One Of Us Is Lying

One Of Us Is Lying

YA mystery
"Nate ignores me, tossing Simon's empty backpack aside. 'Fuck!'
he yells slamming a fist on the floor. 'Do you keep it on you,
Simon? Simon!' Simon's eyes roll back in his head as Nate digs around
in Simon's pockets. But he doesn't find anything except a wrinkled
Kleenex."
What should have been an ordinairy after school detention period
turns out to be anything but in Karen McManus' One Of Us Is Lying.
Simon dies from ingesting peanut oil. Investigators decide that it's
homicide. One of the other students had the opportunity to kill him
and make sure he didn't survive. Not only Simon's personal Epipen,
but the two in the school nurse's office, have gone missing.
Any of the other students would have had abundant motive to
silence Simon. He was the creator and content provider of a vicious
gossip app that revealed the secrets of his classmates to their
Bayview High peers. His post the next day was to feature dirt on the
four peers who ended up in detention with him.
The story is told from their alternating perspectives. As the
investigation unfolds readers get to see the complex dynamics of their
home and school lives.
Someone is lying.
But who?
Can you figure that out before the surprise ending?
On a purrrsonal note, if you ever have a hard time deciding what to
wear in the morning because you have too many clothes to recall what
goes well with what, my daughter, Amber, has an idea that might make
your mornings a whole lot easier. Be sure to check out http://amberscraftaweek.blogspot.com
for what might make a fun New Years resolution.
A great big shout out goes out to my crafty daughter, Amber.
jules hathaway


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More Grumpy Cat

More Grumpy Cat

Cat lovers
I have to admit it. My first Grumpy Cat book made me a total
fan. I quickly ordered five more volumes via the magic of inter
library loan.
Our friends at Little Golden Books, purveyors of bargain
children's classics such as The Poky Little Puppy and Color Kittens,
really get the Grumpster. One day she goes outside only to be greeted
by a bunch of cheerful critters. How's she gonna get away from that?
Read the book and see.
Grumpy Cat (And Pokey!) and The Misadventures of Grumpy Cat (And
Pokey!) bring the Grumpster to the graphic novel reading crowd. Each
volume contains a series of adventures undertaken eagerly by Pokey and
endured by Grumpy. Whether a haunted house waits to be explored,
aliens from another planet land on Earth, snobby felines challenge
them to a tree climbing contest, or Pokey falls in love with the girl
cat next door and requests Grumpy's help with courtship, the feline
sibling duo tackles the situation with amewsing results.
My favorites, though are the ones built around actual photos and
clever captions. The Grumpy Guide To Life is the polar opposite of an
inspirational book. It shows the darker side of topics like love,
home, and nature. In Grumpy Cat No-It-All you learn the Grumpster's
least favorite things and how she goes about vetoing them.
Paridoxically reading a Grumpy Cat book can be the purrrfect way
to put a smile on your face.
On a purrrsonal note. Today is Veterans' Day. If you're getting the
day off from school or work please remember the solemn reason behind
the observance. I certainly did. But this year for me there's
another layer of remembering sadness. It's the three month
anniversary of Joey leaving us. I suspect there are gallons of tears
in me just waiting to get out. While I normally don't recommend
shopping on a solemn observance day, I'm gonna cut myself slack and
make a Goodwill run. The alternate, drowning in sorrow, is not all
that appealing.
Great big shout outs go out to veterans and their families and to the
best little cat in the world who loved me.
jules hathaway


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Periods Gone Public

Periods Gone Public

Adult nonfiction
My first two menstruation related memories are, to put it
charitably, bizarre. I was an 11-year-old Girl Scout at camp in the
first. My cabin mates must have been really stepping on the
counselors' last nerve. (I probably was one of the instigators.) They
offered us an unusual bribe. If we would just leave them alone they'd
lend us a strictly taboo transistor radio. At one point our music was
interrupted by the news flash that the Pope had hemhoraged to death.
The next morning I woke up to a terrified scream. You can guess what
one of the girls had discovered.
When I woke a counselor up with the news that a cabinmate was
bleeding to death like the Pope she began laughing, which didn't seem
like an appropriate response to the imminent demise of one of her
charges. At the cabin she sent all of us but the stricken girl
outside. When she emerged she assured us that our friend was not
going to die, get sent home, or even spend the night in the
infirmary. End of discussion.
When I was 14 my usually strictly honest mother had put the date
of my first period on a form. Only it had not happened. When I asked
her why she was lying on an official document she explained that that
was to be our little secret. We wouldn't want people to think that
there was something wrong with me.
Jennifer Weiss-Wolf, quoted above, would not have been
surprised. New Years Day 2015 she had an epiphany. She'd taken part
in the annual Polar Bear Club Swim. When she went on Facebook to
share her pictures a post caught her eye. A family was collecting
period products for a food pantry. She wondered how, as a feminist,
she could have not become previously aware of period poverty. A
Google search turned into a life mission.
"...After hours, I kept reflecting on menstruation, placing it
squarely in the context of social justice, civic participation, and
gender equity. Before long I began to connect with journalists,
lawmakers, activists, and entrepreneurs, and I found myself entrenched
in a growing global network of people who were equally intrigued and
motivated by the power of periods.
The fruit of Weiss-Wolf's labor is Periods Gone Public. Equal
parts research data, personal narratives of others, and her own
intimate journey, it's currently the closest thing we have to a badass
period bible. The book sets menstruation practices and cultural
beliefs within historic and global contexts. Intersectionality is the
context in which her discourse takes place. Although there are many
specific examples of problems and attempted solutions, larger
questions are posed. My favorite section is the one on seeing a wide
range of policy options through a menstrual lens. And there is
acknowledgement that current best practices may be in conflict. Green
products, for example, better for the environment and the human body,
may be too costly for low income people in developed countries and a
no starter in places where menstruating people have no access to safe
changing places and enough water for cleaning selves and reusable
products.
Periods Gone Public is a clarion call to take action.
"At its core, a menstrual movement, and Periods Gone Public, is
about challenging all of us to face stigma head-on. And about
advancing an agenda that recognizes the power, pride, and absolute
normalcy of periods. Indeed, President Trump, we do have blood coming
out of our wherever. Every month. It is not a secret."
Amen to that!
On a purrrsonal note, I've been a party animal recently. Two
celebrations in three days! Quite the social life for a grad student.
On Thursday we had Gay Thanksgiving. I volunteered from set up
to clean up, rocking all my state of the art food service skills. I
instructed the other servers on safe food handling. (Manager Anna
would have been so proud.) We had a big, happy crowd show up and more
that enough food to satisy them. The solidarity and sense of
community were tangible. For a number of LGBTQ people there it was
Thanksgiving of the heart because calendar Thanksgiving with the
family won't be anywhere near as welcoming and accepting.
This week we'll have Multicultural Thanksgiving. I was given
the option of just going. I don't have to volunteer just because I'm
aces at food service. Actually I'm more comfortable volunteering. I
guess it's just part of who I am.
Saturday was the appreciation dinner for community garden
volunteers. Homemade soup and bread, salad and pie, wine, a fireplace
fire, background music, and really good people. We had it all. We
made plans for future gardens. We had awards. Once again I got most
sociable gardener. We did the garden during the period when Joey had
cancer and died. Somehow even clinically depressed I'm perceived as
sociable. We enjoyed a movie showing the progress of the garden.
We had wine in lovely glasses. I decided I would lead a toast.
I talked about how professors in my department are encouraging me to
think big and pursue my own research interests. I proposed a toast to
my future. Everybody was happy to drink to that. It was truly a
magic moment. I know that tradition says you make a toast for someone
else. But when something truly amazing happens in your life, screw
tradition.
Great big shout outs go out to everyone involved in both celebrations.
jules hathaway



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The Man They Wanted Me To Be

The Man They Wanted Me To Be

Adult memoir
"I was one of the first journalists to walk among them [Trump
supporters] because these are my people. Growing up in a dirt-poor,
factory family in southern Indiana, I'd heard all this before, though
usually behind closed doors, and thus could observe without flinching
or revealing myself. I also knew how to dress--jeans, t-shirts,
scuffed boots, an old, soiled baseball cap--and to carry myself as if
I had better things to do and yet was ready to fight at a moment's
notice..."
The 2016 presidential campaign and its aftermath introduced many
of us to a shocking subculture we'd been able to remain largely
unaware of. It was a realm in which any kind of filter was suspect--
evidence of the despised political correctness or pussification of the
country, grabbing women by the pussy was an accomplishment to be proud
of, and virulent hate groups contained "many fine people." It was the
world in which Jared Yates Sexton, quoted above, grew up, the one he
shines a light on in his memoir, The Man They Wanted Me To Be.
Sexton grew up in a patriarchal world in which men were the
unquestioned kings of the castle. After work they were free to sit
around watching tv and being inconsiderate, sometimes violent, jerks.
Even if women also worked, they were also in charge of child care,
cleaning, shopping...and that dinner better be on the table on time,
or else!
During Sexton's childhood he survived several dangerous, violent
macho men whom his mother married, guys who seemed decent until
matrimony and then showed their true colors. His memories include the
rushed escapes he and his mom made, their belongings thrown into
garbage bags. He was seen as weak, sickly [asthma], girlish, a family
black sheep, someone who needed to shape up.
"These men raised me. They punished me when I didn't fit in.
They beat me and tortured me, all in an effort to toughen me up and
make me just like them. They were my uncles, my cousins, my friends,
my neighbors, my stepfathers, and even my own father."
In the final section of his book, Crisis Of Our Own Making,
Sexton explores the contributions of the cult of toxic masculinity in
which he grew up to the election of Donald Trump and the continued
blindness of a large segment of the population to his presidential
shortcomings.
The Man They Wanted Me To Be is a must read for anyone concerned
about the role toxic masculinity plays in our current government and
the lives of many of its supporters.
On a purrrsonal note, I had a really good time Monday. Last year when
I was in Seminar our field trip was bad weathered out. Don't you hate
those inconvenient snow/sleet events? Well this year we were invited
to go to the field with this year's class. It was great. I learned a
lot about how an elite private college differs from an elite state
flagship university. (Which was probably the intent of the trip.)
there was something else really special about the trip. But that
requires a bit of back story.
I've had a lot of people see my intelligence as something they
could mold into conventional forms of thinking. This is about as
possible as trying to power a temperature controlled stove with wild
fire. I see the big picture. I think of elements that aren't in the
discourse. I tie ideas together in novel ways. I'd rather take risks
on ideas that might not work out rather than stick to safe ones. (Not
that I'm undisciplined. I take my academics very seriously). If I
had a dollar for every time I heard stuff like "That's not how we do
things." I could probably jet off to Paris France for a vaca.
On the way to the field trip I got to sit in the van with
Elizabeth who teaches the class and heads up her program. She sees
teachers and students as capable of bring valuable knowledge and
insight to the classroom rather than the teacher stuffing the students
who then prove they have properly ingested. I was eager to tell her
the ideas I'm working on. She was impressed and encouraging. The
next day I had a talk with my advisor, Leah, who was also very
validating and excited about the possibilities. For the first time in
my life my kind of thinking is not only OK but wonderful. And if one
of my ideas doesn't pan out it is not the end of the world. In the
place I'm in now I've gone from ugly duckling to swan. I'm no longer
pressured to be the person others want me to be. I bet a lot of us
get pressured to be the human someone else wants us to be.
Great big shout outs go out to Elizabeth and Leah and the Colby folks
who have us an outstanding tour and took the time to answer all our
questions.
jules hathaway



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Dog-Friendly Hikes In Maine

Dog-Friendly Hikes In Maine

Dog Lovers
If you are a dog's best buddy, you walk. A canine's gotta go in
all the adverse weathers Mother Nature sees fit to dish out in Maine.
That's the number one (bad pun intended) reason my kids never had any
man's best friends. Litter boxes stay inside.
Some people have something a little more ambitious than the
water a tree, squat and deliver rounds in mind for special occassions
or just time off. I can see my wonderful manager, Anna, leading her
canine chums through this season's dazzling fall foliage forests and
being in seventh heaven. So when I saw Aislinn Sarnacki's Dog-
Friendly Hikes In Maine at the Orono Public Library, I just had to
check it out.
Sarnicki is just the person to write this book. She's the human
companion of Oreo, an adorable shelter dog. (Reviewer's note:
remember when it comes to dogs and cats, adoption is the best way to
get a furever friend). She's also an outdoors reporter for the Bangor
Daily News, doing her best to get us out into nature. You can tell
she's passionate about her vocation. And her passion is contagious.
Her voice is intimate and conversational. You get the sensation of
getting together over a cup of coffee. And, like some reviewer I
know, she includes personal notes.
The thirty-five hikes cover much of Maine from the Big City
(Portland) to pretty darn close to the border with Canada. Some are
in the hearts of cities; others are out in the boonies where moose
probably outnumber humans. Each starts with a map and a set of
standard bullet points covering topics such as difficulty, cost, dog
rules, access, and how to get there. Then the fun part starts.
There's a narrative of features and useful information. Finally there
are dog friendly businesses including canine comfy lodging and
personal notes.
For anyone who is tempted to skip the first few chapters and get
right down to the hiking particulars, don't. There are a lot of
considerations that should enter in deciding whether to let your dog
off leash. There is nice specific information on taking care of
canine crap and packing all the accoutrements your dog could need.
And you have to know how to protect your dog and yourself from ticks.
So if you're like Anna, you'll really want to get your hands on
this book. Considering all the joy you and your dogs can get out of
it it's a very wise investment. Actually you don't have to be a doggy
daddy or mommy to enjoy it. I think next time I'm visiting my younger
daughter I'll suggest the Portland hike.
On a purrrsonal note, this has been a mixed weekend. Saturday I went
to Sweet Frog (a frozen yogurt place) with some friends. That was so
much fun! I'm slowly managing to supplement graduate school and work
with volunteering and social life.
Today while cleaning I found another of Joey cat's jingle bells and
felt my heart falling to pieces. Again. They were his favorite
toys. He loved batting them back and forth with me or chasing them at
fever pitch from one end of the trailer to the other. I can see him
so clearly in my mind's eye. Veterans Day will be the three month
anniversary of his death. I am trying not to think ahead to what
might be my first catless Christmas in sixteen years.
People, if you're lucky enough to have your cat or dog still with you,
never neglect them or take them for granted. Cherish each precious
day with them as I did. Because they deserves no less. And you never
know...
Great big shout outs go out to all who rightly treasure their dog and
cat companions and to the best little cat in the world who left big
paw prints on my broken heart.
jules hathaway


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Invisible Women

Invisible Women

Adult nonfiction
"Most of recorded human history is one big data gap. Starting
with the theory of Man the Hunter, the chronicles of the past have
left little space for women's role in the evolution of humanity,
whether cultural or biological. Instead, the lives of men have been
taken to taken to represent those of humans overall. When it comes to
the lives of the other half of humanity, there is nothing but silence."
If you're a woman (or gender fluid like me) you really need to
read Caroline Criado Perez's Invisible Women: Data Bias in a World
Designed For Men. Its theme is both basic and pervasive. Males, who
almost always run things, take their gender to be normative and
anything else a trivial distraction in anything from policy writing to
product design. Perez shows us the many ways in which this happens.
Going to the doctor? You may be in for an unpleasant surprise.
Medical devices are designed for men's larger bodies. Many medicines
that have the potential to make a life or death difference are tested
only on males. Even the lab animals are males. Women regularly die
of or suffer for years from doctors deciding that their very real
illnesses are psychomatic. (That chapter was so scary I had to skip a
bunch of paragraphs).
Let's head on to work where the myth of meritocracy rears its
ugly head. Let the guys running the show believe they got there on
their own superiority, and there's no need to correct for gender bias
in hiring or promotions. Women are expected to do more of the stuff
like brewing coffee and taking minutes. Genius bias (whereby people
picture males as such) has a toxic effect on women's evaluations.
Can even snow plowing patterns be sexist? You bet!!! Read the
book and see how.
Those are only a few examples from Invisible Women. From home to
houses of Congress and Parliament our concerns are being totally
ignored. Something has to be done, so more of us need to be woke.
On a purrrsonal note, this has been quite a week so far. Monday I was
a peacekeeper for the first time. College Republicans put some very
aggravating stuff in regard to indiginous peoples on the Internet.
Monday there was a peaceful, educational protest by indigenous people
and allies. Reading Dawnland Voices really got me ready for that!
Peacekeepers were called for because there was reason to fear
disruption. Luckily it didn't happen. Wednesday my daughter, Amber,
and her friends protested a speaker brought in by guess who who had
posted the okayness of rape. (Hey, College Republicans, are you
trying to see how many marginalized groups you can aggravate?)
On Halloween I got to work in costume. I was the fairy who cares for
unicorns with sparkly blue wings and a long, curly wig and a unicorn
shirt. People just LOVED my costume. And I got lots of candy trick
or treating at the Union. At home I watched a Halloween movie, Hocus
Pocus, with Eugene before bed.
Today I woke up to what sounded like a train barreling through. It
turned out to be wicked high winds which are still going on. UMaine
is closed. Only essential personnel need to come in. Luckily I'm not
scheduled to work. If I was I'd be out in that mess. Anna sent out a
call for help but I'm leaving that to people who live on campus or
drive.
Great big shout outs go out to the indigenous students who shared
their knowledge so gracefully and generously, Amber and her feminist
friends, and all who celebrated Halloween up to UMaine. Also to the
best little cat in the world who I missed terribly my first Halloween
without him.
jules hathaway



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Dawnland Voices

Dawnland Voices

"The other thing I wish to add here is that I believe the
paternalistic and patronizing attitude adopted by many White
historians toward the Amerindian intellect is a defensive measure. If
they can convince themselves that the people their ancestors
brutalized, dispossessed, and in many cases exterminated were little
more than savage animals, then they don't have to face up to the
horrors committed by these ancestors. After all, when you simply put
down pests and varmints, who should complain?"
The above quote is from an essay by Daniel Paul which first
appeared in his book on Mi'kmaq history, We Were Not The Savages. (I
plan to read that as soon as I can locate it.) I discovered it in
Dawnland Voices: An Anthology Of Indigenous Writings From New England,
edited by Siobhan Senier. I had been searching for that book for
quite awhile when fortuitously it appeared in the Orono Public Library
as a new acquisition in the space between Indigenous People's Day and
Thanksgiving. It was also when my theories class had studied higher
education theories of race and ethnicity and was gearing up to tackle
religion and spirituality. In other words the timing was purrrfect.
For reasons I will reveal later, reading this book was a life changer
for me. It has now displaced To Kill A Mockingbird which has been my
favorite book in for decades.
Anyway back to the quote. In that piece Paul discusses the
genocide of indigenous peoples by whites including the bounty on
indigenous scalps paid out like in my lifetime money was paid to
hunters for body parts of slain pest animals. He is so right! In
order to commit atrocities while considering oneself a good person and
convince the less blood thirsty members of one's group of the
rightness of the unconscienable, one must demean the doomed. Hitler
alluded to the Jews as vermin in his attempt to wipe them off the face
of the Earth. Slave owners claimed that the blacks were so feeble
minded, heathen, and corrupt they were better off as chattels for
Christians. These days white police officers shoot "thugs".
When I was growing up, although the ongoing genocide was not as
obvious, the demeaning was going on big time. There were these awful
movies in which "injuns" were always up to no good but white hatted
John Wayne was always there to save the day. Television didn't do any
better. Children were encouraged to (or at least not discouraged
from) enacting stereotyped behaviors like those gosh awful war
whoops. In school every year we celebrated Thanksgiving. We made
tacky construction paper and school creations. Many of us
participated in enactions of the Indians keeping the Pilgrims (who
were totally unprepared to occupy their new environment) from
starving. But that was seemingly the only relevant thing they did in
hundreds of years of United States history. And they were supposed to
be gone except for some quaint reservations in places like Arizona
where if you were in the neighborhood you could get turqouise jewelery
dirt cheap.
Of course we kids in our construction paper Pilgrim hats were
never told how the whites repaid the indigenous people for being saved
from death by starvation by embarking on a centuries long campaign of
genocide, theft of land, leaving their hosts bereft of means of
sustenance, and cultural and language destruction. That is one of the
messages of Dawnland Voices. This amazing compilation contains
writings, organized by tribe, that cover the whole history of white-
indigenous relations from when we arrived on the scene, making the
arrogant assumption that we discovered the place, to the much too
current campaigns to "save the man by killing the Indian"'
In Donna Loring's piece we learn that:
"Indians were simply seen as subhuman savages to be disposed
of. Thus began Indian education from the white man's perspective:
educate the Indian in white man's culture and values, and he will
become for all intents and purposes a productive member of white
society. Indian children were forcibly taken from their mothers and
fathers on the reservations and were mentally, physically,
psychologically, spiritually, and even sexually abused. Native people
call this cultural genocide."
That was going on when I was born. And in this part of Maine
Department of Human Service participated in the cultural genocide by
removing indigenous children from families and tribes (probably for
reasons having more to do with cultural differences than actual
neglect or endangerment) and placing them with white foster and
adoptive parents who were totally clueless about their cultural
heritage.
And we call indigenous people savages?
If this was the entirity of Dawnland Voices I would highly
recommend it. We need to know about all that was done to the
indigenous peoples by our people. We can't say "Not my problem. I
didn't do it." Even those of us who didn't personally scalp, hand out
disease laced blankets, or steal land by force and biased legalities
benefit from all that. I go to the University of Maine which is
situated on stolen land.
But there is so much more to the book. One valuable vein of
wisdom is their relationship to the created world. In contrast to the
conquer and plunder mentality embodied in the phrase "manifest
destiny" the indigenous peoples rocked respect and love for all of
creation. Imagine what this country would be like if we too made
decisions based on the welfare of the seventh generation from ours!
There is much we as individuals can learn on mindfullness and
stewardship.
And there is so much more. There are stories of indigenous
people's lived experiences. There is some of the most eloquent poetry
I've ever read. There are even recipes. I plan to try the cranberry
stuffed acorn squash.
So to whom would I recommend this book? I think it's a must
read for all humans with human hearts and minds. I fear that those
who most need its wisdom (like the folks who are pissed off that
Columbus Day is morphing into Indigenous Peoples' Day) will never pick
it up.
On a somewhat long purrrsonal note, I was raised Episcopalian. It
never really took. I picked up early on the racism and classism of my
childhood church. I was bothered by the idea that all who didn't see
impossibly Aryan Jesus as THE WAY were doomed to burn in Hell for all
eternity. At eleven I refused to buy in in the form of confirmation.
I spent much of my life as ambivolent Christian attending when that
aspect of my identity seemed salient and exploring every denomination
from Pentacostal to Unitarian Universalist. I did not have my
children infant baptized because I felt that I didn't have the right
to make that decision for them. I did take them to church some but
when it didn't take I wasn't all that bothered, not having conflated
morality with religiosity. But while my relationship with organized
religion was lukewarm at best and often motivated by a fear of not
living on after death, my spiritual life was on fire. I believed in
an amazing Creator Being not because someone was preaching at me from
the pulpit to, but because I saw His/Her/Their work in the amazingness
of the created world from the perfection of the tiniest shell or
insect to the majesty of the star lit sky. I walk around in a
constant stare of awe. Right now the autumn foliage is taking my
breath away. Working the soil to grow organic veggies to give to
those who need them or receiving water on a parching, hot day feel
like communion. And I believe in the soul living on beyond the death
not because of doctrinal statements, but because I sense the life
flames in the people and other sentient beings around me. When I read
the book I had evolved into a pantheism that incorporated values and
beliefs major world faiths. Fortunately I found a church that is fine
with my unorthodox spirituality, not to mention my gender fluidity
(which the indigenous people had described and respected as two spirit
for ages). But when I read the book and learned of the many people
who feel the way I do it felt like coming home.
I think Joey's story illustrates this. He was given to me as a
birthday gift. I was privileged to have him in my life for sixteen
years. I adored him from the time I first held his just weaned self.
When I learned how much he loved to cuddle my joy knew no bounds.
When he was three he almost died. That was when I learned that he was
and would always be a medically frail, special needs cat. In that
mind that made him all the more precious. But some people questioned
my judgement. Why keep a defective pet (I hate that word with it's
connotation of owning) when I could get another so easily? For the
rest of his life I closely partnered with his vets to give him the
best possible life. Getting up in the morning even on the gloomiest
of days, I would feel joy in my heart at the prospect of seeing the
best little cat in the world. This was especially true when my
children had grown and flown. A lot of people came to know Joey
through my stories and grew to love him. When I learned that he had
cancer I agreed right off with the vet that buying him good time
through appetite enhancing medicine would be the right option as
opposed to extreme measures. For those three months and three days he
was my world. We were there for each other and even made precious
memories. I hated to lose him but was glad that when the end came it
was quick and not dramatic. He simply stopped breathing. He was
touching my arm, I was petting him, and we were looking each other in
the eye. I know I have been forever changed for the better for his
precious presence in his life and intend to honor his memory in how I
live my life as long as I draw breath.
Great big shout outs go out to today's indigenous people who still
have to struggle to survive and keep their heritages and languages
alive and to the best little cat in the world who has left me a far
better person because of his precious presence in my life.
jules hathaway



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