I saw this gorgeous butterfly at one of the Orono bus shelter.  It wanted to get out.  But it kept trying to go through glass.  After I got my picture I helped it find a way out.  When it flew away my heart soared with it.

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This is the book.

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All the White Friends I Couldn't Keep

All the White Friends I Couldn't Keep

Adult nonfiction
"It wasn't easy for me to conclude, years later, that racism was
part of the cake of American Society as opposed to a fly nibbling on
the icing. It was like losing faith in God or having your heart so
broken that you are closed off to love. I didn't want to believe that
racism was alive and well in the country I loved--more deeply
entrenched, more pervasive than I'd ever imagined. But as they say,
the facts don't care about your feelings."
When Andre Henry, author of All the White Friends I Couldn't
Keep, was a little boy growing up in Georgia he was terrified that the
Rapture would happen in his time. (For those unfamiliar with the
concept, it's the grand finale of the end times Apocalypse, the part
where the true believers swoop up to heaven, leaving nothing more than
the clothes they'd been wearing, and everyone else is left to
basically Hell on earth.) Each night he prayed to be taken (die)
before that dire event. He didn't realize that "an apocalypse of
sorts" would happen in his lifetime.
All the White Friends I Couldn't Keep is about the much less
Biblical apocalypse he's been experiencing. It follows Henry's
transformation from little boy who believed in the America associated
with Lady Liberty and thought the only necessary revolution had been
fought in the 18th century to anti racism activist. It's also a story
of loss and grief. At each stage of his enlightenment Henry came into
conflict with white people whom he cared very deeply about who were
offended by his views and made it clear that to keep them in his life
he'd have to back down.
"...When I realized that the white people I loved would probably
never join the movement for Black Lives, I had to leave those
relationships, because movements aren't built with immovable people.
But with every friend I lost, I gained something: an apocalyptic
lesson, a piece of insight for nonviolent revolution, or a new-found
freedom to be my best Black self."
Candidly sharing his life stories, Henry explains why Blacks
need to drop the whites in their lives who engage in practices such as
gaslighting to keep intact the systems that preserve white privilege.
He shows why tired old incremental solutions such as diversity hires
won't work. Nothing short of revolution will bring into being the
necessary replacing of corrupt systems with more equitable and just
ones.
All the White Friends I couldn't Keep is definately a book for
these troubled times and a must read for anyone who is fed up with the
racial status quo and its defenders.
On a purrrsonal note, my weekend was much better than I thought it
would be. Eugene had invited me to go to camp with him. I decided to
take the risk rather than let my kidneys dictate my life. We had a
lovely time there. I only had to make one middle of the night
outhouse trip. That felt like a miracle. I didn't have to cook. We
had Subway subs for Saturday lunch and supper, McDonalds for Sunday
breakfast, and Burger King for lunch. We took circuitous routes both
ways and stopped at every yard sale and flea market we encountered.
It was a lovely, relaxing date weekend. (Jules)
I was happy when they got back safely. (Tobago).
A great big shout out goes out to Eugene.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


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Last night Eugene gave me this chair.  It has its own carry bag.  It just made me so happy.  I will surely make good use of it reading outside.  It even has a drink holder.

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A friend's flowers.  Aren't they glorious?

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The same garden a moment later when the sun came out.

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A little garden at the university.

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This is the book.

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A Deeper Sickness

A Deeper Sickness

Adult nonfiction
"Journalists and scholars are already uncovering the missteps
made by those in power in early 2020 that failed to contain SARS-CoV-2
once it appeared in the US. In this book, in which we follow America
as eyewitnesses to the tumult of the entire year, we are after a
different question: Is there something in the character of the place,
the bones of America, that made the layers of tragedy that unfolded in
2020 practically unavoidable."
Of the books concerning the pandemic that I've reviewed since
they started coming out Margeret Peackock and Eric L. Peterson's A
Deeper Sickness: Journal of America in the Pandemic Year has become my
new favorite for the purpose of reviewing for this blog. Some of the
more science analytical ones have appealed to my inner geek. But
this book is the one which I believe will appeal to the broadest swath
of readers. It's blessedly jargon free. It sees the events of 2020
as evidence of four simultaneous pandemics (disease, disinformation,
poverty, and violence) rather than one. The material is presented in
the way we experienced it--one day at a time. And for folks who want
more information there is an on line treasure trove.
A Deeper Sickness came into being through a truly fortunate
coincidence. Peacock and Peterson are both professional historians.
Her area of expertise is propoganda. She had started doing research
for a class on the history of media and propoganda. His area of
expertise is science and medicine. He began following the pandemic at
a very early stage in its emergence for a class on the global history
of epidemics. Later as institutions of higher education went online
they were able to merge projects.
The journal that became the book was mostly written in real
time. Every day the authors consumed hundreds of online pieces by
people across the political spectrum. This was complemented by
interviews with both experts in different domains and "regular folks"
who had heartbreaking experiences to share. This format has an
immediacy and intimacy that recreates a sense of having endured 2020.
I think the preservation of this narrative is really important.
When we move far enough beyond a terrible event there is a tendency to
deny or minimize it. Just look at the number of people who are saying
the Holocaust never happened. If we forget or water down the lessons
of the current pandemic and fail to make necessary reforms we'll be
again helpless in the face of the next disaster--viral or otherwise.
On a purrrsonal note, it's only a couple of weeks until the Poor
People's campaign event in Washington DC. It turns out that part of
me will be going with my group. My words. Pastor Malcolm has asked
me for some of my poems for them to share. So I'll be with them in
spirit though not in person. The evils the campaign is addressing
have a great deal to do with a huge number of people (especially Black
people) dying of COVID. If everyone had decent (or any kind of)
housing, access to decent food and health care, and all the other
basics that are out of the reach for so many that PPC is teaching us
need to be guaranteed human rights so many people wouldn't have died.
And if we fail to change many more will die needlessly in the next
public health crisis. (Jules)
She will be where she belongs, home with her best little cat in the
world, namely moi. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to the group as they get ready for the
journey.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway




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This music box is a recent thrift shop find.

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What Happened to the Bennetts?

What Happened to the Bennetts?

Adult chiller
"I glanced in my rearview mirror at the pickup truck, which was
riding my bumper. I hated tailgaters, especially with my family in
the car, but nothing could ruin my good mood. My daughter's field
hockey team had just beat Radnor, and Allison had scored a goal..."
It's a scene as quintessentially 21st century middle class as
Norman Rockwell paintings were for 20th century small town America.
Mom (Lucinda), Dad (Jason), two kids (Ethan and Allison), and family
dog returning home from a child's athletic triumph. Many of you have
experienced such precious moments. But don't say awww just yet.
Things are about to go downhill fast and furiously. Lisa Scottoline,
queen of chillers transpiring in quotidian settings, is in the
author's seat.
Sure enough the tailgating black pickup pulls in front of the
family car, blocking their way. Two men with guns tell the family to
exit their vehicle. The dog, Moonie, panics and jumps. A gun goes
off. Allison is shot in the neck.
Then seemingly out of the blue one of the carjackers shoots the
other.
The death of their beautiful daughter and sister is only the
first loss in store for the Bennetts. After returning home from the
hospital they get a visit from FBI agents. Allison's killer and his
accomplice are members of a criminal drug syndicate. The dead bad guy
is the son of the head of the syndicate who has probably been told
that Jason shot his son. It's likely they will target Jason and his
family.
The remaining family has to enter the witness protection
program. After being given fifteen minutes to pack they are driven to
a remote location where they are in the protective custody of two
agents. They can't contact any family and friends, not even Lucinda's
fragile mother who is a nursing home resident. They can't attend
Allison's funeral. They can't post information on social media even
as they see speculation that the family's disappearance is due to
murder and possibly suicide on Jason's part.
Only not all that the FBI agents tell him adds up in Jason's
mind. Maybe they aren't being given the truth. Maybe their
protectors aren't people they can trust.
Ultimately Jason decides he must find his own solution to the
crisis even though it involves taking on the syndicate on his own.
Scottoline does what she does best in this impossible to put
down chiller. She takes people readers can easily relate to, puts
them in an untenable situation, and builds the action to an almost
unbearable crescendo. If you're one of her many fans or an
affecianado of the genre put What Happened to the Bennetts on your
beach read list. You do not want to read it home alone after darkness
falls.
On a purrrsonal note, today Diane gave me a ride to the redemption
center to cash in $41.05 worth of Tobago's bottles and cans. I saw a
poster there that showed me how right I am at working so dilligently
to build up Tobago's savings account. A poor rescue dog named Zeus is
suffering while his people are trying to pull together enough for an
operation he needs that will cost two to three thousand dollars. I am
determined that if Tobago needs an operation I'll have the money for
it. Or at least most of the money. The people who love her would
help too if necessary. (Jules)
My people are taking care of me. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to all who help animals get the medical
care they need so they don't have to suffer or die too young.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


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