn't
interest her unless it's Juilliard.
"Ramin feels his heart sink a little at the mention of his dad.
He's always looked up to his father, who never failed to take care of
his family in an unstable country. But Ramin wonders if he is
secretly happy that his only child moved all the way to America. At
least now his dad won't be faced with the source of their family's
shame anymore."
It's not just shame. Try fear for his life Being gay is very
dangerous in Iran. Starting over solo in a very different country is
not the only reason Ramin fears that he'll never fit in. He's a
senior moving into a school setting in which the cliques are probably
set in stone.
"...Not that Charles even knows that Freddy likes both guys and
girls, but that he doesn't date anyone because he promised his parents
he would stay focussed on his schoolwork and training. The last time
he screwed up a competition, it was because his heart was recently
broken. That can't happen again."
Senior Freddy is an extremely gifted pole vaulter, on track to
compete in the Olympics. His ambition has reshaped his parents'
lives. It's been the focus of his since childhood. But he's suddenly
wondering if he's leading the life he really wants.
These five very diverse high school students have become this
year's Circle. This writing group is really prestigious. There is
rigorous competition to be admitted. In addition to being dedicated
to improving their abilities by daily practice, they are expected to
bond and gain the trust needed to reveal secrets.
They are going to discover that their school hides some very
dark secrets.
Nazemian based The Chandler Legacies on his personal life
experiences. During his freshman year he experienced serious hazing.
It effected him so much he was sent to counseling. Sure that his
experience was unique, he never revealed the source of his anguish.
Almost twenty years after graduation he received an email from
his alma mater. A fifty page attachment revealed a long history of
sexual abuse of students. Accusations against twelve teachers had
been swept under the rug or solved by sending them elsewhere with
glowing recommendations. He realized that his school was just one
player in a wide range of institutions contributing to the acceptance
of the unacceptable.
"The statistics about sexual abuse and hazing are
heartbreaking. One in nine girls, and one in fifty-three boys,
experience sexual abuse by the age of eighteen at the hands of an
adult. Almost half of all students coming to college have already
been hazed. Students who are bullied are between 2-9 percent more
likely to attempt suicide. These problems are pervasive and are all
around us."
Trigger warning: today's personal note is about underage sexual
molestation. If you would find it too unsettling please feel free to
stop reading this review or skip down to the shout out.
On a personal note, I was one of the one in nine. I was fifteen. We
were having swimming for gym class. The married (ring wearing)
teacher told me to stay in the pool as my classmates ran off to
shower. Only when we were the only ones in the water he was touching
me under my bathing suit in a very unteacherly way. He told me to
tell nobody. This was to be our little secret. I didn't feel guilt
or shame or wonder what about me attracted him because what he had
done was a crime. So the next morning I tried to report him only to
be called a vicious little liar who was trying to ruin a good man's
reputation. At that point I was just beginning to show signs of
development. The behavior of my male peers had made me start to feel
like the onset of puberty was making me a target. The behavior of
adults who should have known better taught me that I wasn't safe
around males and I wouldn't be believed if I made a perfectly valid
accusation. The only way to be safe was to not develop. For decades--
I repeat decades--I went through periods of extreme calorie limiting
to prevent normal development in order to feel safe. It bothers me
that we're still too willing, as a society, to give the one with the
power the benefit of the doubt.
Where I was denied the chance to get justice for myself and others who
had experienced this teacher's violation and protect future victims I
was denied the chance to make this experience meaningful, to be the
hero, rather than the victim in my life story.
I have shared this episode in detail in the hope that it will
reinforce the message of the book. Kids should never be hurt in the
places that are supposed to be about protecting and nurturing them.
A great big shout out goes out to Dr. Elizabeth Allan who is one of
the faculty members in my program. Her research is focussed on
showing how damaging hazing is to the students who experience and
witness it. I have so much respect for her commitment to using the
resources at her command to helping end this terrible practice. She
really inspires me to stick with my goal of doing research on the very
real and unfortunately fast growing crisis of campus food insecurity.
Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
YA fiction
Fall semester is about to begin at an elite private school,
Chandler. A lot more than physics and sports is going to go down
before the school year is over. Get ready to see some very dark
shadows in the abode of the priviliged when you pick up Abdi
Nazemian's The Chandler Legacies.
"Beth sighs. All she wants is to be one of these girls. Maybe
someday to date one of them. But they'll always see her as a day
student, even when she's a boarder. Because she's a townie. It's
like they can smell it on her."
Going into her sophomore year, Beth is an anomoly--a student
whose family resides in town who lives in the dorms. Her townie
parents hate her living there. Actually she often feels alone and
invisible. Her freshman roommate, Brunson had ostracized her.
"...Her dad is still paying off her mom's medical bills, and
even though Brunson has a lot of financial aid, this school is still
the most expensive thing they've undertaken that's not cancer..."
Brunson, also a sophomore, isn't the carefree teen Beth imagines
her to be. For much of her life she's had to care for her deathly ill
mother who is now in remission and much younger sister. She joins
every club and activity possible to keep her many unwanted emotions
from surfacing.
"Maybe it's true. Maybe it's why she wants to be an actress so
badly. To be immortal. But it's more than that..."
Spence (senior) is the only daughter of a white Chandler dad and
a supermodel of color mother. She wants to dedicate her life to
acting and writing. Who needs math or science? College doesn't
interest her unless it's Juilliard.
"Ramin feels his heart sink a little at the mention of his dad.
He's always looked up to his father, who never failed to take care of
his family in an unstable country. But Ramin wonders if he is
secretly happy that his only child moved all the way to America. At
least now his dad won't be faced with the source of their family's
shame anymore."
It's not just shame. Try fear for his life Being gay is very
dangerous in Iran. Starting over solo in a very different country is
not the only reason Ramin fears that he'll never fit in. He's a
senior moving into a school setting in which the cliques are probably
set in stone.
"...Not that Charles even knows that Freddy likes both guys and
girls, but that he doesn't date anyone because he promised his parents
he would stay focussed on his schoolwork and training. The last time
he screwed up a competition, it was because his heart was recently
broken. That can't happen again."
Senior Freddy is an extremely gifted pole vaulter, on track to
compete in the Olympics. His ambition has reshaped his parents'
lives. It's been the focus of his since childhood. But he's suddenly
wondering if he's leading the life he really wants.
These five very diverse high school students have become this
year's Circle. This writing group is really prestigious. There is
rigorous competition to be admitted. In addition to being dedicated
to improving their abilities by daily practice, they are expected to
bond and gain the trust needed to reveal secrets.
They are going to discover that their school hides some very
dark secrets.
Nazemian based The Chandler Legacies on his personal life
experiences. During his freshman year he experienced serious hazing.
It effected him so much he was sent to counseling. Sure that his
experience was unique, he never revealed the source of his anguish.
Almost twenty years after graduation he received an email from
his alma mater. A fifty page attachment revealed a long history of
sexual abuse of students. Accusations against twelve teachers had
been swept under the rug or solved by sending them elsewhere with
glowing recommendations. He realized that his school was just one
player in a wide range of institutions contributing to the acceptance
of the unacceptable.
"The statistics about sexual abuse and hazing are
heartbreaking. One in nine girls, and one in fifty-three boys,
experience sexual abuse by the age of eighteen at the hands of an
adult. Almost half of all students coming to college have already
been hazed. Students who are bullied are between 2-9 percent more
likely to attempt suicide. These problems are pervasive and are all
around us."
Trigger warning: today's personal note is about underage sexual
molestation. If you would find it too unsettling please feel free to
stop reading this review or skip down to the shout out.
On a personal note, I was one of the one in nine. I was fifteen. We
were having swimming for gym class. The married (ring wearing)
teacher told me to stay in the pool as my classmates ran off to
shower. Only when we were the only ones in the water he was touching
me under my bathing suit in a very unteacherly way. He told me to
tell nobody. This was to be our little secret. I didn't feel guilt
or shame or wonder what about me attracted him because what he had
done was a crime. So the next morning I tried to report him only to
be called a vicious little liar who was trying to ruin a good man's
reputation. At that point I was just beginning to show signs of
development. The behavior of my male peers had made me start to feel
like the onset of puberty was making me a target. The behavior of
adults who should have known better taught me that I wasn't safe
around males and I wouldn't be believed if I made a perfectly valid
accusation. The only way to be safe was to not develop. For decades--
I repeat decades--I went through periods of extreme calorie limiting
to prevent normal development in order to feel safe. It bothers me
that we're still too willing, as a society, to give the one with the
power the benefit of the doubt.
Where I was denied the chance to get justice for myself and others who
had experienced this teacher's violation and protect future victims I
was denied the chance to make this experience meaningful, to be the
hero, rather than the victim in my life story.
I have shared this episode in detail in the hope that it will
reinforce the message of the book. Kids should never be hurt in the
places that are supposed to be about protecting and nurturing them.
A great big shout out goes out to Dr. Elizabeth Allan who is one of
the faculty members in my program. Her research is focussed on
showing how damaging hazing is to the students who experience and
witness it. I have so much respect for her commitment to using the
resources at her command to helping end this terrible practice. She
really inspires me to stick with my goal of doing research on the very
real and unfortunately fast growing crisis of campus food insecurity.
Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Monday, March 21, 2022
We Never Asked for Wings
We Never Asked for Wings
The Gone Dead
"...A lifetime of mistakes had taught her what everyone around
her already believed: that she couldn't do it; that alone, she wasn't
enough, and so she'd a long ago surrendered her life to the one person
capable of holding it all together.
She needed her mother."
Letty, one of the protagonists of Vanessa Diffenbaugh's We Never
Asked for Wings, is in quite a bind. Her parents had lived with her
in California. Weeks before her father has returned to Mexico to care
for his dying mother. Now she thinks she's driving her mother to pick
him up and bring him back to the states.
But when they all get together Letty's parents have a scary
revelation to share with her. They're staying in Mexico. She's to
return alone to the strangers who are her children: Alex (15) and
Luna (6)--the kids she's left home alone, hoping they wouldn't have an
accident or be picked up by children's protective services.
"Yesenia was not a U.S. Citizen. All her life she'd been here
illegally, and she hadn't even known it. Alex didn't know what to
say..."
Alex is deeply in love with Yesenia. When Letty manages to move
her family to a better neighborhood, qualifying Alex for a better high
school, Yesenia is left alone in a dangerous one. She starts getting
beat up by bullies. Alex becomes desperate to make it possible for
her to join him, not fully realizing how precarious her undocumented
status makes her.
"Wes stood on the other side.
All at once, there was no air. She reached for the doorframe
and steadied herself against it, trying to look casual while praying
her legs wouldn't buckle."
When Wes left home for college he had no clue that he had left
Letty pregnant. She hadn't wanted to stand in the way of his dreams
and leave him resenting her and their unborn child. None of his
successes can prepare him for the discovery that he has a teenage son.
This engaging narrative seamlessly interweaves family conflict
and complexity with pressing social justice concerns.
"She had forgotten about this house, figured it had been knocked
down forever ago. But apparantly it had been waiting for her: passing
from her father to her mother, then to her mother's mother, and now
that Gran has passed, to her. It's all that she owns until she's done
making payments on the car."
When Billie, protagonist of Chanelle Benz's The Gone Dead,
arrives to assess the shack she's inherited in Mississippi--see if
there's anything she can do with it--she's returning to a place she's
been away from for thirty years. As a child she'd been visiting her
father, Cliff, a talented Black poet. The visit ended in tragedy.
Her father was found dead in a field. His death was ruled an
accident, the result of a fall.
But what if it wasn't an accident? As Billie becomes acquainted
with Cliff's neighbors--his younger brothers, a man who went to school
with him back in the day, two generations of a white family who had
once owned her ancestors--she begins to learn things that don't add
up, to discern clues that point to an alternate reality. What if her
father had been sticking his nose where some people felt it didn't
belong, uncovering information they were determined would never see
the light of day? What if law enforcement was involved in a cover up
and possibly a crime?
What if the people who may have silenced her father think she's
getting too close to the truth?
The Gone Dead, told through the alternating voices of its main
characters, combines a riveting narrative with a portrayal of racist
violence in the South in the not so distant past.
On a purrrsonal note, well it's back to school. I'd consider this
spring break a ten on a one to eleven scale--in other words, awesome.
I had my very successful Goodwill run Friday. Eugene took me to
Dennys for breakfast Saturday. They do breakfast right! Today Tobago
and I attended zoom church and it was nice enough for me to hang
laundry and read outside. (Jules)
The snow mountains are shrinking. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to all my fellow Black Bears returning
to the school for the last part of spring semester.
Oh, yeah, another bit of big news that I'll announce here after I
reveal it in person on campus.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
The Gone Dead
"...A lifetime of mistakes had taught her what everyone around
her already believed: that she couldn't do it; that alone, she wasn't
enough, and so she'd a long ago surrendered her life to the one person
capable of holding it all together.
She needed her mother."
Letty, one of the protagonists of Vanessa Diffenbaugh's We Never
Asked for Wings, is in quite a bind. Her parents had lived with her
in California. Weeks before her father has returned to Mexico to care
for his dying mother. Now she thinks she's driving her mother to pick
him up and bring him back to the states.
But when they all get together Letty's parents have a scary
revelation to share with her. They're staying in Mexico. She's to
return alone to the strangers who are her children: Alex (15) and
Luna (6)--the kids she's left home alone, hoping they wouldn't have an
accident or be picked up by children's protective services.
"Yesenia was not a U.S. Citizen. All her life she'd been here
illegally, and she hadn't even known it. Alex didn't know what to
say..."
Alex is deeply in love with Yesenia. When Letty manages to move
her family to a better neighborhood, qualifying Alex for a better high
school, Yesenia is left alone in a dangerous one. She starts getting
beat up by bullies. Alex becomes desperate to make it possible for
her to join him, not fully realizing how precarious her undocumented
status makes her.
"Wes stood on the other side.
All at once, there was no air. She reached for the doorframe
and steadied herself against it, trying to look casual while praying
her legs wouldn't buckle."
When Wes left home for college he had no clue that he had left
Letty pregnant. She hadn't wanted to stand in the way of his dreams
and leave him resenting her and their unborn child. None of his
successes can prepare him for the discovery that he has a teenage son.
This engaging narrative seamlessly interweaves family conflict
and complexity with pressing social justice concerns.
"She had forgotten about this house, figured it had been knocked
down forever ago. But apparantly it had been waiting for her: passing
from her father to her mother, then to her mother's mother, and now
that Gran has passed, to her. It's all that she owns until she's done
making payments on the car."
When Billie, protagonist of Chanelle Benz's The Gone Dead,
arrives to assess the shack she's inherited in Mississippi--see if
there's anything she can do with it--she's returning to a place she's
been away from for thirty years. As a child she'd been visiting her
father, Cliff, a talented Black poet. The visit ended in tragedy.
Her father was found dead in a field. His death was ruled an
accident, the result of a fall.
But what if it wasn't an accident? As Billie becomes acquainted
with Cliff's neighbors--his younger brothers, a man who went to school
with him back in the day, two generations of a white family who had
once owned her ancestors--she begins to learn things that don't add
up, to discern clues that point to an alternate reality. What if her
father had been sticking his nose where some people felt it didn't
belong, uncovering information they were determined would never see
the light of day? What if law enforcement was involved in a cover up
and possibly a crime?
What if the people who may have silenced her father think she's
getting too close to the truth?
The Gone Dead, told through the alternating voices of its main
characters, combines a riveting narrative with a portrayal of racist
violence in the South in the not so distant past.
On a purrrsonal note, well it's back to school. I'd consider this
spring break a ten on a one to eleven scale--in other words, awesome.
I had my very successful Goodwill run Friday. Eugene took me to
Dennys for breakfast Saturday. They do breakfast right! Today Tobago
and I attended zoom church and it was nice enough for me to hang
laundry and read outside. (Jules)
The snow mountains are shrinking. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to all my fellow Black Bears returning
to the school for the last part of spring semester.
Oh, yeah, another bit of big news that I'll announce here after I
reveal it in person on campus.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Sunday, March 20, 2022
How the Other Half Eats
How the Other Half Eats
In the dining commons where I have my student job a lot of the
full time classified (non Student) workers are single parents. Toward
the end of a work day that has them on their feet except for short
breaks doing really physically demanding work they are exhausted and
about to return to homes where they handle all the crises large and
small and all the care work including feeding. What's for dinner may
well turn out to be fast food or heat and eat. Many people would
fault them for not cooking from scratch.
Not Priya Fielding-Singh, a researcher who did her PhD and
postdoc at no less than Stanford. In 2013 scholars ascribed
nutritional inequality to people not having enough money and/or access
to stores other than convenience ones for grocery shopping. Priya
thought that was really oversimplifying a complex topic. And, unlike
most of us, she could actually do something about it. She conducted a
research study that involved interviewing 160 parents and children and
doing two hundred hours of observations. Not surprisingly, she
discovered that a myriad of factors entered into the decisions
involved in feeding families.
We're told that "good" parents say no to soda, junk food, and
fast food. The more affluent parents more often made this judgement
call. However, they were also able to say yes to much of what was out
of reach for the working class, often single parent, families: the
newest electronics, summer camp, designer jeans, sports participation,
and pricey destination vacations. So a no is an outlier in a series
of yeses. For the low income parent these modest requests may be all
they can say yes to. And where many of the working poor have to
juggle two or more jobs to cover the basics, spending precious free
hours actively engaged with their children may feel more crucial and
rewarding than cooking from scratch solo.
Lower income families face more insecurity. An abrupt rise in
rent can lead to eviction and at least temporary homelessness.
Families can actually run out of food. Less healthy foods provide
more of the calories needed in times of scarcity.
When my daughter worked at Dress Barn I became aware of another
source of insecurity in many service jobs. She sometimes came to work
only to be sent home because it was a slow day. For a single parent
losing shifts randomly can have a huge impact on the ability to
shelter and feed. Our three children and I are enormously lucky that
Eugene, working for a small family owned construction company in an
industry where slow season layoffs are common, has for over forty
years had a guaranteed forty hour week with time and a half season
overtime in the busy times.
Priya feels that society should stop stigmatizing lower income
families for the food choices they make and start expecting the very
manipulative food industry, the all too stingy government programs,
and society as a whole to take more responsibility:
"In one of the richest countries in the world, one that has more
than enough food to feed every single family and where over half of
produced food is dumped into landfills, this is a disgrace and moral
failing. Every family should be able to comfortably afford and access
the food they need and, in addition, have the time, energy, and
bandwidth to cook and consume it. No family should have to eat as if
they are living through a pandemic that lasts their entire lifetimes..."
Amen to that, Sistah!!!
How the Other Half Eats, with it's beautiful blend of (blessedly
jargonless) scholarship and narrative (You get to know her suject
families intimately), is a rich introduction to the complexities of
and challenges posed by food inequity in America. It's a must read
for anyone who cares about kids, families, and social justice. It's
also a wonderful book club selection.
On a purrrsonal note, as regular readers of this blog know, Eugene and
I have three grown children. When Amber, Katie, and Adam were little
he worked an outside job and I did paper typing and free lance writing
at home. That also left me free to visit a food pantry, obtain clothes
and other necessities cheap at thrift shops and yard sales, trade
volunteering for organic veggies in season at a community garden, help
with homework, and take the kids to all the free and inexpensive
events offered by libraries and other organizations. I took our
children to see their dad at work whenever possible.
One thing we did that was unusual was that although I did the cooking,
he did the shopping. He comparison shopped between stores and clipped
coupons. The kids loved days he brought home the groceries because he
usually had some of their wants in addition to their needs.
When the kids were about 12, 9, and 5 they decided to go vegetarian.
Later I joined them. Eugene, who had been brought up to eat what was
on the table, learned about this lifestyle and adjusted his buying.
Amber now has her PhD in physics. Katie graduated summa and works in
hedge funds. Adam is about to get his degree in engineering with a
job in his field. They are ethical, social activist, and kind people
in wonderful relationships. Between them I have three grand cats.
We have more shout outs than usual going out to:
1) Eugene for being the best dad our kids could possibly have;
2) Priya Fielding-Singh for breaking down the complexities of food
inequity into laypeoples language.
3) Orono Community Garden for providing organic veggies to community
members and volunteer gardeners.
4) Black Bear Exchange, our UMaine on campus food pantry and clothing
exchange.
5) UMaine dining for donating extra foods to Black Bear Exchange and
the volunteers who break the donations down into family serving
packages.
6) Good Shepherd Food Bank of Maine for providing resources including
fresh produce to Maine food pantries.
Jules Hathaway and Tobago cat
Sent from my iPod
In the dining commons where I have my student job a lot of the
full time classified (non Student) workers are single parents. Toward
the end of a work day that has them on their feet except for short
breaks doing really physically demanding work they are exhausted and
about to return to homes where they handle all the crises large and
small and all the care work including feeding. What's for dinner may
well turn out to be fast food or heat and eat. Many people would
fault them for not cooking from scratch.
Not Priya Fielding-Singh, a researcher who did her PhD and
postdoc at no less than Stanford. In 2013 scholars ascribed
nutritional inequality to people not having enough money and/or access
to stores other than convenience ones for grocery shopping. Priya
thought that was really oversimplifying a complex topic. And, unlike
most of us, she could actually do something about it. She conducted a
research study that involved interviewing 160 parents and children and
doing two hundred hours of observations. Not surprisingly, she
discovered that a myriad of factors entered into the decisions
involved in feeding families.
We're told that "good" parents say no to soda, junk food, and
fast food. The more affluent parents more often made this judgement
call. However, they were also able to say yes to much of what was out
of reach for the working class, often single parent, families: the
newest electronics, summer camp, designer jeans, sports participation,
and pricey destination vacations. So a no is an outlier in a series
of yeses. For the low income parent these modest requests may be all
they can say yes to. And where many of the working poor have to
juggle two or more jobs to cover the basics, spending precious free
hours actively engaged with their children may feel more crucial and
rewarding than cooking from scratch solo.
Lower income families face more insecurity. An abrupt rise in
rent can lead to eviction and at least temporary homelessness.
Families can actually run out of food. Less healthy foods provide
more of the calories needed in times of scarcity.
When my daughter worked at Dress Barn I became aware of another
source of insecurity in many service jobs. She sometimes came to work
only to be sent home because it was a slow day. For a single parent
losing shifts randomly can have a huge impact on the ability to
shelter and feed. Our three children and I are enormously lucky that
Eugene, working for a small family owned construction company in an
industry where slow season layoffs are common, has for over forty
years had a guaranteed forty hour week with time and a half season
overtime in the busy times.
Priya feels that society should stop stigmatizing lower income
families for the food choices they make and start expecting the very
manipulative food industry, the all too stingy government programs,
and society as a whole to take more responsibility:
"In one of the richest countries in the world, one that has more
than enough food to feed every single family and where over half of
produced food is dumped into landfills, this is a disgrace and moral
failing. Every family should be able to comfortably afford and access
the food they need and, in addition, have the time, energy, and
bandwidth to cook and consume it. No family should have to eat as if
they are living through a pandemic that lasts their entire lifetimes..."
Amen to that, Sistah!!!
How the Other Half Eats, with it's beautiful blend of (blessedly
jargonless) scholarship and narrative (You get to know her suject
families intimately), is a rich introduction to the complexities of
and challenges posed by food inequity in America. It's a must read
for anyone who cares about kids, families, and social justice. It's
also a wonderful book club selection.
On a purrrsonal note, as regular readers of this blog know, Eugene and
I have three grown children. When Amber, Katie, and Adam were little
he worked an outside job and I did paper typing and free lance writing
at home. That also left me free to visit a food pantry, obtain clothes
and other necessities cheap at thrift shops and yard sales, trade
volunteering for organic veggies in season at a community garden, help
with homework, and take the kids to all the free and inexpensive
events offered by libraries and other organizations. I took our
children to see their dad at work whenever possible.
One thing we did that was unusual was that although I did the cooking,
he did the shopping. He comparison shopped between stores and clipped
coupons. The kids loved days he brought home the groceries because he
usually had some of their wants in addition to their needs.
When the kids were about 12, 9, and 5 they decided to go vegetarian.
Later I joined them. Eugene, who had been brought up to eat what was
on the table, learned about this lifestyle and adjusted his buying.
Amber now has her PhD in physics. Katie graduated summa and works in
hedge funds. Adam is about to get his degree in engineering with a
job in his field. They are ethical, social activist, and kind people
in wonderful relationships. Between them I have three grand cats.
We have more shout outs than usual going out to:
1) Eugene for being the best dad our kids could possibly have;
2) Priya Fielding-Singh for breaking down the complexities of food
inequity into laypeoples language.
3) Orono Community Garden for providing organic veggies to community
members and volunteer gardeners.
4) Black Bear Exchange, our UMaine on campus food pantry and clothing
exchange.
5) UMaine dining for donating extra foods to Black Bear Exchange and
the volunteers who break the donations down into family serving
packages.
6) Good Shepherd Food Bank of Maine for providing resources including
fresh produce to Maine food pantries.
Jules Hathaway and Tobago cat
Sent from my iPod
Wednesday, March 16, 2022
New Anti Racism Picture Books
New Anti Racism Picture Books
Right after we dropped my stash of returnables off at our
favorite local redemption center Diane and I stopped off at the
library to return books. When she indicated that she was in no big
hurry I started browsing and hit pay dirt: three fine anti racist
pictures books, hot off the press.
Although I've heard about Kwanzaa plenty since it was created in
1966, I never really grasped its meaning until I read Ibi Zoboi's The
People Remember. In musical verse, powerfully teamed up with Loveis
Wise's bold illustrations, it pairs the history of Blacks in America,
from slavery through Black Lives Matter, with Kwanzaa's seven pillars.
It's a marriage that empowers both to practically leap from the page
and into the readers' mind, soul, and heart.
"the people grew weary of
the low-hanging strange fruit--
lynched fathers and mothers,
sons and daughters--
cut from those mighty tree branches..."
The section built around nia (purpose) reminds readers that
Blacks sent to fight in the World Wars also had battles to fight in
their own country with "white-hooded strangers" terrorizing and
legions being lynched and that the fight for justice mobilized
everyday people under powerful leadership.
"Here was another chance
at freedom, at justice,
as the people remember
that still, like dust, they rise."
Kuumba (Creativity) is celebrated with a pantheon of musicians and
writers who made people get up and dance or sit down and think.
When I think of people who are white like me reading this book I
have hope and fear. My hope is that we will grow more aware of the
resiliance and strength with which Blacks from era to era faced and
fought the evils of personal and systemic racism. I fear that we
will commercialize this holiday to death like we do Mothers' and
Fathers' days.
I hope Zoboi is prolific as a writer. She beautifully combines
a unique and engaging voice with a range few authors reach.
"An angry mob with flaming sticks burned my family's brand-new
house.
Their broken minds and evil hearts were so afraid of Black
progress. The police made no arrests. My family moved away."
Author Alice Faye Duncan and illustrator Keturah A. Bobo have
beautifully teamed up to introduce younger readers to an amazing Black
activist with an important mission and message with their Opal Lee and
What It Means to Be Free.
Opal Lee was born into Jim Crow Texas. Whites only and colored
only signs abounded. Her beloved Forest Park Zoo was whites only
except for one day a year. When she was twelve a mob burned down her
family's home. That fire kindled a flame within her.
Convinced that "If we don't remember what we have been through,
our nation is doomed to repeat it," she spearheaded a movement to make
Juneteenth a national holiday. For four years in her nineties she
walked across America collecting signatures for her petition.
She has a reminder for the many people who think that now that
we've elected a Black president we're beyond all that racial stuff.
"None of us are free until we're all free, and we aren't free yet."
Does the name Elijah Cummings ring a bell? If it doesn't don't
feel bad. I only just made this dedicated Congressman's acquaintance
through Carole Boston Weatherford's The Faith of Elijah Cummings: The
North Star of Equal Justice.
Cummings' sharecropper parents moved to Maryland to escape the
brutality they had witnessed in their native South Carolina. They
raised seven children in a house so small the children had to go to
the library to do homework. Although the family was poor, they shared
with others in need. They brought their children up to value education.
Cummings' vocation was evident early in life. When he was
eleven he protested the segregation of a city swimming pool. He
realized that the many working class Black kids in his neighborhood
who were ending up in reform school were kids in need of decent legal
representation. But when he told his school guidance counselor of his
plan to become a lawyer, she disrespected his dreams.
So how did he succeed? Why is he aluded to as the North Star of
Equal Justice? The book holds the fascinating answers.
On a purrrsonal note, my spring break is going great. Tuesday I was
able to read outside for the first time this year. I love outside
reading. I also made a really great apple pie for supper desert.
Today I went on the bus to Orono because they have what Veazie lacks--
places to go and people to see--to motivate me to walk. I stopped in
at the library and browsed at the thrift shop.
I also have a major piece of news which I am going to share next week
so I can first deliver it in person on campus first. (Jules)
I haz her all week. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to all the volunteers who run the Orono
Thrift Shop, creating an affordable boutique out of a community's odds
and ends and using the proceeds to contribute to some pretty important
organizations.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Right after we dropped my stash of returnables off at our
favorite local redemption center Diane and I stopped off at the
library to return books. When she indicated that she was in no big
hurry I started browsing and hit pay dirt: three fine anti racist
pictures books, hot off the press.
Although I've heard about Kwanzaa plenty since it was created in
1966, I never really grasped its meaning until I read Ibi Zoboi's The
People Remember. In musical verse, powerfully teamed up with Loveis
Wise's bold illustrations, it pairs the history of Blacks in America,
from slavery through Black Lives Matter, with Kwanzaa's seven pillars.
It's a marriage that empowers both to practically leap from the page
and into the readers' mind, soul, and heart.
"the people grew weary of
the low-hanging strange fruit--
lynched fathers and mothers,
sons and daughters--
cut from those mighty tree branches..."
The section built around nia (purpose) reminds readers that
Blacks sent to fight in the World Wars also had battles to fight in
their own country with "white-hooded strangers" terrorizing and
legions being lynched and that the fight for justice mobilized
everyday people under powerful leadership.
"Here was another chance
at freedom, at justice,
as the people remember
that still, like dust, they rise."
Kuumba (Creativity) is celebrated with a pantheon of musicians and
writers who made people get up and dance or sit down and think.
When I think of people who are white like me reading this book I
have hope and fear. My hope is that we will grow more aware of the
resiliance and strength with which Blacks from era to era faced and
fought the evils of personal and systemic racism. I fear that we
will commercialize this holiday to death like we do Mothers' and
Fathers' days.
I hope Zoboi is prolific as a writer. She beautifully combines
a unique and engaging voice with a range few authors reach.
"An angry mob with flaming sticks burned my family's brand-new
house.
Their broken minds and evil hearts were so afraid of Black
progress. The police made no arrests. My family moved away."
Author Alice Faye Duncan and illustrator Keturah A. Bobo have
beautifully teamed up to introduce younger readers to an amazing Black
activist with an important mission and message with their Opal Lee and
What It Means to Be Free.
Opal Lee was born into Jim Crow Texas. Whites only and colored
only signs abounded. Her beloved Forest Park Zoo was whites only
except for one day a year. When she was twelve a mob burned down her
family's home. That fire kindled a flame within her.
Convinced that "If we don't remember what we have been through,
our nation is doomed to repeat it," she spearheaded a movement to make
Juneteenth a national holiday. For four years in her nineties she
walked across America collecting signatures for her petition.
She has a reminder for the many people who think that now that
we've elected a Black president we're beyond all that racial stuff.
"None of us are free until we're all free, and we aren't free yet."
Does the name Elijah Cummings ring a bell? If it doesn't don't
feel bad. I only just made this dedicated Congressman's acquaintance
through Carole Boston Weatherford's The Faith of Elijah Cummings: The
North Star of Equal Justice.
Cummings' sharecropper parents moved to Maryland to escape the
brutality they had witnessed in their native South Carolina. They
raised seven children in a house so small the children had to go to
the library to do homework. Although the family was poor, they shared
with others in need. They brought their children up to value education.
Cummings' vocation was evident early in life. When he was
eleven he protested the segregation of a city swimming pool. He
realized that the many working class Black kids in his neighborhood
who were ending up in reform school were kids in need of decent legal
representation. But when he told his school guidance counselor of his
plan to become a lawyer, she disrespected his dreams.
So how did he succeed? Why is he aluded to as the North Star of
Equal Justice? The book holds the fascinating answers.
On a purrrsonal note, my spring break is going great. Tuesday I was
able to read outside for the first time this year. I love outside
reading. I also made a really great apple pie for supper desert.
Today I went on the bus to Orono because they have what Veazie lacks--
places to go and people to see--to motivate me to walk. I stopped in
at the library and browsed at the thrift shop.
I also have a major piece of news which I am going to share next week
so I can first deliver it in person on campus first. (Jules)
I haz her all week. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to all the volunteers who run the Orono
Thrift Shop, creating an affordable boutique out of a community's odds
and ends and using the proceeds to contribute to some pretty important
organizations.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Monday, March 14, 2022
The Truth Project
The Truth Project
"A girl who wanted so badly
to see herself in her roots
and prove
once and for all
that she might fit somewhere."
Fans of YA narratives told in verse centering on often
challenging and painful searches for identity are in for a real treat.
Cordelia, narrator of Dante Medema's The Truth Project, is the
middle child in what she calls "the perfect Alaskan family." She's
sandwiched between older away at college big sister, Beatrice, and
younger sister, Iris, who speaks in hashtags. Her mother is an
ambitious real estate agent. Her father is a college professor overly
fond of quoting Shakespeare. She's never feels like she really fits
in. In fact she's sure she's adopted.
The truth will turn out to be a lot more complicated.
Cordelia expects to sail through her last year of high school.
She's already been accepted by Columbia. She's going to do her senior
project in poetry. She could stop writing poetry like she could stop
breathing.
[Like some reviewer you know.]
She will write about her discovery of how ancestry has shaped her.
But the results of her GeneQuest DNA kit convey a disturbing
reality. It goes beyond the nationality and ethnic percentages most
of us are used to. It lists her father as Jack Bisset, a total
stranger. She wonders how it would have been to have grown up with
him as a dad rather than as,
"The child
stuck in the middle
of a family
who would have
been just as complete
without her."
Only her biological mother is still her biological mother.
"Because I know at last
I'm not only a lie
but a product of
infidelity.
A sin.
A sob story.
A secret.
I am the thing people
whisper about."
That's a pretty major discovery. And it's one Cordelia has to
handle pretty much on her own. Her mom has said that if the father
she has known about just about all her life learned about her
biological father it would kill him.
Cordelia's search for the answer to her question--what impact
ancestry has on the person she is--is authentic and engaging. It's
one of the sweetest reads I've ever come across.
On a purrrsonal note, I'm very much enjoying the blissfully slow nine
days of spring break. Today I did two major things. The first is I
wrote an opinion piece and submitted it to the Bangor Daily News.
I've done that successfully a lot of times. What makes this time
different is that if BDN doesn't take it I'll send it elsewhere until
I find a place that does. My new getting serious about writing
thing. The other is that my friend Diane who has a big vehicle drove
me to the redemption center to cash on a bunch of returnables. While
the dude was processing them we went to the library for a visit. I
dropped off some books, picked up an ILL, and found a bunch more
books. Then we returned to the redemption center to pick up the
money. $41.15 more for Tobago's savings for if she ever needs an
operation. (Jules)
I iz $41.15 richer!!! (Tobago)
A great big shout goes out to our good friend, Diane, with whom I'm so
looking forward to working in the Community Garden this summer.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
"A girl who wanted so badly
to see herself in her roots
and prove
once and for all
that she might fit somewhere."
Fans of YA narratives told in verse centering on often
challenging and painful searches for identity are in for a real treat.
Cordelia, narrator of Dante Medema's The Truth Project, is the
middle child in what she calls "the perfect Alaskan family." She's
sandwiched between older away at college big sister, Beatrice, and
younger sister, Iris, who speaks in hashtags. Her mother is an
ambitious real estate agent. Her father is a college professor overly
fond of quoting Shakespeare. She's never feels like she really fits
in. In fact she's sure she's adopted.
The truth will turn out to be a lot more complicated.
Cordelia expects to sail through her last year of high school.
She's already been accepted by Columbia. She's going to do her senior
project in poetry. She could stop writing poetry like she could stop
breathing.
[Like some reviewer you know.]
She will write about her discovery of how ancestry has shaped her.
But the results of her GeneQuest DNA kit convey a disturbing
reality. It goes beyond the nationality and ethnic percentages most
of us are used to. It lists her father as Jack Bisset, a total
stranger. She wonders how it would have been to have grown up with
him as a dad rather than as,
"The child
stuck in the middle
of a family
who would have
been just as complete
without her."
Only her biological mother is still her biological mother.
"Because I know at last
I'm not only a lie
but a product of
infidelity.
A sin.
A sob story.
A secret.
I am the thing people
whisper about."
That's a pretty major discovery. And it's one Cordelia has to
handle pretty much on her own. Her mom has said that if the father
she has known about just about all her life learned about her
biological father it would kill him.
Cordelia's search for the answer to her question--what impact
ancestry has on the person she is--is authentic and engaging. It's
one of the sweetest reads I've ever come across.
On a purrrsonal note, I'm very much enjoying the blissfully slow nine
days of spring break. Today I did two major things. The first is I
wrote an opinion piece and submitted it to the Bangor Daily News.
I've done that successfully a lot of times. What makes this time
different is that if BDN doesn't take it I'll send it elsewhere until
I find a place that does. My new getting serious about writing
thing. The other is that my friend Diane who has a big vehicle drove
me to the redemption center to cash on a bunch of returnables. While
the dude was processing them we went to the library for a visit. I
dropped off some books, picked up an ILL, and found a bunch more
books. Then we returned to the redemption center to pick up the
money. $41.15 more for Tobago's savings for if she ever needs an
operation. (Jules)
I iz $41.15 richer!!! (Tobago)
A great big shout goes out to our good friend, Diane, with whom I'm so
looking forward to working in the Community Garden this summer.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Saturday, March 12, 2022
What The Fireflies Knew
What The Fireflies Knew
Adult fiction
"This book was born from a desire to show Black girlhood at its
best, at its worst, at its most dull and most exciting..."
Growing up, Kai Harris, author of What The Fireflies Knew,
thought a lot about the "perfect" family. Her life was a lot
different from those she read about in books. She saw the fault as
being in her people. Eventually she realized that it was in what she
was reading. Her coming-of-age narrative is a six year labor of love.
"I was the one who found Daddy dead, crammed in the little space where
my old bike's training wheels turned rusted.."
If that first sentence doesn't grab your attention, I don't know
what will. KB (Kenyatta Bernice) is only ten when she makes this soul
wrenching discovery. Her father has died of the drugs he was addicted
to. His debts leave the family, KB and her mother and older sister,
Nia, living in a motel...
...until one KB's mother drops her girls off with her father in
a rural home KB has never seen before. Her mom says she doesn't know
when she'll be returning. Her last words to her daughters before she
drives away are "One day you'll look back and thank me for this time."
Those words make no sense to KB who feels entirely bereft.
She's lost her father. Her mother has morphed into a stranger with a
pasted on smile who has just abandoned her children. Her grandfather
seems like a total grouch. She and Nia, who used to be friends, can
barely speak to one another. And everyone she's kin to seems to be
harboring secrets
And then there's the white children--a brother and sister--who
live across the street. They're the only friend prospects in the
neighborhood. But their play is always overshadowed by the need for
secrecy. Their mother is determined to keep her children away from
Black kids.
In an unforgettable summer KB slowly and painfully gains a
clearer understanding of self and others and learns one of the most
poignant lessons of growing up: even the people we count on the most
to be perfect are flawed human beings.
Harris' unique and evocative voice vividly brings to life a
setting unfamiliar to many readers. You can feel the heat, hear the
country sounds, feel the giddy delight of finally catching a firefly.
Although Harris' narrative celebrates the resiliance of Black
girls and women, it will also resonate with the legions of us of other
races who, as children, suffered in shame and silence the leading of
lives that didn't live up to those portrayed in books and television
series. And it can easily be for more than just solo reading. This
poignant and powerful volume has book club written all over it.
It also shows that life is much more complex than divided into
good and bad parts. Like roses with thorns, the best experiences can
carry at least tinges of sadness. And the darkest of times can be
penetrated by light.
On a personal note, although my parents fought and my father was
volatile and unpredictable, I pinpoint the moment in my family when
things really started to go downhill as when Harriet came home the
hospital, seriously brain damaged from spinal meningitis. Dad said we
should just make her a ward of the state. Although they stayed
together for the sake of the children and to avoid the stigma of
divorce, that was when the marriage died. It was like he shot Mom
through the heart with words. She became determined to do whatever it
would take for Harriet to have a normal life while keeping it a secret
that we weren't as blandly "normal" as the clan portrayed in Leave It
To Beaver. As the undamaged child I was assumed to be not in need of
much beyond food, shelter, clothes, health care, and education. When
I was twelve it was decided that when Mom died I'd take on Harriet's
custody. Since then I've made friends who also had to grow up too
fast, often because of parental addiction.
I had just written the introduction and a couple of chapters of my
memoir when I read What the Fireflies Knew. It made me really
determined to finish the manuscript and locate a publisher.
A great big shout out goes out to all the kids who grow up burdened by
the shame of difference and often secrecy.
Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult fiction
"This book was born from a desire to show Black girlhood at its
best, at its worst, at its most dull and most exciting..."
Growing up, Kai Harris, author of What The Fireflies Knew,
thought a lot about the "perfect" family. Her life was a lot
different from those she read about in books. She saw the fault as
being in her people. Eventually she realized that it was in what she
was reading. Her coming-of-age narrative is a six year labor of love.
"I was the one who found Daddy dead, crammed in the little space where
my old bike's training wheels turned rusted.."
If that first sentence doesn't grab your attention, I don't know
what will. KB (Kenyatta Bernice) is only ten when she makes this soul
wrenching discovery. Her father has died of the drugs he was addicted
to. His debts leave the family, KB and her mother and older sister,
Nia, living in a motel...
...until one KB's mother drops her girls off with her father in
a rural home KB has never seen before. Her mom says she doesn't know
when she'll be returning. Her last words to her daughters before she
drives away are "One day you'll look back and thank me for this time."
Those words make no sense to KB who feels entirely bereft.
She's lost her father. Her mother has morphed into a stranger with a
pasted on smile who has just abandoned her children. Her grandfather
seems like a total grouch. She and Nia, who used to be friends, can
barely speak to one another. And everyone she's kin to seems to be
harboring secrets
And then there's the white children--a brother and sister--who
live across the street. They're the only friend prospects in the
neighborhood. But their play is always overshadowed by the need for
secrecy. Their mother is determined to keep her children away from
Black kids.
In an unforgettable summer KB slowly and painfully gains a
clearer understanding of self and others and learns one of the most
poignant lessons of growing up: even the people we count on the most
to be perfect are flawed human beings.
Harris' unique and evocative voice vividly brings to life a
setting unfamiliar to many readers. You can feel the heat, hear the
country sounds, feel the giddy delight of finally catching a firefly.
Although Harris' narrative celebrates the resiliance of Black
girls and women, it will also resonate with the legions of us of other
races who, as children, suffered in shame and silence the leading of
lives that didn't live up to those portrayed in books and television
series. And it can easily be for more than just solo reading. This
poignant and powerful volume has book club written all over it.
It also shows that life is much more complex than divided into
good and bad parts. Like roses with thorns, the best experiences can
carry at least tinges of sadness. And the darkest of times can be
penetrated by light.
On a personal note, although my parents fought and my father was
volatile and unpredictable, I pinpoint the moment in my family when
things really started to go downhill as when Harriet came home the
hospital, seriously brain damaged from spinal meningitis. Dad said we
should just make her a ward of the state. Although they stayed
together for the sake of the children and to avoid the stigma of
divorce, that was when the marriage died. It was like he shot Mom
through the heart with words. She became determined to do whatever it
would take for Harriet to have a normal life while keeping it a secret
that we weren't as blandly "normal" as the clan portrayed in Leave It
To Beaver. As the undamaged child I was assumed to be not in need of
much beyond food, shelter, clothes, health care, and education. When
I was twelve it was decided that when Mom died I'd take on Harriet's
custody. Since then I've made friends who also had to grow up too
fast, often because of parental addiction.
I had just written the introduction and a couple of chapters of my
memoir when I read What the Fireflies Knew. It made me really
determined to finish the manuscript and locate a publisher.
A great big shout out goes out to all the kids who grow up burdened by
the shame of difference and often secrecy.
Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Friday, March 11, 2022
Anti Racism Picture Books
Anti Racism Picture Books
"I wanted to sprint away
After him and ask
'Is that all you see
When you look at me?'"
When Andrea Theodore was a child she experienced racism in her
school's curriculum. Thirty years later when her daughter was in
school the history of slavery was still being taught in a way that
overlooked the humanity of slaves, the formidable strengths that
enabled them to survive in a system where they were considered to be
mere property, and left their young descendents feeling diminished and
less than. Luckily she was able to write History of Me and get it
published.
The girl protagonist of the book is the only brown person in her
class. Everyone looks at her when they discuss Black history events.
White girls whisper, giggle, and point at her. A boy makes a very
cruel remark.
Interspersed with her story are glimpses at the lives of her
ancestors: the great-great-grandmother who was born in slavery and
died young, the great grandmother who was only able to go to school
through third grade, the mother who grew up in the segregated south.
She grows up to be a doctor and then sees her daughter having
similar experiences.
Erin K. Robinson's vibrant illustrations are a perfect setting
for the text. The backgrounds are simplified and nondistracting. The
focus is on the people, whose posture, gestures, and facial
expressions vividly and eloquently convey their emotions.
In her author's note Theodore says:
"Rather than feeling shame, as I did for many years, I hope that
descendants of those enslaved can understand the rich legacy that is
theirs...What happens when you are proud of where you come from? You
are free to be who you are and become who you are meant to be. This
is my hope for my own child and for all children."
Maggie Tokuda-Hall's Love In The Library introduces young
readers to the concentration camps 120,000 Japanese Americans were
incarcerated in after Pearl Harbor for the crime of having Japanese
ancestry. Text and Yas Imamura's illustrations portray the harshness
of the conditions they had to live under. In the first picture the
protagonist walks by a barbed wire fence and a sentry armed with a gun.
Tama works in the camp's library. She doesn't know if she'll
ever leave Minidoka. Her books and the stories in them help her
escape from and manage the constant uncertainty and anxiety.
George comes to the library every day, returning a big stack of
books and taking out another. He can't possibly read them all.
Maybe books aren't what he really wants to check out.
Tama and George were the author's maternal grandparents. In her
author's note she ties this shameful chapter in America's history ties
in with the present.
"...The racism that put my grandparents into Minidoka is the
same hatred that keeps children in cages on our border. It's the myth
of white supremacy that brought slavery to our past and allows the
police to murder Black people in our present. It's the same fear that
brings Muslim bans. It's the same contempt that creates voter
suppression, medical apartheid, and food deserts. The same cruelty
that carved reservations out of stolen, sovereign land, that paved the
trail of tears. Hate is not a virus; it is an American tradition."
Stories like that of her grandparents, who found love in the
midst of desolation, give her hope and the strength to fight for a
better future.
"Because if we can fall in love, if we can find our joy, if we can
find that miracle despite all of these truths--
What else can we do?"
Some children in activist families (like mine) start marching in
front and backpacks and strollers. For others Tessa Allen's Sometimes
People March is a great introduction. It shows young readers ways
they can contribute to causes they believe in.
There's nothing generic about Allen's lively water colors.
Pictures are linked to very specific causes. At the end there's a
chronological listing of important movements.
Sometimes People March is a good introduction to activism for
children coming into awareness of the challenges produced by the world
as it is now.
I think most of us are at least vaguely aware of the indigenous
peoples' fight to protect water, the source of all life, from
corporate greed.
Carole Lindstrom's We Are Water Protectors gives younger readers
an indigenous perspective. A little girl learns from a grandmotherly
looking woman of the importance of water to all living creatures and
the Earth itself and the dangers posed by the black snake. She
becomes determined to join the fight.
Michaela Goode's illustrations are sophisticated and powerful
images to ponder on rather than just skim through. A pregnant woman
with a very visible fetus sits in a ring of stars which is encircled
by a ring of flowers. An Earth set against a background of stars is
encircled by a ring of highly detailed creatures. Juxtaposed with
those almost dreamlike images, the black snake is ugly and menacing.
We Are Water Protectors is a great way to introduce younger
readers to one of the most important issues in today's world. It's a
must acquire for school and public libraries.
On a purrrsonal note, I've got just one more work day before spring
break. I am so looking forward to the slowed down pace and the chance
to spend more time with Tobago, do a little baking, read and write
more, and plan the interactive presentation (my first!) I'll be doing
in the Dirigo Leadership Conference in three weeks. (Jules)
Nine whole days I don't have to share my Jules with the world. (Tobago)
A great big shout out with wishes for a happy, restorative, and safe
vaca goes out to our fellow Black Bears. In Dean Dana's words, let's
refill our gas tanks to power us past the end of semester finish line.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
"I wanted to sprint away
After him and ask
'Is that all you see
When you look at me?'"
When Andrea Theodore was a child she experienced racism in her
school's curriculum. Thirty years later when her daughter was in
school the history of slavery was still being taught in a way that
overlooked the humanity of slaves, the formidable strengths that
enabled them to survive in a system where they were considered to be
mere property, and left their young descendents feeling diminished and
less than. Luckily she was able to write History of Me and get it
published.
The girl protagonist of the book is the only brown person in her
class. Everyone looks at her when they discuss Black history events.
White girls whisper, giggle, and point at her. A boy makes a very
cruel remark.
Interspersed with her story are glimpses at the lives of her
ancestors: the great-great-grandmother who was born in slavery and
died young, the great grandmother who was only able to go to school
through third grade, the mother who grew up in the segregated south.
She grows up to be a doctor and then sees her daughter having
similar experiences.
Erin K. Robinson's vibrant illustrations are a perfect setting
for the text. The backgrounds are simplified and nondistracting. The
focus is on the people, whose posture, gestures, and facial
expressions vividly and eloquently convey their emotions.
In her author's note Theodore says:
"Rather than feeling shame, as I did for many years, I hope that
descendants of those enslaved can understand the rich legacy that is
theirs...What happens when you are proud of where you come from? You
are free to be who you are and become who you are meant to be. This
is my hope for my own child and for all children."
Maggie Tokuda-Hall's Love In The Library introduces young
readers to the concentration camps 120,000 Japanese Americans were
incarcerated in after Pearl Harbor for the crime of having Japanese
ancestry. Text and Yas Imamura's illustrations portray the harshness
of the conditions they had to live under. In the first picture the
protagonist walks by a barbed wire fence and a sentry armed with a gun.
Tama works in the camp's library. She doesn't know if she'll
ever leave Minidoka. Her books and the stories in them help her
escape from and manage the constant uncertainty and anxiety.
George comes to the library every day, returning a big stack of
books and taking out another. He can't possibly read them all.
Maybe books aren't what he really wants to check out.
Tama and George were the author's maternal grandparents. In her
author's note she ties this shameful chapter in America's history ties
in with the present.
"...The racism that put my grandparents into Minidoka is the
same hatred that keeps children in cages on our border. It's the myth
of white supremacy that brought slavery to our past and allows the
police to murder Black people in our present. It's the same fear that
brings Muslim bans. It's the same contempt that creates voter
suppression, medical apartheid, and food deserts. The same cruelty
that carved reservations out of stolen, sovereign land, that paved the
trail of tears. Hate is not a virus; it is an American tradition."
Stories like that of her grandparents, who found love in the
midst of desolation, give her hope and the strength to fight for a
better future.
"Because if we can fall in love, if we can find our joy, if we can
find that miracle despite all of these truths--
What else can we do?"
Some children in activist families (like mine) start marching in
front and backpacks and strollers. For others Tessa Allen's Sometimes
People March is a great introduction. It shows young readers ways
they can contribute to causes they believe in.
There's nothing generic about Allen's lively water colors.
Pictures are linked to very specific causes. At the end there's a
chronological listing of important movements.
Sometimes People March is a good introduction to activism for
children coming into awareness of the challenges produced by the world
as it is now.
I think most of us are at least vaguely aware of the indigenous
peoples' fight to protect water, the source of all life, from
corporate greed.
Carole Lindstrom's We Are Water Protectors gives younger readers
an indigenous perspective. A little girl learns from a grandmotherly
looking woman of the importance of water to all living creatures and
the Earth itself and the dangers posed by the black snake. She
becomes determined to join the fight.
Michaela Goode's illustrations are sophisticated and powerful
images to ponder on rather than just skim through. A pregnant woman
with a very visible fetus sits in a ring of stars which is encircled
by a ring of flowers. An Earth set against a background of stars is
encircled by a ring of highly detailed creatures. Juxtaposed with
those almost dreamlike images, the black snake is ugly and menacing.
We Are Water Protectors is a great way to introduce younger
readers to one of the most important issues in today's world. It's a
must acquire for school and public libraries.
On a purrrsonal note, I've got just one more work day before spring
break. I am so looking forward to the slowed down pace and the chance
to spend more time with Tobago, do a little baking, read and write
more, and plan the interactive presentation (my first!) I'll be doing
in the Dirigo Leadership Conference in three weeks. (Jules)
Nine whole days I don't have to share my Jules with the world. (Tobago)
A great big shout out with wishes for a happy, restorative, and safe
vaca goes out to our fellow Black Bears. In Dean Dana's words, let's
refill our gas tanks to power us past the end of semester finish line.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Wednesday, March 9, 2022
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