The Opposite Of Spoiled
Parenting
I was three or four. It was winter. My father and I were
looking in store windows. Suddenly I saw the most elegant set of doll
size dishes and cookware perfect down to utensils. It included all
kinds of foods. My father asked me if I wanted it.
Remember I was only 3 or 4.
We went right in the store. Dad told the clerk to wrap that
dish set right up for his little girl. The clerk commented that I
must be an awful good little girl to merit such a gift. Dad said I
certainly was. I was over the moon until we met up with Mom.
My mother was irate. If he was going to buy such a big gift he
should have saved it for Christmas. How would I learn the value of
money if he bought everything I desired? That day I learned that
money could make people very angry.
My money habits were a bone of contention for the rest of their
marriage. Each parent feared my becoming like the other--
irresponsible like my father or a killjoy like my mother. Dad went
out of his way to undermine Mom's efforts. He slipped me cash for
things mom wanted me to save my allowance for and even introduced me
to playing cards for money.
According to Ron Lieber, author of The Opposite Of Spoiled, many
parents grew up in households where money carried a lot of emotional
baggage. Some people are reticent about finance discussions. Some
want to shield kids from the more sordid aspects of life, to them be
innocent longer.
"Silence around money also happens to be a strategy many of us
learned from our elders. Old-fashioned parents who shut us up when we
asked about money did this for any number of reasons. They may have
been only one or two generations removed from an age when many
American men didn't even tell their wives how much money they made or
had. Or perhaps they'd grown up hearing stories about the Depression
and didn't want their own kids even wondering about money, because
wonder is just one or two short steps from worry..."
Whatever the reason, if you evade your children's money
questions, Lieber thinks you are going in the wrong direction. Kids
are curious about money. If you make yourself unapproachable when the
topic comes up, they have other places to turn. Think Internet.
Also, probably well before you're ready for it to happen, they're
making weighty money decisions on their own.
Lieber sees money talks as opportunity, not burden. They can be
yet another way to help your children develop a sound values system.
He gives a good basic guideline and answers to some frequently asked
questions. He includes the experiences of a quite diverse group of
families.
If you have children who haven't yet flown the nest, The
Opposite Of Spoiled is a wise investment.
On a personal note, my yesterday was all about blood donating. I
donated right off and then was able to work the canteen, setting
donors up with food, drinks, and tee shirts and monitoring them for
signs that would require the help of a nurse. We had a good crowd and
lots of great conversations. We had the most divine pineapple pizza.
My friend Joanne gave me a ride right to my door, saving me walking
from the bus stop in a snow storm. I was happy to spend the evening
reading and snacking with Joey cat.
A great big shout goes out to our Red Cross people, all volunteers and
donors, Joanne, and, of course, good companion cat Joey.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Wednesday, January 31, 2018
Sunday, January 28, 2018
A Promising Life
A Promising Life
Juvenile historical fiction
"First, Baptiste heard muffled gunfire, then furious drumming.
It meant the boats were finally arriving, bringing the Mandan chief
back home from Washington City, where he had met the Great White
Father. Soon Baptiste and his parents would board one of those boats,
and it would take them away from the Mandan Villages and down the
river. His mother had told him over and over that it would happen.
He had begged her to tell him what it would be like in St. Louis. But
Sakakawea had no stories of the future. All she would say was that
Captain Clark would raise him."
Jean Baptiste Charbonneau was a real person and a fascinating
one. He grew up in an America that was radically changing and was
connected with movers and shapers of his time. Sadly, he left few
records. Fortunately in A Promising Life, Emily Arnold McCully
undertook the research required to bring his story to life.
Baptiste had been a baby when his mother, Sakakawea, had guided
Louis and Clark on their famous expedition. He'd captured the
attention of Clark who had spoken of his bright promise and offered to
raise him as a son. When the story begins he is about to be delivered
by his indiginous mother and his French father.
His new life is nothing like he could have imagined. Instead of
living with Clark, he is enrolled in a boarding school. Although it
is a very new and strange world for him, soon he is at the head of his
class. A new war with England during which each side uses indiginous
tribes brings prejudice out in a lot of people.
"'Let our policy be the slaying of every Indian from here to the
Rocky Mountains!' he shouted. His listeners blared approval.
Baptiste felt sick. He worried about his mother all the time. It
couldn't be safe at the fort. White people like that merchant spoke
of violence. And the British had bribed troops on the Upper Missouri
to go on the warpath."
Change is the one constant in the new country. Cities
flourish. Westward expansion continues with great vigor. Europeons
clamor to come to a nation where fixed statuses have been replaced by
freedom to make one's fortune.
Baptiste, however, sees a dark side to this progress. The
indiginous people are being pushed off their land and deprived of
their ways of sustenance. Bison, a major food source, were being
slaughtered, the meat often cast aside.
"The dignified chief had come to air a grievance. After he and
Lisa had smoked a pipe, the old chief quietly confided through an
interpreter that the fort was bringing calamity to his small village.
Its hunters were depleting game in the vicinity. And the young
braves, seeing the treasure the white men harbored in their fort,
began cultivating wants. They couldn't satisfy the wants and so
became unhappy. It was a pitiable destiny for his people, was it not?"
McCully brings a fresh and thought-provoking perspective to a
period of American history that is all too often white washed. I
think it's an excellent for its target demographic and well beyond.
On a personal note, I had a truly awesome Friday. My friend Kat and I
went thrift shopping. My best finds were a teddy bear in a yellow
dress that sings I Wanna Be Loved By You and a very cool cat shirt.
Cat shirts are me. Then I went to the Black Student Union meeting. I
was able to report that the black privilege opinion piece I'd written
and read to them last semester was in the January 1 Bangor Daily news,
both print and on line editions, forwarded, posted, and commented on.
It had people thinking and talking. Everyone applauded and was so
pleased. It was the kind of moment I live for--knowing I am using my
talents to help my fellow humans and the world we live in.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile historical fiction
"First, Baptiste heard muffled gunfire, then furious drumming.
It meant the boats were finally arriving, bringing the Mandan chief
back home from Washington City, where he had met the Great White
Father. Soon Baptiste and his parents would board one of those boats,
and it would take them away from the Mandan Villages and down the
river. His mother had told him over and over that it would happen.
He had begged her to tell him what it would be like in St. Louis. But
Sakakawea had no stories of the future. All she would say was that
Captain Clark would raise him."
Jean Baptiste Charbonneau was a real person and a fascinating
one. He grew up in an America that was radically changing and was
connected with movers and shapers of his time. Sadly, he left few
records. Fortunately in A Promising Life, Emily Arnold McCully
undertook the research required to bring his story to life.
Baptiste had been a baby when his mother, Sakakawea, had guided
Louis and Clark on their famous expedition. He'd captured the
attention of Clark who had spoken of his bright promise and offered to
raise him as a son. When the story begins he is about to be delivered
by his indiginous mother and his French father.
His new life is nothing like he could have imagined. Instead of
living with Clark, he is enrolled in a boarding school. Although it
is a very new and strange world for him, soon he is at the head of his
class. A new war with England during which each side uses indiginous
tribes brings prejudice out in a lot of people.
"'Let our policy be the slaying of every Indian from here to the
Rocky Mountains!' he shouted. His listeners blared approval.
Baptiste felt sick. He worried about his mother all the time. It
couldn't be safe at the fort. White people like that merchant spoke
of violence. And the British had bribed troops on the Upper Missouri
to go on the warpath."
Change is the one constant in the new country. Cities
flourish. Westward expansion continues with great vigor. Europeons
clamor to come to a nation where fixed statuses have been replaced by
freedom to make one's fortune.
Baptiste, however, sees a dark side to this progress. The
indiginous people are being pushed off their land and deprived of
their ways of sustenance. Bison, a major food source, were being
slaughtered, the meat often cast aside.
"The dignified chief had come to air a grievance. After he and
Lisa had smoked a pipe, the old chief quietly confided through an
interpreter that the fort was bringing calamity to his small village.
Its hunters were depleting game in the vicinity. And the young
braves, seeing the treasure the white men harbored in their fort,
began cultivating wants. They couldn't satisfy the wants and so
became unhappy. It was a pitiable destiny for his people, was it not?"
McCully brings a fresh and thought-provoking perspective to a
period of American history that is all too often white washed. I
think it's an excellent for its target demographic and well beyond.
On a personal note, I had a truly awesome Friday. My friend Kat and I
went thrift shopping. My best finds were a teddy bear in a yellow
dress that sings I Wanna Be Loved By You and a very cool cat shirt.
Cat shirts are me. Then I went to the Black Student Union meeting. I
was able to report that the black privilege opinion piece I'd written
and read to them last semester was in the January 1 Bangor Daily news,
both print and on line editions, forwarded, posted, and commented on.
It had people thinking and talking. Everyone applauded and was so
pleased. It was the kind of moment I live for--knowing I am using my
talents to help my fellow humans and the world we live in.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Friday, January 26, 2018
The New Urban Crisis
The New Urban Crisis
Adult nonfiction
"...Many rustbelt cities are still grappling with the
devastating combination of suburban flight, urban decay, and
deindustrialization. Sunbelt cities continue to attract people to
their more affordable, sprawling suburban developments, but few are
building robust, sustainable economies that are powered by knowledge
and innovation. Tens of millions remain locked in persistent poverty.
And virtually all our cities suffer growing economic divides. As the
middle class and its neighborhoods fade, our geography is splintering
into small areas of affluence and concentrated advantage, and much
larger areas of poverty and concentrated disadvantage."
I think many of us intuitively grasp much of what Richard
Florida posits in The New Urban Crisis. A lot of our cities are going
to if not Hell, at least purgatory. The gap between the advantaged
and disadvantaged has widened into an abyss. As the haves become
increasingly sequestered, geography becomes destiny. Not
surprisingly, children's standardized test scores can be almost
perfectly predicted by zip code. And this all is expected to get a
lot worse, particularly under President Pennywise's reign.
If you're not put off by books based heavily on academic
reasearch (as in appendix and notes being one third of the entire
text) you will really want to read The New Urban Crisis. Born in the
late '50s and growing up in a suburb close to Newark, New Jersey,
Florida had seen Newark's collapse.
"Those stark realities haunted me. What was causing people,
companies, and stores to abandon Newark? Why had the city exploded
into racial turmoil and entered into such a steep decline? Why had the
factory where my father worked closed down? My early experience of
that original urban crisis left a deep imprint on me."
Not surprisingly, Florida studied urban issues in college and
went on to teach about them. Teaching at Carnagie Mellon University
he discovered that, even though Pittsburgh had research and innovation
going on, colleagues and students were taking off for places like
Silicon Valley and Austin. He realized that people were no longer
following companies and jobs. Tax breaks were no longer enough to
draw the companies that would provide jobs. Companies were going
where they would find the talent they needed, even though places like
Boston had higher costs than other prospective places.
In his 2002 book, The Rise of the Creative Class, Florida
posited that the third of the workforce that was engaged in knowledge,
technology, and the arts was shaping not only cities, but culture and
society. To succeed, a metropolitan area would have what he calls the
3Ts: technology, talent nurtured by good schools and research
university, and the kind of tolerance that would draw the greatest
talent in a diversity of races, ethnicities, sexual orientations, and
genders.
It wasn't long before Florida realized downsides to his vision.
Cities that were flourishing the most were experiencing widening gaps
between the creative class and the less advantaged working and
services classes. Middle class neighborhoods that could nurture
upward mobility were rapidly disappearing. The cities that weren't
flourishing were increasingly suffering. The suburbs, traditional
paths toward a brighter future, were showing the same kinds of poverty
and distress traditionally only seen in cities. In short, the haves
were prospering; the have nots were struggling and going under.
Florida, however, still believed that cities are the only way to
go. They must be changed mindfully to replace "winner-take-all
urbanism" with "more sustainable and inclusive prosperity." His The
New Urban Crisis details the roots of the crisis, the reasons we all
should be concerned, and many steps we can take to go in the right
direction.
A number of the seven pillars Florida endorses have a strong
sustainability componant. Reforming zoning could result in mixed use
neighborhoods where people could walk to work, school, and stores
instead of driving everywhere. Investing in the kind of
infrastructure that encourages density rather than sprawl (public
transit instead of highways) and putting more affordable housing in
accessible distance would further cut down on car dependency. Helping
build stronger cities in rapidly urbanizibg parts of the world could
help combat the desperation necessitated environmental devastation and
human misery of slums."
"The stakes could not be higher. How we come to grips with the
New Urban Crisis will determine whether we become more divided and
slide backward into economic stagnation, or forge ahead to a new era
of more sustainable and inclusive prosperity."
On a personal note, Wednesday in Wilson Center after supper we painted
mezuzahs. Yesterday my friend Katalina and I had lunch and hung out.
We found a baby blue two drawer file cabinet with the key for the
lockable bottom drawer and a free sign on it. Kat is going to paint
flowers on it. She paints lovely flowers. It will look amazing in my
studio and be the perfect size for my counted cross stitch magazines
and books. It continues to be cold in Maine. The jury is still out
on grad school.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"...Many rustbelt cities are still grappling with the
devastating combination of suburban flight, urban decay, and
deindustrialization. Sunbelt cities continue to attract people to
their more affordable, sprawling suburban developments, but few are
building robust, sustainable economies that are powered by knowledge
and innovation. Tens of millions remain locked in persistent poverty.
And virtually all our cities suffer growing economic divides. As the
middle class and its neighborhoods fade, our geography is splintering
into small areas of affluence and concentrated advantage, and much
larger areas of poverty and concentrated disadvantage."
I think many of us intuitively grasp much of what Richard
Florida posits in The New Urban Crisis. A lot of our cities are going
to if not Hell, at least purgatory. The gap between the advantaged
and disadvantaged has widened into an abyss. As the haves become
increasingly sequestered, geography becomes destiny. Not
surprisingly, children's standardized test scores can be almost
perfectly predicted by zip code. And this all is expected to get a
lot worse, particularly under President Pennywise's reign.
If you're not put off by books based heavily on academic
reasearch (as in appendix and notes being one third of the entire
text) you will really want to read The New Urban Crisis. Born in the
late '50s and growing up in a suburb close to Newark, New Jersey,
Florida had seen Newark's collapse.
"Those stark realities haunted me. What was causing people,
companies, and stores to abandon Newark? Why had the city exploded
into racial turmoil and entered into such a steep decline? Why had the
factory where my father worked closed down? My early experience of
that original urban crisis left a deep imprint on me."
Not surprisingly, Florida studied urban issues in college and
went on to teach about them. Teaching at Carnagie Mellon University
he discovered that, even though Pittsburgh had research and innovation
going on, colleagues and students were taking off for places like
Silicon Valley and Austin. He realized that people were no longer
following companies and jobs. Tax breaks were no longer enough to
draw the companies that would provide jobs. Companies were going
where they would find the talent they needed, even though places like
Boston had higher costs than other prospective places.
In his 2002 book, The Rise of the Creative Class, Florida
posited that the third of the workforce that was engaged in knowledge,
technology, and the arts was shaping not only cities, but culture and
society. To succeed, a metropolitan area would have what he calls the
3Ts: technology, talent nurtured by good schools and research
university, and the kind of tolerance that would draw the greatest
talent in a diversity of races, ethnicities, sexual orientations, and
genders.
It wasn't long before Florida realized downsides to his vision.
Cities that were flourishing the most were experiencing widening gaps
between the creative class and the less advantaged working and
services classes. Middle class neighborhoods that could nurture
upward mobility were rapidly disappearing. The cities that weren't
flourishing were increasingly suffering. The suburbs, traditional
paths toward a brighter future, were showing the same kinds of poverty
and distress traditionally only seen in cities. In short, the haves
were prospering; the have nots were struggling and going under.
Florida, however, still believed that cities are the only way to
go. They must be changed mindfully to replace "winner-take-all
urbanism" with "more sustainable and inclusive prosperity." His The
New Urban Crisis details the roots of the crisis, the reasons we all
should be concerned, and many steps we can take to go in the right
direction.
A number of the seven pillars Florida endorses have a strong
sustainability componant. Reforming zoning could result in mixed use
neighborhoods where people could walk to work, school, and stores
instead of driving everywhere. Investing in the kind of
infrastructure that encourages density rather than sprawl (public
transit instead of highways) and putting more affordable housing in
accessible distance would further cut down on car dependency. Helping
build stronger cities in rapidly urbanizibg parts of the world could
help combat the desperation necessitated environmental devastation and
human misery of slums."
"The stakes could not be higher. How we come to grips with the
New Urban Crisis will determine whether we become more divided and
slide backward into economic stagnation, or forge ahead to a new era
of more sustainable and inclusive prosperity."
On a personal note, Wednesday in Wilson Center after supper we painted
mezuzahs. Yesterday my friend Katalina and I had lunch and hung out.
We found a baby blue two drawer file cabinet with the key for the
lockable bottom drawer and a free sign on it. Kat is going to paint
flowers on it. She paints lovely flowers. It will look amazing in my
studio and be the perfect size for my counted cross stitch magazines
and books. It continues to be cold in Maine. The jury is still out
on grad school.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Wednesday, January 24, 2018
Second Glance
Second Glance
Adult historical fiction
"Q. Why sterilize?
A. To rid the race of those likely to transmit the dysgenic
tendencies to which they are subject. To decrease the need for
charity of a certain form. To reduce taxes. To help aleviate misery
and suffering. To do what Nature would do under natural conditions,
but more humanely. Sterilization is not a punitive measure. It is
strictly protective.
--American Eugenics Society
A Eugenics Catechism, 1926"
Recall how last winter we studied on two books that focussed on
the 1927 decision, Buck v Bell, that gave the Supreme Court stamp of
approval to enforced sterilization of "undesirables"? Of course I
wanted to learn more. The library gods must have been smiling down on
me. I snapped up at one of the Orono Public Library sales books by
one of my favorite author's, Jodi Picoult. Second Glance contains a
lot of information about the Vermont Eugenics Project of the 1930's,
an offshoot of that evil decision.
Very strange things are happening in a small Vermont town.
"In Comtosook, residents began adapting to a world they could no
longer take for granted. Umbrellas were carried in knapsacks and
purses, to ward off rain that fell red as blood and dried into a layer
of fine red dust. China dishes shattered at the stroke of noon, no
matter how carefully they were wrapped. Mothers woke their children,
so that they could see the roses bloom at midnight."
People wonder if all that might have to do with otherworldly
entities. A company trying to develop a strip mall is trying to raze
land that may contain an indiginous people's burial ground. Modern
day Abnakis are doing their best to keep the big machines out. And
the land itself seems to be helping. At one point a razed house
starts rebuilding itself. Not surprisingly, many people hired to work
the project quit.
Ross is an investigator of the paranormal. He's also someone
who has tried to kill himself several times after the death of his
fiancée. In fact he chose his profession in an attempt to reconnect
with her somehow. When he meets a woman who actually begins to arouse
feelings in him she turns out to be the ghost of a woman, Cecelia, who
died shortly after childbirth...
...in 1932. In her time she was daughter of and married to men
who were leaders in the eugenics movement. Late on in her pregnancy
she learned some information about her lineage and that of her unborn
child...information the two major men in her life might to anything to
hide.
I find it really interesting that other reviewers have focussed
on the love story elements. In my mind the ethics stand out most
clearly, particularly since one of the twenty-first century main
characters helps couples screen embryos to give birth to only those
infants that will not bear hereditary illnesses--another side to
selective breeding also known as eugenics.
But whichever will stand out the most in your mind, you'll
relish a truly suspenseful mystery that raises moral issues...which is
exactly what Picoult so beautifully specializes in.
I know I want to find out a lot more about the Vermont eugenics
project, especially since indiginous people seem to have been majorly
selected. I know of at least one more book I can look for. And in
the future I want to take a field trip to look at primary sources.
On a personal note, I was really lucky yesterday. After an overnight
snow and morning hiatus, there was an afternoon of pouring sleety
rain. I was so glad to be in my warm home in footie pajamas with Joey
cat rather than slogging through slush under frigid precipitation
weighed down with a backpack. I even wrote a gratitude poem. Today I
learned that I was even luckier than I realized. Unlike tens of
thousands of people, Eugene and I did not lose electricity.
A great big shout out goes out to the selectboard of Jackman, a small
town on the Canadian border, who unanimously voted to boot their town
manager after he espoused very racist views, and the townspeople who
cheered their decision. I'm gonna visit them this summer and spend
money at businesses and yard sales.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult historical fiction
"Q. Why sterilize?
A. To rid the race of those likely to transmit the dysgenic
tendencies to which they are subject. To decrease the need for
charity of a certain form. To reduce taxes. To help aleviate misery
and suffering. To do what Nature would do under natural conditions,
but more humanely. Sterilization is not a punitive measure. It is
strictly protective.
--American Eugenics Society
A Eugenics Catechism, 1926"
Recall how last winter we studied on two books that focussed on
the 1927 decision, Buck v Bell, that gave the Supreme Court stamp of
approval to enforced sterilization of "undesirables"? Of course I
wanted to learn more. The library gods must have been smiling down on
me. I snapped up at one of the Orono Public Library sales books by
one of my favorite author's, Jodi Picoult. Second Glance contains a
lot of information about the Vermont Eugenics Project of the 1930's,
an offshoot of that evil decision.
Very strange things are happening in a small Vermont town.
"In Comtosook, residents began adapting to a world they could no
longer take for granted. Umbrellas were carried in knapsacks and
purses, to ward off rain that fell red as blood and dried into a layer
of fine red dust. China dishes shattered at the stroke of noon, no
matter how carefully they were wrapped. Mothers woke their children,
so that they could see the roses bloom at midnight."
People wonder if all that might have to do with otherworldly
entities. A company trying to develop a strip mall is trying to raze
land that may contain an indiginous people's burial ground. Modern
day Abnakis are doing their best to keep the big machines out. And
the land itself seems to be helping. At one point a razed house
starts rebuilding itself. Not surprisingly, many people hired to work
the project quit.
Ross is an investigator of the paranormal. He's also someone
who has tried to kill himself several times after the death of his
fiancée. In fact he chose his profession in an attempt to reconnect
with her somehow. When he meets a woman who actually begins to arouse
feelings in him she turns out to be the ghost of a woman, Cecelia, who
died shortly after childbirth...
...in 1932. In her time she was daughter of and married to men
who were leaders in the eugenics movement. Late on in her pregnancy
she learned some information about her lineage and that of her unborn
child...information the two major men in her life might to anything to
hide.
I find it really interesting that other reviewers have focussed
on the love story elements. In my mind the ethics stand out most
clearly, particularly since one of the twenty-first century main
characters helps couples screen embryos to give birth to only those
infants that will not bear hereditary illnesses--another side to
selective breeding also known as eugenics.
But whichever will stand out the most in your mind, you'll
relish a truly suspenseful mystery that raises moral issues...which is
exactly what Picoult so beautifully specializes in.
I know I want to find out a lot more about the Vermont eugenics
project, especially since indiginous people seem to have been majorly
selected. I know of at least one more book I can look for. And in
the future I want to take a field trip to look at primary sources.
On a personal note, I was really lucky yesterday. After an overnight
snow and morning hiatus, there was an afternoon of pouring sleety
rain. I was so glad to be in my warm home in footie pajamas with Joey
cat rather than slogging through slush under frigid precipitation
weighed down with a backpack. I even wrote a gratitude poem. Today I
learned that I was even luckier than I realized. Unlike tens of
thousands of people, Eugene and I did not lose electricity.
A great big shout out goes out to the selectboard of Jackman, a small
town on the Canadian border, who unanimously voted to boot their town
manager after he espoused very racist views, and the townspeople who
cheered their decision. I'm gonna visit them this summer and spend
money at businesses and yard sales.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Monday, January 22, 2018
Two Weighty Volumes
Two Weighty Volumes
I know you've seen lengthy volumes that go on and on.
Conversely some of the slimmest books pack a powerful punch and shake
even long held ideas. I spent a lot of a weekend pondering Toni
Morrison's The Origins of Others and Ta-Nehisi Coates' Between the
World and Me.
"The necessity of rendering the slave a foreign species appears
to be a desperate attempt to confirm one's own self as normal. The
urgency of distinguishing between those who belong to the human race
and those who are non-human is so powerful that the spotlight turns
away and shines not on the object of degradation but on its
creator...The danger of sympathizing with the stranger is the
possibility of becoming a stranger. To lose one's rank is to lose
one's valued and enshrined difference."
Morrison realizes that individuals and groups do not engage in
behaviors that require effort unless there is an advantage in doing
so. In The Origin of Others she looks for the payoff for creating a
color binary. After all, it's artificial. White is not a genetic
marker. Black has been defined very creatively over the centuries.
In the paragraph quoted above, she points to both payoff of othering
and an implied threat that prevents would be rebels from stepping out
of line.
Othering can be a way of belonging to a larger group, generally
perceived as a superior group. It gives permission to treat the other
in a way one would never dream of treating in group members. The
other then must be shown to be different enough to deserve this abuse
because the actor must perceive self and be perceived by society as a
good person.
Slavery is one of the examples Morrison uses. Masters whipped,
mutilated, and killed their "property", way overworked and starved
them, and routinely broke up families by selling off members. Slaves
were portrayed as being inferior, lazy, helpless beings who could not
manage without the being ruled by "superiors."
Othering requires members of the in group to keep the bounderies
drawn. To cross the line carries the penalty of losing preferred
status. An example I witnessed thanks to the media happened during
the civil rights clashes of the sixties. Some northerners were
bothered by the way black people were denied any kind of opportunity,
disenfranchised, segregated in separate and very unequal schools, and
in general treated cruelly. They travelled south to help create
change. The n****r lovers were hated perhaps even more than the
people whose cause they championed because their actions were seen as
deliberate betrayal of their own.
Morrison and Coates both discuss the pervasiveness of color
othering and the fact that, rather than race engendering racism, the
concept of race was concocted and maintained to legitimize racism.
Coates keeps referring to people who want/need to be white.
"But race is the child of racism, not the father. And the
process of naming "the people" has never been a matter of geneology
and physiognomy as much as one of hierarchy. Difference in hue and
hair is old. But the belief in the preeminance of hue and hair, the
notion that these factors can correctly organize a society and that
they signify deeper attributes, which are indelible--this is the new
idea at the heart of these new people who have been hopelessly,
tragically, deceitfully, taught to believe that they are white."
Coates wrote Between the World and Me as an open letter to his
teen age son. It is very up close and personal. It shows his life
through the lens of precariousness, the fragile hold a black boy or
man has on his body when those who need to be white, even those who
pledge to serve and protect all people, pay little or no penalty for
killing them. It also reveals the toll this takes on heart, soul, and
mind.
One of the most poignant strands of Coates' narrative is his
description of the extreme physical punishments meted out to him and
his peers by parents. His father had said, "Either I can beat him, or
the police." It's cruel to put parents in a situation where their
children live in such peril they must beat them so they won't pay a
higher cost for misbehaving. Richard Wright, coming of age about a
half century before Coates, described a similar desperation instilled
tough love.
Dear readers, I urge you to read both books and give them the
time they deserve. Then, if your epidermis is a shade close to mine,
decide that you don't want to be "white" and accept the undue
privileges that accrue to this false identity. We all need to work
together to replace a cruel binary with a just and fair world of
inclusion.
On a personal note, Amber and Brian threw an awesome birthday party
for Eugene and Adam. They served burgers and fries and a bundt cake
that looked like a pink frosted doughtnut. Katie and Jacob came all
the way from Portland and Adam from around the corner. It was
precious beyond measure to have the family together.
Today is the first day at UMaine. It's snowing, but not looking too
ominous. I got done than I'd expected over vaca while having a
wonderful time. And I'm much more organized.
And the jury is still out on grad school.
Great big shout outs go out to my wonderful family and to the students
going back to classes at UMaine and other fine educational institutions.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
I know you've seen lengthy volumes that go on and on.
Conversely some of the slimmest books pack a powerful punch and shake
even long held ideas. I spent a lot of a weekend pondering Toni
Morrison's The Origins of Others and Ta-Nehisi Coates' Between the
World and Me.
"The necessity of rendering the slave a foreign species appears
to be a desperate attempt to confirm one's own self as normal. The
urgency of distinguishing between those who belong to the human race
and those who are non-human is so powerful that the spotlight turns
away and shines not on the object of degradation but on its
creator...The danger of sympathizing with the stranger is the
possibility of becoming a stranger. To lose one's rank is to lose
one's valued and enshrined difference."
Morrison realizes that individuals and groups do not engage in
behaviors that require effort unless there is an advantage in doing
so. In The Origin of Others she looks for the payoff for creating a
color binary. After all, it's artificial. White is not a genetic
marker. Black has been defined very creatively over the centuries.
In the paragraph quoted above, she points to both payoff of othering
and an implied threat that prevents would be rebels from stepping out
of line.
Othering can be a way of belonging to a larger group, generally
perceived as a superior group. It gives permission to treat the other
in a way one would never dream of treating in group members. The
other then must be shown to be different enough to deserve this abuse
because the actor must perceive self and be perceived by society as a
good person.
Slavery is one of the examples Morrison uses. Masters whipped,
mutilated, and killed their "property", way overworked and starved
them, and routinely broke up families by selling off members. Slaves
were portrayed as being inferior, lazy, helpless beings who could not
manage without the being ruled by "superiors."
Othering requires members of the in group to keep the bounderies
drawn. To cross the line carries the penalty of losing preferred
status. An example I witnessed thanks to the media happened during
the civil rights clashes of the sixties. Some northerners were
bothered by the way black people were denied any kind of opportunity,
disenfranchised, segregated in separate and very unequal schools, and
in general treated cruelly. They travelled south to help create
change. The n****r lovers were hated perhaps even more than the
people whose cause they championed because their actions were seen as
deliberate betrayal of their own.
Morrison and Coates both discuss the pervasiveness of color
othering and the fact that, rather than race engendering racism, the
concept of race was concocted and maintained to legitimize racism.
Coates keeps referring to people who want/need to be white.
"But race is the child of racism, not the father. And the
process of naming "the people" has never been a matter of geneology
and physiognomy as much as one of hierarchy. Difference in hue and
hair is old. But the belief in the preeminance of hue and hair, the
notion that these factors can correctly organize a society and that
they signify deeper attributes, which are indelible--this is the new
idea at the heart of these new people who have been hopelessly,
tragically, deceitfully, taught to believe that they are white."
Coates wrote Between the World and Me as an open letter to his
teen age son. It is very up close and personal. It shows his life
through the lens of precariousness, the fragile hold a black boy or
man has on his body when those who need to be white, even those who
pledge to serve and protect all people, pay little or no penalty for
killing them. It also reveals the toll this takes on heart, soul, and
mind.
One of the most poignant strands of Coates' narrative is his
description of the extreme physical punishments meted out to him and
his peers by parents. His father had said, "Either I can beat him, or
the police." It's cruel to put parents in a situation where their
children live in such peril they must beat them so they won't pay a
higher cost for misbehaving. Richard Wright, coming of age about a
half century before Coates, described a similar desperation instilled
tough love.
Dear readers, I urge you to read both books and give them the
time they deserve. Then, if your epidermis is a shade close to mine,
decide that you don't want to be "white" and accept the undue
privileges that accrue to this false identity. We all need to work
together to replace a cruel binary with a just and fair world of
inclusion.
On a personal note, Amber and Brian threw an awesome birthday party
for Eugene and Adam. They served burgers and fries and a bundt cake
that looked like a pink frosted doughtnut. Katie and Jacob came all
the way from Portland and Adam from around the corner. It was
precious beyond measure to have the family together.
Today is the first day at UMaine. It's snowing, but not looking too
ominous. I got done than I'd expected over vaca while having a
wonderful time. And I'm much more organized.
And the jury is still out on grad school.
Great big shout outs go out to my wonderful family and to the students
going back to classes at UMaine and other fine educational institutions.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Saturday, January 20, 2018
Sachiko
Sachiko
YA/Adult nonfiction
"What happened to me
Must never happen to you.
--Sachiko Yasui--"
It's been a long time since America dropped the bombs on
Hiroshima and Nagasaki, 72 years to be exact. Most of us weren't born
when this happened. So perhaps it's not surprising that the
devastation that was unleashed seems to be fading from the collective
memory. Only we'd better start remembering pretty darn fast. With a
bellicose president and weapons that dwarf Little Boy and Fat Man in
destructive potential, a lot of us need to be informed and aware and
really care enough to act to collectively make sure we don't go this
route again. Caren Stelson's Sachiko: A Nagasaki Bomb Survivor's
Story is a good place to start. A heartbreakingly poignant and
powerful narrative is juxtaposed with historical backstory to create a
must read for people of good conscience in its target demographic and
well beyond.
Sachiko was only six. That morning, August 9, 1945, an air-raid
signal had drawn her family to the air-raid cave. When the all clear
sounded and her mother and siblings left she stayed to play house with
some other children.
A blinding light...an explosion...a fire ball. A mushroom
shaped atomic cloud...gutted, collapsing buildings...fires starting
everywhere...basically Hell on Earth.
Sachiko was the only one of the children playing house to
survive. Her three brothers also died that day: Toshi (2) by
impalement, Aki (15) from extensive burns, and Ichuro (13) from
radiation sickness. Other family members died including twenty-three
of her mother's relatives. Sachiko, her parents, and her little
sister Misa (who would die of cancer at fourteen) suffered from
radiation sickness.
"Sachiko lay in bed, hovering between life and death. She was
too ill to eat, too tired to concentrate. She spiked a high fever.
Her hair fell out. Her gums bled. Tiny purple spots appeared on her
body, spread, and within a few days grew into dots the size of peas.
Lesions opened in her skin. Flies laid eggs in them. The maggots
caused itching and excruciating pain."
Legions of people got radiation sickness and lacked treatment.
This wasn't only a matter of people having no clue what nuclear bombs
would do to the human body. Among the terms of Japanese surrender was
an especially cruel form of censorship. Terms like atom bomb and
radiation sickness were not allowed. Doctors treating patients were
not allowed to exchange knowledge. When American doctors came in, it
was to study sufferers for knowledge of long term effects, never to
treat them. I never knew this until I read the book.
What kind of people could practice this calculated cruelty?
Mine.
Misa and both Sachiko's parents died of cancer. Sachiko
suffered through thyroid cancer when she she was in her twenties.
After her operation she had to struggle for months to talk again. On
the fiftyth anniversary of the bombing she began to speak out about
the terrible toll it had taken on her and her family.
After my dentist visit I was in the UMaine multicultural center
waiting for my ride reading the book. A Japanese exchange student
came over and started studying the pages with me. We were looking at
damming evidence of what my people had done to her people before
either of us was born. She showed me where she was from on a map,
where her college was. She said, "Someday I want to go to Hiroshima
and Nagasaki to understand.". I said, "Someday I want to go to
Hiroshima and Nagasaki to understand." Our eyes met. I said, "I need
to be a peace maker, to make sure never again.". She said, "Thank you."
All people whose hearts are not full of bitterness, hatred, and
prejudice need to read and share this book. It will take gazillions
of us to honor Sachiko's mandate that the horrors she suffered never
be inflicted on others.
Sometimes I feel guilty about reading and reviewing so many
books. But when I read a book like Sachiko and realize I am making
other people aware of it, I realize this is one of the most important
things I can do with my life.
On a personal note, Maine is still in Winter Wonderland mode. The
jury is still out on grad school. I'm still calm. Today I am really
excited because my family will be together. We're getting together at
Amber and Brian's to celebrate Eugene and Adam's birthdays. Katie is
coming up from Portland.
A great big shout out goes out to my January birthday boys.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
YA/Adult nonfiction
"What happened to me
Must never happen to you.
--Sachiko Yasui--"
It's been a long time since America dropped the bombs on
Hiroshima and Nagasaki, 72 years to be exact. Most of us weren't born
when this happened. So perhaps it's not surprising that the
devastation that was unleashed seems to be fading from the collective
memory. Only we'd better start remembering pretty darn fast. With a
bellicose president and weapons that dwarf Little Boy and Fat Man in
destructive potential, a lot of us need to be informed and aware and
really care enough to act to collectively make sure we don't go this
route again. Caren Stelson's Sachiko: A Nagasaki Bomb Survivor's
Story is a good place to start. A heartbreakingly poignant and
powerful narrative is juxtaposed with historical backstory to create a
must read for people of good conscience in its target demographic and
well beyond.
Sachiko was only six. That morning, August 9, 1945, an air-raid
signal had drawn her family to the air-raid cave. When the all clear
sounded and her mother and siblings left she stayed to play house with
some other children.
A blinding light...an explosion...a fire ball. A mushroom
shaped atomic cloud...gutted, collapsing buildings...fires starting
everywhere...basically Hell on Earth.
Sachiko was the only one of the children playing house to
survive. Her three brothers also died that day: Toshi (2) by
impalement, Aki (15) from extensive burns, and Ichuro (13) from
radiation sickness. Other family members died including twenty-three
of her mother's relatives. Sachiko, her parents, and her little
sister Misa (who would die of cancer at fourteen) suffered from
radiation sickness.
"Sachiko lay in bed, hovering between life and death. She was
too ill to eat, too tired to concentrate. She spiked a high fever.
Her hair fell out. Her gums bled. Tiny purple spots appeared on her
body, spread, and within a few days grew into dots the size of peas.
Lesions opened in her skin. Flies laid eggs in them. The maggots
caused itching and excruciating pain."
Legions of people got radiation sickness and lacked treatment.
This wasn't only a matter of people having no clue what nuclear bombs
would do to the human body. Among the terms of Japanese surrender was
an especially cruel form of censorship. Terms like atom bomb and
radiation sickness were not allowed. Doctors treating patients were
not allowed to exchange knowledge. When American doctors came in, it
was to study sufferers for knowledge of long term effects, never to
treat them. I never knew this until I read the book.
What kind of people could practice this calculated cruelty?
Mine.
Misa and both Sachiko's parents died of cancer. Sachiko
suffered through thyroid cancer when she she was in her twenties.
After her operation she had to struggle for months to talk again. On
the fiftyth anniversary of the bombing she began to speak out about
the terrible toll it had taken on her and her family.
After my dentist visit I was in the UMaine multicultural center
waiting for my ride reading the book. A Japanese exchange student
came over and started studying the pages with me. We were looking at
damming evidence of what my people had done to her people before
either of us was born. She showed me where she was from on a map,
where her college was. She said, "Someday I want to go to Hiroshima
and Nagasaki to understand.". I said, "Someday I want to go to
Hiroshima and Nagasaki to understand." Our eyes met. I said, "I need
to be a peace maker, to make sure never again.". She said, "Thank you."
All people whose hearts are not full of bitterness, hatred, and
prejudice need to read and share this book. It will take gazillions
of us to honor Sachiko's mandate that the horrors she suffered never
be inflicted on others.
Sometimes I feel guilty about reading and reviewing so many
books. But when I read a book like Sachiko and realize I am making
other people aware of it, I realize this is one of the most important
things I can do with my life.
On a personal note, Maine is still in Winter Wonderland mode. The
jury is still out on grad school. I'm still calm. Today I am really
excited because my family will be together. We're getting together at
Amber and Brian's to celebrate Eugene and Adam's birthdays. Katie is
coming up from Portland.
A great big shout out goes out to my January birthday boys.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Thursday, January 18, 2018
Before Morning
Before Morning
Picture book
If you live or grew up in a northern state like Maine, I bet at
least once you went to bed hoping to wake up in the morning to a snow
day. Maybe you sent up prayers or wishes. Maybe you feared talking
about the object of your desire for fear of jinxing it. If it's
predicted it won't happen. Maybe you followed a ritual like my
favorite, wearing your pajamas inside out.
If any of the above applies to you, you are going to find Joyce
Sidman's Before Morning totally enchanting.
Commuters and children head homeward. A youngster looks
longingly into a bakery window before being pulled away. Dinner is
eaten, kids tucked into bed. An airline pilot mom leaves her
slumbering family to go out into the darkness.
So far the book has been wordless. In the next pages sparse but
eloquent verses pair up with breathtaking scratchboard art
illustrations to create an aura of magic and enchantment. A vee of
birds wings across a two page spread as windborn leaves swirl and
elaborate snowflakes descend. "let the sky fill with flurry and
flight."
"How powerful are words? Can they make things happen? Stop
them from happening? Can they protect us? Comfort us? Enchant us?
This book is written in the form of an invocation--a poem that invites
something to happen, often asking for help or support. Humans have
been using invocations for thousands of years, to sooth the body and
strengthen the soul. Do they work? Maybe. Maybe speaking something
out loud is the first step toward making it happen."
[Reviewer's note: let's hope that applies to graduate school!]
Words and pictures cry out for a suspension of the mundane. The
daughter tries to hide her mother's pilot hat. The mom and a
colleague gaze out an airport window as the text says, "let urgent
plans flounder," On the next spread the yellow plows look very much
not up to the task of clearing the precip: "let pathways be hidden
from sight."
I got the feeling that the mom wanted this as much as the
child. You see her flagging down a ride home, climbing her snow
covered steps, and hugging her daughter. Their day will include
sledding and going to that bakery for treats that will go well with
hot cocoa.
The illustrations are not only enchanting and magical, but
highly intimate. Studying them is a real treat. Cats, dogs, and
other creatures abound. Squirrels are captured in mid leap. You can
tell the pigeons are bobbing and strutting. Personal items like a
menorah are seen through windows. The daughter's room features a
globe, a model plane, and a book about Amelia Earhart.
I hold very fond memories of my childhood snow days and my
children's snow days. Now that they've moved out, snow days are still
enchanting but a tad lonely. Maybe I can sleep over at Liv's or Kat's
or have a friend over some night when a blizzard is bearing down on
Penobscot County. What fun it will be to sleep in inside out pajamas,
wake up to joyous excitement, and make everyone snow day pancakes!
On a personal note, what a perfect day to post this review! Last
night it snowed. Maine looks like a picture postcard. The lace
trimmed trees are especially lovely. Eugene worked all night. When
he got home he took me to Dennys for breakfast. I had cranberry
pancakes with orange sauce, eggs, fried potatoes, sausage, and a mango
smoothie. Now that I'm back in school I'm a big fan of snow days.
When I get to grad school I know I'll need them.
And speaking of grad school the jury is still out.
A great big shout out to Eugene and his colleagues who clear the snow
to make driving safe and to my son, Adam, and his EMT and firefighter
who save lives in all kinds of weather.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Picture book
If you live or grew up in a northern state like Maine, I bet at
least once you went to bed hoping to wake up in the morning to a snow
day. Maybe you sent up prayers or wishes. Maybe you feared talking
about the object of your desire for fear of jinxing it. If it's
predicted it won't happen. Maybe you followed a ritual like my
favorite, wearing your pajamas inside out.
If any of the above applies to you, you are going to find Joyce
Sidman's Before Morning totally enchanting.
Commuters and children head homeward. A youngster looks
longingly into a bakery window before being pulled away. Dinner is
eaten, kids tucked into bed. An airline pilot mom leaves her
slumbering family to go out into the darkness.
So far the book has been wordless. In the next pages sparse but
eloquent verses pair up with breathtaking scratchboard art
illustrations to create an aura of magic and enchantment. A vee of
birds wings across a two page spread as windborn leaves swirl and
elaborate snowflakes descend. "let the sky fill with flurry and
flight."
"How powerful are words? Can they make things happen? Stop
them from happening? Can they protect us? Comfort us? Enchant us?
This book is written in the form of an invocation--a poem that invites
something to happen, often asking for help or support. Humans have
been using invocations for thousands of years, to sooth the body and
strengthen the soul. Do they work? Maybe. Maybe speaking something
out loud is the first step toward making it happen."
[Reviewer's note: let's hope that applies to graduate school!]
Words and pictures cry out for a suspension of the mundane. The
daughter tries to hide her mother's pilot hat. The mom and a
colleague gaze out an airport window as the text says, "let urgent
plans flounder," On the next spread the yellow plows look very much
not up to the task of clearing the precip: "let pathways be hidden
from sight."
I got the feeling that the mom wanted this as much as the
child. You see her flagging down a ride home, climbing her snow
covered steps, and hugging her daughter. Their day will include
sledding and going to that bakery for treats that will go well with
hot cocoa.
The illustrations are not only enchanting and magical, but
highly intimate. Studying them is a real treat. Cats, dogs, and
other creatures abound. Squirrels are captured in mid leap. You can
tell the pigeons are bobbing and strutting. Personal items like a
menorah are seen through windows. The daughter's room features a
globe, a model plane, and a book about Amelia Earhart.
I hold very fond memories of my childhood snow days and my
children's snow days. Now that they've moved out, snow days are still
enchanting but a tad lonely. Maybe I can sleep over at Liv's or Kat's
or have a friend over some night when a blizzard is bearing down on
Penobscot County. What fun it will be to sleep in inside out pajamas,
wake up to joyous excitement, and make everyone snow day pancakes!
On a personal note, what a perfect day to post this review! Last
night it snowed. Maine looks like a picture postcard. The lace
trimmed trees are especially lovely. Eugene worked all night. When
he got home he took me to Dennys for breakfast. I had cranberry
pancakes with orange sauce, eggs, fried potatoes, sausage, and a mango
smoothie. Now that I'm back in school I'm a big fan of snow days.
When I get to grad school I know I'll need them.
And speaking of grad school the jury is still out.
A great big shout out to Eugene and his colleagues who clear the snow
to make driving safe and to my son, Adam, and his EMT and firefighter
who save lives in all kinds of weather.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
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