The Seventh Most Important Thing
Juvenile fiction
"On a bitter November day in Washington, D.C., when everything
felt metallic--when the sky was grey and the wind stung and the dry
leaves were making death-rattle sounds in the valley--thirteen-year-
old Arthur Owens picked up a brick from the corner of a crumbling
building and threw it at an old man's head."
Reading the first paragraph of Shelley Pearsall's The Seventh
Most Important Thing, you get the idea that things are not going to go
well for Arthur. When we meet up with him again he's served time in
juvie and is in a courtroom awaiting sentencing. The judge is severe
and skeptical. Arthur doesn't think he has a chance of ever coming
home again.
Only Arthur is offered a chance for redemption. His victim has
requested that instead of being incarcerated he work for him as he
recovers. So he will be pushing a beat up grocery cart around his
neighborhood, checking the garbage for very specific items, for 120
hours.
At first Arthur thinks that he'll put in his time and put the
whole mess behind him...
...until he sees what the junk man is creating out of garbage.
That is a real game changer.
What I liked most about the book is that, although most of the
characters, including Arthur, are entirely fictional, there really was
a junk man. His amazing creation is now exhibited in the Smithsonian
American Art Museum.
On a purrrsonal note, when Eugene and I were talking over supper I
began to realize what my summer will be like. He said he didn't
suppose I could go for a ride. Nope. Because I can't get the kidney
stone removed until September I can't go that far from bathrooms. He
said, well I guess camping's out. Four trips in a night to an
outhouse is not my idea of fun or safety. I know it could be a lot
worse. It's a good thing I love to read because it looks like that
will be my summer fun. (Jules)
Well she'll have me to keep her company. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to everyone who will be COVID cautious
as they go about their summer fun.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
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