How Dare The Sun Rise
YA/adult
"The smoke began to choke me, and I needed to run. I managed to
crash my way through the burning debris of the tent. I emerged in the
decimated camp, standing for a moment froze. Limbs, bones, and bloody
bodies lay everywhere. I smelled burning flesh. I saw men with guns,
machetes, torches. They were marching around the camp, looking for
survivors to kill. They slashed my people with their machetes. They
set my people on fire. They shot my people in the head..."
Sandra Uwiringiyimana, author of How Dare The Sun Rise, was only
ten when she experienced that man made version of Hell on Earth. She
wandered through the night, fearful for her family. When she was
reunited with surviving family members, several were badly injured and
her beloved little sister was dead and thrown into an unmarked mass
grave.
A distant relative took the family in. Their hosts didn't know
how to talk to people who had gone through such horrific experiences.
Sandra often woke up in the night shaking and crying. She had lost
the ability to feel safe.
Emigrating to America carried its own challenges: the cold
weather, the strange foods, and the fearfulness of the neighbors. And
then there was American middle school which was nothing like schools
in Africa. You must read the book to learn about all the family
endured and overcame.
Sandra suffered on the inside but never let her family see her
pain. In the culture she was born into parents and children didn't
share their challenges and struggles. They did not even have the
words to do so.
If there was a book I want the people who think people come to
America to get welfare benefits or ruin our way of life to read, it is
How Dare The Sun Rise. How can we turn people away who have survived
events no sentient being should have to experience? How can we betray
the promise of the Statue of Liberty?
On a personal note, tomorrow we will commemorate the life of Martin
Luther King Jr. While we celebrate his achievements, we must never
lost sight of how very far we have to go to realize his dream. We
can't just wait for someone else to do the work. My opinion piece on
white privilege that appeared in the Bangor Daily News earlier this
month was one of the things I could do. What can you do?
A great big shout goes out to all who hunger and thirst and fight for
justice.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Sunday, January 14, 2018
Friday, January 12, 2018
Eyes Of The World
Eyes Of The World
Adult/YA nonfiction/herstory
"This is what Capa, Taro, and Chim are too: refugees, exiles,
living on their wits, with no real home. Capa does not even have a
passport or official papers anymore--he is not Hungarian, not German,
not French--just a man with a camera in his hand in the midst of a
war. That rootless condition is rapidly becoming the condition of
thousands in Spain. It's as if these photographs are a warning:
millions will be driven from their homes across the whole continent of
Europe if the world does not do something now."
Probably the pictures pioneering photojournalist Robert Capa is
best remembered for are the ten that survived from the D-Day invasion
of World War II. He had jumped from a transport boat into the ocean,
being sprayed with morter and machine gun fire alongside the soldiers
making a desperate assault on Hitler's forces. Wading through red-
stained waves and around dead bodies, in mortal peril himself, he had
taken pictures that carried the war into millions of homes thousands
of miles away.
Capa was a solo act by then. However, and this is a BIG
however, during previous important years he was half of a twosome. He
and Gerda Taro, a woman he loved dearly enough to propose to,
pioneered the essence of the photojournalism we know today. Marc
Aaronson and Marina Budhos' Eyes Of The World: Robert Capa, Gerda
Taro, And The Invention Of Modern Photojournalism gives readers their
long overdue story.
Capa (then Andre Friedmann) and Taro (then Gerta Pohorylle) met
in Paris in a Europe reeling from the war to end all wars (WWI) and
the Great Depression. Both were emigres fleeing Nazi danger. In a
place where they were unknown it was possible to adopt new names that
would protect them from Anti-Semitism and help them establish
themselves as professional photographers.
Much of their work was done in Spain during the Spanish Civil
War. Working sometimes collectively and sometimes solo they pioneered
two dimensions we have come to take for granted in photojournalism.
One was the dangerous up close shots that bring an event like a war
right to readers. (Both were killed while covering war in this way).
The other was photographing average people whose lives are devastated
by events. Their refugee and orphan photographs tug at the heart
eighty years later.
Eyes Of The World is a great read on so many levels! It gives
the story of the evolution of modern photojournalism. It conveys the
very complex and down to earth love story of two people creating their
own path in a changing, challenging world. It gives insights into the
Spanish Civil War (which much of America seems oblivious to), how it
led up to World War II, and its relevance to the situation in Syria
today...
...and the photographs are nothing less than amazing.
On a personal note, I made my mall trip Wednesday. I got Eugene's
birthday gift. For myself I bought two school practical items: a 2018
datebook and a darling watch. I indulged in a yummy hot pretzel.
Yesterday I volunteered at Orono library and picked up 24 books.
A great big shout out goes out to the brave journalists who put all on
the line to bring us inconvenient and unpopular truths that are often
threatening to those in power.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult/YA nonfiction/herstory
"This is what Capa, Taro, and Chim are too: refugees, exiles,
living on their wits, with no real home. Capa does not even have a
passport or official papers anymore--he is not Hungarian, not German,
not French--just a man with a camera in his hand in the midst of a
war. That rootless condition is rapidly becoming the condition of
thousands in Spain. It's as if these photographs are a warning:
millions will be driven from their homes across the whole continent of
Europe if the world does not do something now."
Probably the pictures pioneering photojournalist Robert Capa is
best remembered for are the ten that survived from the D-Day invasion
of World War II. He had jumped from a transport boat into the ocean,
being sprayed with morter and machine gun fire alongside the soldiers
making a desperate assault on Hitler's forces. Wading through red-
stained waves and around dead bodies, in mortal peril himself, he had
taken pictures that carried the war into millions of homes thousands
of miles away.
Capa was a solo act by then. However, and this is a BIG
however, during previous important years he was half of a twosome. He
and Gerda Taro, a woman he loved dearly enough to propose to,
pioneered the essence of the photojournalism we know today. Marc
Aaronson and Marina Budhos' Eyes Of The World: Robert Capa, Gerda
Taro, And The Invention Of Modern Photojournalism gives readers their
long overdue story.
Capa (then Andre Friedmann) and Taro (then Gerta Pohorylle) met
in Paris in a Europe reeling from the war to end all wars (WWI) and
the Great Depression. Both were emigres fleeing Nazi danger. In a
place where they were unknown it was possible to adopt new names that
would protect them from Anti-Semitism and help them establish
themselves as professional photographers.
Much of their work was done in Spain during the Spanish Civil
War. Working sometimes collectively and sometimes solo they pioneered
two dimensions we have come to take for granted in photojournalism.
One was the dangerous up close shots that bring an event like a war
right to readers. (Both were killed while covering war in this way).
The other was photographing average people whose lives are devastated
by events. Their refugee and orphan photographs tug at the heart
eighty years later.
Eyes Of The World is a great read on so many levels! It gives
the story of the evolution of modern photojournalism. It conveys the
very complex and down to earth love story of two people creating their
own path in a changing, challenging world. It gives insights into the
Spanish Civil War (which much of America seems oblivious to), how it
led up to World War II, and its relevance to the situation in Syria
today...
...and the photographs are nothing less than amazing.
On a personal note, I made my mall trip Wednesday. I got Eugene's
birthday gift. For myself I bought two school practical items: a 2018
datebook and a darling watch. I indulged in a yummy hot pretzel.
Yesterday I volunteered at Orono library and picked up 24 books.
A great big shout out goes out to the brave journalists who put all on
the line to bring us inconvenient and unpopular truths that are often
threatening to those in power.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Wednesday, January 10, 2018
The Same Stuff As Stars
The Same Stuff As Stars
Juvenile fiction
"When she heard the first yelp, Angel was at the sink washing
the supper dishes. She thought the sound had come from the couple in
the upstairs apartment beginning their nightly fight. She was late
washing up, having waited supper, hoping that since it was Friday,
Verna would get home in time for the three of them to sit around the
table and eat together as a family."
Angel, narrator of Katherine Paterson's The Same Stuff as Stars,
is only eleven. You can see from the first paragraph that she has far
too much responsibility and has carried it for quite awhile. But it
hasn't burned her out. She still has visions of making her kin into
what she sees as a real family.
This would be a formidable task. Her father is in jail. Her
mother, Verna, is one of those people who probably shouldn't have been
fruitful and multiplied. Unpredictability is her modus operendi.
Angel has to carry cab fare for in case Verna just leaves her and her
little brother, Bernie, somewhere. Again. And she must protect
Bernie from Verna's anger. The children have already had two stays in
the foster care system.
Verna takes the children to what she claims will be the family's
new home, the house of her own grandmother. Grandma is as surprised
as the kids when they show up on her doorstep. Angel suspects
something is not right. She's overheard Verna telling her great
grandmother they'll be with her no more than a week.
"Something woke her up. It was pitch dark with no streetlight to
shine through the window. There was the sound of a car. No--the
sound of a pickup engine starting. Angel sat up in bed. Suddenly she
realized that the clothes in the big suitcase were all Bernie's.
Verna hadn't brought any of her own clothes. She listened until the
noise of the motor died away in the distance."
Rather than a responsible caretaker, Angel has been given
another person to be responsible for. Her frail great grandmother is
not all that good about taking care of herself. Angel has to cope with
everything from making the scanty food last to enrolling herself and
Bernie in school without making people suspicious and calling in the
authorities. Foster care might seperate them, and Angel is all Bernie
has.
But there is one bright side to her life. And if you want to
see what it is...
...read the book.
Actually read anything by Katherine Paterson. She is one of the
most important pioneers to persistently, consistently, and insistently
bring child characters from less privileged backgrounds into juvenile
literature.
Although Angel is a fictitious character, her plight is all too
real for a lot of kids. Awhile back we had an eleven-year-old
neighbor who took care of her two younger siblings and their house.
She also had to extricate her drug addict mom from the difficulties
and men she got herself into. The kids were taken into custody
shortly before the mom died of an overdose. When I saw her on the bus
in Bangor, she said "I finally get to be a kid."
On a personal note, I went back to UMaine for the first time this
year. It's gearing up for a new semester. It was nice to see
friends. Today I'm going to the Bangor Mall and environs to get
Eugene's birthday gift and a couple of things for his next week's
birthday supper and some embroidery floss I need for my cross stitch.
I may have to check out Goodwill to destress from shopping retail
stores and playing real life Frogger in the pedestrian hostile streets
surrounding the mall.
A great big shout out goes out to my future son-in-law, Brian, who
celebrated his birthday yesterday. I can't imagine anyone being more
perfect for my Amber.
Brian, you're a very good person. I'm toasting you with my coffee--
wishing you a terrific year and a long and healthy and rewarding life.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile fiction
"When she heard the first yelp, Angel was at the sink washing
the supper dishes. She thought the sound had come from the couple in
the upstairs apartment beginning their nightly fight. She was late
washing up, having waited supper, hoping that since it was Friday,
Verna would get home in time for the three of them to sit around the
table and eat together as a family."
Angel, narrator of Katherine Paterson's The Same Stuff as Stars,
is only eleven. You can see from the first paragraph that she has far
too much responsibility and has carried it for quite awhile. But it
hasn't burned her out. She still has visions of making her kin into
what she sees as a real family.
This would be a formidable task. Her father is in jail. Her
mother, Verna, is one of those people who probably shouldn't have been
fruitful and multiplied. Unpredictability is her modus operendi.
Angel has to carry cab fare for in case Verna just leaves her and her
little brother, Bernie, somewhere. Again. And she must protect
Bernie from Verna's anger. The children have already had two stays in
the foster care system.
Verna takes the children to what she claims will be the family's
new home, the house of her own grandmother. Grandma is as surprised
as the kids when they show up on her doorstep. Angel suspects
something is not right. She's overheard Verna telling her great
grandmother they'll be with her no more than a week.
"Something woke her up. It was pitch dark with no streetlight to
shine through the window. There was the sound of a car. No--the
sound of a pickup engine starting. Angel sat up in bed. Suddenly she
realized that the clothes in the big suitcase were all Bernie's.
Verna hadn't brought any of her own clothes. She listened until the
noise of the motor died away in the distance."
Rather than a responsible caretaker, Angel has been given
another person to be responsible for. Her frail great grandmother is
not all that good about taking care of herself. Angel has to cope with
everything from making the scanty food last to enrolling herself and
Bernie in school without making people suspicious and calling in the
authorities. Foster care might seperate them, and Angel is all Bernie
has.
But there is one bright side to her life. And if you want to
see what it is...
...read the book.
Actually read anything by Katherine Paterson. She is one of the
most important pioneers to persistently, consistently, and insistently
bring child characters from less privileged backgrounds into juvenile
literature.
Although Angel is a fictitious character, her plight is all too
real for a lot of kids. Awhile back we had an eleven-year-old
neighbor who took care of her two younger siblings and their house.
She also had to extricate her drug addict mom from the difficulties
and men she got herself into. The kids were taken into custody
shortly before the mom died of an overdose. When I saw her on the bus
in Bangor, she said "I finally get to be a kid."
On a personal note, I went back to UMaine for the first time this
year. It's gearing up for a new semester. It was nice to see
friends. Today I'm going to the Bangor Mall and environs to get
Eugene's birthday gift and a couple of things for his next week's
birthday supper and some embroidery floss I need for my cross stitch.
I may have to check out Goodwill to destress from shopping retail
stores and playing real life Frogger in the pedestrian hostile streets
surrounding the mall.
A great big shout out goes out to my future son-in-law, Brian, who
celebrated his birthday yesterday. I can't imagine anyone being more
perfect for my Amber.
Brian, you're a very good person. I'm toasting you with my coffee--
wishing you a terrific year and a long and healthy and rewarding life.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Monday, January 8, 2018
Elizabeth And Hazel
Elizabeth And Hazel
Adult nonfiction
"Two girls, one black, one white, born less than four months
apart, each about to start eleventh grade. Within a few minutes of
each other, they set out for the same destination: Little Rock Central
High School. They did not know, nor--in the world of the South in the
1950's--would they have encountered each other before, except when
they rode the same buses or passed on a downtown street or sat--on
different levels--in a local movie theater. But within an hour or so
they would, and from that moment on, their lives would be
intertwined..."
The year was 1957. The Little Rock School Board had decided to
desegregate. Then the superintendent had stalled three years and
decided to only admit a small number of black students to one school--
Central.
"...In May 1957 school administrators set out to find the black
trailblazers: children who were simultaneously old enough to attend
Central, close enough to get there easily, smart enough to cut it
academically, strong enough to survive the ordeal, mild enough to make
no waves, and stoic enough not to fight back. And, collectively
scarce enough to minimize white objections."
A lot of people weren't happy with this decision. During the
summer of '57 segregationists preyed on many white parents' fears.
Their children might end up kissing, dancing with, or getting venereal
diseases from black peers. Not surprisingly, crowds of livid white
adults showed up the first day of school ready to do whatever it took
to keep the Central student body lily white.
Elizabeth Eckford, alluded to in the lead paragraph of this
review, was one of the nine black students. She was the only one who
did not learn of the plan for all of them to go to the school
together. As she approached the building, the Guardsmen who were
admitting white peers did not let her in. Whites gathered behind her
yelling hateful things. Hazel Bryan, the other girl referred to, fell
in with a couple of her friends. The camera caught her screaming,
face contorted in hate...
...for one of the most famous photographs in this nation's
history.
Did you ever wonder what happened to those two girls, trapped by
the photograph in one moment in their lives in the public's mind? I
surely did. So I was delighted when I discovered David Margolick's
Elizabeth And Hazel: Two Women Of Little Rock, the source of the
quote I started the review with. Margolick gives readers a fifty year
narrative of the turns their lives singly and collectively (yes,
collectively--truth can be stranger than fiction) took.
Elizabeth And Hazel is a must read for anyone who believes that
black lives matter. A lot of whites like to think, yeah, things got
pretty ugly back then. But we're beyond that mess now...
...except that we aren't. We're just more subtle. Thanks to
factors like white flight and economic segregation, our nation's
schools are segregated to a degree that would warm Bull Connor's
heart. And we're moving in the wrong direction. I was recently
reading about how wealthy 72 white communities are working on
secession from larger school districts that would leave their
districts as segregated as if Brown as if Brown v Board of Education
had ever happened...
...now, nearly two decades into the twenty-first century. Will
America ever do right by our darker children? On a personal note, it
looks like the cold snap will finally break. By the end of the week
it may get into the 40s. Heat wave! And, no, record breaking cold
does not disprove global climate change. Warming poles will make for
more unstable air flow.
A great big shout out goes out to the valient scientists who are
striving, in the face of a science denying gubmint, to prove that
climate change is very real and very traceable to human activities
and, if we don't do something to halt or at least slow it, very
devastating to this beautiful planet that, as far as we know, is the
only one capable of supporting human life.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"Two girls, one black, one white, born less than four months
apart, each about to start eleventh grade. Within a few minutes of
each other, they set out for the same destination: Little Rock Central
High School. They did not know, nor--in the world of the South in the
1950's--would they have encountered each other before, except when
they rode the same buses or passed on a downtown street or sat--on
different levels--in a local movie theater. But within an hour or so
they would, and from that moment on, their lives would be
intertwined..."
The year was 1957. The Little Rock School Board had decided to
desegregate. Then the superintendent had stalled three years and
decided to only admit a small number of black students to one school--
Central.
"...In May 1957 school administrators set out to find the black
trailblazers: children who were simultaneously old enough to attend
Central, close enough to get there easily, smart enough to cut it
academically, strong enough to survive the ordeal, mild enough to make
no waves, and stoic enough not to fight back. And, collectively
scarce enough to minimize white objections."
A lot of people weren't happy with this decision. During the
summer of '57 segregationists preyed on many white parents' fears.
Their children might end up kissing, dancing with, or getting venereal
diseases from black peers. Not surprisingly, crowds of livid white
adults showed up the first day of school ready to do whatever it took
to keep the Central student body lily white.
Elizabeth Eckford, alluded to in the lead paragraph of this
review, was one of the nine black students. She was the only one who
did not learn of the plan for all of them to go to the school
together. As she approached the building, the Guardsmen who were
admitting white peers did not let her in. Whites gathered behind her
yelling hateful things. Hazel Bryan, the other girl referred to, fell
in with a couple of her friends. The camera caught her screaming,
face contorted in hate...
...for one of the most famous photographs in this nation's
history.
Did you ever wonder what happened to those two girls, trapped by
the photograph in one moment in their lives in the public's mind? I
surely did. So I was delighted when I discovered David Margolick's
Elizabeth And Hazel: Two Women Of Little Rock, the source of the
quote I started the review with. Margolick gives readers a fifty year
narrative of the turns their lives singly and collectively (yes,
collectively--truth can be stranger than fiction) took.
Elizabeth And Hazel is a must read for anyone who believes that
black lives matter. A lot of whites like to think, yeah, things got
pretty ugly back then. But we're beyond that mess now...
...except that we aren't. We're just more subtle. Thanks to
factors like white flight and economic segregation, our nation's
schools are segregated to a degree that would warm Bull Connor's
heart. And we're moving in the wrong direction. I was recently
reading about how wealthy 72 white communities are working on
secession from larger school districts that would leave their
districts as segregated as if Brown as if Brown v Board of Education
had ever happened...
...now, nearly two decades into the twenty-first century. Will
America ever do right by our darker children? On a personal note, it
looks like the cold snap will finally break. By the end of the week
it may get into the 40s. Heat wave! And, no, record breaking cold
does not disprove global climate change. Warming poles will make for
more unstable air flow.
A great big shout out goes out to the valient scientists who are
striving, in the face of a science denying gubmint, to prove that
climate change is very real and very traceable to human activities
and, if we don't do something to halt or at least slow it, very
devastating to this beautiful planet that, as far as we know, is the
only one capable of supporting human life.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Saturday, January 6, 2018
Wolf Hollow
Wolf Hollow
Juvenile fiction
"The year I turned twelve, I learned how to lie.
I don't mean the small fibs that children tell. I mean real
lies fed by real fears--things I said and did that took me out of the
life I'd always known and put me down hard into a new one.
It was the autumn of 1943 when my steady life began to spin, not
only because of the war that had drawn the whole world into a
screaming brawl, but also because of the dark-hearted girl who came to
our hills and changed everything."
In the beginning of her Wolf Hollow (quoted above), Lauren Wolk
not only sets the stage for her novel vividly and richly (in only four
sentences), but has the experienced reader detecting tinges of Harper
Lee's To Kill A Mockingbird. The protagonist is a girl coming of age
in a small rural town during a less sophisticated time. An antagonist
brings a world of trouble into the life of someone who is feared for
being different. You know the heroine, eyewitness to all the drama,
and her world will never be the same again.
Betty Glengarry has been sent to live with her grandparents,
presumably for being incorrigible. Narrator Annabelle doesn't know if
this placement is supposed to be a cure or a punishment for Betty.
But it's a tribulation for her. Betty knows how to bully in many ways
and how to keep her victims silent.
Betty also knows how to make herself look like the victim rather
than the perpetrator.
Toby had come back inwardly damaged from the first World War.
People in the community have seen him as strange but not really feared
him. Now all that's changing. Betty has them suspecting he threw the
stone that blinded Annabelle's friend, Ruth, in one eye.
And when Betty disappears unexpectedly he's the prime suspect.
Wolf Hollow would be a great book for a mother/daughter book
club read. Although perfect for its target demographic, it has a lot
to offer the rest of us in today's America where a latter day Betty is
running the show and his targets are legion. Annabelle tells us,
"The year I turned twelve, I learned that what I said and what I
did mattered.
So much, sometimes, that I wasn't sure I wanted such a burden.
But I took it anyway, and I carried it as best I could."
Now those are words to live by!
On a personal note, the storm that was predicted for Thursday lived up
to its hype. There were times I felt like I was inside a snow globe
being shaken by a giant. When I woke up on Friday I was trapped
inside by snow that looked like it was waist high. When Eugene came
home after working 30 hours he had all that to shovel.
Do you ever wish time would speed up and slow down at the same time?
That's how I feel. The grad school people are studying applications,
comparing candidates, deciding who will start the masters program in
September. It's like the point near the end of a Jodi Picoult novel
where lawyers on both sides have done all they can and the verdict is
now in the hands of the jury which is sequestered out of sight. It's
also like the board game Chutes And Ladders. I'm about to either
advance or fall just about to square one. Because if I don't make it
this year I'm going to find out how to improve my prospects for next
year. Giving up is not an option.
A great big shout out goes out Eugene who is out at the moment in
windchill way below zero weather taking care of our homestead
including shoveling snow off the roof.
FYI we are far from out of the woods when it comes to blizzards and
power outages. My daughter Amber's crafts blog has a real sanity
saver of a post this week--how to create a DIY power outage activity
kit. You need not be bored and/or anxious the next time darkness
falls unexpectedly. Http://amberscraftaweek.blogspot.com
If you have still to home children anywhere from toddler to teen
creating such a kit can be even more of a sanity saver. My kit
consists of unread scary stories (Stephen King is my go to guy),
candles galore, warm blankets, a ten pound lap cat, and lots of candy.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile fiction
"The year I turned twelve, I learned how to lie.
I don't mean the small fibs that children tell. I mean real
lies fed by real fears--things I said and did that took me out of the
life I'd always known and put me down hard into a new one.
It was the autumn of 1943 when my steady life began to spin, not
only because of the war that had drawn the whole world into a
screaming brawl, but also because of the dark-hearted girl who came to
our hills and changed everything."
In the beginning of her Wolf Hollow (quoted above), Lauren Wolk
not only sets the stage for her novel vividly and richly (in only four
sentences), but has the experienced reader detecting tinges of Harper
Lee's To Kill A Mockingbird. The protagonist is a girl coming of age
in a small rural town during a less sophisticated time. An antagonist
brings a world of trouble into the life of someone who is feared for
being different. You know the heroine, eyewitness to all the drama,
and her world will never be the same again.
Betty Glengarry has been sent to live with her grandparents,
presumably for being incorrigible. Narrator Annabelle doesn't know if
this placement is supposed to be a cure or a punishment for Betty.
But it's a tribulation for her. Betty knows how to bully in many ways
and how to keep her victims silent.
Betty also knows how to make herself look like the victim rather
than the perpetrator.
Toby had come back inwardly damaged from the first World War.
People in the community have seen him as strange but not really feared
him. Now all that's changing. Betty has them suspecting he threw the
stone that blinded Annabelle's friend, Ruth, in one eye.
And when Betty disappears unexpectedly he's the prime suspect.
Wolf Hollow would be a great book for a mother/daughter book
club read. Although perfect for its target demographic, it has a lot
to offer the rest of us in today's America where a latter day Betty is
running the show and his targets are legion. Annabelle tells us,
"The year I turned twelve, I learned that what I said and what I
did mattered.
So much, sometimes, that I wasn't sure I wanted such a burden.
But I took it anyway, and I carried it as best I could."
Now those are words to live by!
On a personal note, the storm that was predicted for Thursday lived up
to its hype. There were times I felt like I was inside a snow globe
being shaken by a giant. When I woke up on Friday I was trapped
inside by snow that looked like it was waist high. When Eugene came
home after working 30 hours he had all that to shovel.
Do you ever wish time would speed up and slow down at the same time?
That's how I feel. The grad school people are studying applications,
comparing candidates, deciding who will start the masters program in
September. It's like the point near the end of a Jodi Picoult novel
where lawyers on both sides have done all they can and the verdict is
now in the hands of the jury which is sequestered out of sight. It's
also like the board game Chutes And Ladders. I'm about to either
advance or fall just about to square one. Because if I don't make it
this year I'm going to find out how to improve my prospects for next
year. Giving up is not an option.
A great big shout out goes out Eugene who is out at the moment in
windchill way below zero weather taking care of our homestead
including shoveling snow off the roof.
FYI we are far from out of the woods when it comes to blizzards and
power outages. My daughter Amber's crafts blog has a real sanity
saver of a post this week--how to create a DIY power outage activity
kit. You need not be bored and/or anxious the next time darkness
falls unexpectedly. Http://amberscraftaweek.blogspot.com
If you have still to home children anywhere from toddler to teen
creating such a kit can be even more of a sanity saver. My kit
consists of unread scary stories (Stephen King is my go to guy),
candles galore, warm blankets, a ten pound lap cat, and lots of candy.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Thursday, January 4, 2018
Lost and Found Cat
Lost and Found Cat
Juvenile non fiction
"Late one night in August 2015, a car driven by a smuggler snuck out
of the city of Mosul, in the country of Iraq. The smuggler's
passengers were a mother and her four daughters and one son.
Their father had recently died.
Sura, the mother, had paid the smugglers to help her family flee
the country. Mosul had become too dangerous."
Sura and her children, protagonists of Doug Kuntz and Amy
Shrodes' Lost and Found Cat: The True Story of Kunkush's Incredible
Journey, carried an unusual, hidden immigrant. They were only allowed
to take what they could personally carry. They were bringing food for
the journey and their beloved white family cat, Kunkush. This was
very risky. If the smuggler discovered a cat he could extort a lot
more money from the desperate family.
For three days the family climbed mountains and walked through
forests. Two weeks in Istanbul involved moving from hiding place to
hiding place and keeping a lookout for patrols. Then there was the
ride across the Aegean Sea in an overcrowded rubber boat. Through all
that Kunkush was into his carrier until...
...On the Greek island of Lesbos Kunkoosh escaped and
disappeared. The heartbroken family searched until they had to leave
with their beloved companion. Odds were not with a reunion. But
sometimes miracles happen...
Read the book and see for yourself.
Lost and Found Cat is a perfect way to introduce children and
many adults to the refugee crisis. The universality of loving a
companion animal will transcend any barrier of differentness people
set up in their heads. Readers will realize that refugees are not
terrorists who hate our way of life, but humans like themselves
wanting food, shelter, and safety for themselves and their loved ones.
This poignant story of the depth of devotion of a family for a
cat reminded me how important it is for me to get Joy To Maine
started. Recall it's to raise money for vetinary surgery for
companion animals that otherwise would have to be put down? Right now
I'm redeeming returnables. I have $123 in a credit union account.
I'm starting up a penny drive. When the semester starts I'll start
looking for someone with computer expertise and a love for animal
companions to help me get the website set up.
On a purrrrsonal note, my Joey cat is thriving. He's very healthy and
happy and sneaky. He has figured out how to get me to play with him
by catching my eye by miaowing, batting one of the lower Christmas
tree ornaments, and looking up toward the top of the tree.
Outside my window the promised big snow storm has commenced. They're
predicting a foot. It's a good day for Joey and me to party inside.
Great big shout outs go out to the companion animals who add so much
to our lives and the people including my husband who will be out in
the teeth of the storm clearing up what mother nature dishes out. Our
knights in shining excavators and dump trucks.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile non fiction
"Late one night in August 2015, a car driven by a smuggler snuck out
of the city of Mosul, in the country of Iraq. The smuggler's
passengers were a mother and her four daughters and one son.
Their father had recently died.
Sura, the mother, had paid the smugglers to help her family flee
the country. Mosul had become too dangerous."
Sura and her children, protagonists of Doug Kuntz and Amy
Shrodes' Lost and Found Cat: The True Story of Kunkush's Incredible
Journey, carried an unusual, hidden immigrant. They were only allowed
to take what they could personally carry. They were bringing food for
the journey and their beloved white family cat, Kunkush. This was
very risky. If the smuggler discovered a cat he could extort a lot
more money from the desperate family.
For three days the family climbed mountains and walked through
forests. Two weeks in Istanbul involved moving from hiding place to
hiding place and keeping a lookout for patrols. Then there was the
ride across the Aegean Sea in an overcrowded rubber boat. Through all
that Kunkush was into his carrier until...
...On the Greek island of Lesbos Kunkoosh escaped and
disappeared. The heartbroken family searched until they had to leave
with their beloved companion. Odds were not with a reunion. But
sometimes miracles happen...
Read the book and see for yourself.
Lost and Found Cat is a perfect way to introduce children and
many adults to the refugee crisis. The universality of loving a
companion animal will transcend any barrier of differentness people
set up in their heads. Readers will realize that refugees are not
terrorists who hate our way of life, but humans like themselves
wanting food, shelter, and safety for themselves and their loved ones.
This poignant story of the depth of devotion of a family for a
cat reminded me how important it is for me to get Joy To Maine
started. Recall it's to raise money for vetinary surgery for
companion animals that otherwise would have to be put down? Right now
I'm redeeming returnables. I have $123 in a credit union account.
I'm starting up a penny drive. When the semester starts I'll start
looking for someone with computer expertise and a love for animal
companions to help me get the website set up.
On a purrrrsonal note, my Joey cat is thriving. He's very healthy and
happy and sneaky. He has figured out how to get me to play with him
by catching my eye by miaowing, batting one of the lower Christmas
tree ornaments, and looking up toward the top of the tree.
Outside my window the promised big snow storm has commenced. They're
predicting a foot. It's a good day for Joey and me to party inside.
Great big shout outs go out to the companion animals who add so much
to our lives and the people including my husband who will be out in
the teeth of the storm clearing up what mother nature dishes out. Our
knights in shining excavators and dump trucks.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Tuesday, January 2, 2018
The New Odyssey
The New Odyssey
Adult nonfiction
"In the darkness far out to sea, Hashem al-Souki can't see his
neighbors but he can hear them scream. It's partly his fault. There
are two African women--perhaps from Somalia, but now is not the time
to ask--and Hashem is spreadeagled on top of them. His limbs dig into
theirs. They want him to move, fast, and so does he. But he can't--
several people are sprawled on top of him, and there's possibly
another layer above them. Dozens are crammed into this wooden
dinghy. If anyone tries to shift, a smuggler kicks them back into
place. They don't wamt the crammed boat to overbalance, teeter, and
then possibly sink."
Hashem and his fellow travellers are stowed in a boat under
conditions most of us wouldn't subject our domestic cats and dogs to.
Actually they come close to the plight of the pig and cow victims of
factory farming and for good reason. Those dealing with them are
seeing potential profit rather than sentient beings. Anyway the best
case scenario is that they will reach Italy in five or six days.
There is, however, no guarantee they will live to see the next morning.
Many people wonder why in the world anyone would undertake such
a perilous journey. Every stage of it is fraught with danger.
Crossings of deserts and huge bodies of water are most obviously huge
risks. But arrest, torture, and lengthy waits in places not fit for
human habitation are highly probable elements of the experience. And
people go into it with their eyes open.
Patrick Kingsley's The New Odyssey: The Story of the Twenty-
First-Century Refugee Crisis gives a comprehensive look at the
circumstances that lead everyday people to such extraordinary
measures. Kingsley is the immigation correspondant for the Guardian.
Travelling through seventeen countries (including a lot of places most
of us wouldn't set foot in), he has talked to migrants, their
families, smugglers, officials, rescuers...basically all those parties
with skin in the game...to craft a gripping and authoritative book.
Interwoven with the larger picture narrative is the story of one
refugee, Hashem, devoted husband and father of three boys. His own
odyssey started in war torn Syria when he was imprisoned and held
captive for months. (Other prisoners were brutally murdered). On his
release he learned two of his wife's brothers were shot. His house
was destroyed. He decided to take the perilous sea journey himself
rather than risk his family drowning. In Sweden his family would have
adequate food and shelter and freedom from the fear of living in a war
zone.
"At that point, the hard but correct decision was to save
ourselves and our children by leaving the country. My children had
already lost their home and their education. Had we stayed, they
would have by default been raised on weapons and war. The only option
was to leave."
[Reviewer's note: if this was your life and your family would
you have taken this drastic action? I surely would have. The big
difference between refugees and nonrefugees is circumstances, not
morals].
The New Odyssey is a needed reminder that the refugees are
people seeking escape from modern day hells on earth, not the casual
opportunists or players seeking to sabotage our way of life so many in
government would have us see them as. It's a must read for all
sentient humans with caring hearts who hunger and thirst for justice.
On a personal note, I hope you had a grand New Years Eve. I surely
did. There was a family party in the afternoon featuring the
traditional Yankee swap and indoor cloth snowball fight. Katie and
Jacob came from Portland; Amber and Brian from Orono. It was lots of
fun. I had an invite to a night party but no guarantee of a ride
home. So I partied at home with Eugene and Joey cat. I started 2018
by reading the Bangor Daily News with my op ed on white privilege in
the best spot on that page--the one with the cartoon. A year that
starts off like that should be incredible!
The three goals (resolutions is too intimidating) I made are her the
house organized for when I'm in grad school, start sending my book
manuscripts to publishers, and start saving cats and dogs through Joy
To Maine. So far I've made a good start on the first. As the year
goes on you'll see my progress on all three.
A great big shout out goes out to those brave immigrants and refugees
risking so much to get a decent life for themselves and their
families. Our country needs them as much as they need us.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"In the darkness far out to sea, Hashem al-Souki can't see his
neighbors but he can hear them scream. It's partly his fault. There
are two African women--perhaps from Somalia, but now is not the time
to ask--and Hashem is spreadeagled on top of them. His limbs dig into
theirs. They want him to move, fast, and so does he. But he can't--
several people are sprawled on top of him, and there's possibly
another layer above them. Dozens are crammed into this wooden
dinghy. If anyone tries to shift, a smuggler kicks them back into
place. They don't wamt the crammed boat to overbalance, teeter, and
then possibly sink."
Hashem and his fellow travellers are stowed in a boat under
conditions most of us wouldn't subject our domestic cats and dogs to.
Actually they come close to the plight of the pig and cow victims of
factory farming and for good reason. Those dealing with them are
seeing potential profit rather than sentient beings. Anyway the best
case scenario is that they will reach Italy in five or six days.
There is, however, no guarantee they will live to see the next morning.
Many people wonder why in the world anyone would undertake such
a perilous journey. Every stage of it is fraught with danger.
Crossings of deserts and huge bodies of water are most obviously huge
risks. But arrest, torture, and lengthy waits in places not fit for
human habitation are highly probable elements of the experience. And
people go into it with their eyes open.
Patrick Kingsley's The New Odyssey: The Story of the Twenty-
First-Century Refugee Crisis gives a comprehensive look at the
circumstances that lead everyday people to such extraordinary
measures. Kingsley is the immigation correspondant for the Guardian.
Travelling through seventeen countries (including a lot of places most
of us wouldn't set foot in), he has talked to migrants, their
families, smugglers, officials, rescuers...basically all those parties
with skin in the game...to craft a gripping and authoritative book.
Interwoven with the larger picture narrative is the story of one
refugee, Hashem, devoted husband and father of three boys. His own
odyssey started in war torn Syria when he was imprisoned and held
captive for months. (Other prisoners were brutally murdered). On his
release he learned two of his wife's brothers were shot. His house
was destroyed. He decided to take the perilous sea journey himself
rather than risk his family drowning. In Sweden his family would have
adequate food and shelter and freedom from the fear of living in a war
zone.
"At that point, the hard but correct decision was to save
ourselves and our children by leaving the country. My children had
already lost their home and their education. Had we stayed, they
would have by default been raised on weapons and war. The only option
was to leave."
[Reviewer's note: if this was your life and your family would
you have taken this drastic action? I surely would have. The big
difference between refugees and nonrefugees is circumstances, not
morals].
The New Odyssey is a needed reminder that the refugees are
people seeking escape from modern day hells on earth, not the casual
opportunists or players seeking to sabotage our way of life so many in
government would have us see them as. It's a must read for all
sentient humans with caring hearts who hunger and thirst for justice.
On a personal note, I hope you had a grand New Years Eve. I surely
did. There was a family party in the afternoon featuring the
traditional Yankee swap and indoor cloth snowball fight. Katie and
Jacob came from Portland; Amber and Brian from Orono. It was lots of
fun. I had an invite to a night party but no guarantee of a ride
home. So I partied at home with Eugene and Joey cat. I started 2018
by reading the Bangor Daily News with my op ed on white privilege in
the best spot on that page--the one with the cartoon. A year that
starts off like that should be incredible!
The three goals (resolutions is too intimidating) I made are her the
house organized for when I'm in grad school, start sending my book
manuscripts to publishers, and start saving cats and dogs through Joy
To Maine. So far I've made a good start on the first. As the year
goes on you'll see my progress on all three.
A great big shout out goes out to those brave immigrants and refugees
risking so much to get a decent life for themselves and their
families. Our country needs them as much as they need us.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
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