Book Review: How to Get Your Child to Love Reading ...

(cross-posted at Winter Reading Challenge)

A Parent's Guide for Ravenous and Reluctant Readers Alike: Activities, Ideas, and Inspiration for Exploring Everything in the World Through Books by Esmé Raji Codell. There are few things that get me as excited as books, and as a parent, a teacher, and a soon-to-be (fingers crossed) librarian, this book just about makes me hyperventilate every time I pick it up! My daughter gave it to me for Christmas last year and I lugged it around for a while (and I do mean lugged -- it's a tome.) I was inspired to crack it open again yesterday when I had a couple of hours to myself ... good thing Molly the rescue Dalmation was here to lick my face when I fainted from the excitement!

If you have children in your life, or you simply enjoy children's literature, this book is an invaluable resource. It contains a plethora of lists of books, arranged thematically, interspersed with data about the power of reading aloud, ideas for volunteering, good movies, web sites. Codell wraps it all up in a package she calls "potato pedagogy". You take one humble potato, cut it up into many pieces, plant each of those pieces, and before you know it you have thousands of potatoes. Children's literature, she says, is our national potato.

Can you tell that I love this book? Two drawbacks, however. One, because of its nature, it will need to be updated every couple of years -- or at least Codell needs to release a supplement to it from time to time. Two, and this one is purely personal -- Esmé Codell has irritated me ever since she wrote that book Educating Esmé about the ONE year she spent as a classroom teacher, after which she quit because she couldn't hack it, but went on to write a bestseller about what a great teacher she was. It raises the hackles on this twenty-one year veteran teacher just a little. Jealous? Maybe. But I maintain that learning the art of compromise is not a bad thing, and I've done more for more kids over a long period of time than one crackerjack teacher can do in one year. So there!

That said, I recommend this book.

If you are a serious lover of children's literature, you should be aware of the Cooperative Children's Book Center. Each year they enlist volunteers to read every children's book published, then they in turn publish the CCBC Choices, a list of what they feel are the best books of the year. It is an amazing resource. They also take a keen interest in the issue of intellectual freedom, and are an excellent clearinghouse for information if your community is dealing with a book challenge.

Another slice of cake, please ...

One year ago I wrote my first blog post. Woo hoo! I tip my hat to the three bloggers who inspired me to start this weird and wonderful habit in the first place: Caroline's Crayons, the Quaker Agitator, and Poodle Doc. To those same three, and so many more of you, who continue to inspire me with your friendship, encouragement, and love. In some ways I feel sheepish, and almost apologetic about this blogging thang, but I love the connections I've made and the almost daily writing practice (and I use the word "practice" in the spiritual, as well as functional sense.) It has truly been a delight, and you, my Blogtopian friends, are so responsive. I know that I don't make the rounds to everyone's blog as often as I would like to, but sometimes I just have to get off the computer! (Ever mindful of blood clots ...) Thanks for joining me on this meandering journey, friends.

Winter Reading Challenge

I have been remiss in not mentioning that I am participating in the Winter Reading Challenge. Participating bloggers get to post their reading list for all the world to see, plus write reviews of the books they have read. So far I have not read a single book from my list, which keeps getting longer because I add more books after reading other bloggers' reviews, plus then I have to read library books that I've placed on hold. Those, of course, aren't on my list, because I thought I would be smart and list the books on my shelf that I own and have been meaning to read for a long time ... Damned if I do, damned if I don't.

There's still time to sign up.

Anyway, my most current review is up, Tasting the Sky: A Palestinian Childhood.

Secret Santa, Better Late Than Never

Turns out, Dr. Monkey Von Monkerstein's Secret Santa was really a Scrooge! At great expense to myself and my family ("Sorry, Cinderbelle and Sparkly Seacow, no presents this year ...") I jetted to the undisclosed location where the scoundrel resides, and roughed him/her up a bit -- all in a very Quakerly fashion, of course. As a result, I can now post this:

Dr. Monkey, you and Sparky had better pack your bags, because in a few days you will be flying off to winter wonderland Madison, Wisconsin, childhood home of Tracy Nelson, Steve Miller, Georgia O'Keefe, Bradley Whitford, and so many more! Yes, on Friday, January 4th the two of you will fly directly to the Dane County Regional Airport. You will be picked up by Madison's own Union Cab and taken directly to the historic Nick's Restaurant on State Street for dinner with Nation writer and Madison resident John Nichols. (My friend Beth really truly once saw Robin Williams dining all alone in Nick's. He was going to be performing in the theater across the street.)

After dinner, it's off to your hotel, the Ruby Marie. (Chosen for you because, prior to its current incarnation as a sumptuous hotel, it was one of Madison's preeminent flophouses, the Wilson Hotel. It was even featured in a made-for-t.v. movie starring Scott Baio in the seventies; his character lived there with his alcoholic dad.) You'll be able to snuggle into your comfy bed with sheets provided just for you! And you can take them with you when you leave ... legally!
For your bedtime reading, here is your very own copy of Love At Goon Park, the book that chronicles psychologist Harry Harlow's pivotal and controversial maternal deprivation studies, conducted right here on the University of Wisconsin campus.
But don't stay up too late reading. On Saturday, the two of you will be up early to be v.i.p. guests at the recording of The Motor Primitive's newest album! You and Sparky will watch history in the making, while you hobnob with the "fab four". You'll have meals catered in from (your choice) Lulu's (Lebanese,) Inca Heritage (Peruvian,) or Atlantis Taverna (Greek.) After recording, you, Sparky, and the band will kick back at the Harmony Bar, before heading back to your hotel for a few hours of shut-eye. Oh yeah, and I've arranged for Aaron Yonda and Matt Sloan, creators of the runaway internet hit Chad Vader, to meet you there.

On Sunday, the taxi will pick you up for a whirlwind tour of the area's finest tourist sites, beginning with a stop at the bench overlooking the spot in Lake Monona whereOtis Redding's plane went down on a cold December night 40 years ago. You will also visit Sterling Hall, the campus building which housed the Army Math Research Center and was blown up by 4 campus radicals in 1970 in protest of the American War in Vietnam. (One of the bombers, Leo Burt, was never apprehended.) It may be sub-zero. but that won't stop you from going to the Library Mall to get smoothies from the Loose Juice cart, owned by Karl Armstrong, another of the Sterling Hall bombers. If you're still hungry, you can walk up State Street for bratwurst -- a Wisconsin specialty -- at the Brat Und Brau, scene of last summer's infamous "monkey biting" crime. A stop at ... Cress Funeral Home? No, it is the Squirrel Museum! A place not to be missed.
Then it is off to tour Taliesin, Frank Lloyd Wright's architectural school in nearby Spring Green. Back to Madison for a quick stop at the Wright-designed First Unitarian Church (and site of the 1987 wedding of bloggers Luminiferous Ether and Enriched Geranium.)
Uh-oh. Don't want to miss your flight home. Quickly stop by Hotel Ruby Marie to pick up your luggage (and your freshly laundered sheets) before you go to the airport to board your flight for sweet, sunny Tennessee. Here is a cornucopia of fine gifts: beer from the New Glarus brewery, Cedar Grove cheese (RBgh-free,) Door County cherries, and that most special Wisconsin treat, Cow Pies. (And don't worry about tipping the cab driver. It's all taken care of.)
Happy War on Christmas, my friend!
(And I really am making you a real Ukrainian egg ... maybe in time for the War on Easter!)

Peace

Our internet service was down for 5 days or so, but I hope that all of you had restful times doing whatever it is you do on Dec. 25. This photo is actually about 7 years old. It is my husband's family in the annual holiday photo from 2001. We're all a little older now, and a lot more mature. That's me holding the sign (but you could have guessed that, right?) Happy three French hens to you.

What is the belief that keeps me sane?

This is a question that was posed by Thailand Chani.

The belief that keeps me sane is that we were put on this earth to love and be loved. I wear a bracelet with the inscription, "Live to love, love to live" and that's what I try to remember and live by each day.

What is the belief that keeps you sane?

10 Candles

My friend Madeline is in the Peace Corps in Lesotho. From time to time she emails a public letter, updating her loved ones about her life there. I was so moved by her most recent letter, which I received this morning, exactly when I needed it. I am sure she won't mind my publishing it here:

Candles on my Christmas Tree
Public Letter from Madeline U. in Lesotho, Africa (Dec 2007)

Those of you who've spent Christmas with me may remember I love lit candles on a live evergreen. Here in Lesotho , we're in the midst of summer, and I'm enjoying my second year of a no-commercials / no-pressures-to-buy-anything / no-Xmas-carols-in-shopping malls / no rush-around Christmas. Just the hot sun, farmers plowing with oxen, afternoon winds impregnating dust devils, and fields of aloe and wild flowers.

So my candles will be metaphorical ones – 10 candles on my Christmas tree of 2007:

Candle 1: Lit to celebrate my one year anniversary here. A decision to let go of the fast, rich life -- trading it for a slower, poorer one. Poverty is mean. Poverty wears me down, and it destroys the lives of my neighbors. But I am richer for living amidst struggling Basotho villagers, able to see how simple things mean a great deal, and how complex things intertwine to keep us in a mire of destitution. Most people in this world make the same amount of money per year as do the villagers in Mt. Moorosi . In one mere year, I've grown closer to the realities of people whose earth I share.

Candle 2: Lit for this sad and special year in my family. My brother Dave has been living with a fast growing brain tumor. From this great distance, as I see my sisters Susan and Kate, my brother Will, my mom Barbara, my cousins Donna and Annelle, and many friends and family gather around Dave to support him, I am awed at the strength and love that endures in my immediate family. Thanks to the Peace Corps, I was able to fly home in April 2007 to visit Dave, to say the hardest word in all the languages I've ever studied – good-bye, for now, dearest brother.

Candle 3: Lit for health. Who would have known that two years in the Peace Corps would be the best thing in 30 years for my own health? I climb mountains, eat simple meals, don't stress out with multi-tasking. I have time for everything – reading, visiting, travel. I'm rich in health, wealthy in time, prosperous with sunsets and moonrises, and a millionaire in children who love nothing better than coming into my rondavel to read books or draw with crayons.

Candle 4: Lit to salute the mountains of Lesotho . I traveled a few days ago to Lesotho 's southernmost national park, Sethlabathebe, to visit fellow Volunteer Lizbeth. When I saw the setting of her village, I recognized it from the fantasy I'd had before I got here – the dreams I'd had before I was assigned to dusty, dirty Mt. Moorosi. From her tiny rondavel, Lizbeth looks down upon valleys so deep that mountain peaks rise out of the pool of hovering clouds. I've walked miles and miles of mountain paths this year, visiting remote little schools and sites of other Volunteers. Lesotho 's beauty is awesome.

Candle 5: Lit in admiration for Lesotho 's care of its orphans. With just about the most orphans of any nation on earth, poor little Lesotho has somehow absorbed them – in the bosoms and modest huts of grandmas and aunts and neighbors. Lesotho has few orphanages. For these little people, some sleeping on city streets, all without secure futures, all without the love and identity of parents, please light a candle as well.

Candle 6: Lit for Dintle. This candle sputters a bit, and it's the reason I haven't written for awhile, trying to spare YOU from the horrors of Quthing Hospital. So despite it not being holiday material, let me be honest with you (you are strong enough) to tell you that in the last two months, 14 year old Dintle has been diagnosed as HIV-positive (raped when she was 10 years old), and has an acute case of meningitis. She has shriveled to a mere skeleton, hospitalized for over 45 days now. I fought my way into Maseru once when it turned out the hospital didn't have her blood type, and I traveled in again a month later when the hospital ran out of medicine and her survival hung by a thread.
Nurses in the hospital are so overworked they disappear entirely from wards. When I walk in, looking fresh (and white), neglected patients call to me to adjust their casts or empty bed pans. Dintle can't feed herself – so if I or one of her family members isn't there, she doesn't eat. She has bed sores on her butt and on her ear. She's lost muscle and any ability to move. Seeing the rapid deterioration of a normal, healthy, laughing teen is a knife to my heart.
Helping to keep this candle lit for me is a newly-arrived Peace Corps Volunteer named Jason (Sesotho name – Mokhaele, "son of a chief"). He's been my savior, helping me pay bus transport for Dintle's sister, cousin, and grandmother to make the long trip to the hospital, helping deliver medicines, sometimes just coming in on his own and feeding little Dintle in the twilight hours. You have to love someone like this!
And may the light of this sputtering candle also shine on the hospital's doctors from India – totally overworked – and the Clinton Foundation nurses, who make a real difference, wading into the sea of HIV/AIDS patients. I have new respect for anyone who works in health care – a field reserved for the strong of heart.

Candle 7: Lit for love and loss. When I filled in the Peace Corps application, I didn't factor in long-distance grief. It think it has mostly to do with my age. If we live to be older than 50, we have an increasing number of losses to bear, losses whose pain is as deep as the love was tall. The path of this year has been taken sharp turns as I've heard unexpectedly of the loss of dear friends ~ Mary B., who left a legacy of Dodgeville activism and laughter around her kitchen table. My cousin Doug U., a tower of strength and a deep canyon of reflection. Twinkling-eyed Sven, my fiddling, Swedish host father. No news of dearest Karen T., who shared my years in Japan with such flare. And others…. Grief is hard; grief alone is harder.

Candle 8: Lit for learning. As I look out through my open windows at the upside-down constellations in the starry sky, my mind reels with the mysteries of being a human on this planet. Can we solve problems that we create? Why not? As I fall asleep, I ponder global economics, world peace, village solutions. I wonder what sustains greed, rape, neglect of children. I wonder if I am truly strong enough to pursue a career in international development. Is hope naïve? Is optimism merited? How brilliant the Millennium Development Goals – modest solutions to staggering problems, if only each nation would do its small part. How often I've longed for a cup of good coffee and a conversation with you, dear friend.

Candle 9: Lit for you and those you love, for all your challenges, for all the great things that have happened to you this year. A great hug if you've written me a letter or e-mail, and total understanding if you've been too busy to. That "busyness" -- so American! A national treasure –many things to do. Enjoy the opportunities!

Candle 10: Lit for us, for all of us who share the planet. Who yearn for simple things like a fresh salad, a day of sunshine, a garden of flowers, a child's sweet hug. May we cherish these, support one another, and look with optimism toward a new year.

Madeline

Georgia's Passing

The vet called me at 8 a.m. to tell me that Georgia had died early this morning. As I write this it is snowing outside, appropriate weather to accompany Georgia on her next journey. She loved snow more than any other dog I've known.

With pets it is so hard to know when to let them go. For the last year and a half, Georgia had chronic corneal ulcers that wouldn't heal, diabetes, diabetes-related blindness, and (we think) Cushing's disease. After treating our previous corgi for lymphoma, I was determined that quality of life would be the bottom line for decisions we made about Georgia. And though her energy was diminished, Georgia remained sweet-tempered and seemingly in good spirits through this past Tuesday when she became ill with a G.I. bug.

We hoped that getting IV fluids would put her back on her stocky little feet again, but it became clear pretty quickly that it was time. I went to bed last night thinking that we'd have her euthanized today.

We went to see her at the vet's yesterday, and though she was so sick, she roused herself and came out to see my younger daughter. Georgia and Grace were pups together; we got Georgia when Grace was one. The vet told me that she thought Georgia relaxed after we had been there, so I hope we eased her passage.

Camping at Rock Island next summer will not be the same without her.

Georgia was like a canine Buddha. I'm going to miss her a lot. I'm going to miss that corgi energy in my life.

Happy trails, sweet Georgia!

Glow in the Dark Cats

Why does this idea tickle my fancy so much? Read all about it here.

I'm sad ...

... My beloved corgi, Georgia, is very sick and may not pull through. She has been a sweet and intrepid companion for 10 years. Please hold her, and us, in the light.

What the Hell Are the Democrats Thinking?

Today's vote in the house, "Recognizing the importance of Christmas and the Christian faith," upsets me about as much as anything those good-for-nothings have done lately. 9 representatives voted against it. 9 had integrity. 40 were cowards and didn't vote. 195 Democrats voted for this frivolous, this jingoistic, this anti-American bill ... including Dennis Kucinich, and yes, Wisconsin's own Tammy Baldwin. I am truly disgusted with their pandering to whatever the Hell it is that they pander to. Shame on them!

Holiday Peace Market

We held our first ever holiday peace market yesterday at my Friends' meeting house. Doing this has long been a dream of mine, and thankfully, Ffriend Lester joined me in the organizing so that it actually happened! It was a resounding success, and many of the participants left talking about "When we do this next year ..." We had pottery, awesome posters by Lester, prints, watercolors, felted mittens made by me, baked goods, hand sewn items, body care products, cards, calendars and fair trade coffee and tea. Many of us were earmarking our proceeds for charity. I intend to split mine between a family at my school and a Quaker-run NGO in Vietnam called Steady Footsteps. Two other vendors, Glenn and Kathy, gave me a portion of their proceeds and altogether we raised a tidy sum to donate. It was a lot of work to get ready, but well worth it in the end.

An advertisement: Looking for a 2008 calendar? This Returned Peace Corps Volunteers calendar is my favorite one, and it happens to be made by friends of mine right here in Madison.

Five years ago, this week ...

... I had my only hospitalization ever, barring my own birth and the birth of my oldest child. After experiencing my most painful and intense back pain ever, and after going to both a chiropractor and an acupuncturist for more than a week, I finally went to a medical doctor and said, "Don't prescribe muscle relaxants. I know this is not muscular."

Amazingly, he listened to me and sent me for a scan, and lo and behold, I had pulmonary embolism, i.e. blood clots in both of my lungs. I was admitted to the hospital immediately, where I stayed for a full week.

I was, and still am, immensely grateful to the many people who helped during that time: dog walkers, food providers, laundry do-ers, babysitters ... and the ones who brought me cheer in the hospital. Too many to mention by name.

By the end of my stay, I was an emotional basket case, and all I wanted to do was go home. I think I spent the entire last day there in tears.

I remember that I decided to make it my mission to not treat any hospital employee as if they were invisible, not matter how unhappy I was. So from the nurses down to the housekeeping staff, I made a point of making eye contact and saying hello each time they came into my room.

I also remember the absolutely stunning sunrises every morning over Lake Monona viewed from my east-facing window.

This week I am giving thanks for my health -- which is good, by the way. I never did know what caused the clots. I suspect too much time sitting in front of the computer as I did a mountain of work for one of my library classes -- bloggers, beware. I have not had a recurrence. The intensity of the pain drove me to begin a regular yoga practice, which I maintain to this day.

And I am giving thanks for the amazing people in my life.

I am glad to be here.

Remembering Sophie

Last Saturday night was an annual Holiday Remembrance Service, organized by the local bereaved parent support group. We've gone every year but one, and for many years Mr. Ether and I have participated in the service by playing/singing the lovely song The Water Lily by Priscilla Herdman. Our daughter Sophie would be 13 now, which seems hard to believe. In my very busy life I have a hard time finding spare moments for reflection, so I always welcome the night of the service. This year was extra special, because for the first time my sister Meg, who was an attending midwife at Sophie's birth and actually caught her when she emerged, was in town and came to the service. The service is also a time to reconnect with people who we rarely see any other time. It may seem strange to others that we have a circle of friends -- and I do consider them friends -- with whom our connection is based on having had children die. But I cherish those connections, and I cherish this annual event.

Enemy Combatant

This article warmed me to the cockles of my heart (whatever "the cockles of my heart" are. They're warm.) Lucy Nehrenz, on the occasion of her 103rd birthday, says:

The war is "just plain nuts" and a "big waste of money," she says. As for Bush, he is without the question the worst president we've ever had, she says - well, the worst since Herbert Hoover anyway.

Does she fear death?

Not at all, Nehrenz says, because she's convinced the next world will be much more pleasant - and far less violent - than this one.

Actually, she does have a last wish she hopes will be fulfilled: to still be alive on Nov. 4, 2008, when a new president is elected.

"I don't care if it's a man or a woman, just as long as the person's a Democrat and we can get back to normal life again," she says. "But, oh, the country's such a mess I feel sorry for the person, too."

If I live to be 103, I sure hope I'll be as smart and feisty.

Light Blogging

I suppose, if this were an exclusively Quaker blog, light blogging could have a double meaning. But what it means is that I'm really busy this week, between madly sewing stuff for the Holiday Peace Market (a.k.a. "No More Shopping Days 'Til Peace") that I've organized at my Quaker Meeting this coming Sunday, ferrying children for Ali Baba, having family visiting from out of town, and all the other bits and pieces of my life. I have some posts bubbling in my brain, they just haven't made it to the surface yet. Stay tuned.

Thrills! Chills! Talking Camels!

For you Madison area readers, you have just 3 opportunities left to see Playtime Productions' Ali Baba and a Few Thieves. Upcoming shows are:

Wednesday, 12/5, 6:30 p.m. at the Waunakee Highschool
Friday, 12/7, 7:00 p.m., McFarland High School
Saturday, 12/8, 1:00 p.m., Deforest Public Library

As always, the all-kid cast of Playtime Productions dishes up a delectable performance. You won't be disappointed.

If I Had a Hammer ...

I did a fair amount of driving around yesterday, which was fun and exciting, given that a big snow/ice storm was moving in. Traffic moved slowly, and I was reflecting about our relationship to cars. That it is screwed up goes without saying. But just how is it screwed up? I think I figured it out.

Like all of the objects we use on a daily basis, cars are simply another tool, like a kitchen faucet or a washing machine. Yet somehow, probably starting with snake oil salesman Henry Ford, the idea of the car has grown to mythical proportions. Most people seem to view them as extensions of themselves, something to which we have an unalienable right. (Guns also seem to be viewed this way.)

I can't think of any other THING that inspires such strong emotion. I've never read about someone experiencing snowblower rage. No one says, "You'll have to pry my sewing machine out of my cold, dead hands!"

So the next time I'm feeling frustrated in traffic, I want to remember to tell myself, "This car is just a tool that I am using to get somewhere. Like a hammer or a snow shovel or my knitting needles. Not worth getting upset about."

When Good Guinea Pigs Go Bad

Yesterday morning I was so groggy when I got out of bed that I neglected to turn off the alarm clock, only hitting the snooze button for the umteenth time. So I was about to let the dogs out when the alarm went off again. Not wanting it to wake anyone else up at that ridiculous hour ( about 5:30,) I dashed up the stairs and toward the bedroom at top speed in the dark, forgetting about the -- WATCH OUT!! -- guinea pig cage that was now on the opposite side of the hallway from where it has been for the last few years. I hit it shin first. ##$@&%**^%#!!! WHEET! WHEET! WHEET! It wasn't a pretty sight. And I'm a little gimpy today.