Poetry Friday: Sunshine



Today Glasgow is doing its usual dramatic dance of clear skies and whipping wind and clouds. Several natives have volunteered the information that Glasgow has four seasons a day instead of that boring seasonal calendar, and I’m beginning to be convinced. I have with me a sweater, a hat, a knitted scarf, and ice water — just in case I have need of either one of them.

This poem reminds me of one of the whimsical pieces found in a third-grade English book – one of the ones that made me wonder about things I’d never considered, and gave me yet another excuse to gaze dreamily out of a window, chewing on my eraser… boy, if that doesn’t give you the feeling of the beginning of a school year, I’m not sure what else will help you. Keep looking — the rest of Poetry Friday is over with V. at HipWriterMama.

Next week my computer gets set up at home — huzzah. No more lurking in cafés, although that’s been a lot of fun (and a lot of tea). Tune in next week — I’m reading a Scott Westerfeld I’d never seen before. ‘Parasite Positive:’ could this be a UK retitle of a book we’ve already gotten in the U.S.? Or had I missed this one?

Blogging for a Cure: Robert's Snow

As no two snowflakes are exactly alike, everyone’s reaction to catastrophic illness is different. Robert Mercer and Grace Lin’s reaction was to fight like heroes to keep cancer from overwhelming them. We honor their fight, and the memory of Robert Mercer, who made a difference.

* * * * * * * *

Awhile back, the 7-Imps interviewed Grace Lin, the driving force behind the Robert’s Snow: for Cancer’s Cure fund raising effort after Robert was initially diagnosed with Ewing’s sarcoma. Grace wrote Robert’s Snow (Viking Books; 2004) soon after that diagnosis. The fund raising effort entailed the auctioning off of special snowflakes, created by children’s book illustrators, whom Grace had gathered together in the name of raising money for the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute (DFCI). The auction raised a great deal of money in its first year after the publication of this book, which features these illustrators, many of them award-winning, and their creatively and uniquely designed wood snowflakes for the cause. One hundred percent of the royalties from the book’s sale went to the DFCI to support sarcoma research. Robert’s Snow is in its third year and has already raised more than $200,000 for Dana-Farber. (You can see the gorgeous 2005 snowflakes here).

This year, the auction is more important than ever. Cancer isn’t going away, and even though Robert Mercer’s time on this earth is finished, his and Grace’s gift to others whose lives are touched by cancer will continue. The 2007 online auctions for bidding on these hand-painted, five-inch wooden snowflakes will take place in three separate auctions, open to everyone, from November 19 to 23, November 26-30, and December 3-7. The Kidlitosphere will be featuring illustrator’s artwork, one at a time, so that everyone can see these unique celebrations of life and snow before the auction, thus raising their profile and hopefully exposing more potential auction participants. 7-Imp organizers Jules & Eisha have explained everything you’ll need to know to get involved in showcasing a snowflake at your blog yourself.

Some of you may wonder why we’re doing this for Robert, a man most of us have never met, and for Grace, a woman we only know via blogging — but it’s like this: you know someone with cancer. I know someone with cancer. Maybe several someones. This is something we can do for Grace, and for the Graces and Roberts in your life as well; not just hope for a cure, but actively do what we can to help raise money and awareness.

The kidlitosphere is a community. Coming together for the good is what a community does. Hope you can join in.

Blogging for a Cure: Robert’s Snow

As no two snowflakes are exactly alike, everyone’s reaction to catastrophic illness is different. Robert Mercer and Grace Lin’s reaction was to fight like heroes to keep cancer from overwhelming them. We honor their fight, and the memory of Robert Mercer, who made a difference.

* * * * * * * *

Awhile back, the 7-Imps interviewed Grace Lin, the driving force behind the Robert’s Snow: for Cancer’s Cure fund raising effort after Robert was initially diagnosed with Ewing’s sarcoma. Grace wrote Robert’s Snow (Viking Books; 2004) soon after that diagnosis. The fund raising effort entailed the auctioning off of special snowflakes, created by children’s book illustrators, whom Grace had gathered together in the name of raising money for the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute (DFCI). The auction raised a great deal of money in its first year after the publication of this book, which features these illustrators, many of them award-winning, and their creatively and uniquely designed wood snowflakes for the cause. One hundred percent of the royalties from the book’s sale went to the DFCI to support sarcoma research. Robert’s Snow is in its third year and has already raised more than $200,000 for Dana-Farber. (You can see the gorgeous 2005 snowflakes here).

This year, the auction is more important than ever. Cancer isn’t going away, and even though Robert Mercer’s time on this earth is finished, his and Grace’s gift to others whose lives are touched by cancer will continue. The 2007 online auctions for bidding on these hand-painted, five-inch wooden snowflakes will take place in three separate auctions, open to everyone, from November 19 to 23, November 26-30, and December 3-7. The Kidlitosphere will be featuring illustrator’s artwork, one at a time, so that everyone can see these unique celebrations of life and snow before the auction, thus raising their profile and hopefully exposing more potential auction participants. 7-Imp organizers Jules & Eisha have explained everything you’ll need to know to get involved in showcasing a snowflake at your blog yourself.

Some of you may wonder why we’re doing this for Robert, a man most of us have never met, and for Grace, a woman we only know via blogging — but it’s like this: you know someone with cancer. I know someone with cancer. Maybe several someones. This is something we can do for Grace, and for the Graces and Roberts in your life as well; not just hope for a cure, but actively do what we can to help raise money and awareness.

The kidlitosphere is a community. Coming together for the good is what a community does. Hope you can join in.

Tad + Mitchell L.= True Love

Now that we are settling into our ‘flat’ in Scotland, I made a point of making sure I could find the essentials. I am thrilled to be sitting in one of the most awesome libraries ever — six floors, two ‘lifts,’ a café. The Mitchell Library boasts the largest collection of archival works in Europe… and the smallest YA and children’s section I’ve seen in awhile.

Well.

THAT’S, about to change.

I’m pretty sure the Interlibrary Loan people are going to be shocked very soon at the volume of books being requested, but I hope to find that, like at my library in the States, it eventually expands the collection. I saw a class of children crammed into the tiny corner that made up the Middle Grade/chapter books, and I thought good things at their teacher for bringing them, even though the place was quite small, and she was more than a little bit harried with so many children in such a small space. (And it’s remarkable how the words “And put that back RIGHT NOW” come out so very clearly, despite whatever accent or brogue.)

I have been to two libraries in Glasgow now, and though the one in Hillhead is very well stocked, there was only one person sitting and reading. I’ve only ever seen one kid voluntarily reading since I arrived, except for magazines. There is a big grant and a push going to get Scotland reading… what a great time to be here, no? Because I can surely lend some enthusiasm.

Six floors. I am so in love…

day too

Strange place in which I find myself.

I’ve loved meeting you all, with your plummy, posh voices and your common slurring, nasal lisps. Your crisp consonants and unintelligible vowels. I feel like I’ve traveled the world over just zipping past your state, your city, your province, your borough. For the most part, I have had the time of my life, jouncing past in rattling coaches and jarring cabs. I look over your shoulders and peer at your papers, and I wonder… who are you, really?

Who are you, Midwesterners, with your flat vowels and your vehement discussions on Page 1 about whether or not Anne Lamont should be able to speak at your university because she talks about suicide — which is anti-Catholic? Who are you, fast-talking Easterners, who have been so unexpectedly kind, even as you nearly run me down in the pedestrian lane? Who are you, atheist Gaels, whose glorious churches are wedged in at nearly every corner, but which echo emptily with the 70 – 80 year old crowd. Who are you all? And what do you see when you look at me?

I feel like a stranger more often than not. Everyone here seems so …edgy. Harsh makeup and dyed hair, false lashes and glitter-glam clothing. Will I have a sophistication which matches my flat? Will I need to escape to the country in order to retain my sanity?

It feels like there is much to do against the winter. We have to secure the light and warmth and homey aspects needed to keep the roar of alienation at bay. Today I feel adrift… It’s not so much that I miss home, or want to be back in the heat and sunshine or that I need the family and their concerns pressing ’round. It’s just that without all of that, who am I? Who am I now?

I must need more sleep. More sleep, and then I can do this…

I hope. God keep us.

Mind the Gap

“This is a security announcement,” a metallic voice said confidentially over the loudspeaker. “Please do not leave baggage unattended. Unattended baggage will be collected, and may be destroyed.”

Heard that so many times it is blurring in my brain.

Unattended baggage may be destroyed.

Well, I am an unattended baggage, at least my mother always called me a snooty baggage, and now that she’s not here to say so anymore, I am unattended, adrift, abandoned, left behind.

I still don’t believe she just left me with him. Just picked up, took the train up to Guston, leaving me with him by myself , which really means leaving me by myself, since ever since Momma left, Daddy’s been… gone. Down at the Hydebound, drinking and watching the Raiders with his friends. He doesn’t want to come home and look at me.

Well, the feeling’s mutual.

I won’t go home, not when he’s banging around piling up dirty dishes in the sink and thinking it’s my responsibility to clean up after his slobbing. Not when I find him staring at me, staring at me dead on with some kind of evil marked all on his face. It’s safer here, in the station, staring down the old ladies and hitting up the sugar daddies for a bit of cash for some gum. And as long as I can avoid the station wardens, I’m in good shape. It’s no place Daddy will find me.

Daddy says she’ll come crawling back, but I don’t think so. I don’t want her to, anyhow, not unless she’s coming back to get me. If I stay here, I’ll see her before she gets out of the station, down to the bus stop, back to the house. If I can just talk to her, I’ll say, Momma, here I am… now we can both go, and never let her step foot in his path again.

Someone eventually comes for even baggage left unattended, don’t they?


this picture is the basis for this week’s story… more to come, see Ficktion.ning for more.

Poetry Friday: Late, but in the Home Stretch

Home, Sweet Home


Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home;
A charm from the sky seems to hallow us there,
Which, seek through the world, is ne’er met with elsewhere.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There’s no place like home, oh, there’s no place like home!

An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain;
Oh, give me my lowly thatched cottage again!
The birds singing gayly, that come at my call —
Give me them — and the peace of mind, dearer than all!
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There’s no place like home, oh, there’s no place like home!

I gaze on the moon as I tread the drear wild,
And feel that my mother now thinks of her child,
As she looks on that moon from our own cottage door
Thro’ the woodbine, whose fragrance shall cheer me no more.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There’s no place like home, oh, there’s no place like home!

How sweet ’tis to sit ‘neath a fond father’s smile,
And the caress of a mother to soothe and beguile!
Let others delight mid new pleasures to roam,
But give me, oh, give me, the pleasures of home.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There’s no place like home, oh, there’s no place like home!

To thee I’ll return, overburdened with care;
The heart’s dearest solace will smile on me there;
No more from that cottage again will I roam;
Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home.
Home, home, sweet, sweet, home!
There’s no place like home, oh, there’s no place like home!

John Howard Payne

Normally I despise musicals, but I have an unbelievable fondness for both Technicolor and The King & I, so this song was especially appropriate for Poetry Friday. (Though it is nighttime here, it still counts, right?) I always hear the little voices of Miss Anna’s students singing this one, and I will sing it — with lots of jumping around — because I now have a house here. Hopefully next Poetry Friday will be ON TIME and in sync with the rest of y’all.

I FOUND two libraries today — now to find the one closest to my home!

‘Til next time…

Toon Thursday: Now With Added Linkage!

Yup, Toon Thursday is back after a week’s hiatus for the Under Radar Recommendations. I like having an excuse to take a break now and then. Thinking of a funny joke every week is kinda hard. (Can’t believe I used to write a humor column every day…) Anyway, today’s Toon Thursday is in honor of the fact that I spent what seemed like eons yesterday writing my query letters for my YA novel…and finally sending out proposals to two agents! Yay!

Also, in blog news, Betsy at Fuse #8 has announced her first official podcast edition of A Fuse #8 Production. She wants your feedback, so go check it out! Also, Writer’s Digest presents a pretty amusing blog by Kevin Alexander called This Writer’s Life about the tribulations of a writer just starting out. I can relate. I particularly like his mock quiz entitled Are You Ever Really Going to Finish that Novel? (Notable quote: “3. Agents like a brief selling handle summing up the book’s main plot. Which answer most closely resembles the state of your pitch? … D. My book will have several chapters and a main character who’s probably going to be a woman. Or a man. Definitely one of the two.”) Lastly, the editor of Guide to Literary Agents keeps a blog here, with periodic updates and new listings of agents. There’s a category for posts related to children’s writing, too, though it doesn’t seem as lengthy as other categories.

Wicked Cool & Coming Soon

I thought of all of my kidlit buddies yesterday, as Wicked Cool Overlooked Books day came… and then I recalled that we weren’t doing that sort of thing right on the heels of our kidlitpalooza of overlooked books, our Under Radar Recommendations, but be sure that I have a real favorite picked out for next month. Of course, next month is also the advent of the evocatively named October Country, and I can’t wait to play around with some words and images on that score.

Funny how being without consistent internet makes one feel a bit lost from home. Though I’m working on being awake for the last, oh, twenty-two hours? I’m feeling pretty good being back in touch with you.

Some thoughts: Dublin, which my friend Donal, who lives there, calls ‘the filthy city’ isn’t really all that bad, at least not at the airport, and airports are usually the bottom of the barrel. Ireland and Scotland are green, green (foggy, nippy, and downright boot-inspiring) jewels. I look forward to unearthing more stories here, finding a decent bookstore, and a pair of tights… not necessarily in that order. Our reservation has been shifted from one hotel to another, and we’re walking asleep, but news of a more bookish sort will emerge shortly… for lo, I have been to Waterstones…

Cheers!

Pistols & Nazis & French, Oh My! Under Radar Wrap Up


I wish my copy of this book weren’t packed and somewhere heading across the Atlantic. The artwork on the 1960’s version is full of larger-than-life stereotypes — a cartoony biplane, a sinister looking man with a big nose and a baguette, and a kid with boots.

My first copy of this book I borrowed from my best friend when I was eleven. My best friend at the time was a twenty-seven year old policeman’s wife who was pregnant with her first child, and who apparently was testing her tolerance for children by having around. We are still dear friends, so I know she was at least somewhat amused with me, but she was my best friend then solely because she had books, and let me read them. She’d invite me to sit down amongst the piles and shelves in her cool den, and, with clean hands and promises not to turn back the pages, let me read anything child-friendly that she had, as long as I was in her home.

I have to admit, I seriously considered stealing this book from Auntie Nita. I wanted to read this book over and over again, because the story hooked me from the very start.

Johnny’s Dad has been away, fighting in WWII, and Johnny’s mother, who is French, has been doing her best to keep up with the ranch in Wyoming without him — but it’s not going so well. There isn’t money for the things Johnny wants, like a two-wheeler red bicycle with a high gear and a low gear like his friend Bob’s. Johnny really wants that bike, and during a bad winter storm, he does his best to be a man on the ranch and help out — because he knows that if they get the work done, and the money coming in, maybe they can afford more things. When 12-year-old Johnny fractures his leg trying to help bring in the cattle from the east range, things go from bad to worse. Johnny’s break is set multiple times in the next year and a half, but the fact is, he may need an operation. It’ll be expensive, tricky, and painful. Now Johnny’s leg has been set more than once, and the doctors say he’ll need an expensive, painful and tricky operation but without it, the doctor says he will never walk again.

Johnny’s not only terrified, but he’s angry once his father finally comes home, and breaks the news that he isn’t able to stay, and Johnny’s going to get dumped in a little village in France with his mother’s brother to regain his strength. Who wants to go to some dumb little village where nobody speaks English? Not Johnny, that’s for sure. He wants to be with his ranch and his cattle and his father, and he’s not taking it well that he isn’t getting his way.

There are some pluses he notices once his awe-inspiring tantrum is over. For one thing, Oncle Paul is building an airplane… l’avion. For another thing, Johnny — or Jean — has been promised an awesome red bicycle at the end of the summer, if he will make an attempt to walk again.

But there’s more. Jean learns that something is downright fishy in the little French village. There are strange people about — stranger than just the regular old strange French people in the village. And then Jean finds un pistolet… dans une baguette de pain… a gun in a loaf of bread. Soon readers are on the trail de l’aventure… et, oui: they are reading in French.

Quite possibly no other middle grade novel ever ends in this fashion; the last three chapters of Walker & Company.


the Golden Age of Mysteries, when the likes of Agatha Christie, Dorothy Sayers and Ellery Queen were in high demand. Darwin Teilhet taught journalism classes at Stanford and worked as consultant for various film producers. As executive assistant to the President of Dole Pineapple in Hawaii — what sounds like a relatively staid, ‘normal’ job, produced for him even more ideas for murder mysteries. One of his most famous is set in Hawaii, and references Dole. Since YA literature wasn’t then what it is now, Teilhet only wrote two novels for young people using the pen name of Cyrus Fisher — two that I could find, anyway. I am hoping that somewhere, someone knows of a few more.

Read the first chapter of this suspenseful and entertaining bilingual mystery. You’ll want to take this gem and keep it, too.


It’s been an amazing week! I’ve really enjoyed seeing what book treasures out there I might have missed, and hope you have too! Last recommendations unearthed today at: A Chair, A Fireplace & A Tea Cozy – The impactive, gritty Vietnam books by Ellen Emerson White,

Big A, little a goes down to The Deep by Helen Dunmore,

Bildungsroman discusses the May Bird Trilogy by Jodi Lynn Anderson, whose other work I’ve enjoyed, so I know I’ll need to check this out,

Not Your Mother’s Bookclub takes a look at some recently revised classics,

Fuse Number 8 takes on Stoneflight by George McHarque

At lectitansit’s books, Louisiana Styles, with Gentle’s Holler and Louisiana Song both by Kerry Madden, a great bppl and a book review I will be posting soon,

Our able leader at Chasing Ray finishes the week with Kipling’s Choice by Geert Spillebeen,

Interactive Reader chimes in with a fun sounding book I’m sure I need to read, A Plague of Sorcerers by Mary Frances Zambreno,

The YA YA YAs discuss the spooky sounding Resurrection Men by TK Welsh, whose good with the creepier stories,

Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast finishes out the week sitting pretty with Such a Pretty Face: Short Stories About Beauty edited by Ann Angel