Here's something a little more seasonally secular thanks to Veazie Community School.  It sure puts me in a holiday mood.  This year Christmas will be very different for many of us.  But let's try to find joy in it.

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Well it looks like the folks at the Veazie church are entering into the spirit of Advent.  My church is too.  Instead of an inside tree we'll have an outside tree members are encouraged to add ornaments too.  I plan to make the trek after I find or make something strong enough for outside weather.  I've also seen a picture of a camel in Old Town headed toward my church in Orono.  I'll try to get this picture and forward it to you all.

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Allegedly

Allegedly

YA/adult novel
"'There would never be this type of outcry if the baby was
black. Period,' says Tamika Brown, public relations rep of the
National Action Network. 'Doesn't matter what you say about racial
equality, you've never seen white families storming the steps of city
hall, demanding justice for a little black baby. They're pushing for
the death penalty and don't even realize executing this little girl is
no different from murdering that baby."
The police arrived at a home to find a White infant being
babysat by the Black single parent in residence dead. The woman's
nine-year-old daughter, Mary, was accused and indicted. Although
names of juveniles accused of crimes are not supposed to be available
to the public, hers was all over the Internet, resulting in death
threats and demands for Mary to be tried as an adult and to receive
the death penalty.
As Tiffany Jackson's Allegedly begins Mary, after serving six
years at an adult prison, mostly in solitary because of her age, is in
a poorly run group home. Bullies torment and endanger her. The
asleep-at-the-wheel adults who run the place do nothing to protect
her. She is exceptionally intelligent and desperately desires a
college education. She's secretly studying for the SATs. But those
in power have capped her education at a GED and cosmotology training.
As a child on trial, a truly terrifying situation complicated by
grief caused by the baby's death, Mary was basically mute. She
remembers every detail of what happened though. She also knows that
exonerating herself would mean incriminating someone she's extremely
close to. Then she becomes pregnant with a being she calls Bean.
With the powers that be determined to put the baby up for adoption
after birth, Mary realizes that coming forward with the truth may be
the only way she can retain custody of her beloved child and secure a
future for both of them.
Allegedly is a gripping narrative and so much more. Although
the characters and plot are fictional, it has its roots in a "justice"
system where Black kindergarteners are put in handcuffs for normal
classroom misbehavior, Black youth are funneled into a school-to-jail
pipeline, and unarmed Black teens are shot by police who are almost
never indicted. It's a must read for all who believe that Black lives
have to come to matter to those, from school administrators and police
through lawyers and judges, who literally hold their lives and futures
in their hands.
On a purrrsonal note, I hope you had a nice weekend. Tobago and I
did. The weather was balmy, getting up into the 40s. I went out to
the forest both days. My supper cooking was simplified by all the
leftover turkey. I attended zoom church and saw a bunch of friends.
Tobago joined in on the hymn singing. I had good library books to
read. And I got my grade for assignment 7 in statistics. 100! My
average in the class is now 97.428!!! (Jules)
It was a good weekend. I does have a lovely voice. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to our church family.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


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I took this picture in the forest this morning.  It's a little stream.  It had been dry.  But now after the snow and rain it's bubbling along.  One of the best things about walking in nature is the lovely surprises that can be beyond any turn in the path.

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This is my infamous apple pie.  It's a good illustration of the adage: necessity is the mother of invention.  Right before I rolled out my top crust I realized that I was running out of dough.  So instead of a solid top crust I cut out a bunch of little gingerbread people.  Pretty cute, isn't it?

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From #BlackLivesMatter to Black Liberation

From #BlackLivesMatter to Black Liberation

Adult nonfiction
With Obama as president--a Black man holding the highest elected
office in the nation--a lot of people thought we'd entered a
postracial or color blind society and acted on this dangerous
misconception. The Supreme Court, for example, struck down the Voting
Rights Act on the faulty premise that America had changed so much it
was no longer necessary. Blacks (in comparison to Whites) still
experienced disproportionate rates of poverty, lack of health care,
substandard housing, hunger, unemployment, inadequate schooling... In
other words, on just about any life quality index you can think of
they were left far behind.
When it came to justice, there were (and still are) two separate
Americas. Blacks are way overrepresented in the prison system, often
serving draconian sentences for relatively minor offenses. They're
relentlessly stopped and frisked or pulled over while just going about
their lives. They are much more likely to be killed by those tasked
with serving and protecting.
Eventually the killings became to egregious to accept. When
Michael Brown was shot in Ferguson, Missouri, his body was left out in
the hot sun for hours, a blatant disregard of his humanity. In
Baltimore Freddie Gray was tossed, handcuffed and unsecured, into a
police van for a fatal ride during which has spinal cord was nearly
severed.
People took to the streets in shows of righteous anger.
Protests flared up and grew stronger, even in the face of brutal
attempts by the police to shut them down. #BlackLivesMatter came into
being.
Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor's comprehensive From #BlackLivesMatter
to Black Liberation contextualizes the movement in America's history
of systemic racism, examining facets such as:
*how the concept of the culture of poverty in a supposedly
meritocratic society has been used to blame Blacks for their suffering
and absolve the larger society of complicity and need for restitution;
*how the idea of colorblindedness narrowed racism to the bad behavior
of individuals rather than anything systematic;
and *how law enforcement's double standard has had devastating
consequences for Black families and communities.
"This book explores why the movement marching under the banner
of Black Lives Matter has emerged under the the nation's first Black
president. Police brutality is not a new thing; it has existed, in
some form or other, since the abolition of slavery. Why has abusive
policing created a breaking point in the age of Obama? How does this
fit into a larger historical pattern of explosive Black politics and
the consistent denial of Black oppression in US society?
If those questions intrigue you, you'll really want to read the
book.
On a purrrsonal note, Thanksgiving was good, although different.
Recall the kids and I had decided not to go to the home of my very
medically fragile mother-in-law for her protection. Well we and two
of their significant others and all four of the family cats had a
lovely zoom visit. I was able to show them my novel apple pie and
they all liked it. We swapped some reading recommendations, talked
about holidays this year and what we hope for in the future... It was
just so special having time together. I was a wizard of Thanksgiving
cuisine, producing a memorable meal of turkey and all the trimmings.
I had lots of time for binge reading and candy. It was a good day.
Today I am not Black Friday shopping. Even without a pandemic I
wouldn't. It's a tad too materialistic for my taste. I got in a
lovely walk in the forest. I got in some fine poetry writing.
Between the unusual Thanksgiving and the Supreme Court's latest
display of dumbassness I had plenty of inspiration. And I had a
culinary epiphany. For lunch, instead of having my usual turkey with
margerine sandwich I tried turkey with stuffing, and cranberry sauce.
My taste buds were in seventh heaven! (Jules)
Yeah, that might be a good sandwich. Except minus the stuffing,
cranberry sauce, and bread. (Tobago)
A great big shout and hopes that you had a safe and happy Thanksgivibg
go out to all our readers.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway




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I have the evidence. My humans are going to bring in the big climbing tree any day soon.  Nothing says party on to a cat like a big climbing tree.  Well I'd better check out all the stuff they're going to put

on it.  A cat's work is never done.

Tobago 

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Another early picture of a sweet little companion. I'd be having a
much harder time handling all this pandemic mess without her. I
suspect it's the same with Eugene. I bless the day Anna took me to
Waterville Humane Society so I could find a new little friend.

Here is one of my first pictures of Tobago. She's trying to play with
the Christmas tree lights. Right after I took the picture I
redirected her attention. Today she has been with us exactly eleven
months. December 23 will be her 1st adoption anniversary and her 4th
birthday.

How Not To Get Shot

How Not To Get Shot

Adult satire
"White people are always giving us helpful advice. Those mofos
have been doling out tips to black people since 'I suggest you pick
cotton if you don't like getting whipped.' it seemed crazy to me that
we keep hearing this stuff over and over.
But then I had a moment of clarity. What if they were right?
What if Megyn Kelly was actually onto something?"
A Black person is three times more likely to be shot by a police
officer than a White person. This is as true for well off
professionals as for project dwellers on welfare. In the eyes of law
enforcement race trumps all else.
But what if there was a book that could teach Blacks how not to
join those woeful statistics?
"I'm a comedian, but I'm serious. You know how to baby-proof
your home by putting little things over the outlets? Well this book
is like that. I'm gonna police-shoot-proof black people as much as we
can..."
In his How Not To Get Shot And Other Advice From White People D.
L. Hughley addresses the contentious topic of racism in a genre rarely
utilized for this purpose: satire. Whites are the "arbiters of
knowing everything." We're always more than ready to share our
advice. Only Blacks don't really want to listen to us. So Hughley is
going to filter this advice through the lens of his blackness to make
it more palatable. He discusses how to walk, talk, drive, dress for
inoffensiveness, give children names, get jobs, and so much
more...even how to understand us.
Hughley's ability to bring to life the complexity and
perverseness of racism in an unusual format makes How Not To Get Shot
a good read for all of us.
On a purrrsonal note, I hope you had a good weekend. I did. It
warmed up enough for me to do some outdoor reading both Saturday and
Sunday. My church sent over a Thanksgiving basket with lots of good
food. I thought about giving someone the pumpkin pie because Eugene
doesn't like it. But I do. So I'm going to have it with whipped
cream for a few breakfasts. I got to start working on statistics
assignment 7. I talked on the phone with all my kids. (Jules)
It is grey and drippy outside today. Ooh, I just saw lots of birds
flying. I has heard it's almost time to bring a tree in the house. I
am excited. (Tobago).
A great big shout out goes out to you, our readers, with wishes for a
happy Thanksgiving. It won't be the usual holiday for most of us.
But please don't give into temptation to do all the usual stuff. With
cases skyrocketing, those are statistics you and your loved ones do
not want to join. Enjoy what you can safely. OK? Tobago and I will
be chilling together at home. Reading. Hopefully a zoom meet up with
the kids.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


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And, speaking of masks, here's a timely message from my friends at
Mabel Wadsworth.

UMaine has been offering both in person and online classes so far this
semester. Following Thanksgiving all will be online. There has been
a lot of cooperation around things like masks to avoid a crisis that
would lead to early move to online as you can see in the picture
below. I do not envy higher education administrators during this
pandemic.

Where The Line Bleeds

Where The Line Bleeds

Adult fiction
"'Well,' Christophe said low, out of the corner of his mouth, 'I
guess we know why she didn't come.' He tossed the keys in the air;
they glittered in the dim light and fell with a dull metal crush into
Christophe's palm.
'Why show up when you give us a car? Guess she's really done
now.'
'Yeah, I guess she is."
The she Christophe and Joshua, Black twin protagonists of Jesmyn
Ward's Where The Line Bleeds, are discussing is their Mom, Cille.
She'd taken off a long time ago to have a career, leaving her sons to
be raised by her now blind mother and their extended family. She
rarely visits. The event she's passing on is their high school
graduation.
Their father, Sandman, doesn't attend either. He and Cille have
gone their separate ways. He's a drug addict who will do anything to
get the fixes his body craves. The twins fear his reappearance.
The small Mississippi Gulf Coast town of Bois Savage the boys
have grown up in is not big on higher education. So Joshua and
Christophe, like their classmates, set off on a weary round of job
searching. Even the fast food joints aren't hiring.
Joshua gets hired at the docks. As the summer wears on things
get strained between the twins. Joshua resents his exhausting, boring
job moving cargo. He wonders if he'll be stuck in that dead end
position the rest of his life. Ashamed and wanting to help the family
financially, Christophe begins selling drugs. At first it's just
grass...
To complicate their situation further, the twins' parents are
going to arrive separately, adding their dramas to the mix.
If you take to this narrative you're in good luck. It's first
in a trilogy, followed by Salvage The Bones and Sing, Unburied, Sing,
crafted by a master story teller, well versed in small town Southern
life and possessing a voice like no other.
On a purrrsonal note, we're coming up on another weekend. It was a
good week although from time to time I found myself impatient to go
out and have a good time with people. Can you relate? I'm finishing
week six on walking, about to add a scarf to my outerwear. But
something REALLY EXCITING happened yesterday morning.
Wednesday night my statistics professor, Craig, was teaching about
ANOVA. He kept telling us not to feel bad if we didn't get the
concept. Just keep on with the formulas and it would come. But I
totally got it. So yesterday morning I emailed Craig an analogy I
made up to demonstrate my comprehension. He liked it so much he's
going to use it in future teaching. Who is turning into a statistics
goddess? (Jules)
My hooman the statistics goddess. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to our readers. If you haven't got out
your winter gear it might be a good time to do so.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


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And here is the bookcase I moved into the living room.  Looks like I'd better put cleaning the counter above it at the top of my cleaning to do list.  I am officially in clean the house for the holidays mode even though we won't be entertaining or doing anything major.  As long as there's a tree for me to decorate I'll be a happy camper.

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This is the bookcase I pulled out of Adam's old room and put in the hall.  The kids want me to get as much furniture out of that room as possible so when things are more back to normal they can carry on with their COVID interrupted plan to turn it into a man cave for their dad with exercise equipment.  They were inspired by how I turned the girls' old room into my studio.

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Darling Rose Gold

Darling Rose Gold

Adult thriller
"How about a satisfaction so deep every inch of your skin
tingles? How about a different kind of happiness--the kind people who
have never been mistreated would call perverse?
When my mother got out of prison I knew she would want--no,
expect me to take her in. I'd gladly spend my hard earned cash to
screw with her while she lived under my roof, in her childhood
home...This time I was the one in control."
For eighteen years Patty Watts had sought help tirelessly for
her daughter, Rose Gold's myriad mysterious illnesses, consulting many
doctors, doing whatever they recommended. By the age of ten Rose Gold
was a frail waif in a wheelchair getting nutrients through a feeding
tube. The town considered Patty a saint: praying for her, comforting
her, and raising money to help with her daughter's medical expenses.
"My daughter didn't have to testify against me.
It's Rose Gold's fault I went to prison, but she's not the only
one to blame. If we're pointing fingers, mine are aimed at the
prosecutor and his overactive imagination, the gullible jury, and the
bloodthirsty reporters..."
It turned out that the neighbors were being scammed. Rose Gold
would have been perfectly healthy if Mommy Dearest hadn't been
poisoning and starving her cruelly and systematically. The legal term
the lawyers used was aggravated child abuse. Charged with a crime
most people consider unforgivable, not surprisingly, Patty ended up in
prison.
As Stephanie Wrobel's Darling Rose Gold opens Patty is being
released from prison. She's going to live with the daughter she
abused for eighteen years. The townspeople fear for Rose Gold. They
plan to keep an eye on that household, ready to pounce if Patty is up
to her old tricks. They don't realize that Rose Gold is no longer a
frail waif. She's a woman with a score to settle.
Oh, yeah, Rose Gold is now single parenting her baby son. Patty
is developing a strong interest in little Adam. Perhaps he is more
sickly than anyone else realizes. Perhaps she should take him away
from his negligent mother.
On a purrrsonal note, I hope you had a good weekend. I did. For the
most part I was home with Tobago. Quiet good times. I've hit the
point where I'm addicted to exercise. I feel jittery until I get to it.
Today I did my annual furniture moving project. I moved one bookcase
from the hall to the living room and one from Adam's old room to the
hall. I feel much more organized.
Today I started zoom seeing a counselor. I'm sure I don't have to
tell you this pandemic is stressful. So I'm talking to a professional
before what will be for me a bare bones holiday season. I feel that
this will be a proactive and positive way to gain more pandemic coping
skills. I'll see her again next week. (Jules)
I have discovered Teriyaki pork. My compliments to the chefs! (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to counselors and therapy dogs and cats.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway



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I took this picture on my this morning's walk.  Today I walked up beside the river to Riverside Park.  I have to get my hands on a basketball.  There are hoops up near the old school.

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A neighbor put out this reminder that Thanksgiving will soon be here.  I think for a lot of us it will be simpler than most years.

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Copperhead

Copperhead

Adult fiction
"...It doesn't matter that he's always been a good student, not
just smart but dilligent, up late, up early, keeping his work
organized, reading ahead, extra-credit assignments. It doesn't matter
that he's done everything right, that he's had no margin for
error...It doesn't matter what Jessup has done, he knows; it's never
going to be enough. The starting gun went off well before he was
born, and no matter how fast he runs, he'll never win the race."
Putting his all into football (in hopes of an athletic
scholarship) and academic achievement, high school student Jessup,
protagonist of Alexi Zentner's Copperhead, is desperate to leave his
home town and never come back. It's not just the poor white trash
stigma of living in a trailer outside of town. It's not just the
unfairness of competing with peers whose parents have the means to pay
for tutors, test prep classes, and special camps--kids who consider
"the American dream not something to aspire to, but a birthright."
It's the cloud his family's reputation keeps him under.
Jessup's family is closely associated with the Blessed Church of
the White America, an avowedly supremacist organization that is
forming a militia for racial holy war. His brother is serving a long
sentence for killing two Black men--students at nearby Cortica
University. Although evidence pointed to self defense, the incident
had been framed as a hate crime. His stepfather, who had been serving
a shorter sentence, was just released, drawing renewed family scrutiny
from the public.
Then a football goes sickeningly wrong--not on the playing
field, but after the game. In the parking lot Corson, a Black player
from the other team accuses him of foul play and kicks out a tail
light on his truck. Unfortunately later that night they end up at the
same party. Corson, quite drunk, taunts him about his family loudly
enough for them to become the center of attention, trying
unsuccessfully to start a fight.
Their third meet up is not a charm. Jessup, after scraping the
ice off its windows, is starting his truck. Corson begins kicking it
again. Jessup pulls away as quickly as possible and hears a sickening
noise.
Even though Corson's death is an accident, Jessup feels that if
he calls the police the future he's working so hard for will be over.
Given his family's history and church affeliation, given motive and
opportunity, he'll end up spending decades behind bars with his brother.
Is there any way he can save his life?
On a purrrsonal note, I hope you had a good week. I did. I missed
class. Veterans Day. Craig sent us a surprise--a practice problem
based on the ill-fated Donner expedition. He's promised soon we are
going to take a look at the Titanic. I am obsessed with the Titanic.
Eugene is on vaca. He spent a few days at camp leaving just the party
animals (Tobago and me) to home. I've been getting quite creative
with cooking. Last night we had Black Bear Exchange sesame chicken,
real (not canned) carrots, and fries made from scratch. No big plans
for the weekend (Jules)
It is getting cold again (Tobago).
A great big shout out goes out to my ultra cool statistics professor,
Craig Mason. Can't wait to visit the Titanic.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


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And this is my perfect walking stick. It's great for not twisting an
ankle or breaking something on slippery patches like mud or moss. In
a pandemic an emergency room is not where I want to be.

This picture is from the woods I've been walking around in recently.
It's a nice big public green space. I am doing really well on my
exercise program. Four weeks of walking at least half an hour a day.
When I have my exercise fully worked into my days I can start to build
another good habit.

The Miscalculations of Lightning Girl

The Miscalculations of Lightning Girl

"I don't remember the moment that changed my life 4 years ago.
Call it a side effect of being struck by lightning. That bolt of
electricity burned a small hole in my memory. It also rewired my
brain, transforming me into Lucy Fanny Callahan, math genius."
Lucy, protagonist of Stacy McAnulty's The Miscalculations of
Lightning Girl, can do daunting math problems instantly in her head.
Her grandmother, with whom she lives, considers that a miracle.
Doctors see it as acquired savant syndrome, a form of brain damage.
Through computer home schooling Lucy has enough credits to start
college, virtually, of course. However, she's only twelve. And her
grandmother is realizing how socially isolated she is and insisting
that she spend one year physically attending the local middle school.
Her uncle agrees that she "needs to be around other kids."
Entering middle school can be a challenging transition for
anyone. How can a math genius with very weak social skills and easy-
to-bully-about OCD rituals survive?
Read the book and see.
On a purrrsonal note, our heat wave continues. Edging toward the
70s. Beach weather. I've started walking the walking trails that
start off of Mutton Lane. I really like them. It's very pretty out
there. Sometimes I see a varmint like a snake or a chipmunk. When I
go there I walk about an hour instead of a half hour. The trails
would be perfect for cross country so before next winter I'm going to
buy skis. I was home Sunday but walked instead of going to church.
Of course afternoons I'm outside in tee shirt and shorts barefoot.
Craig has finally posted assignment 6 in statistics class so I'm
having fun working on it.
Eugene is on vaca. He left this morning and will be probably be gone
2 nights. (Jules).
All the nice warm sunshine to soak up. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to our Eugene along with hopes he'll
have a great time at camp.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway



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And then a few minutes later it was even more spectacular.

We had a really pretty sunset last night. I was working on statistics
when I looked out the window and saw this and had to go out and
capture it.

Dress Coded

Dress Coded

Juvenile fiction
I recall dress codes from my junior high and high school years.
I still remember vividly how much I hated being stopped in the hall by
ruler wielding teachers wanting to make sure my dress or skirt wasn't
too short and hearing in assemblies that girls were to dress demurely
so we wouldn't distract the boys from their studies. They were the
serious students; we were the slutty distractions.
You'd think things would have changed in the intervening
decades. Nope. This issue keeps popping up in the news. And it's
the central plot of Carrie Firestone's Dress Coded.
"Dear FMS [Fisher Middle School] parents,
It is with deep regret that I write to inform you our camping
trip to Strawberry Hill State Park has been cancelled. As you will
recall, I sent out a letter on February 25 promising a wonderful trip
if our eighth graders simply followed the dress code outlined in the
student handbook. For the better part of the semester your children
have done a fantastic job. Recently, however, a student violated the
dress code and after we gave her ample opportunity to comply, she
refused. Unfortunately, rules are rules..."
Molly is furious. The noncompliant student is her friend,
Olivia. Molly had seen Olivia reduced to tears by two yelling
administrators. She's also seen their fellow eighth graders hating on
Olivia for the loss of the trip. She decides to fight back by
creating a podcast. Olivia is her first guest.
"We don't know her real name.
She calls herself the dean of students, but nobody has ever seen
her do anything but stare at girls, search for a rogue bra strap or a
rogue shoulder, and bark out warnings..."
A lot of girls (never boys) get dress coded at Fisher. And not
all girls are targeted--mostly the more developed and bigger ones.
Petite late bloomers fly under the radar--even when wearing the same
outfits.
As other girls share their stories the podcast gets a lot more
listeners. People become indignant and determined to stop the
injustice once and for all. They're up against a school
administration enamoured of the dress code and determined to keep it
in place.
What can they do?
Read the book and see. It's a lively narrative dealing with an
unfortunately still very relevant issue.
On a purrrsonal note, recall we had that stupid snowstorm early in the
week? Well now Penobscot County, Maine is in the middle of a heat
wave. Yesterday was so nice I was able to spend the afternoon outside
in jeans and a tee shirt. As of today we're in a stretch of temps in
the sixties. I am one happy camper. I'm going to get as much fresh
air as I can. I have no big plans for the weekend beyond enjoying
Mother Nature's wonderful surprise. It's also a good chance to get my
shed in order and swap out summer clothes for winter ones. (Jules)
White stuff all gone bye byes. Now it's getting hot. Maybe it will
get hot enough to open some windows. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to you, my readers. One of the things
I'm enjoying most during this pandemic is reading good books and
reviewing them for this blog. Please take care of yourselves. COVID
cases are climbing all over this country. It will be a challenging
time. But cooperating on safety measures is the only way to get us
past this to better times.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


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Fwd:

There it is.  My something to be proud of.  Ignore that it says Julia.  That's my legal documents only name.

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Begin forwarded message:

From: "julia.hathaway" <julia.hathaway@maine.edu>
Date: November 4, 2020 10:17:02 AM EST
To: Julia Hathaway <beaniebabylover@gmail.com>

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The dull, drab, desolate, dreary vista I was so not ready for Monday
morning.

Kiki and Jacques

Kiki and Jacques

Juvenile fiction
"Jacques bent forward to lift up Pele [pet rabbit], and that's
when he noticed a guy in a gray hoodie and sagging gym pants jogging
down the street away from him. Jacques couldn't see his face, but he
knew exactly who he was."
At eleven, Jacques, protagonist of Susan Ross' Kiki and Jacques,
has more challenges than many American adults. His beloved mother has
died. His grief stricken father is drinking too much, unemployed, and
entering Jacques' life primarily as a bully. His grandmother may lose
her bridal shop, the family's one source of income. An older guy
named Duane is stalking him, pressuring him to do things he knows are
not only wrong, but dangerously wrong.
With school starting Jacques' soccer team has changed. He's a
team standout. Word is he's a shoe in for captain. However, there is
a new Somali student with amazing skills on the team. His father has
warned him he isn't going to "let this kid move in and make captain."
Then there's an enigmatic new Somali girl whom Jacques comes to
care about.
Author Ross grew up in Lewiston-Auburn. When Somali refugees
began to settle there in large numbers in the 2000s there was a lot of
controversy and fearmongering. Her experience let her to write this
fine novel. BTW, her refugee mother had a bridal shop.
"I could not have done this book without the help of wonderful,
inspiring Somali teen readers. It was a privilege to see the
experience of growing up in Maine through their eyes. Thank you for
showing how strong and resilient kids can be."
On a purrrsonal note, I was so NOT ready for the snow Monday!!!
Normally I love snow and find the first snow of the year magical. But
normally I'm leading an active, social life. This year it's just
something to make walking nowhere harder. It didn't help that it
happened right after we set the clocks back and darkness started
falling before supper. And I feel the cold much more than I did pre
COVID. It was easier to ignore when I was going fun and exciting
places. I hope next year at this time I will be going places, not
just walking to get exercise.
One good thing though. I got my 10 gallon pin in the mail from the
Red Cross. I sure will wear that with pride. (Jules)
The white stuff. It's back. It's back. The hoomans don't seem happy
to see it. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to all who welcome and help our
nation's newcomers.
jules hathaway


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And that's my friend Ben ignoring a rather menacing visitor. I sure
hope that next Halloween will be safe for close encounters of the
spooky kind.

Just a couple of happier days Halloween pictures. That's the career
counseling crew getting into the spirit of things last year.

We Are Here To Stay

We Are Here To Stay

YA nonfiction
"The book you are holding was supposed to be published in 2017
with full color portraits of the young people interviewed for it.
Since that time, executive action regarding DACA recipients has been
in flux, making it risky for many of the participants to reveal their
identities. Their images, names, and other identifiers have been
withheld to protect the inspiring people who share their stories in
these pages."
Flip through Susan Kuklin's We Are Here To Stay: Voices of
Undocumented Young Adults. You'll see something jarring. Many pages
are blank except for slim black frames and sometimes a quote. That is
where pictures of the narrators of the stories would have been.
However, thanks to a certain president [hint; rhymes with dump] they
live in danger of being deported from the country they have lived in
most of their lives to nations they may not even remember, let alone
be able to navigate.
Fortunately we can read their stories. Nine young people
courageously share their precarious experiences in the United States.
Some are also able to recount their former lives and passages.
"When I say good morning to my parents, I'm never sure that I
will be able to say good night to them. I'm afraid to go to school,
because it could be the last time I see them for awhile...It happened
to some of my friends--their parents get deported and they are left
alone."
Can you imagine having that fear constantly hanging over you as
a teen?G (from Mexico) arrived in America at the age of five. His
parents wanted to escape violence and give their children a better
life. At the time he wrote those words he was an honor student and
Eagle scout. His father had held down a responsible job (and paid
taxes) for twelve years. His dad had to drive to work. Any day a
profiling police officer could pull him over and, discovering he had
no papers, start the deportation process.
"...We had to give up whatever valuables we had; otherwise they
were going to kill us. We didn't have jewelery, but my sister had
some money. I was scared because we'd heard from the other people who
tried to cross about the pandillas who rape girls and sometimes kill
men."
Innocent girls should not have to experience that level of
terror. Evil humans aren't the only peril they face. When the United
States decided to close its border with Mexico they walled and
militarized the safer border spots, intentionally driving refugees
including unaccompanied children to have to brave the deadliest areas
where they repeatedly encounter corpses, skeletons, and crosses.
"...In the last twelve years, between 133 and 247 bodies have
been found each year. And imagine, that's only the people who were
found."
But enough of this review. Get the poignant and powerful volume
from your local library or bookstore. Read these young people's
stories and share them with your friends and family members. There is
an excellent list of books, films, and websites for all who want to
learn more.
On a purrrsonal note, I hope you had a good weekend. I did.
Halloween was actually awesome! I'd decided that since it would be a
quieter, less social Halloween it would be a deliciously decadent
one. I started the night before by putting my more scholarly books
aside in favor of thrillers. In the morning instead of cereal or
toast I cooked a package of cherry filled frosting decorated crescent
rolls. I ate half. Then I had the rest for lunch. Deliciously
decadent. When I did my walking I noticed it was actually warm and
sunny. So I spent the afternoon reading outside and eating candy.
Delightfully decadent. I continued the reading party inside. I gave
candy to the trick or treaters. Eugene came back from hunting. I
finished my devilishly decadent day with a nice before bed beer.
Sunday Eugene and I went for a ride. He got subs for lunch so I
didn't have to cook supper. Today is raw and blustery. I saw snow
when I took my walk. (Jules)
Forget candy. My treat or treat was tuna. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to the goblins, large and small, who
managed to celebrate this pandemic Halloween.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway



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