Columbine
Adult nonfiction
"And then...nothing. During the entire 1998-1999 school year,
not a single shooter emerged. The threat faded, and a distant
struggle took hold of the news. The slow disintegration of Yugoslovia
erupted again...The suburban menace of the school shooter had receded."
Except that it hadn't. In Colorado two teens, Eric Harris and
Dylan Klebold, spent that school year making elaborate plans for a
massacre which they hoped would dwarf previous ones in terms of body
count. Dave Cullen's Columbine, quoted above, takes readers through
their preparations, the massacre itself, and its complex aftermath.
That part, however, was not why I read the book. It promised to
help answer the questions that had been on my mind ever since
Columbine was breaking news: Why? How could two presumably
intelligent teens plan and carry out such a rampage, knowing full well
they'd be in the body count?
Eric and Dylan had left plenty of insight into their mental and
emotional states through tapes and diaries. Psychologists analyzed
their short lives and came to conclusions that strongly diverge from
the stereotypes that basically pop into people's minds--for example,
bullied kids taking revenge on jocks--when yet another school shooting
goes down.
Columbine is a very hard book to read. But it's an important
one for anyone who wants to understand school shootings and help
prevent future ones.
On a purrrsonal note, looks like we're coming up to another weekend.
It's been a nice week weather wise with moderating toward autumnal
temps and good sleeping nights. I'm still holding my own in
statistics class. I had started working on the baby afghan a half
hour every early morning. But I finished it at camp. So I once again
took up a project that actually is too big to travel. Quite awhile
ago a couple I met through Patch House (the coop I lived in two years
that was originally the home of trailblazing entomologist, Edith
Patch) were ready to throw out a quilt they'd made out of squares from
pants, a few with pockets. They were delighted to give it to me
instead. During the 33 years Eugene and I have used it tears and
holes have appeared. I'm mending it, mostly with patches taken from
no longer wearable clothes. No ecnomics involved--just pure
sentiment. As for the weekend, I think it will be a work one for me.
But you never know. (Jules)
Sentiment is good. Sentimental hoomans are good to sweet cats like
moi. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to you, my readers. Hope you have a
safe and wonderful weekend.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Friday, September 11, 2020
Monday, September 7, 2020
All The Days Past, All The Days To Come
All The Days Past, All The Days To Come
YA fiction
I recall when Mildred Taylor's Roll Of Thunder, Hear My Cry
first came out in 1976. Reading it was a transformative experience
for me. Back then books by Black authors and books focussing on Black
protagonists were few and far between in the juvenile sections of most
public libraries.
Taylor had noticed the absence. In her author's note in All The
Days Past, All The Days To Come she said, "In 1976 when Roll Of
Thunder, Hear My Cry was published, I said that I wanted to show Black
heroes and heroines in my books, men and women who were missing from
books I read as a child. I also said I wanted to write a truthful
history of what life was like for Black people in America."
In that book Taylor's unique and powerful voice created a vivid
world for readers. Narrator Cassie, then a child, was surrounded by
her loving family. She was also growing up in a nation that did not
see her family's worth, or often humanity, and treated them with
indifference and cruelty because of the color of their skin.
In 2001 a prequel, The Land, was published. That was purported
to be the last book in a series that also included several novellas.
Imagine my surprise when I discovered a hot-off-the-press new volume--
a chance to spend more time with Cassie's clan, The Logan's!
In All The Days Past, All The Days To Come Cassie and her
brothers (Stacey, Christopher John, and Clayton Chester, also known as
Man) have grown up. World War II is in full swing. Christopher John
and Man have been drafted to risk their lives for a country that still
considers them dangerous and inferior second class citizens. Stacey
(who had a medical exemption) has moved North to Toledo with his wife
and babies to try to escape Jim Crow and its ever present racial
violence. When Cassie joins them she is only a few classes away from
being certified to teach but unsure if she wants to teach. It's her
mother's passion, not hers.
All The Days Past, All The Days To Come takes readers from World
War II to the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s. Readers get to see
the changes and consistencies in the nation, the Southern town of
Cassie's upbringing, and the family that remains united, even when
scattered across the country.
If you fell in love with the Logans, as I did, make sure to
catch up with them in All The Days Past, All The Days To Come. If you
haven't yet made their acquaintance, start for the earlier books.
Either way you're in for a heart warming but enraging literary
experience.
I look forward to a trip down memory lane to reread and review
Taylor's earlier masterpieces.
On a purrrsonal note, I had one of the most amazing long weekends of
my entire life. Adam was able to join Eugene and me at camp. We had
meals which Eugene prepared, took walks, did some target shooting, and
spent time including an outdoor campfire with Eugene's friends,
Richard and Karen and their older son, Ricky. But most of the time we
sat on the porch of our camp talking. I was able to finish the afghan
I was knitting for my advisor's baby. Adam surprised me by saying he
would like a hand knit scarf for Christmas. Most of my gifts will
have to be homemade this year. It was a magical experience for all of
us--being together. We also made plans for when things get safer,
like going back to Santa's Village as a family and Adam coming to camp
more often. That gives me so much to look forward to. After Adam had
to leave Eugene and I stayed over one more night (He won the card
game again) and came home to find Tobago purrrfectly happy to see us
back. (Jules)
Of course I was happy to see my hoomans. I needs my belly rubs.
(Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out Adam; Eugene; and Richard, Karen, and
Ricky Brown.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
YA fiction
I recall when Mildred Taylor's Roll Of Thunder, Hear My Cry
first came out in 1976. Reading it was a transformative experience
for me. Back then books by Black authors and books focussing on Black
protagonists were few and far between in the juvenile sections of most
public libraries.
Taylor had noticed the absence. In her author's note in All The
Days Past, All The Days To Come she said, "In 1976 when Roll Of
Thunder, Hear My Cry was published, I said that I wanted to show Black
heroes and heroines in my books, men and women who were missing from
books I read as a child. I also said I wanted to write a truthful
history of what life was like for Black people in America."
In that book Taylor's unique and powerful voice created a vivid
world for readers. Narrator Cassie, then a child, was surrounded by
her loving family. She was also growing up in a nation that did not
see her family's worth, or often humanity, and treated them with
indifference and cruelty because of the color of their skin.
In 2001 a prequel, The Land, was published. That was purported
to be the last book in a series that also included several novellas.
Imagine my surprise when I discovered a hot-off-the-press new volume--
a chance to spend more time with Cassie's clan, The Logan's!
In All The Days Past, All The Days To Come Cassie and her
brothers (Stacey, Christopher John, and Clayton Chester, also known as
Man) have grown up. World War II is in full swing. Christopher John
and Man have been drafted to risk their lives for a country that still
considers them dangerous and inferior second class citizens. Stacey
(who had a medical exemption) has moved North to Toledo with his wife
and babies to try to escape Jim Crow and its ever present racial
violence. When Cassie joins them she is only a few classes away from
being certified to teach but unsure if she wants to teach. It's her
mother's passion, not hers.
All The Days Past, All The Days To Come takes readers from World
War II to the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s. Readers get to see
the changes and consistencies in the nation, the Southern town of
Cassie's upbringing, and the family that remains united, even when
scattered across the country.
If you fell in love with the Logans, as I did, make sure to
catch up with them in All The Days Past, All The Days To Come. If you
haven't yet made their acquaintance, start for the earlier books.
Either way you're in for a heart warming but enraging literary
experience.
I look forward to a trip down memory lane to reread and review
Taylor's earlier masterpieces.
On a purrrsonal note, I had one of the most amazing long weekends of
my entire life. Adam was able to join Eugene and me at camp. We had
meals which Eugene prepared, took walks, did some target shooting, and
spent time including an outdoor campfire with Eugene's friends,
Richard and Karen and their older son, Ricky. But most of the time we
sat on the porch of our camp talking. I was able to finish the afghan
I was knitting for my advisor's baby. Adam surprised me by saying he
would like a hand knit scarf for Christmas. Most of my gifts will
have to be homemade this year. It was a magical experience for all of
us--being together. We also made plans for when things get safer,
like going back to Santa's Village as a family and Adam coming to camp
more often. That gives me so much to look forward to. After Adam had
to leave Eugene and I stayed over one more night (He won the card
game again) and came home to find Tobago purrrfectly happy to see us
back. (Jules)
Of course I was happy to see my hoomans. I needs my belly rubs.
(Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out Adam; Eugene; and Richard, Karen, and
Ricky Brown.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Friday, September 4, 2020
I Can't Breathe
I Can't Breathe
Adult nonfiction
You probably saw or read about this news story in 2014. A
police officer put a choke hold on Eric Garner in the process of
trying to arrest him. He didn't let up the pressure even when Garner
managed to gasp out that he couldn't breathe. Those were his last
words.
This murder would have been easy for the police to fly under the
radar with. It happened in a part of town most of us wouldn't set
foot in. The victim was an underdog in every sense of the word. So
were the friends who saw him take his last tortured breath. But the
brutality was captured on video and exposed to the world.
So who was Eric Garner? Why did he have to die? Mat Taibbi's I
Can't Breathe explores both complex questions in depth.
In 2014 Taibbi had written a book that compared the police's
differential treatment of Whites and Blacks accused of crimes. He
intended to just write a magazine article on Garner. Only something
unexpected happened. He began to feel like he knew him and to like him.
"An outsider entering a neighborhood that had experienced a
world-shaking event like that might expect to hear stories of a saint
and a martyr. But Garner's friends cared about him too much to
slander him with false praise. Garner, I learned very early on, was a
man who was loved by his friends and by his family members not in
spite of his faults and not because of them, but because of the
totality of who he was--the fullness of his imperfect humanity."
In addition to giving us a much more complete picture of a
complex human being than the news media could have, Taibbi goes into
the historical background of racist policing in America, centering on
two factors in particular.
One is the quota system that can make policing more like selling
cars than like serving and protecting. At all levels of hierarchy
there is pressure to report a certain number of arrests, whether or
not there are enough reported crimes to justify them. If you're under
this kind of pressure, with nothing less than your job at stake,
you'll go where you'll feel most likely to find crime. If you believe
that Blacks are more likely to be thugs, you'll spend more time
investigating their neighborhoods and hoping to get lucky.
The other is the broken windows theory. It translates to: if you
overlook small stuff (broken windows, grafitti), larger bad stuff
(drugs, homicide) will happen. This, in concert with the quota
system, leads to unequally applied zero tolerance, stop and frisk, and
the school to jail pipeline.
If you want to get a real handle on racist policies and
practices in policing and ways they are covered up I Can't Breathe is
a must read.
On a purrrsonal note, statistics class was fantastic. Jodi had
installed zoom just fine. Thanks to studying the chapters and slides
ahead of time I was able to keep up just fine. Plus I have a great
lecturer for a professor. He loves his topic and sharing it with
students and it shows. Think Mr. Rogers discoursing on variables and
scales of measurement. He also can be very funny. Two and a half
hours flew. I think I'll do fine if I keep up with the due
dilligence. Tobago, of course made a regal appearance as she did at
my Decolonizing UMaine zoom this morning. Yesterday Emily brought me
ten library books. I am over the moon. Party on! Last night when I
was reading outside I was able to enjoy watching the most beautiful
sunset. It made my heart sing. It's not as spectacular in a picture,
but I took one to share anyway. (Jules).
Of course I drop in on zoom. I think it's weird. But people need to
see gorgeous kittys like moi. (Lady Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to my fellow statistics students, our
professor, Craig, Jodi for installing zoom, and Emily for bringing me
books.
Also a special pandemic shout out goes out to the Town of Orono for
mandating people to wear people to wear masks inside public spaces and
when interacting closely with others outside and large housing
complexes to provide the town with COVID-19 prevention plans. Way to
keep both townspeople and UMaine students safe!
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
You probably saw or read about this news story in 2014. A
police officer put a choke hold on Eric Garner in the process of
trying to arrest him. He didn't let up the pressure even when Garner
managed to gasp out that he couldn't breathe. Those were his last
words.
This murder would have been easy for the police to fly under the
radar with. It happened in a part of town most of us wouldn't set
foot in. The victim was an underdog in every sense of the word. So
were the friends who saw him take his last tortured breath. But the
brutality was captured on video and exposed to the world.
So who was Eric Garner? Why did he have to die? Mat Taibbi's I
Can't Breathe explores both complex questions in depth.
In 2014 Taibbi had written a book that compared the police's
differential treatment of Whites and Blacks accused of crimes. He
intended to just write a magazine article on Garner. Only something
unexpected happened. He began to feel like he knew him and to like him.
"An outsider entering a neighborhood that had experienced a
world-shaking event like that might expect to hear stories of a saint
and a martyr. But Garner's friends cared about him too much to
slander him with false praise. Garner, I learned very early on, was a
man who was loved by his friends and by his family members not in
spite of his faults and not because of them, but because of the
totality of who he was--the fullness of his imperfect humanity."
In addition to giving us a much more complete picture of a
complex human being than the news media could have, Taibbi goes into
the historical background of racist policing in America, centering on
two factors in particular.
One is the quota system that can make policing more like selling
cars than like serving and protecting. At all levels of hierarchy
there is pressure to report a certain number of arrests, whether or
not there are enough reported crimes to justify them. If you're under
this kind of pressure, with nothing less than your job at stake,
you'll go where you'll feel most likely to find crime. If you believe
that Blacks are more likely to be thugs, you'll spend more time
investigating their neighborhoods and hoping to get lucky.
The other is the broken windows theory. It translates to: if you
overlook small stuff (broken windows, grafitti), larger bad stuff
(drugs, homicide) will happen. This, in concert with the quota
system, leads to unequally applied zero tolerance, stop and frisk, and
the school to jail pipeline.
If you want to get a real handle on racist policies and
practices in policing and ways they are covered up I Can't Breathe is
a must read.
On a purrrsonal note, statistics class was fantastic. Jodi had
installed zoom just fine. Thanks to studying the chapters and slides
ahead of time I was able to keep up just fine. Plus I have a great
lecturer for a professor. He loves his topic and sharing it with
students and it shows. Think Mr. Rogers discoursing on variables and
scales of measurement. He also can be very funny. Two and a half
hours flew. I think I'll do fine if I keep up with the due
dilligence. Tobago, of course made a regal appearance as she did at
my Decolonizing UMaine zoom this morning. Yesterday Emily brought me
ten library books. I am over the moon. Party on! Last night when I
was reading outside I was able to enjoy watching the most beautiful
sunset. It made my heart sing. It's not as spectacular in a picture,
but I took one to share anyway. (Jules).
Of course I drop in on zoom. I think it's weird. But people need to
see gorgeous kittys like moi. (Lady Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to my fellow statistics students, our
professor, Craig, Jodi for installing zoom, and Emily for bringing me
books.
Also a special pandemic shout out goes out to the Town of Orono for
mandating people to wear people to wear masks inside public spaces and
when interacting closely with others outside and large housing
complexes to provide the town with COVID-19 prevention plans. Way to
keep both townspeople and UMaine students safe!
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Thursday, September 3, 2020
potato that grew like that.
Have you ever noticed that the veggies you buy at the store are
symetrical in shape? From gardening I can tell you that although
onions tend to be conformists, other veggies like potatoes and carrots
aren't. Growers throw out perfectly good produce because it's
perfectly delish and nutritious but differently shaped. What can we
do to end this wasteful practice?
Wednesday, September 2, 2020
Rest In Power
Rest In Power
Adult nonfiction
"The child I lost was a son, a boy who hadn't yet crossed the
final threshold to becoming a man. He had been seventeen for only
three brief weeks, still in the beautiful and turbulent passage
through childhood's last stages, still on his way to becoming.
Instead he will be remembered for the things he left behind."
It was February 26, 2012. Trayvon Martin was at his father's
girlfriend's home in a gated Florida community watching sports on tv.
He decided to go to a nearby convevience store to get Skittles and a
cold drink. It should have been a routine errand. It wasn't even
that late.
But the head of the community's neighborhood watch, George
Zimmerman, was making rounds. There had been burglaries in the area.
He was convinced that they weren't being taken seriously. "Those #%*+
they always get away." When he saw Trayvon, a Black teen wearing a
hoodie, he decided, with no other evidence, that he looked
suspicious. He got out of his vehicle packing heat. Moments later
Trayvon was dead, shot through the heart. Zimmerman was using
Florida's Stand Your Ground law to claim self defense, saying that he,
an adult with a gun facing an unarmed teen, feared for his life. When
Trayvon was in a morgue, Zimmerman was in his own bed.
If you read or saw news coverage of Trayvon's murder and were as
outraged as I was you'll want to read the inside story as revealed in
Rest In Power. It was written by the people who know Trayvon the
best--his grieving mother and father who endured what no parent should
ever have to. In addition to having to bury their beloved son, they
saw his reputation intentionally trashed. To get even the most
rudimentary steps toward justice they had to bare their hearts and
souls to the media and fight tirelessly.
I don't know how they did it. I would have totally fallen
apart. But they were determined to get justice for Trayvon, to show
the world who he truly was, and to prevent other children and teens
from being slain as brutally and senselessly.
"We tell this story in the hope that it will continue the
calling that Trayvon left for us to answer and that it might shine a
path for others who have lost, or will lose, children to senseless
violence. We tell it in the hope for healing, for bridging the gap
that separates America, between races and classes, between citizens
and the police. Most of all, we tell it for Trayvon, whose young soul
and lively spirit guide us in everything we do."
If that isn't incentive to read the book I don't know what is.
On a purrrsonal note, this is a very exciting day for me. I was out
and about. My friend, Diane, gave me a ride to cash in $39.95 worth
of bottles and cans. Of course we were masked. We stopped by
community garden and picked some veggies and flowers for me. Then we
went to another place to harvest potatoes. We found one shaped just
like a manatee. We saw wild turkeys and a v of geese. It was great
being outside and spending time with a good friend....
...and now in less than half I'll be zooming to my first online
statistics class. Yikes! I'll let you all know how it goes. (Jules)
She's going to be talking to the little people in the machine. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to my good gardening friend, Diane.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"The child I lost was a son, a boy who hadn't yet crossed the
final threshold to becoming a man. He had been seventeen for only
three brief weeks, still in the beautiful and turbulent passage
through childhood's last stages, still on his way to becoming.
Instead he will be remembered for the things he left behind."
It was February 26, 2012. Trayvon Martin was at his father's
girlfriend's home in a gated Florida community watching sports on tv.
He decided to go to a nearby convevience store to get Skittles and a
cold drink. It should have been a routine errand. It wasn't even
that late.
But the head of the community's neighborhood watch, George
Zimmerman, was making rounds. There had been burglaries in the area.
He was convinced that they weren't being taken seriously. "Those #%*+
they always get away." When he saw Trayvon, a Black teen wearing a
hoodie, he decided, with no other evidence, that he looked
suspicious. He got out of his vehicle packing heat. Moments later
Trayvon was dead, shot through the heart. Zimmerman was using
Florida's Stand Your Ground law to claim self defense, saying that he,
an adult with a gun facing an unarmed teen, feared for his life. When
Trayvon was in a morgue, Zimmerman was in his own bed.
If you read or saw news coverage of Trayvon's murder and were as
outraged as I was you'll want to read the inside story as revealed in
Rest In Power. It was written by the people who know Trayvon the
best--his grieving mother and father who endured what no parent should
ever have to. In addition to having to bury their beloved son, they
saw his reputation intentionally trashed. To get even the most
rudimentary steps toward justice they had to bare their hearts and
souls to the media and fight tirelessly.
I don't know how they did it. I would have totally fallen
apart. But they were determined to get justice for Trayvon, to show
the world who he truly was, and to prevent other children and teens
from being slain as brutally and senselessly.
"We tell this story in the hope that it will continue the
calling that Trayvon left for us to answer and that it might shine a
path for others who have lost, or will lose, children to senseless
violence. We tell it in the hope for healing, for bridging the gap
that separates America, between races and classes, between citizens
and the police. Most of all, we tell it for Trayvon, whose young soul
and lively spirit guide us in everything we do."
If that isn't incentive to read the book I don't know what is.
On a purrrsonal note, this is a very exciting day for me. I was out
and about. My friend, Diane, gave me a ride to cash in $39.95 worth
of bottles and cans. Of course we were masked. We stopped by
community garden and picked some veggies and flowers for me. Then we
went to another place to harvest potatoes. We found one shaped just
like a manatee. We saw wild turkeys and a v of geese. It was great
being outside and spending time with a good friend....
...and now in less than half I'll be zooming to my first online
statistics class. Yikes! I'll let you all know how it goes. (Jules)
She's going to be talking to the little people in the machine. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to my good gardening friend, Diane.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)