tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-314025202024-03-13T09:55:25.844-04:00KGMom MusingsWhat I'm thinking about these days...politics.KGMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05165941950953938943noreply@blogger.comBlogger775125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31402520.post-69302911435581624642021-04-21T12:16:00.000-04:002021-04-21T12:16:00.182-04:00Prayers of the People (March 14)<p><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Over the past two months, I have had the honor of being liturgist in my church for several Sundays. As part of that, I have offered the Prayers of the People--each of which I have written trying to encompass the issues of that day. I am offering these here as a way to share these prayers with a larger audience.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">--------------------</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><b><span style="border: 1pt solid windowtext; padding: 0in;">Prayers of the People</span></b><b><o:p></o:p></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Holy God—it’s been a long year.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">A year ago we entered into this time that feels like an exile without knowing where it would lead and when it would end.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">The words of the Psalmist<a href="applewebdata://43B6FB14-3756-4973-9BA4-921A0D063AD7#_edn1" name="_ednref1" title=""><span class="MsoEndnoteReference" style="vertical-align: super;"><span class="MsoEndnoteReference" style="vertical-align: super;"><span style="color: black;">[i]</span></span></span></a> speak to us today, as they spoke to the captive Israelites centuries ago. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">By the rivers of Babylon—<br /> there we sat down and there we wept<br /> when we remembered Zion.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Surely there have been times during this year when we have felt like weeping. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">We miss the fellowship of all our family and friends—we miss seeing loved ones. We miss coming to church. We miss singing. We miss hugs. We miss the thoughtless ways in which we lived our daily lives.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">But even as we experience what seems to be such a difficult time, you call to us.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">You call us to remember <u>the world</u>—the many places where life is so much harder that what we experience. We forget that you reign over all and care for all—people who are marginalized, people who are persecuted, people who are abandoned, people who experience deep want.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">You call us to live is this world—to be the face of God to all.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Help us to widen our vision to be world-inclusive.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">You call us to remember <u>this country</u> in which we live—this country so blessed, so filled with promise. Yet experiencing such conflicts that pull us apart. Those with whom we do not agree become enemies—contrary to your loving word and direction.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">We sometimes would rather say nothing at all than have to engage in conversation with those with whom we disagree.</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">But, Christ’s example is that even in silence we still must convey the love of God to all.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">We pray for the <u>leaders of this country</u> – that they will lead with compassion. That they will turn attention to those in deep need. That they will be guided by higher principles than greed, power, and force.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">We pray for <u>our church</u>. You have made it possible for us to remain connect even though circumstance has kept us apart. We are grateful for technology. Even though it can seem a poor substitute for seeing each other face to face, we are grateful to be able to reach out. We continue as a church, as a congregation who cares about each other, as a congregation that seeks to be Christ-like to all those in need, to our friends and to neighbors whether next door or in the city and in the square.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">We pray for the <u>leaders </u>of our church. We are grateful for all those persons who comprise the staff of Market Square Presbyterian Church—Who have ministered for weeks, day in and day out. Who inspire us by preaching God’s word; Who uplift us with glorious music; Who serve in the church daily attending to the many needs—taking care of everyday business, and keeping us connected by radio, by computer, by telephone. And for those who minister daily to the people who are on the street.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">May this be our prayer—that as you call us to be the light in world, we shine. That we do NOT shrink from the call, that we do not fail to tend the light, and that we daily seek to share the light of Christ with all we meet.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">AMEN<o:p></o:p></span></p><div><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br clear="all" /></span><hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" /><div id="edn1"><p class="MsoEndnoteText" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><a href="applewebdata://43B6FB14-3756-4973-9BA4-921A0D063AD7#_ednref1" name="_edn1" title=""><span class="MsoEndnoteReference" style="vertical-align: super;"><span class="MsoEndnoteReference" style="vertical-align: super;">[i]</span></span></a> Psalm 137</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></p></div></div>KGMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05165941950953938943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31402520.post-56941816558039728282021-01-16T13:47:00.000-05:002021-01-16T13:47:01.358-05:00MEA CULPA*<p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">*(<i>For those of you who know Latin, you know that means—“through my fault” (sometimes translated “sin”)</i>.</span><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">As I am growing older (and this past year has reminded me FORCEFULLY that I am), I find myself reflecting. I am staying <u>away</u> from the rocking chair…you know, the image of the old granny sitting in her rocking chair tsk tsk tsking away at the ills of the world. With a few new creaks and groans in my body, I suddenly recall my own youthful impatience when I was younger witnessing such in old people.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Herewith three exemplary stories.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><b>MEA CULPA</b>: We were on a tour that included a stop in St. Petersburg. As with any group tour, we were transported from one site to another by bus. Our tour guide had planned a repertoire on steroids—packed full and quite vigorous. And many in the group were somewhat…ahem…older than my husband and me. At one point, we needed to hurry back to the bus, get on board and drive to the next stop. As one older woman climbed the few steps on to the bus, she slipped and fell squarely on both knees. She was obviously in pain, and several people rushed to help her. She was angrily annoyed and shooed them away while she painfully and slowly got up. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">For whatever reasons, that incident really annoyed me, and while I said nothing aloud (I may have mumbled under my breath “oh, come on”), I was dismayed how that incident set the whole tour group at a disadvantage. Delayed departure, delayed arrival, problems with the timed entry to the next stop…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Flash forward some 15 years. Now, I am not on a tour, but karma (she of kindly disposition) showed me what a stumble and then fall can be. I was walking our dog around the block when I caught my shoe on a 1 inch difference in two sidewalk sections, and tumbled face forward on to the sidewalk. A neighbor who was doing yard work saw me—and he rushed over. Should he call an ambulance? NO. Should he call my husband? NO. Should he drive me the half-block to my house? NO. Well, he asked what could he do. I said—give me a cloth to stop the bleeding. He kindly did…and I walked the rest of the way home. I had a lovely scraped forehead, several facial cuts but no broken bones.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Mea culpa—where was my fault? Certainly not in falling. The fault was my earlier reaction of impatience and lack of caring on that tour. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><b>MEA CULPA</b>—my father and mother first moved to a retirement village when they were in their 60s. With my mother’s death my father was alone. He remarried and eventually he and my step-mother moved into assisted living. When my step-mother needed nursing care, my father then moved into a single room. I tried to visit him once a week, and frequently found that my time was consumed by his demands: get this, sew that, fix this, OH and check my computer. One day, when I visited him he indicated he couldn’t get into his computer because someone had called and said there was a particular problem and he needed to click on….I need go no further. He fell for it. I am NO computer whiz, but for some reason, I wondered if I went back to an earlier restore point if that wouldn’t “fix” things. Tried it…and it worked. And each time I saw my dad after that, I warned him—no more clicking on things or following the direction of charlatans on the phone.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Flash forward 5 years. Because of those experiences with my dad, I religiously avoid scams—either telephone based or computer messages. Until…I received an email purportedly from my pastor. His note said, “you might be interested in this” and there was a hyper-link. AND I fell for it. The pastor and I had been working on a church issue, and I had received an earlier email from him on the problem subject, and without thinking assumed this link related to that. Of course, it didn’t. PANIC. And remorse.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Mea Culpa—where was my fault? Well, partly on being duped. But more for my impatience with my father and not recognizing how easy it is to be duped by something seemingly so innocent.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><b>MEA CULPA</b>—when my father and step-mother first moved into their assisted living area, they had a double bed but had no sheets. I had gotten them some news sheets, but one day my father called and said I needed to take them back…they were too slippery. Slippery? Yes, he said—your step mother keeps falling out of bed. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Oh, come on, I thought—how can she fall out of bed! Anyway, I took the sheets. The bed issue was part its own saga—first, they had moved their queen bed from their cottage, then got rid of it. They got a double bed, but with the sheets and the falling got rid of it. Finally, they ended up with two single beds not long before my step-mother moved into nursing care.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Fast forward … again. I have lately begun experiencing dizziness—sort of a “the deck is rocking and rolling on this ship” feeling. I haven’t fallen out of bed. But I do now understand the disorientation and near-vertigo that can accompany aging.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">No need to ask mea culpa—where was my fault? You can identify it—my impatience and lack of understanding that the experiences I have relayed can be part of the aging process. And I am being more intentional in watching my step where I go.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I heard a doctor who was giving a talk on aging say, “ when people get older they don’t change (their personality)—the patina just wears thin.” I have thought of that wisdom a great deal. We are what we are—and growing older doesn’t turn us into something else suddenly. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The instances I have relayed are not the only way I am. So, while I <b>can</b><u>,</u> I burnish the patina a little bit—cultivate an attitude of gratitude; say thank you to every kindly gesture; thank people who are doing small tasks JUST for doing that task; be kind…be kind…be kind—I trust mea culpa will be forgiven.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>KGMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05165941950953938943noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31402520.post-88716639443522052842020-12-23T14:12:00.002-05:002020-12-23T23:05:51.719-05:00A Christmas Picnic Adventure<p><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> <span> </span></span></span></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-WHFje177X20/X-QThpiBH-I/AAAAAAAAIQA/oL9_Uyj8bzQVS_IBSUenlsfj2bXS0mvJgCLcBGAsYHQ/elephant%2Brock%2B2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="453" data-original-width="604" height="347" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-WHFje177X20/X-QThpiBH-I/AAAAAAAAIQA/oL9_Uyj8bzQVS_IBSUenlsfj2bXS0mvJgCLcBGAsYHQ/w463-h347/elephant%2Brock%2B2.jpg" width="463" /></a></div><br /><br /></div><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /> <span> <span> </span></span>Christmas in the southern hemisphere occurs in the middle of summer. For many years, the Southern Rhodesia<a href="applewebdata://D72F7059-700E-41C4-A071-5AC74E3F5230#_edn1" name="_ednref1" style="color: #954f72; text-indent: 0.5in;" title=""><span class="MsoEndnoteReference" style="vertical-align: super;"><span class="MsoEndnoteReference" style="vertical-align: super;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">[i]</span></span></span></a><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">missionaries all met for an annual Christmas picnic, rotating between the several larger mission stations</span><a href="applewebdata://D72F7059-700E-41C4-A071-5AC74E3F5230#_edn2" name="_ednref2" style="color: #954f72; text-indent: 0.5in;" title=""><span class="MsoEndnoteReference" style="vertical-align: super;"><span class="MsoEndnoteReference" style="vertical-align: super;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">[ii]</span></span></span></a><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">. In 1958, my father was acting general superintendent of the missionary work. All the missionaries had planned to meet in the Matopo Mission in an School/Outstation, some eight miles from the mission.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">The school was small with two buildings, both made of brick and grass thatch roofs. Altogether, we numbered about 50. We had each brought food and planned to spend the day in fellowship and an afternoon program had been planned.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">The day started out beautifully—blue skies, cloud-free. A number of missionaries and older children started a baseball game. After we were well into the baseball game, the sky started to cloud over. Then it began to rain lightly, then more heavily, then it poured. We dashed for one of the two school buildings. We decided to have our picnic lunch inside the large relatively open building, and then to return to Matopo Mission for the rest of the day. We had our lunch, piled into our several mission vehicles, and started to return to the mission station. About a quarter of a mile from the school there was a small dry river bed we had crossed in the morning. Most of the rain had fallen upstream and the dry river bed was now a raging torrent. We were trapped—all 50 of us. We couldn’t cross the river until the water receded. We returned to the school house, where the children put on the program they had prepared. Two missionary men assigned to Matopo decided to hike back up through the Matopo Hills to the mission station to get the mission tractor to help us through the swollen river. We did not know how long that river would be uncrossable. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><b><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">By this time, the air was cold, with the continuing rain. We built a fire on the earth floor of that school house, gathering wood wherever we could find it. Much of the wood was wet and it was difficult to start a fire, but we succeeded. One of the missionary men kept feeding wood to the fire, and the flames were growing higher. My mother alerted my father that the flames were burning high and sparks were beginning to fly. My dad had visions of the sparks setting the thatch roof on fire, and thought, <i>Oh boy! That's all we need—to burn down the school house the people here built.</i> So my dad said, "Better not put any more wood on. I am afraid the roof might catch on fire."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Finally, the two men arrived with the mission tractor, a big English Fordson diesel tractor, which was able to drive through the river, even though the water was still very high. They also brought a trek wagon along with them with some lengths of heavy trek chains to pull cars across. We decided that the tractor could pull the cars, with all their passengers inside, through the water.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">By the time we crossed the river, it was dark. It took some time to pull all the cars and passengers across. We were the second to last car, and as we were being pulled through, our car floated in midstream. My dad kept a firm grip on the steering wheel and the front wheels pointed straight, and the strong tug of the tractor got us through to solid ground. The missionary who had built the fire was driving the last vehicle; midstream, he lost control and the vehicle began to float downstream. In his efforts to correct his angle, he kept twisting the steering wheel right and left, and finally, the wheels hit solid ground again and worked against the pull of the tractor. He thought something was drastically wrong with his car.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><b><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Only one missionary was not along on the picnic—one of the missionary women named Ethel who was fairly far along in a somewhat difficult pregnancy, and she chose to stay home. Her husband had come along on the picnic, however. My mother was concerned that we were not able to let Ethel know our plight. Before the first car was pulled across, Mother told the occupants to call Ethel as soon as they got back to the mission, but they forgot. When we all finally arrived back and found out they hadn’t called Ethel, we called her right away. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Here’s what Ethel was doing. When the missionary party did not return by sundown, she began to get concerned. Ethel was at another mission station, called Mtshabezi. First she tried telephoning the doctor's home at mission station hospital.. When she got no answer she tried calling the main house. Finally she called church headquarters in Bulawayo. No answer anywhere! It had not rained all day at Mtshabezi, and she began to think that something dire had befallen us—perhaps food poisoning—and she was the only missionary left in Southern Rhodesia. She finally decided to call the local police station, some 20 miles from Matopo Mission. They had decided that if she or they heard nothing more within the next half hour they would send out a search party. As soon as she received our call about 11:00 p.m., she immediately contacted the police and canceled the search party. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Needless to say, while I have experienced some wonderful memorable Christmases, none can rival the memory of this Christmas. As it turned out, it was the last Christmas I spent in southern Africa—my whole family returned home, and when my parents and siblings returned to Southern Rhodesia, I stayed in the U.S. <o:p></o:p></span></p><div><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br clear="all" /></span><hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" /><div id="edn1"><p class="MsoEndnoteText" style="font-size: 10pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><a href="applewebdata://D72F7059-700E-41C4-A071-5AC74E3F5230#_ednref1" name="_edn1" style="color: #954f72;" title=""><span class="MsoEndnoteReference" style="vertical-align: super;"><span class="MsoEndnoteReference" style="vertical-align: super;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">[i]</span></span></span></a> Southern Rhodesia became Zimbabwe, as it is now called.<o:p></o:p></span></p></div><div id="edn2"><p class="MsoEndnoteText" style="font-size: 10pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><a href="applewebdata://D72F7059-700E-41C4-A071-5AC74E3F5230#_ednref2" name="_edn2" style="color: #954f72;" title=""><span class="MsoEndnoteReference" style="vertical-align: super;"><span class="MsoEndnoteReference" style="vertical-align: super;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">[ii]</span></span></span></a> At that time, there were three main mission stations in the Brethren In Christ Church in Southern Rhodesia: Matopo, Mtshabezi, and Wanezi.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoEndnoteText" style="font-size: 10pt; margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> -----------------------------------------------------------</span></o:p></p><p class="MsoEndnoteText" style="font-size: 10pt; margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoEndnoteText" style="font-size: 10pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Photo of the Matobo Hills (as they are now called) from is one my brother took. Thanks for the permission, Daryl.</span></p></div></div>KGMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05165941950953938943noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31402520.post-55122569893850838032020-09-01T09:53:00.006-04:002020-09-03T06:48:31.765-04:00TWO MORE FOR THE 2020 LIST<p><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Z0jGFQ7SLYo/X05RzXAK4JI/AAAAAAAAIM0/wWHCfpjVQYIHuvXS91eTpHY0zyMYgEjxwCLcBGAsYHQ/s500/Splendid.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="329" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Z0jGFQ7SLYo/X05RzXAK4JI/AAAAAAAAIM0/wWHCfpjVQYIHuvXS91eTpHY0zyMYgEjxwCLcBGAsYHQ/w210-h320/Splendid.jpg" width="210" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /> THE SPLENDID AND THE VILE</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">By Erik Larson<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">It was early May, 1940. Neville Chamberlain, a member of the Conservative Party, was Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, but was quickly losing power. Chamberlain knew he had to step down but who would succeed him as leader of the Conversative Party. Two possible choices—Lord Halifax and Winston Churchill. Chamberlain recommended to the king, who would name the next prime m</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">inister, that Winston Churchill be the one. He was not immediately a popular choice. The opposition Labour Party despised him. But Chamberlain, who had lost the confidence of the Convervative Party, sensed that Churchill was exactly the man for the times.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">On May 10, King George VI summoned Churchill to Buckingham Palace, and asked him to form a government. Churchill was elated—this is the moment for which he had been preparing all his life. But, on that same day, Adolph Hitler’s troops invaded<span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 10.5pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Belgium, Luxembourg and the Netherlands as they advanced toward Paris, France.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Thus begins the saga of Winston Churchill as prime minister in England’s darkest hour. <b>The Splendid and the Vile</b> begins its account with the naming of Churchill and the beginnings of the Battle of Britain. The account covers the one year time span from Churchill’s ascension to leadership in May 1940 to May 1941. Drawing on official documents and personal accounts from those who lived through the battle Larson weaves a thoroughly mesmerizing recounting of what was England’s darkest hour and Churchill’s display of precisely the kind of leadership needed for the times.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">I learned a great deal from this book, which surprised me a bit. I was an English Lit major in college, so British history was a prerequisite. And I am also an Anglophile, for many reasons. Further, I have read various biographies of Churchill. Much as I thought I knew about him and the first year of World War II for England, I still learned much. And am the richer for it.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-bottom-width: 1pt; border-style: none none solid; padding: 0in 0in 1pt;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">EUPHORIA</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">By Lily King<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">I had seen the book </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Euphoria when it first came out several years ago, and had in fact marked it as a book I wanted to read. But I didn't have it or do anything about getting it. Then a couple of weeks ago, the Kindle version was offered as one of the "deals of the day" books, and I got it.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Having slogged through <b>THE MOSQUITO: A Human History</b>, I was ready for something engaging that wouldn't take forever to read. And also something that would be more focused and satisfying.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Enter EUPHORIA.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">When I was in college, I read Margaret Mead's <b>Coming of Age in Samoa. </b>My own feminism was developing at that time, and I loved the observations Mead recorded.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">That was enough of a recollection for me to dive into <b>Euphoria.</b> It didn't disappoint. It was a quick read for me. No laborious over-explained passages. The characters of Nell, Fen and Bankson are inspired by the real lives of Margaret Mead, her first husband Reo Fortune, and Gregory Bateson, who was Mead's second husband.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">The trio are conducting research into tribal customs: Nell and Fen studying one tribe while Bankson studies another, several hours travel away from Nell and Fen. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">It doesn't take long for the electricity of relationships to heat up. Nell and Fen are married, collaborators and rivals. Bankson is lonely, isolated but dedicated to his research. His somewhat chance meeting with Nell and Fen sets him on a path, both of research but also interpersonal complications. Perhaps, not surprisingly, a love triangle forms which increasingly occupies to focus of the narrative.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">It turns out that, for me, <b>Euphoria</b> was a quick read. But unlike some quick reads, which are soon forgotten because of their lack of substance, Euphoria will stay with me for a long time. Much to contemplate and mull. Putting the love triangle aside, there are stunning observations on cultural norms and how they are form, on uses to which research is sometimes put--not always good uses. These are the things I will think about, even as I say farewell to Nell, Fen and Bankson.</span></span>KGMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05165941950953938943noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31402520.post-80102311067136107052020-08-06T20:11:00.005-04:002020-08-07T10:49:28.350-04:00Trying Hard to Catch Up and Make My Reading Goal <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">I set myself an annual reading goal, as I have the last several years. I have succeeded in meeting those goals, but this year I have gotten behind. See previous blog for the reason (clue: the third book in the Thomas Cromwell trilogy).</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">--------------</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">The Return<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">By Hisham Matar</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ftXFKdzlT-Y/Xyy6rsV3bTI/AAAAAAAAIMY/QcxRsIe85_gRCXOGxBBSr1SDvH3Q4CS5QCLcBGAsYHQ/s499/return.jpg" style="clear: right; display: block; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; padding: 1em 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="324" height="319" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ftXFKdzlT-Y/Xyy6rsV3bTI/AAAAAAAAIMY/QcxRsIe85_gRCXOGxBBSr1SDvH3Q4CS5QCLcBGAsYHQ/w207-h319/return.jpg" width="207" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">This excellent book is an aching combination of a family displaced, a father’s disappearance and a son’s quest to find his father. The events detailed include the existence of the kingdom of Libya (1951-1969), which was ended with Qaddafi’s overthrow of King Idris I (in 1969). Libya suffered under various powers’ domination through history—including under the Ottoman Empire and under Italy’s colonization of the country. These details are necessary to help understand the deep sense of loss that Libyan patriots experienced when Qaddafi rose to power. The revolution quickly devolved into autocracy and tyranny. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">His family had been living in Cairo, Egypt. His father was an outspoken critic of Qaddafi. Eventually, his father was abducted in Cairo and presumably handed over to Qaddafi’s henchmen. It is at that point that the father disappears. Matar, who had been studying in London, begins a search that lasts several decades to find his father.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">The book not only examines the wrenching loss the family feels, and that Mater feels as a son, but also looks unsparingly at the evils of overwhelming dominating power that places little to no value on the life of someone as accomplished as Matar’s father.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> ------------------</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">The Mosquito: a Human History of Our Deadliest Predator<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">By Timothy Winegard<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">I had a very personal reason for wanting to read this book. When I was three years old, living with my parents, my younger sister who was just eight months old was bitten by a mosquito, and developed malaria fever and died within a few weeks. That is my earliest memory. In part, because of that, I have always followed news about mosquitos and malaria and humanity’s effort to control or even eradicate this plague.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">I confess that I was disappointed in the book. Rather than being a scholarly work, detailing the mosquito’s impact on humans, the book moves from antiquity to the current time, rehashing previously available information about how mosquitos have plagued human, as the cause of various disease, notably yellow fever and malaria.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">The author spends a great deal of time chronicling various events where battles were decided in favor of one army or another—and then he interweaves somewhat speculatively that mosquitos decided the outcome of these battles. This tendency is particularly true in the more ancient history sections. There were chapters that were genuinely interesting, and seemed more grounded in the author’s general thesis. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">So, long analysis shortened—there are passages that are interesting and informative. And there are passages that are tedious, speculative and seemingly aimless.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> ---------------</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Killers of the Flower Moon: the Osage Murders and the Birth of the FBI<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">By David Grann<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">I had seen the title of this book multiple times on various emails recommending books. The title intrigued me so finally I bought it (in e-read format).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Such a promising title. Such a promising premise. Such a failure to live up to either.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">To be fair--the writer did a great deal of research into a horrific time in American history, focusing on a string of murders in Oklahoma where Osage native Americans, who happen to have been relocated to tribal lands that were later found to have oil repositories. The resulting boom made many of these Osage hugely wealthy. In a systematic and highly calloused way, white Americans married Osage tribal members, had themselves declared the manager of financial affairs and heirs in the potential death of the Osage spouse. AND then proceeded to systematically murder the Osage--whether by outright violence, such as shooting someone dead, blowing up a house, or by slower more subtle means of poisoning.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">These events occurring in the 1920s mark a very dark time in U.S. history. In a convergence of historical events, the murders were occurring about the time that the Federal Bureau of Investigation was being established. Solving the murders became largely the work of one FBI special agent, Tom White. Through long and arduous work, he eventually tracks down the primary culprits, brings them to justice and an eventual successful trial.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">But the story does not end there.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">The author gathered so much information, so many records, so many contacts that he continued with reading through the volumes of notes he acquired, interviews he had conducted and such. What he found was that the 1920 murders that were detailed in the Killers of the Flower Moon account were only a handful among possibly hundreds of Osage swindled out of their possessions, and by various means dispatched. What the author discovered is that rather than being a self-contained story tracking "who killed Anna Brown" the story was of multiple murders.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">My main criticism is that as a result of pursuing two separate theses, the book begins to drag. I applaud the author's exhaustive research, but times "less is more." The reader becomes numbed to the impact of so many murders. That does not make them acceptable, but it does make them seem routine and thereby less important.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">-----------</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">OK--back to reading. Working on catching up.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></span></p>KGMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05165941950953938943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31402520.post-26358426049903500882020-07-12T12:05:00.001-04:002020-07-12T12:05:58.144-04:00More Book Reviews<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">The Mirror and the Light<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;">By Hilary Mantel<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Whew! I am exhausted…bereft…fulfilled. It's been long slog. I had set my reading goal for the year as 25 books. Then I started reading The Mirror and the Light. Having read the first two books in Hilary Mantel's trilogy on Thomas Cromwell, I could not forego that last.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;">But I knew it would slow my reading to a crawl. You simply cannot skim through this book and enjoy it. So I slowed down, and relished every word.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Mantel's accomplishment, in part, is taking an historical figure who has not always been seen in a favorable light and making him thoroughly likable, though very complicated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;">If you don't know Tudor history, this book might elude you. I know English history passingly, including Tudor history (an absolute requirement for English majors reading Shakespeare's history plays). This book, and the two predecessors in the trilogy, added to my understanding. And sent me many times to doing a bit of historical brushing up--who was this character? what was this event? Etc.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;">This trilogy is a masterpiece of English literature. Not only is the sweep and scope far reaching (covering major parts of the reign of Henry VIII), but the depth and nuance of the narrative technique is singular. Mantel tells Thomas Cromwell’s story in present tense, even as she switches back and forth in time. Memory is a strong component of the work, as we learn many circumstances of Cromwell’s rise to power via his own ruminations considering his personal history.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;">With this book the third in the trilogy, we move from the execution of Anne Boleyn to the eventual death of Thomas Cromwell. The novel slowly builds to the inevitable conclusion, that we know historically. Knowing the dénouement in no way robs this book of its tension. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;">At the outset of the novel, Cromwell witnessed the execution of Anne Boleyn, Henry’s second wife—it was Cromwell who accomplished the setting aside of Katherine, Henry’s first wife making the marriage to Anne Boleyn possible. That alone is a harbinger of the inevitable turn of the wheel of fortune. Yet, at the outsight of The Mirror and the Light, Cromwell is at his zenith. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;">The novel slowly builds, with Cromwell’s influence unchanged…except. The slow unraveling bit by bit becomes apparent. Near the end of the novel, the reader can discern the palpable tension—and I had the urge to yell “THOMAS, PAY ATTENTION! They’re out to get you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Part of the mastery of Mantel’s writing is that there is an almost imperceptible change in tone. As reader, you can see coming what Thomas does not. And when he finally does see that his enemies are building towards his being cast down, he still tries to work his magic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;">The title—The Mirror and the Light—refers to a comment Cromwell makes to Henry VIII: “ the mirror and the light of all other kings and princes in Christendom.” Yet, the interplay between mirror and light shifts—sometimes it seems Henry is the reflection. Of course, Cromwell has made his comment as an obsequious complement to Henry, meant to assuage Henry’s jealousy that Cromwell might presume himself to be more important than Henry. It was precisely that fear in Henry that gave Cromwell’s enemies the means whereby to drive the wedge between monarch and minister leading to Cromwell’s own beheading.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Born a Crime<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;">By Trevor Noah<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #181818; font-family: Helvetica;">This engaging account by Trevor Noah of his childhood, and coming of age, is charming, sobering, enlightening and at times frightening.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #181818; font-family: Helvetica;">The title refers to the fact that his mother was a black South African, and his father a white Swiss national--during apartheid when it was a crime for a black person and a white person to have sexual intercourse, much less bear a child out of that union.</span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: Helvetica;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #181818; font-family: Helvetica;">Trevor Noah writes informatively of what it was like to grow up among several worlds--the black world epitomized in the various townships; the white world by virtue of his mother's working as a domestic for white families, and also the few contacts with his father. And also the colored world. The absurd division of humanity into various classes was a hallmark of apartheid South Africa. He explains that you could be classified (with official documents) as colored one day and then white another. (The reader should understand that colored was not nomenclature for a child produced from a black/white union, but rather a separate "class" of humans with varying backgrounds.)</span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: Helvetica;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #181818; font-family: Helvetica;">The wonder is that Trevor Noah grew up, survived, functioned, learned, and emerged as the bright young man he is.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica;">Woodsburner<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica;">By John Pipkin<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica;">First, I did learn several things of historical interest and value. E.g. David Henry? Who knew? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica;">Second, I have a favorite character--as well as reactions to other characters. My favorite--Oddmund. Aka Odd. The abbreviation is very telling. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica;">Reactions to other characters-- <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica;">Eliot--what a pain. Although, he redeems himself at the end. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica;">Henry David--hmmm. Not sure what to say. I found him to be dithery. I really expected "an unexamined life" to be worked in at one point. However, the biographical background about this incident in his life. I love that he called Odd "New America." And his querying Odd foreshadows his own living in the woods. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica;">Emma and her husband--the husband is, of course, a lout. Emma has her own survival story, as did Odd. Their pairing makes perfect sense <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica;">Caleb--wow! Gives real insight into some of the religious issues of the day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica;">Anezka and Zalenka (can't help but notice their names are A to Z). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica;">Third, memorable interactions or themes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica;">The infancy of the country but with the view to the future where too much change occurs without thinking about it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica;">The story of immigrants--the hardships they endure and the reasons they left the Old World. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica;">The undercurrent of same sex attraction being persecuted, and in the case of Oddmund's uncle--leading to death. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica;">Involvement in civilization vs. seeking solitude. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica;">FIRE--this is a huge theme. Of course, the woods being on fire. But Odd's father brings the trunk from the old country--proceeds to take items signifying attachment to the old, and setting them on fire. Until the explosion. Thus Odd loses his family. Of course, his reaction to the Concord fire is vivid--thinking he caused it, helping to fight it, warning the town about it, and "rescuing" Emma. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica;">Caleb's lethal fascination with fire (and hell). His walking into the burning woods. And most appropriately Anezka and Zalenka rescuing him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica;">AND Eliot--his constant play writing, and the thought to end the play with a house on fire. The actual fire and his experience with it seem to be a purging for him that gives him some focus. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica;">Not one of my "top ten books ever written" but certainly unique.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
KGMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05165941950953938943noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31402520.post-32325115824174927742020-06-17T10:17:00.001-04:002020-06-17T12:26:45.258-04:00The Look of Impassivity <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am haunted by the image of Derek Chauvin's impassive face as he kept his knee on George Floyd’s neck for 8 minutes and 46 seconds. That’s a long time—try this. Stay silent for 8 minutes and 46 seconds. It’s a long time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And yet through the whole time, the face of the policeman was impassive, unmoved, almost bored in appearance. Keep in mind, under his knee a fellow human being is struggling, attempting to breathe and PLEADING for his life –“I can’t breathe.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As the video was played, replayed and replayed, I could not keep watching it. Floyd was dying, and Chauvin kept his knee on Floyd’s neck the whole time. So many things haunted me, but what struck me the most was the look on Chauvin’s face. Looking around. Not registering any feeling as to common humanity. Bored. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It struck me because I had seen that look before. And then I remembered where. When I was in my last job, teaching composition at the local community college, I had a classroom full of (mostly bored) students. Composition is the last course most students want to take but the one they ALL must take. It was not uncommon to lose the students’ attention. Usually, with my “teaching skills,” I was able to reconnect them (most of them) with the topic at hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But, one day I realized that bit by bit all of the students were not paying attention. It started with the row of students closest to the window. They began looking intently out the window at something that had them captivated. Then the next row, and the next until practically the whole class were out of their seats looking down from our 2<sup>nd</sup> story classroom to the green quad outside. So, I gave up and joined them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">There under a magnificent huge tree was a hawk. It was sitting on the ground, and held in its talons a squirrel. The squirrel was struggling mightily, trying every which way to escape. But the hawk held fast. And while it did, it leisurely looked around. Head swiveling slowly one way, then another. All the while the squirrel struggled and the hawk seemed utterly indifferent. This battle continued for minutes—no idea how long, but it was clear the class was done. Finally, I suggested that we regather and continue whatever the lesson was. Reluctantly, many students turned back to their desks. I, however, could still see out the window. And I knew the struggle continued.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">After minutes—maybe 8 minutes and 46 seconds—the squirrel ceased struggling. It lay on the ground motionless, still held in the talons of the hawk. After a brief respite, the hawk leisurely spread its wings, clasped its prey and flew off. The now dead squirrel dangled pathetically, its tail waving in the breeze.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The image of that hawk—predatory, seemingly disengaged from the struggle under it—that’s where I had seen a look like Chauvin’s before. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
KGMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05165941950953938943noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31402520.post-39412124800348646472020-02-20T10:32:00.002-05:002020-02-20T10:32:50.652-05:00I really do have other hobbies, but I LOVE to read.<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">St. Paul: The Apostle We Love to Hate<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This is a serious scholarly work, as one would expect from Karen Armstrong. It is not for the faint-hearted or the biblical illiterate or even literalist.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It was the title that intrigued me. I intensely disliked Paul, as do many women who have suffered because of some of the pronouncements in the Pauline letters ("Wives, be subject to your husbands as you are to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife just as Christ is the head of the church, the body of which he is the Savior. Just as the church is subject to Christ, so also wives ought to be, in everything, to their husbands."). There is also the admonition that women should remain silent in the church.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">So I joined other feminist women in disliking Paul intensely. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Armstrong does an admirable job explaining Paul's life and his mission. In many ways, he created the church. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">What I found most interesting was that there is scholarly support that not all the Pauline letters were written by Paul, but some were written by disciples of Paul. For those of us who read neither Greek nor Hebrew, we benefit from scholars such as Armstrong who does. And the evidence that she lays out suggests that many of the most misogynistic passages were in letters these followers of Paul wrote.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I repeat my initial caution--this is not a book for the faint-hearted or for someone looking for a quick way to dismiss Paul. But if you want to learn more about Paul, this book helps fill in some of the blanks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I previously read (and reviewed) Barbara Brown Taylor’s <b>Leaving Church</b>. I was far less enamored with that book, so with reluctance I approached this book. Why, you might wonder, did I read a book by an author’s whose previous work I had not enjoyed?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Well, I belong to a book discussion group (called Reformed Readers!) which does a fair bit of reading books which lend themselves to discussion of matters of faith. AND <b>Holy Envy</b> is the next book up in our discussion calendar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The book started out with a tone that seemed to be replicating the shallow tone that had previously frustrated me…but, then. THEN! Almost immediately after the introduction Taylor begins to deliver insight after insight on how religions are alike and different. Given her position as a college professor teaching an Introduction to Religions course, she has ample examples of the religious illiteracy that plagues the United States (and maybe other parts of the world). Her students are mostly drawn from various Christian backgrounds, with a few students from other religious traditions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Having been a college instructor during my professional career, I was struck with the wonderful creativity she brought to her course teaching. Her desire to help expose students to other traditions, as well as her intention to help them becomes more literate not only about other religions but also their own, shines through the narrative of the book. She gives examples of her technique—giving them a quiz at the beginning of a semester asking them basic questions about the five religions they study. These quizzes are then returned to them on the last day of the semester. What a wonderful teaching technique!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The title—Holy Envy—requires some explaining. By this Taylor means that there are things in other religious practices that she envies for various reasons. Throughout the book, as you read about the various faith places she takes students, and the experience of other religious worship that affords, she does say what “holy envy” she might have for a particular religious practice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">If you read this work, you will be enriched. Perhaps, like Barbara Brown Taylor, you will come to cherish even more your religious traditions at the same time to learn to understand and accept other religious traditions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The Great Quake : How the Biggest Earthquake in North America Changed Our Understanding of the Planet <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">First, I need to confess that I am a science geek. No, I am not a trained scientist. It’s just that most books which deal with, explain, describe--you name it—natural phenomena always grab me. The title of this book was all I needed to want to read it. I do not live in Alaska, and have only visited it (and did see where many of the landmarks mentioned in the book can be found). But, I did have an aunt who was living in Anchorage on that fateful date, March 27, 1964. It was for her one of the most terrifying experiences of her life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">True to the title, the book details how the post-event analysis of the earthquake helped geologists and geoscientists to recognize and define what we now plate tectonics (another one of the subjects I love). To take you on the journey, the author introduces to a variety of people who were all players in the event. The primary focus is on <span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #333333;">George Plafker, a geologist with the U.S. Geological Survey, who was one of the first scientists on the scene. It was his careful data gathering and then analysis that led him to posit a cause of the earthquake—what kind of fault—and in so doing lay out a description of plate tectonics.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You also meet a myriad of people living in different areas in southern coastal Alaska where the quake struck. These people help the reader appreciate the human dimension and scope of loss. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The book requires a reader who does not easily tire at detail. In doing so, the reader is treated to an ably told thoroughly enjoyable account of one of the greatest earthquakes in history.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Where the Crawdads Sing<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Fate led me to reading this book. I had seen the title of the book advertised, and offered again and again on Amazon. But since it was touted as a best seller, and since I am skeptical of the value of other people's choices of best book...i.e. big sellers...I eschewed buying and reading it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Enter fate. On a rainy morning in October, I was on my way to an appointment. I was certain the time was 10:30 a.m. It was a rainy miserable morning, and my appointment was for a massage--perfect antidote to a rainy day. I arrived, went to the door, knocked--and NOTHING. No answer. So I quickly texted about the timing, and learned my appointment was later in the afternoon. So, I trudged back to where my car was parked, turned over the key--and NOTHING. Engine...aka battery totally dead. Did I mention it was raining? I called AAA, was informed they could get there in 2 or 3 hours (really!). So what to do? I walked to a nearby local bookstore--and there it was—WHERE THE CRAWDADS SING—prominently displayed on the front table.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In my moment of weakness, I bought it. And started reading it. With a cup of chai latte tea in hand, and a rainy outside, and a delayed appointment, I read. And read--and fell in love with the novel.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The novel is all of these things: a coming of age story. You can find elsewhere the basics of the plot of this novel. It is also a murder mystery, a story of survival under the most difficult of circumstances--parental abandonment. It is a story revealing love of nature, and the power of community.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
KGMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05165941950953938943noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31402520.post-17994698811049277372020-01-28T16:19:00.001-05:002020-01-28T16:19:24.053-05:00Variation on a Theme<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I have been blogging about the books I read over the past year--and I will continue to review the ones I read in the year ahead.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But I take a brief break now to look at the other "end" of books. For every book you read, someone had to write it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">While my father was alive, he spent several years writing, editing, re-writing his memoirs. He lived a long and full life, so he had much to write about.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As a former missionary, he watched as other missionaries he know wrote AND published their memoirs. Quite a few of those were self-published, and my dad longed to have his memoirs published as well.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">He had printed out full copies for each of his children, he gave a copy to the church archives, but he did not publish his memoirs for distribution.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">After his death, I decided to edit these memoirs, condense some of the content (my dad could be wordy), eliminate some passages that were downright tedious (think the begats in the Bible). I contacted the editor of the historical journal of the church to which my father belonged. And she was amenable, even encouraging of this effort.</span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZlxxHZ-dTzI/XjClD6exskI/AAAAAAAAIGY/EHX9F0_ERkoCx0hnMdpwFFC0MSA-B5NPwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/A2F2B164-4BB9-4659-B54D-19C18B786AF4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZlxxHZ-dTzI/XjClD6exskI/AAAAAAAAIGY/EHX9F0_ERkoCx0hnMdpwFFC0MSA-B5NPwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/A2F2B164-4BB9-4659-B54D-19C18B786AF4.jpeg" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So I began.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I edited and edited and edited. I read, re-read, rephrased...I have no doubt I read his original text a half a dozen times, and the edited version that I worked on perhaps as many times. Then I sent it to the editor. She in turn edited it, giving me the option to accept, or reject her suggestions (I mostly agreed as she has a fine eye for what works) or rework a passage if I thought the information was germane to the whole story.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I delivered the final final final work and then the journal editor sent it off to the company that publishes the journals.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">On Sunday, I got a note from the editor--the printed journal had arrived!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So today, I picked up my complimentary copies as well as few extra to send to family members.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The completion of this project makes me very happy. In my thinking, it was one of the best ways to honor my father's memory. And by the journal publishing them, these memoirs will have a greater distribution than it would have had if my dad had self-published and given copies away.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Every book that I read was written AND edited by someone. I take my proverbial hat off to all of you who are authors, editors and publishers. </span><br />
KGMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05165941950953938943noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31402520.post-5168000517622804672020-01-10T10:52:00.000-05:002020-01-10T10:52:56.653-05:00TO INFINITY AND BEYOND--well, not really. Just to my 2020 goal and beyond.<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Last year, I set a reading goal, which I met and passed. The books I read have been reviewed in the last several posts here.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />So, what to do for 2020? Why, set the same goal, of course. It worked last year, no need to crank it up a bit as I already went passed what I had set in the prior year.<br />So, here are reviews of the first two read this year, and one from last year I had not yet reviewed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /><b>Holy Envy: Finding God in the Faith of Others</b>By Barbara Brown Taylor<br /><br />I previously read (and reviewed) Barbara Brown Taylor’s <b>Leaving Church</b>. I was far less enamored with that book, so with reluctance I approached this book. Why, you might wonder, did I read a book by an author whose previous work I had not enjoyed?<br /><br />Well, I belong to a book discussion group (called Reformed Readers!) which does a fair bit of reading books which lend themselves to discussion of matters of faith. AND <b>Holy Envy</b> is the next book up in our discussion calendar.<br /><br />The book started out with a tone that seemed to be replicating the shallow tone that had previously frustrated me…but, then. THEN! Almost immediately after the introduction Taylor begins to deliver insight after insight on how religions are alike and different. Given her position as a college professor teaching an Introduction to Religions course, she has ample examples of the religious illiteracy that plagues the United States (and maybe other parts of the world). Her students are mostly drawn from various Christian backgrounds, with a few students from other religious traditions.<br /><br />Having been a college instructor during my professional career, I was struck with the wonderful creativity she brought to her course teaching. Her desire to help expose students to other traditions, as well as her intention to help them becomes more literate not only about other religions but also their own, shines through the narrative of the book. She gives examples of her technique—giving them a quiz at the beginning of a semester asking them basic questions about the five religions they study. These quizzes are then returned to them on the last day of the semester. What a wonderful teaching technique!<br /><br />The title—Holy Envy—requires some explaining. By this Taylor means that there are things in other religious practices that she envies for various reasons. Throughout the book, as you read about the various faith places she takes students, and the experience of other religious worship that affords, she does say what “holy envy” she might have for a particular religious practice.<br /><br />If you read this work, you will be enriched. Perhaps, like Barbara Brown Taylor, you will come to cherish even more your religious traditions at the same time to learn to understand and accept other religious traditions.<br /><br /><br /><b>The Great Quake : How the Biggest Earthquake in North America Changed Our Understanding of the Planet </b>By Henry Fountain<br /><br />First, I need to confess that I am a science geek. No, I am not a trained scientist. It’s just that most books which deal with, explain, describe--you name it—natural phenomena always grab me. The title of this book was all I needed to want to read it. I do not live in Alaska, and have only visited it (and did see where many of the landmarks mentioned in the book can be found). But, I did have an aunt who was living in Anchorage on that fateful date, March 27, 1964. It was for her one of the most terrifying experiences of her life.<br /><br />True to the title, the book details how the post-event analysis of the earthquake helped geologists and geoscientists to recognize and define what we now plate tectonics (another one of the subjects I love). To take you on the journey, the author introduces to a variety of people who were all players in the event. The primary focus is on <span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">George Plafker, a geologist with the U.S. Geological Survey, who was one of the first scientists on the scene. It was his careful data gathering and then analysis that led him to posit a cause of the earthquake—what kind of fault—and in so doing lay out a description of plate tectonics.<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">You also meet a myriad of people living in different areas in southern coastal Alaska where the quake struck. These people help the reader appreciate the human dimension and scope of loss. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">The book requires a reader who does not easily tire at detail. In doing so, the reader is treated to an ably told thoroughly enjoyable account of one of the greatest earthquake in history.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><o:p> </o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br /></span></span><b>Where the Grawdads Sing</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">By Delia Owens</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">(read in 2019)<br /><br />Fate led me to reading this book. I had seen the title of the book advertised, and offered again and again on Amazon. But since it was touted as a best seller, and since I am skeptical of the value of other people's choices of best books*...i.e. big sellers...I eschewed buying and reading it.<br /><br />Enter fate. On a rainy morning in October, I was on my way to an appointment. I was certain the time was 10:30 a.m. It was a rainy miserable morning, and my appointment was for a massage--perfect antidote to a rainy day. I arrived, went to the door, knocked--and NOTHING. No answer. So I quickly texted about the timing, and learned my appointment was later in the afternoon. So, I trudged back to where my car was parked, turned over the key--and NOTHING. Engine...aka battery totally dead. Did I mention it was raining. I called AAA, was informed they could get there in 2 or 3 hours (really!). So what to do? I walked to a nearby local bookstore--and there it was—WHERE THE CRAWDADS SING—prominently displayed on the front table.<br /><br />In my moment of weakness, I bought it. And started reading it. With a cup of chai latte tea in hand, and a rainy outside, and a delayed appointment, I read. And read--and fell in love with the novel.<br /><br />The novel is all of these things: a coming of age story. You can find elsewhere the basics of the plot of this novel. It is also a murder mystery, a story of survival under the most difficult of circumstances--parental abandonment. It is a story revealing love of nature, and the power of community.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">*Yes, I recognize the irony--my reviews are in their own way MY best books--and you, the reader, have every right to be skeptical.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">TO INFINITY AND BEYOND--well, not really. Just to my 2020 goal and beyond.</span>KGMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05165941950953938943noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31402520.post-58949369565180873352019-12-18T14:48:00.001-05:002020-01-10T10:46:28.564-05:00Did You Think I Stopped my Book Reviews<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Perish that thought.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I have been reading, but also busy editing my father's memoirs for publication in a historical journal of his denomination.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">OK, on to reviews of the most recent reads.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">-</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>God and the Gay Christian: The Biblical Case in Support of Same-Sex Relationships</b></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">By Matthew Vines</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This is an important book for anyone to read who desires to see more deeply into the Biblical passages that have been used to condemn homosexuality. The author carefully analyzes some of the oft quoted sections, and shows in a new light that the interpretations that were written in a different time in fact mean something other than for what they are sometimes used.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The Biblical analysis is not trivial. In fact, at times the book is challenging. But, if you are a serious student of the Bible and want to go beyond a knee-jerk reaction that has too long characterized the church's approach to same-sex relationships, this book breathes fresh life into the title subject: God and the Gay Christian.</span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am not gay, but have many gay friends who I cherish. And, frankly, it is offensive and deeply saddening to me when I hear “church people” inveighing against someone who is attracted to the same sex. I am blessed to be able to talk with these friends about their experience as they came to understand and accept their own sexuality. In some of the conversations I have had, these friends have revealed how they have been deeply wounded by the church. It was very affirming to read a book that does not condemn someone just because he/she is gay.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Running with Sherman: The Donkey with the Heart of a Hero </span></b><span style="font-family: , serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">by<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"> </span>Christopher McDougall </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(24, 24, 24);"><br /></span></span><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rDovj_OAZkM/XfqA_uzcOxI/AAAAAAAAIF8/6P_WDEXrYpcDmQ7_hzgzfB8GoI7huSK1ACEwYBhgL/s1600/sherman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="176" data-original-width="286" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rDovj_OAZkM/XfqA_uzcOxI/AAAAAAAAIF8/6P_WDEXrYpcDmQ7_hzgzfB8GoI7huSK1ACEwYBhgL/s1600/sherman.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: yellow; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I admit it...the front piece photo, of an adorable looking donkey, is what got me to read this book. I am a sucker for animals in need who are "rescued" by people, but who in turn also rescue the people. Anything that helps we humans to get over being the proverbial top of the living heap. In reviewing the list of books I have read, I see many stories that help to connect me to all of living creation.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Now, a prospective reader must know--this book is NOT just about a donkey named Sherman. The book opens with the donkey in question being virtually at death's door when he is "adopted" by the author. And the book takes you along on the journey of rehabilitating Sherman, and eventually getting him ready to run a kind of marathon (of which I had not previously heard)-- the annual World Championship Leadville Burro Race in Colorado.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Along the way, the author encounters various people who are broken in many ways as much as Sherman was. But, like Sherman, their brokenness can be healed. These stories, and Sherman's story make this a very inspiring work</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">.</span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My only complaint--sometimes the author's language is a bit more crude--that does not offend me at all. But the times that there is a change of tone seems a bit gratuitous and unnecessary.</span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span></span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">---</span><br />
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<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>Leaving Church: A Memoir of Faith</b></span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">by Barbara Brown Taylor</span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Barbara Brown Taylor is a well-known author whose works deal with spirituality, questing, and faith. I learned this when I began to read Leaving Church. You see, I had not encountered any of her works before. When her book AN ALTAR IN THE WORLD was published, I was intrigued with the title, but for whatever reasons didn’t read it.</span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So, how did I come to read her earlier work LEAVING CHURCH? One of my friends at church gave me the book and said she thought I might like it. So, I read it.</span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">What to say? First, yes I liked it. It resonated with me in ways that works such as those by Elaine Pagels <span style="background-color: yellow; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">(</span>WHY RELIGION) and Rachel Held Evans (SEARCHING FOR SUNDAY). In many ways LEAVING CHURCH is a similar kind of personal account. Of course, the details differ, because the authors differ. Each has her own journey to describe. Perhaps I view LEAVING CHURCH through the filter of how closely it approximates my own experience. Rachel Held Evans’ book comes the closest to describing the kind of upbringing I experienced. </span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Barbara Brown Taylor’s journey is long and multi-faceted. She describes her early longing for and search for spiritual connection. While the earliest expression she details in the book is a strong connection with nature, she moves on to describing her sense of call to Christian ministry. As a result, she becomes ordained as a priest in the Episcopalian Church, after her seminary training. Her initial call as a priest is to a large church where she is one among several priests. The grinding demands of that work, along with the oppressive sense of living in a highly urbanized area lead her to seek the calm of a more rural area. She and her husband find just such a location to which they move, and she begins life as a solo priest in a small church.</span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Each of these priestly calls have joys, triumphs, as well as valleys. Just as in the urban church, she begins to feel drained in the country setting. Thus the title LEAVING CHURCH. She traces a somewhat tortuous circuitous faith journey. Perhaps not surprisingly, she experiences burnout in her solo pastoral situation. And then leaves church.</span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">That does not mean she loses faith—her faith continues, broadens and becomes more nuanced. </span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">If you enjoy and/or are inspired by faith journeys, you may enjoy this book.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>The Measure of Manhattan: The Tumultuous Career and Surprising Legacy of John Randel, Jr.</b></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">By</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> Marguerite Holloway</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"> </span></span></span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #181818;">I expected a book that dealt with how Manhattan got to be the way it is...</span></span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #181818;">While this book does that to a certain extent, it spends a great deal of time detailing the life John Randel, Jr. Perhaps I should have paid closer attention to the subtitle--because that is what occupied the bulk of the book.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #181818;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am still wondering how Manhattan got to be the way it is.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span itemprop="author" itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Person" style="caret-color: rgb(24, 24, 24);"></span></span>KGMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05165941950953938943noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31402520.post-24342359806013649222019-10-29T13:56:00.002-04:002019-10-29T14:00:36.476-04:00I Bet You Thought I'd Stopped Reading...<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Two more works for the list--as I work toward my self-determined goal to read 25 books this year--one more to go!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Let the Trumpet Sound: A Life of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">By Stephen B. Oates</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am a part of a book discussion group that our church has, and this book was a recent selection for discussion. That introductory note is partly to explain why I only recently read this biography, first published in 1982.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My knowledge of Dr. King was only cursory, having been aware of him in the 1960s. I confess to having had only a surface level of knowledge about his life. Of course, the news of his tragic death was one of those sentinel events in the 1960s, and one of which I was well aware.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So, I approached reading this book to fill in the gaps.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">DID IT EVER…fill in the gaps, that is.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I have read a fair number of biographies, and I am hard pressed to recall a more exhaustive one. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The author provided much material on Dr. King’s childhood, his formative years, his family background and his education. The book covers his educational development, his call to ministry and his awakening understanding of the mission he felt he had to pursue.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And that is just the beginning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The work is long—exhaustive is one word. I learned so much more than I ever knew about Dr. King’s life. So for the reader who undertakes reading it should be forewarned that the reading is not easy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My objections are few—they are 1) the book is too hagiographical. While Oates does cover many of the flaws in Dr. King, he does so in such a way that he dismissed the fact of those flaws. 2) The book uses extensive exhaustively long portions of speeches and sermons. No doubt, that proves that Oates had permission from the King family to use those writings (they are famously parsimonious in permitting the use of Dr. King’s words. 3) The way in which the sources are cited is somewhat unusual. As it happens, I was reading an e-reader version. So when I attended the book discussion, I asked if the quotes were cited. Well, my fellow readers showed me that in the print version, sources are credited at the end of the book—by page number. Frankly, this technique is arduous and totally unhelpful to a serious scholar who would want to check source.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My overall assessment—this is one of the more important books I have read since it informed about a great man in current American history about whom I previously knew only the barest of facts.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Photo source: Time.com</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Leaving Church: A Memoir of Faith by Barbara Brown Taylor<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Barbara Brown Taylor is a well-known author whose works deal with spirituality, questing, and faith. I learned this when I began to read Leaving Church. You see, I had not encountered any of her works before. When her book AN ALTAR IN THE WORLD, I was intrigued with the title, but for whatever reasons didn’t read it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So, how did I come to read her earlier work LEAVING CHURCH? One of my friends at church gave me the book and said she thought I might like it.**</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> So, I read it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">What to say? First, yes I liked it. It resonated with me in ways that works such as those by Elaine Pagels (WHY RELIGION) and Rachel Held Evans (SEARCHING FOR SUNDAY). In many ways LEAVING CHURCH is a similar kind of personal account. Of course, the details differ, because the authors differ. Each has her own journey to describe. Perhaps I view LEAVING CHURCH through the filter of how closely it approximates my own experience. Rachel Held Evans’ book comes the closest to describing the kind of upbringing I experienced. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Barbara Brown Taylor’s journey is long and multi-faceted. She describes her early longing for and search for spiritual connection. While the earliest expression she details in the book is a strong connection with nature, she moves on to describing her sense of call to Christian ministry. As a result, she becomes ordained as a priest in the Episcopalian Church, after her seminary training. Her initial call as a priest is to a large church where she is one among several priests. The grinding demands of that work, along with the oppressive sense of living in a highly urbanized area lead her to seek the calm of a more rural area. She and her husband find just such a location to which they move, and she begins life as a solo priest in a small church.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Each of these priestly calls have joys, triumphs, as well as valleys. Just as in the urban church, she begins to feel drained in the country setting. Thus the title LEAVING CHURCH. She traces a somewhat tortuous circuitous faith journey. Perhaps not surprisingly, she experiences burnout in her solo pastoral situation. And then leaves church.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">That does not mean she loses faith—her faith continues, broadens and becomes more nuanced. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">If you enjoy and/or are inspired by faith journeys, you may enjoy this book.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">** Thanks, Lois.</span></div>
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KGMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05165941950953938943noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31402520.post-90035855942772487222019-09-20T11:31:00.002-04:002019-09-20T11:31:16.324-04:00Reading, reading, reading...<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Two more books to add to the 2019 progression toward a goal (whatever my goal was/is). Both of these are non-fiction works, and while they couldn't be more different, I recommend them HIGHLY.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">If you're thinking about Christmas gifts, you can't do any better for the reader (s) in your life than give Julie Zickefoose's book. Buy it somewhere where the price is its true price (not the knock down price Amazon uses). Julie Zickefoose is a self-employed naturalist and author, so she earns her "bread and butter" by writing, publishing, and selling books. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">GOD: A Human History by Reza Aslan<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Among the non-fiction works I like to read are those that deal with various religious topics. I am a Christian and have an awareness of the history of Christianity and that it did not develop as a single whole "thing" dropped from heaven. Rather it is a religion that has taken centuries to develop--and that development was not a clear singular path toward "the truth." It was a circuitous, frequently contentious history. Factions developed, new alliances formed, then factions again…and on and on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Reza Aslan’s GOD: A Human History widens the scope of the history of religion—from mere Christianity to the whole of humanity’s quest for and interaction with god—the many forms of god. Essentially a chronological account, GOD begins with the earliest of humans and thieir growing awareness and comprehension of divine power. The book then follows in succession the chronological development of the various religions as perceived by humans.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Summarizing the book is impossible—each chapter in human history is so rich with content and meaning the reducing it to a summary does it injustice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My understanding of religion has deepened, and my appreciation for various approaches to god has grown. All thanks to Aslan and his book GOD.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">SAVING JEMIMA:Life and Love with a Hard-Luck Jay by Julie Zickefoose</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When I began blogging in 2006, like many novice bloggers, I waited for my first comment…a link to the larger world of people interested in some of the things that enthrall me. As it happened, the woman who commented on a blog I had written (about a trip to Spain) was someone who was deeply involved in the amateur world of bird-watching. In turn, through her I found a network of bloggers with many and varied interests but the common connection was birding. Thus did I “meet” Julie Zickefoose.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As a self-employed author, artist and naturalist, she is…well, here’s her own description from her website <a href="http://www.juliezickefoose.com/index.php" style="color: #954f72;">http://www.juliezickefoose.com/index.php</a> “ I am a writer, artist and naturalist at home in the Appalachian foothills of Ohio. Every day, I roam our 80 acre wildlife sanctuary, and every day I find something new. This deep relationship with the land is the wellspring of my writing.” <span style="background-color: #999966; color: #333333; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Out of this description comes the makings of SAVING JEMIMA. Given that Julie is a wildlife rehabilitator, she gets frequent calls to rescue sick, or helpless, or abandoned animals and birds. It was in this capacity that someone called her about a baby blue jay. And that was the beginning of the book.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">From the opening page, I was captivated. Make that from the first opening of the book, looking at the inside cover which is colored and speckled EXACTLY like a blue jay’s egg. It is that kind of attention to detail and authenticity of writing down her observations that makes this book unlike any other I have read—and that in the most delightful special way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Lest you think this book is only about birds—you would be wrong. True, you learn a great deal about birds! And the way Julie explains things, even if you aren’t a “birder” (that would be me…I love to look at them, but know next to nothing about them), you will be entranced.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Beyond learning a great deal about birds in general, blue jays in particular, you also learn what it is like to go through a life crisis—which Julie did—and how being connected to nature helps one heal and regain an even keel.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
KGMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05165941950953938943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31402520.post-44168737601109898982019-08-03T14:32:00.004-04:002019-08-09T07:37:41.482-04:00YOU DON'T LOOK YOUR AGE...<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Occasionally, when I mention my age* to someone, they respond "you don't look it."<br />I take that as a compliment, of course, but at the same time I wonder.<br />--What does it really mean?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />Does it mean I look OLDER that my age? Or YOUNGER?<br />Does it mean I look great (my preferred possibility) or terrible?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />It's a curious thing--time. We tend to think of time as linear, progressive, each stage leading to the next. It's that kind of image Shakespeare evokes in the words from AS YOU LIKE IT--you will recognize it from its opening line: All the world's a stage.**<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />But I think we don't really experience time as a slow progression, one stage to the next a la Shakespeare. In some ways, that approach makes us cherish some stages and rue and fear others. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Shakespeare's evocation of the cavalcade of life lists seven stages:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aufCmNOQ7cE/XUXS-FVxB9I/AAAAAAAAIBQ/Ji8XhfvSP1UTL8XRqjLLWmfcrKkFHXwegCLcBGAs/s1600/Mom%2Band%2BG%2Bportrait.tif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="861" data-original-width="698" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aufCmNOQ7cE/XUXS-FVxB9I/AAAAAAAAIBQ/Ji8XhfvSP1UTL8XRqjLLWmfcrKkFHXwegCLcBGAs/s320/Mom%2Band%2BG%2Bportrait.tif" width="258" /></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">--infant in his nurse's arms, whining school boy, then lover, then soldier, then the justice, then the sixth stage--"t</span><span style="color: #343434; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">he lean and slippered pantaloon, with spectacles on nose and pouch on side," and finally the last stage, the second childishness--"sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything."</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />I think of time, not as something linear, but pleated like a fan. The folds may coincide with my life's progression--curly haired smiling infant, little girl with pigtails, newly minted boarding school girl </span><span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">with awful haircut </span><span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">(my worst stage!), budding teen</span><span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">, long haired quasi-hippie new mom, professional woman embarking on a career, empty-nester, and now "you don't look your age."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">But that's not how my memory works. I can jump from one stage of my life in a blink. I can connect the dots that may seem random. I can move backwards and move forward in time. It seems that the same person who was inside me at the various chronological points in my life is still there. Sure, experience and reflection have added dimensions, but generally I am who I am, who I have always been. And no doubt who I will always be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So, I don't look my age? Maybe, maybe not. But my mind stores all the steps along the way, and lets me move back and forth in time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />* For the record, I was born in February, 1945. You can do the math.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">**AS YOU LIKE IT (Act II, Scene VII)<br />by William Shakespeare<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="color: #343434; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">All the world's a stage,<br />And all the men and women merely players;<br />They have their exits and their entrances,<br />And one man in his time plays many parts,<br />His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,<br />Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.<br />Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel<br />And shining morning face, creeping like snail<br />Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,<br />Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad<br />Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,<br />Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,<br />Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,<br />Seeking the bubble reputation<br />Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,<br />In fair round belly with good capon lined,<br />With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,<br />Full of wise saws and modern instances;<br />And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts<br />Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,<br />With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;<br />His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide<br />For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,<br />Turning again toward childish treble, pipes<br />And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,<br />That ends this strange eventful history,<br />Is second childishness and mere oblivion,<br />Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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KGMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05165941950953938943noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31402520.post-51859496000506922202019-07-30T22:04:00.001-04:002019-07-30T22:04:49.561-04:00More than Halfway there...<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">For 2019, I set a goal to read at least 25 books. I have read 17 books thus far.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Herewith my reviews of the 4 most recent books I have read.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">ABIDE WITH ME<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">By Elizabeth Strout<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When I saw that Elizabeth Strout had a new novel, I got it right away. I had loved <b>OLIVE KITTERIDGE</b>, her first work. <b>ABIDE WITH ME </b>bears some similarities to the earlier work—New England setting, a variety of characters interacting in situations, characters seen from both positive and negative perspectives.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It differed in that <b>ABIDE WITH ME </b>is a continuous story in traditional novel form. We meet Tyler Caskey, a newly minted seminary graduate who goes to his first church. He is also newly married to Lauren, who has led a charmed and pampered childhood. What seems like an idyllic setting with a fairy tale couple slowly deepens and is complicated by relationships. As the story progresses we begin to see the various characters with their flaws.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The people who live in West Annett have lives that are filled with small issues that seem to them to loom large. In addition to their own daily problems, the times (the novel is set at the end of the 1950s) make them fearful. For example, one family is building a bomb shelter in preparation for Russia dropping a bomb.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As the first part of the book comes to a close, we learn that Tyler’s wife who was suffering from cancer has died. She leaves Tyler with two young daughters.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As the second part of the novel begins, we see the cracks in the facades of various characters. The revelations help carry the plot of the novel forward. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Ultimately, this is Tyler’s story. He turns again and again to the words of the old hymn for solace:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When other helpers fail and comforts flee,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The conclusion of the novel provides a sweet connection to the words of the hymn, in a very satisfying conclusion to the many threads of the story.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">CALL ME BY YOUR NAME<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">By André Aciman<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Rarely do I finish a book with an intake of breath and something close to a sob. But <b>CALL ME BY YOUR NAME</b> is one such book.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">André Aciman's <b>CALL ME BY YOUR NAME</b> is a story of finding one's identity; it is a story about the journey from youth to adulthood; and it is a story of desire. But above all it is a story of love--found, lived, lost, and remembered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">If we are fortunate, we have in our lifetimes one of those heart gripping loves--the memories of which stay with us for the rest of our lives.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Such is the focus of this novel. It tells the story of a summer love affair between Elio, a 17-year-old boy living in Italy in his family's villa, and Oliver, a 24 year old U.S. graduate student who spends a summer at the villa as an intern to Elio's father who is a professor of classics.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Elio and Oliver eventually have a passionate love affair. But when the summer ends the inevitable question is whether they will be together again. That option is unlikely, given the social mores of the 1980s when the novel takes place. Oh, of course there were gay romances then, but societally such were mostly subterranean. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So they part. Elio, whose story we continue to follow, is bereft. He aches with longing to see Oliver again. After 20 years, they do reunite. The question that hangs between them is whether they will/can resume their love affair. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I will let the answer to that question for the reader to discern.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The ending of the novel left me with an aching emptiness--all captured in two words Oliver speaks "Cor cordium."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">HOW DEMOCRACIES DIE<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">By Steven Levitsky & Daniel Ziblatt</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This has to be the scariest book I have read in a long time. And it’s non-fiction. It is so scary that I had to put it aside from time to time—just to let my psyche recover…which, to tell the truth, it hasn’t. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But I persevered and finally finished the book. The book is full of analyses of various democracies over time that have been under assault. Some failed, other faltered. In some instances countries even recovered. But, of course, the impetus for this book is the current political scene in the United States. So the book becomes part cautionary account and seer into the future. It also gives suggestions as to how we might recover. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The current president did not cause this assault on democracy, but much of what is happening in our body politic is greatly fueled by the behavior particularly of Republicans. The authors lay out three possible “futures for a post-Trump America.” First, there could be a swift recovery brought the collapse of the Trump presidency—for whatever reasons: defeat in reelection, resignation, impeachment. But that alone would not help democracy recovery.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A second possible future could occur if the political leadership is unchanged, if the Republicans control the presidency as well as both houses of Congress. Such control could embolden Republicans to expand their efforts to assure a white electoral majority. Examples they give are “large-scale deportation, immigration restrictions, the purging of voter rolls, and the adoption of strict voter ID laws.” Any such steps would be “profoundly antidemocratic.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A natural response to such increasing restrictions might be resistance—which would in turn be suppressed thereby reinforcing the effort to maintain the restrictions. All one needs to do is look at modern day Russia—an example of extreme suppression of political dissent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A third possible future, which the authors think is more likely, is increasing polarization. The authors particularly emphasize “departures from unwritten political conventions, and increasing institutional warfare…democracy without solid guardrails.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Perhaps, now you see why I paused several times in reading this book. And perhaps you also understand why I call it scary. BUT—we cannot change the threatening outcome of what is happening today by being uninformed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Fittingly, as I was reading the book, I used as my book mark one that had come from the ACLU—it had printed the text of the original Bill of Rights which included amendments 1 through 10, and the additional amendments that directly relate to citizenship and voting rights. A most fitting book mark—and a constant reminder that what we have in the United States is precious, fragile, and once destroyed very difficult if not impossible to regain. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">IN PRAISE OF DIFFICULT WOMEN: Life lessons from 29 Heroines who Dared to Break the Rules <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">By Karen Karbo<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #181818;">While I don't think of myself as a "difficult woman" I certainly respect those women throughout history who have been considered "difficult." That label is presumably applied to a woman who refuses to use the social norms as the only measure of her worth.</span><span style="color: #181818;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #181818;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So I looked forward to reading this book. The first few profiles were interesting. A few of the women were "new" to me, but most of them I had previously read about. As the book continued, I began to become increasingly annoyed with the author's approach. There was in some of her portrayals a strong wiff of gossip column writing. In other words--the primary focus of each portrayal was an assessment by Karbo of what these women did that made them difficult. A few examples were genuine--things the women did that were norm-breaking. But other details were just titillating.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #181818;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Here's where my interest in the book began to fade. I read a book such as this to learn something, not to be enthralled with a particular writer's adulation of historic figures. Even the author's language lent itself to a breezy gossipy kind of assessment.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #181818;">Some examples--in describing Gloria Steinem: "Just because Bunnies served horny businessmen highballs and medium-rare steaks didn't mean they were good with being felt up." This was in discussing Gloria Steinem's having "been a Bunny" for a short time. Karbo does refute the common belief that Steinem worked as a bunny; in fact, she was doing undercover research for an expose she wrote. For me, the flippant presentation of information such as that combined with the quote above robs the passage of the import it is intended to convey.</span><span style="color: #181818;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #181818;">Here's another example--this in the chapter on Amy Poehler. "Even difficult women who are stubborn, brave, outspoken and won't take no for an answer tend to let this kind of thing go. Men, however, do not let this sort of thing go. That's why there are bar fights and the situation in the Middle East." WHY? Why undo the impact of the initial sentence with a trite comparison?</span><span style="color: #181818;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #181818;">Then there are the footnotes and attributions. Usually footnotes indicate a source for the statement to which the foonote is attached. Not so here. The footnotes are too often a clever, or witty comment (at least an attempt) on the information just given. Why? On at least one occasion a detail was outright in error. The statement in the chapter on Billie Jean King was that “in June 1972, the Supreme Court passed Title IX” Um, sorry—the Supreme Court never “passes’ a law. It may rule of the constitutionality of a law, but that’s not same as “passing” it.</span><span style="color: #181818;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #181818;">OK--enough…</span><span style="color: #181818;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Go ahead and read it if you want. But remember it's not an indepth study of some important women of our times. It's more like a Liz Smith column.</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
KGMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05165941950953938943noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31402520.post-13680697853723837742019-07-11T19:09:00.001-04:002019-07-11T19:09:45.317-04:00YES, I'M STILL READING<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kuE1ZkhyFg0/XSfAGjY7KbI/AAAAAAAAIAU/e8PMh7u26ZobaAyHWvCgtPGldtTc_DnsQCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_6606.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kuE1ZkhyFg0/XSfAGjY7KbI/AAAAAAAAIAU/e8PMh7u26ZobaAyHWvCgtPGldtTc_DnsQCLcBGAs/s200/IMG_6606.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But it's summertime and things slow down a bit. Other activities occupy me--e.g. flowers, flower and flowers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But I have kept reading. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Here are three more reviews.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">THE FISHERMEN by Chigozie Obioma<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #181818;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">A friend of mine recommended The Fishermen--of which I had not previously heard. Since I have read a fair bit of fiction coming out of Nigeria, I was drawn to reading it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #181818;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The novel centers on four brothers--Ikenna, Boja, Obembe, and Benjamin. Their family also includes their father and mother, as well as two little siblings--David, the youngest brother, and Nkem, a daughter who is the baby of the family.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #181818;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The settings is Nigeria in the mid-1990s. The family lives in Akure, and their tribal background is Igbo, one of the larger tribal groups of the some 300 tribes in Nigeria. The father works in the Central Nigerian Bank, and the family is solidly middle-class. The Nigerian Civil War (which is sometimes called the Biafran War, as it involved the breakaway state of Biafra, to the east of the setting of this novel) occurred about a decade before the time frame of the novel. Occasionally, the effects of the civil war are alluded to--so it helps to know a bit about the impact of tribal rivalries.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #181818;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The novel is not, however, as a commentary on African national development. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #181818;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The pivot of the novel occurs when the four older brothers decide they want to go fishing--to become fishermen. The river where they go is a forbidden site--once a clean free-flowing river, it is now contaminated by human development with the waters being unclean and smelling foul. It is also a river that was once viewed with reverence, and is now cursed by locals. Because of that, the boys have been strictly forbidden to go fishing there.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #181818;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">That prohibition cannot stand up against their youthful drive and curiosity, however. So they become "fishermen." They acquire the requisite gear, which they manage to hide in their house at night.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #181818;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The second pivot is the absence of the father. At the outset of the novel, told from the memory of Benjamin, the father is transferred from his job in Akure to another town. He is able to return home only occasionally. Since he was the one who disciplined the older children--with the mother consumed with caring for the two youngest children--the four older boys are able to pursue their fishermen dream.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #181818;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">At the river, they encounter Abulu, a crazy man who lives on the edges of society. He is portrayed as filthy, frequently naked, given to sexual transgressions in public. But he also shouts "prophecies" which seemingly come true. One day, after the boys have tormented him, he chases them and calls out after them a detailed prophecy that essentially say Ikenna will be killed by "a fisherman." Ikenna takes the prophecy to heart, and determines he will be killed by one of his brothers.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #181818;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">His greatly changed behaviors, as he grows more and more rebellious, coincides with a normal teenagers' quest for self-identity. However, for Ikenna, he goes beyond what might be seen as normal and becomes violent and confrontational.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #181818;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">When he is killed, the family unravels. In the course of the novel, three of the four older brothers die, and it is left to Benjamin to tell the story.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #181818;">This book is a very compelling read, and particularly satisfying. Not surprisingly, the book was nominated for various awards, including the Man Booker prize. The author Chigozie Obioma was rightly lauded for this novel, his first</span><span style="color: #181818;">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">SO BRAVE, YOUNG and HANDSOME by Leif Enger<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I was drawn to So Brave, Young and Handsome because of the author. I had read <b>Peace like a River</b> by Leif Enger some years ago, and while I don't recall the plot of the novel, I do recall the sense of satisfaction at having read what seemed like a perfect book (for me). (Parenthetically, I recognize we all having varied reading interests, so what may be the epitome of good writing may be dreary to another reader.) I admit that at first I found the going a bit...tedious...where is this novel going? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>So Brave, Young and Handsome</b> began slowly. You meet the main character, or at least the one who is the common thread throughout the novel, Monte Becket. He is an author--in fact, a one book wonder. Having published a wildly successful novel MARTIN BLIGH, he is now like a ship on a becalmed ocean. He has lost whatever inspiration guided him in that first work. In short, he has severe writer's block. His loving, supportive wife Susannah encourages him to keep trying to recover that writer's skill. He sets writing goals--so many words per day. Gradually, the inspiration leaks out and he reduces the daily count until he finally stops. Oh, he writes. And completes novels. But his publisher continually rejects his latest offerings. So he is himself becalmed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Into this introduction sails Glendon Hale. He is standing upright in a small boat, rowing down a river. We soon learn that Glendon Hale is on the run from the law. And when he sets out to escape his would be captors, he invited Monte to accompany him--just for 6 weeks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Thus begins the adventure of a lifetime for Glendon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Structured in the form of a journey across country, from Minnesota to California--we meet along the way various characters: Hood Roberts, Charles Siringo, Blue (aka Arandano) and Claudio. They all become part of Monte's journey. And eventually provide the inspiration that unblocks Monte the novelist.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The novel, which began slowly, ended very satisfyingly for me. When the novel ended, I was sad to leave the characters behind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">THE MOTHER TONGUE: English and How It Got that Way<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">By Bill Bryson<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Well, you’d think I learned my lesson. A few books ago (check back in the blogs to see the review) I reviewed Bryson’s <b>NOTES FROM A SMALL ISLAND</b>. But once again, the title intrigued me—I love English and learning about its history—so I bit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Here’s the good part—there are sections of the book that are truly engaging.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And, here’s the bad part—once again, he goes on and on long after the point has been made.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And then there’s the erroneous part. After I had begun the book, I read the reviews on Goodreads. I was somewhat startled to find a fair number of people who absolutely panned the work. The main reason was the opinion of the reviewers that parts of the book were erroneous. Since I am no linguist, I thought “piffle—just over-smart people who know everything.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But then I encountered two passages that gave me pause.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">At one point, Bryson refers to the South African language Xoxa—well, I grew up in southern Africa, and as far as I know, there is NO such language. I suspect he means Xhosa which is a southern Africa language—frequently referred to as the click language. X is one of the letters clicked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And the passage talks about Scrabble. He claims that the highest scoring in a game was 3,881—and it included the word “psycholanalyzing.” HUH? How is that even possible. The only way I can figure that out is that a player laid the letters “analyzing” and connected that to a “g” already on the board. Then in a later move, someone added “pyscho.” Yet, Bryson reports that word earned 1,539 points. Can that be done? Maybe, if you’re a Scrabble player, you can figure it out and let me know.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">That's all for now...more books await.</span></div>
<br />KGMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05165941950953938943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31402520.post-64275111697151613702019-06-10T09:27:00.000-04:002019-06-10T09:27:38.451-04:00A SEASON AT THE PROMS<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This is prom season in our town. The local newspapers feature photos of the various high schools with prom goers displaying their finery. I have noticed that each year seems to produce a certain flair of clothing. Gone are the simple elegant classy gowns and tuxedos. In their place are brilliant electric colors schemes with boys and girls trying to outdo each other. There are singles, couples, groups. Mixing and matching clothing and mixing in whatever friendship combinations there are. All is joyful even if a bit bewildering to me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />My own prom experience is limited to three proms. First, the one for my high school. I didn’t go. Why? Many reasons. Partly because I grew up in a conservative Protestant Church environment—no dancing. Along with no smoking, no drinking, no movies, no ... whatever.</span><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />And I wasn’t asked. And back “in those days” you simply didn’t go to the dance unless you were asked. Things seem kinder now. At least I hope so.</span><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />Then, there were the proms each of my children went to. Sweet occasions, at least for mom. Watching this boy and this girl, who my husband and I brought into the world, whom we nurtured along the way. And cheering as well as dreading the impending arrival of adulthood. Our son working up the courage to ask someone. Our daughter looking so elegant in her gowns ( both of which I still have hanging in our basement closet). Watching them pull away from the house after the customary photos at home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />How long have there been proms? I wonder if there’s a connection to the cotillions of days past? Or the debutante balls now opened up to all society. I remember working for wealthy Americans several summers while I was in college. Debutante balls, sometimes called coming out balls, where young women were “introduced “ to society, presumably to be on the marriage market. </span><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />Parenthetically, I should add that high school proms are completely different from </span></div>
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“Going to the Proms” a la London style. These summer symphony programs at the Royal Albert Hall are wonderfully celebratory. One of the few things on my bucket list (trust me, I really don't put much on my bucket list...seems somehow too limiting) is to attend the Last Night of the Proms--complete with "Rule Britannia."<span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />Back to high school proms. I find it very heartening the way the binary assumptions are falling away. You know, boy asks girl in ever more elaborate ways. Girl accepts. Now I’m not sure who is expected to ask whom. And it is no longer obligatory to pair up. Now girl asks boy, girl asks girl, boy asks boy, groups of boys and girls OR whatever. Why not? No one who wants to go to the party should be left out.</span><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />One of the most endearing experiences of my life had to do with proms. During my work career life, I was involved with health policy analysis and development. In that capacity, I attended a conference focused on the AIDS epidemic and what appropriate policies and actions should be in place to provide proper health care, support and counseling. </span><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />Among the attendees were medical and health professionals, health policy people like me, and advocates for gay issues as well as people who were in fact AIDS patients. It was a rigorous and vigorous conference. One of the most astounding parts of that conference was sitting in a discussion group with health professionals and lay people. At a lull in the discussion, some of the gay men began talking about and reminiscing about buying their first prom gown. I listened in amazement and in silence, with a touch of jealousy. That memory heartens me, even as I rue my own teen years bereft of a season at the proms.</span><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />So, here's to the proms in all their glory and in all their permutations. Everybody dance now.</span> </div>
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KGMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05165941950953938943noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31402520.post-9487459811527834142019-05-16T08:12:00.001-04:002019-05-16T08:12:22.741-04:00MEET EFFIE<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This is a story about a little girl named Effie. She was about 10 years old when I met her, some 50 years ago. Truth is, I don’t really remember what she looked like—only that she was slight, mousey, somewhat unkempt looking, and subdued.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I met her in the hospital. I was in the ob/gyn ward for testing and a surgical procedure. Back then, hospital rooms were either two patients to a room (that was the more private level of care) or a ward of 8 patients. There was no such thing as a private room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Since the testing I was undergoing was not painful or strenuous, when no tests were scheduled I was “free to roam”—within limits, of course. But I could walk around the ob/gyn area. And that’s how I met Effie.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Understandably, all of the patients in this area were women—and all were there for reasons relating to women’s reproductive health. The gynecological patients (which I was) were separated from the obstetric patients. So, there were no newborn babies or nursing mothers nearby.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In the course of my wandering around the area, I met a Puerto Rican woman, in one of the 8 bed wards. She was in her mid-50s—likely in the hospital for a hysterectomy. The nurses were very concerned about her because she wasn’t eating. Keep in mind, this was in the days before “get you in and get you out” hospital stays. You could be there for upward to a week for even routine surgery. So, her not eating was of concern. Because I am nosey, and was wandering around chatting with other patients, I quickly discovered the Puerto Rican woman spoke no English. The daily food choices were printed on menus in English and given to patients each day to circle their choices for meals. If nothing was circled, the default meat was beef. This woman did NOT like beef. After talking with her a bit (dusting off my high school Spanish), I learned that she had not been circling any choice on her daily menu. So, she constantly was served food she didn’t like. A bit of quick translation on my part—pollo y puerco—and she was able to give her preference and began eating again. (When the nurses discovered my “translating skills,” they asked me to tell the woman not to smoke with the oxygen tanks so close by!)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Back to Effie. As you can see, she was an anomalous patient. She didn’t need ovarian surgery, as I did. She didn’t need a hysterectomy as did the Puerto Rican woman. And, I assumed she wasn't pregnant because this was not the obstetric part of the hospital. So, what was her problem? When I talked with her, all she could tell me was that she understood she had a “growth” in her and needed to have it removed so she could get better.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Well, that piqued my curiosity. Growth? In a gynecological ward? It didn’t take much figuring to work out that she WAS pregnant. I was so stunned, that I asked a nurse—why does Effie think she has a growth and doesn’t know she is pregnant. The nurse explained (note: this was in the pre-HIPPA days) that a) the child had no sexual understanding at all. Obviously, she hadn’t been told “the facts of life,” including what it meant when she began menstruating early; b) she was about 8-10 weeks pregnant; c) she had been impregnated by her father; and d) the hospital was going to use a procedure which would cause her to go into “labor", deliver the fetus, and then go home. BUT she was NOT to be told why she would have all this done—that she was pregnant.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">That’s the last I heard of Effie. I have long wondered what happened to her? Did she return home to be abused again? Did she realize, when she reached adulthood, that the pains were that she experienced as a girl in the hospital was actually “labor”? Where did she end up in life?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So, why I am telling you this long story? I am telling you this because this is a sad occasional reality. Pre-teen girls become pregnant because someone impregnates them. A medically safe abortion is a kindness for that young girl. I am also telling you this story because it happened in 1970—before the Supreme Court decision on Roe v. Wade. Then, without abortion being legal and safely available, women AND girls who became pregnant had few options. Yet, someone found a way to have Effie’s wrong pregnancy terminated. Not that I think it was handled in a way that was psychologically healthy—but it was handled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I leave you to draw your own conclusions about what criminalizing abortion will do. BUT one thing I can tell you—it will NOT end abortion. But it will end medically safe procedures. Like it or not, you cannot accomplish the end of abortion until you make it impossible for a woman OR girl to become pregnant.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
KGMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05165941950953938943noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31402520.post-46107891867396806272019-05-15T14:18:00.002-04:002019-05-15T14:18:35.749-04:00I'm Making Progress<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Now that gardening time has arrived, I find it a bit more difficult to keep up my reading pace.<br />BUT, I have finished read two more books. So I better get to reviewing them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">-----------------<br />HUM IF YOU DON’T KNOW THE WORDS by Bianca Marais<br /><o:p> </o:p>I was drawn to reading this novel, as I grew up in southern Africa and have a long-time interest in reading non-fiction and fiction about the experience of a country moving from colonial, white-dominated rule to native black rule.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />This novel is NOT about that, but within it are references to the seeds of that transition. Nelson Mandela is referenced as someone who will emerge as a leader in the struggle for freedom. What this novel is about the growing realization by two characters that "the other" is just as human as they are.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />The story revolves around two people: a young girl named Robin and a middle-aged woman name Beauty. Robin is white living with her parents in a wealthy white area of Johannesburg, South Africa. The time is 1976 in the days leading up to, and then beyond, the Soweto uprising.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />In the days immediately before the Soweto uprising Robin's parents are killed. She is taken under the care of her aunt, who is barely able to handle the responsibility of having a child. Robin had been cared for in large degree by her family's black maid, Mabel. When the parents are killed, Mabel disappears.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />When the story switches to Beauty, who lives in the Transkei, we learn that Beauty is an educated black woman who leaves her remaining family, two sons, to go to Johannesburg to find her daughter who is living in Soweto.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />By focusing on these two characters, we get a highly charged account of the unfolding events that pull these families apart and disrupt the lives of both. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />The author is very successful in creating believable characters--who operate with motives entirely consistent with their natures. At least, through the first half of the novel. As events move toward a climax, the believability factor, particularly where Robin is concerned, goes awry. I had a great deal of difficulty believing that a 9-year-old girl would proceed as Robin does.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />Had the author kept the characters staying true to their natures, I would have rated this book higher. At the outset of the novel, the plot unfolds because it grows out of the characters' natures. BUT, toward the latter part of the novel, the plot takes over and drives the actions of the characters.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />One of the hallmarks of a well-constructed novel is that the novelist creates the characters and THEN lets them develop the events that unfold. A novelist who uses characters as a puppeteer would manipulate a puppet is less believable, for me.<br />I must add that the novel is a GOOD READ--and I read it quickly, pulled forward by story being told.<br />-------------<br /><o:p> </o:p>JUDAS by Amos Oz<br /><o:p> </o:p>When I first began reading this novel, I was annoyed at the central character, Shmuel.<br />But through marvelous story telling, his character grows on the reader.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />In many ways, the novel is a very interior work. Plot is spare (I'm fine with that). Characters are very well drawn (I am thrilled about that). And dialogue goes on for pages (very interesting, however) because that is part of the point of the book.<br />The setting is Israel in the mid-1950s, after its creation as a state and the 1948 war. The question of the validity, urgency, and justification desirability as a separate nation state has been debated and settled, and then defended by military action. Some knowledge of that setting is essential to understanding the themes of the novel.<br />Judas, of course, refers to the disciple of Jesus who betrayed him, leading to the crucifixion. Shmuel is a student wrestling with a thesis--the essential premise is that Judas was the first Christian, believing in Jesus Christ even when Jesus had no intention of being anything but a Jew. But Shmuel's studies stall. He is somewhat estranged from his parents, is very close to friendless, so he answers an ad. The ad is for a companion for an elderly man.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />Shmuel answers the ad and is introduced to Gershom Wald, who is an invalid aged man in need of company. In turn he meets Wald's daughter-in-law, Atalia Abravanel. As the story unfolds, we learn of Atalia's history--she had married Wald's son who was then killed in the 1948 war.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />Shmuel's duties are to spend several hours a day with Wald, converse with him, give him porridge, and feed the goldfish. The rest of his time is his own. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />As these conversations between Shmuel and Wald unfold, we learn many aspects of the establishment of the Jewish state of Israel, of interaction with the Arab population that inhabited Palestine, and the politics of establishing Israel. Atalia's father Shealtiel Abravanel opposed establishing Israel as a separate Jewish state. He argued to a single country shared by Jews and Palestinians. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />One can glean some of the seeds to today's present conflict over whether to have a one state or two separate states. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />There are several narrative techniques that I enjoyed--one is that the novel is a journey--for Shmuel. And it is a discourse on the merits of modern day Jewish/Arab relations. It is also a coming of age story for Shmuel. AND it is a bit of a romance story. By the time the novel ended, I was deeply attached to Shmuel, and wonder how his life unfolded.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />OK-- because this novel is so richly layered, so informative, and so engaging, I highly recommend it. It may feel like it's slow going at the outset, but stay with it.<br />------------------</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The next two books I am working on are THE FISHERMEN and HOW DEMOCRACIES DIE. Stay tuned.</span>KGMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05165941950953938943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31402520.post-31921510071889938632019-04-12T14:43:00.004-04:002019-04-12T14:55:49.532-04:00Two More Books<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So, as you can see by the number of books I have described thus far, I am well on my way to meeting my self imposed goals of reading 25 books. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Here are the two latest books read--one fiction, one non-fiction.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">THE NIGHTINGALE<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">By Kristin Hannah<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I usually like fiction that is literary—i.e. the author does not have a plot driven approach, characters are well-rounded, dialogue is not stilted, and descriptions are not passé.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And, I do enjoy fiction based on historical events.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">For example, I love ALL THE LIGHT WE CANNOT SEE.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So, I approached reading THE NIGHTINGALE in that frame of mind. The novel is focused on two sisters in occupied France during World War II. The older sister, Vianne, is married with one daughter. She and her husband live in a village outside of Paris. When the war begins, her husband is called to military duty and shipped off to fight the Germans. That leaves Vianne and her daughter alone. All is manageable until the Germans occupy France and take over life everywhere. Eventually, a German office comes to Vianne’s house, and billets with her—and of course she has no say in the matter. She tries to stay inconspicuous, not wanting to anger the German occupiers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Meanwhile, the younger sister, Isabelle who has always been rebellious is searching for a way to resist the German occupation. She finds it when Allied pilots are downed over occupied France and need to survive and escape. That becomes Isabelle’s focus. She is, in fact, the Nightingale. The inspiration for this character is based in history on one particular woman who helped rescue many Allied airmen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But, on Goodreads, I rated this book as three out of five stars. Why?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I wanted to like all aspects of this story—but the narrative technique kept getting in the way. For example, the details that are given, sometimes in excruciating repetition, are banal. Frequently, what Vianne is cooking is described—odors, sounds, appearance, all. Again, and again. Further, both Vianne and Isabelle are described repeatedly as beautiful. OK—but so what? Would they have been more or less courageous if they were ugly?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The novel is still a good read—maybe best as a beach book.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I also gave For All the Tea a 3 star rating, but maybe 3 1/2 is more accurate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Here's why.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Parts of the book are very good--if you're a history buff this is for you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But other parts drag--extensive details of the protagonist (Robert Fortune) as he makes his way to inland China. Some portions I found tedious and extraneous. An example--encounters along the way of ruffians, opium users, etc. Of course, those details are needed to understand the risk Fortune was taking--but, page after page?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The two distinct parts to this book are intertwined. The obvious one is the adventures of Robert Fortune, an Englishman who was sent to China to "steal" tea plants, bring them to India, and shift the geography of tea growth and production. He succeeded. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">In turn, tea grown in India under the auspices of the East India Tea Company displaced completely China's prior dominance. The East India Tea Company in turn became one of the first global businesses. It also manifested the pattern of colonial domination--power intermingled with disregard of native populations.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Fortune worked with Chinese laborers, who had to help him penetrate into the interior of China to find where tea grew. While he depended on these workers, he displayed a paternal, dismissive and colonial view of people who were "natives." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">That same attitude was displayed when Fortune succeeded, and tea became an established crop in India. Once again, colonial power ruled over native populations. When the Indian rebellion of 1857 occurred, and British people were slaughtered at Cawnpore, the disastrous result spelled the end of the East India Tea Company--and it solidified England's place as an empire. Tea production was simply taken over by the British Empire, with India as the jewel in the crown.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The other part of the book is the way in which stealing tea from China helped spur the modern world. The best part of the book, for me, was the concluding chapter. Not because the book was over--although, there were times the narrative lagged, and I just wanted things to move on--but because Sarah Rose, the author, outlined the various ways in which tea advanced people. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Those benefits remain today...and, I think, I'll go drink a cup of tea.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">--------------------</span></div>
KGMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05165941950953938943noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31402520.post-31071945655838330082019-03-29T12:08:00.002-04:002019-03-29T12:09:56.340-04:00MORE READING<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">...continuing the Year in Books. (See my prior blog of February 9, 2019 for the first entry).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So approaching April, here's what I have read since early February.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">NOTES FROM A SMALL ISLAND </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">by Bill Bryson</span><o:p><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span></o:p><span style="color: #181818;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The primary premise of this book is to recount the author's walking over what seems like all of England, and a bit of Wales and Scotland. There are part of Notes from a Small Island that are truly engaging, interesting and informative.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #181818;">And I really wanted to read this book--being a confirmed Anglophile. Also because my daughter and her family live in London (while we live in Pennsylvania, USA).</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #181818;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #181818;">Some of the events described, conveyed in the author's droll inimitable style, are laugh-out-loud funny. Other parts made me want to send him a train ticket, or offer him a lift. Those parts seems to deal primarily with slogging here and there. </span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #181818;">After a while, I just wanted the journey and hence the book to end.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #181818;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #181818;">I confess--there were enough unfamiliar place names that sent me scurrying off to Google maps--just to see where they were.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #181818;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #181818;">All in all--my reaction is a very mixed one. I liked the book AND I desperately wanted it to end.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #181818;">-------------------------------------</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #181818;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #181818;">GOD’S SECRETARIES:The Making of the King James Bible </span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #181818;">By Adam Nicolson</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #181818;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This is the second time I have read God's Secretaries. I first read the book when it was published in 2001. I loved it then! </span><span style="color: #181818;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And I loved it now on this re-reading.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #181818;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">What strikes me is what I recalled from the first reading, and what impressed me on the second reading. </span></span><span style="color: #181818;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">On the first reading, I was taken with the description of actual process. Who were the translators, how were they assembled, how did they go about their work, etc.</span></span><span style="color: #181818;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The second reading I saw more on the historical context. How the translation came to be, why James I would want such a translation, what was the political and religious milieu of the time. I had completely forgotten that the infamous November 5 Gunpowder plot occurred while this translation process was underway. That plot is emblematic of the religious conflicts that in part helped produce the King James translation of the Bible. </span></span><span style="color: #181818;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The second reading was every bit as satisfying as the first.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">-----------------------------------</span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">LETTERS TO MY PALESTINIAN NEIGHBOR</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">By Yossi Klein Halevi</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">While the subject of this book is supremely important, the title does not deliver on the promise that it raised. It does present "letters" to the author's Palestinian neighbor--not one specific person, but Palestinians who live in various places with Israel--the West Bank, Gaza. Etc. Perhaps, I misunderstood the book's purpose. I presumed the letters would show an understanding and sympathy for the Palestinian neighbor--and to some extent the book does that. But as to who is at fault, Halevi puts the blame on the Palestinians.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Do not think this book will deal with BOTH sides of the seemingly intractable issue. True, the author deals extensively with persecution of Jews through the ages. And he deals with how modern Israel came into being. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Understandably, the author who now lives in Israel is most sympathetic to the Jewish perspective. He touches on aspects of the Palestinian perspective. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But in the end, I came away with the sense that the Jewish perspective is right, and the Palestinian perspective is derailed by frequent attacks on Israel. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Perhaps the most powerful chapter is titled "Isaac and Ishmael." This chapter deals with the seemingly intractable path to peace. For one side to win, the other loses, and vice versa. But for on side to not give, the other side won't either. It's like a Moebius strip--you start on the inside and as you follow the path you end up on the outside. And vice versa.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am no more hopeful that this ever simmering conflict can ever be or will be resolved.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">------------------</span><o:p><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span></o:p><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">BECOMING </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">By Michelle Obama</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">What an enchanting memoir to read. It is in many ways an autobiography...not so much detailing the pace of life chronologically. But Michelle Obama does give you wonderful insight into her family beginnings--growing up in South Side, Chicago; being inspired and challenged by her parents and her older brother. She also recounts her education.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As she moves through the account of her life--her childhood, her education and early career, her meeting Barack Obama, then getting married and having children--she gives insight into each of these steps. You learn what motivates her, what gave rise to her very discipline drive, and what is important to her. During her sections on the White House years, you see a more personal family side of what it means to be the First Lady. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The latter portions of the book deal with philosophical aspects of the events in her life. So, in addition to autobiography and memoir, you get to see how Michelle Obama thinks.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Perhaps understandably, the earlier portions of the book are more straight forward, filled with details, while the latter portions of the book are more contemplative.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Well worth a read--and I can say--I miss someone with such grace and class helping to lead our country.</span><br />
<o:p><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></o:p>
<o:p><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">-------------------------- </span></o:p><br />
<br />KGMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05165941950953938943noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31402520.post-62220992801695215642019-02-27T19:14:00.003-05:002019-02-28T16:21:06.930-05:00...and the Oscar goes to<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In my prior blog (scroll down to see it if you haven't read it), I gave my ever so brief reprise of this season's Academy Awards.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Perhaps one of the greatest controversies is which movie won "best picture." As you know, <b><i>Green Book</i></b> won. Various critics have suggested that it was a "feel good movie" and that it "got race wrong." That it was a new iteration of <b><i>Driving Miss Daisy,</i></b> but this time the white person in the front and the black man in the back.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Here's the issue--the Academy Awards purport to be about the best. The best in each category across the entire spectrum of movie making. But, frequently that is NOT the way the voting works. Obviously, preference is a personal thing. What I like, you may not. And the Academy is made up of people voting. So, you get the most popular, not necessarily the best.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Remember the list of which movie won in the previous blog? Here are the answers. The winner is in bold italics.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<ul style="caret-color: rgb(102, 102, 102); color: #666666; line-height: 1.4; margin: 0.5em 0px; padding: 0px 2.5em;">
<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The Ten Commandments <b><i>Around the World in 80 Days</i></b></span></li>
</ul>
<ul style="caret-color: rgb(102, 102, 102); color: #666666; line-height: 1.4; margin: 0.5em 0px; padding: 0px 2.5em;">
<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>Ordinary People </i></b> Raging Bull</span></li>
</ul>
<ul style="caret-color: rgb(102, 102, 102); color: #666666; line-height: 1.4; margin: 0.5em 0px; padding: 0px 2.5em;">
<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">L.A. Confidential <b><i>Titanic</i></b></span></li>
</ul>
<ul style="caret-color: rgb(102, 102, 102); color: #666666; line-height: 1.4; margin: 0.5em 0px; padding: 0px 2.5em;">
<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>The King's Speech</i></b> The Social Network</span></li>
</ul>
<ul style="caret-color: rgb(102, 102, 102); color: #666666; line-height: 1.4; margin: 0.5em 0px; padding: 0px 2.5em;">
<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>Chicago </i></b> The Pianist</span></li>
</ul>
<ul style="caret-color: rgb(102, 102, 102); color: #666666; line-height: 1.4; margin: 0.5em 0px; padding: 0px 2.5em;">
<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Zero Dark Thirty <b><i> Argo</i></b></span></li>
</ul>
<ul style="caret-color: rgb(102, 102, 102); color: #666666; line-height: 1.4; margin: 0.5em 0px; padding: 0px 2.5em;">
<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Goodfellas <b><i>Dances with Wolves</i></b></span></li>
</ul>
<ul style="caret-color: rgb(102, 102, 102); color: #666666; line-height: 1.4; margin: 0.5em 0px; padding: 0px 2.5em;">
<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Brokeback Mountain <b><i>Crash</i></b></span></li>
</ul>
<ul style="caret-color: rgb(102, 102, 102); color: #666666; line-height: 1.4; margin: 0.5em 0px; padding: 0px 2.5em;">
<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>How Green was my Valley</i></b> Citizen Kane</span></li>
</ul>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The last one is, of course, indicative of popularity winning out over quality. When various movie buffs are surveyed and asked--what is the best movie of all time? Citizen Kane frequently tops that list. Yet, it is edgy, enigmatic, pure genius, and sometimes depressing. So feel good wins over quality.</span><br />
<br />
<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />KGMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05165941950953938943noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31402520.post-84642746169723054282019-02-27T19:01:00.003-05:002019-02-27T19:15:30.781-05:00Going to the Movies<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">...not so much.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">If you have been reading this blog for several years, you may recall that I love movies and try each year to write about some of the movie contenders for Academy Awards.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This year has been a dry season. First, not that many of the movies sounded interesting. Second, we just didn't get out to see that many.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Bohemian Rhapsody--NOPE</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The Favourite--NOPE</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Black Panther--NOPE</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">BlacKkKlansman--NOPE</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Green Book--YUP</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Vice--HOPE</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">A Star is Born--NOPE</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Roma--NOPE</span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So, you can see--a real drought of movie seeing. Oh, we did see Mary Poppins Returns-which got piddling nominations, and we saw The Ballad of Buster Scruggs--which was fun, funky and a Coen brothers typical (if there is such a thing for the Coen Brothers) movie.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So, Green Book was it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I was very pleased when <a href="https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0991810/?ref_=ttfc_fc_cl_t2" style="color: #70579d; font-size: 13px; text-decoration: none;">Mahershala Ali</a> won for best supporting actor. I have admired his work in all of the movies he has been in.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I had no opinion on the other "best actor/actress" in the respective categories--best actress, best actor, best supporting actress.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I confess--it was a bit strange watching the Academy Awards. You may recall that I have been watching this award ceremony most every year since 1964. YIKES! A long time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So, two questions--why didn't we see more movies? And what did I think of Green Book?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The main reasons for not seeing more movies might simply be inertia. Or distraction--too many other activities. Or alternative entertainment. We have been watching Victoria. Also watched The Crown. And we watch various series, almost always ones from the UK. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Pathetic, right? Oh, well.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">OK--Green Book. I liked the movie--in fact I enjoyed it very much. I know the various criticisms. Other movies were better--maybe, but that happens with some regularity at the Oscars. Remember Shakespeare in Love beat out Saving Private Ryan. All you need to do is search for "which movies won Best Picture that shouldn't have".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Do you want to try your hand at which ones won? Here are ten (gleaned from a website).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Pick between the two--which one won:</span><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The Ten Commandments Around the World in 80 Days</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Ordinary People Raging Bull</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">L.A. Confidential Titanic</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The King's Speech The Social Network</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Chicago The Pianist</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Zero Dark Thirty Argo</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Goodfellas Dances with Wolves</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Brokeback Mountain Crash</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">How Green was my Valley Citizen Kane</span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">....and go. Pick the winners.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">OK, folks. I will keep you in suspense. Answers--tomorrow.</span><br />
<br />KGMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05165941950953938943noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31402520.post-83845524707304780862019-02-09T22:58:00.003-05:002019-02-10T16:05:44.295-05:00The Year in Books<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">You may recall that one of my New Year's resolutions was to read more. And to help keep me motivated, I vowed to reprise them as I go. So here are the first four.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">EDUCATED by Tara Westover--</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am a bit cautious in rating this book. First, on one hand the story is stunning--painful, extraordinary, a testament to the human spirit and the will to survive, and in the end triumphant. On the other hand, the story is deeply troubling--the power of brainwashing, the dangers of extremism, the sheer lunacy of the family's story.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My caution is also fueled by having read past books that were so breathtaking enthralling me with the story, that I was crushed when the story turned out to have been ... not true? Made up? Understand, I am NOT saying that is what this book is. It is just that the events are so alien to my existence, so astounding, that it is hard for me to imagine their veracity much less believe it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I will forgo the details of the story--many reviewers describe them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Eventually, I just got tired of reading of the lunacy of Westover's parents and the ways they subjected their children to what would be called child abuse. I applaud her surviving. And her triumph in pursuing education as a pathway to a new life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">THE SYMPATHIZER by Viet Thanh Nguyen--</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The Sympathizer is a very challenging read. At times brutally violent, at times almost humorous, at times satiric. All the while, the book is infused with the love of one's country. The reader gets a mix of history, political conflicts, personal insight--and a deeply moving story about BOTH sides in the Vietnam war. Both north and south are portrayed. And, not surprisingly, the U.S. as well--when the war ended many Vietnamese came to the U.S. as refugees. </span><br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rGmsaY8pdJ8/XF-hTbvS1RI/AAAAAAAAH8o/0nu0KM3Q9SwRByKzPCESHa8pDXO9uRRIgCLcBGAs/s1600/sympathizer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="333" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rGmsaY8pdJ8/XF-hTbvS1RI/AAAAAAAAH8o/0nu0KM3Q9SwRByKzPCESHa8pDXO9uRRIgCLcBGAs/s320/sympathizer.jpg" width="213" /></a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So the narrator's observations about life in the U.S. give the reader an insight into the experience of those who fled Vietnam. Another way the reader gets an insight into the U.S. is through the telling of the narrator's work as an advisor when a famous Hollywood (clearly Coppola) makes a movie about the Vietnam war (clearly "Apocalypse Now". It is not an insight the reader expects--instead of making an authentic representation of the war, the director makes a HOLLYWOOD acceptable portrayal of that war. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The core of the book is the narrator (unnamed), and his experiences. He is a North Vietnamese agent who has infiltrated the South Vietnam's army. He is a double agent. When he too flees to the U.S., it is for the express purpose of being a deep agent, sending news of the potential South Vietnamese effort to retake the country. The narrator--never named--has a handler to whom he sends coded reports.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Eventually, the narrator decides to return to Vietnam--where he is still masquerading as a loyal South Vietnamese. He is captured, imprisoned, and forced to be reeducated. He has to write a confession--which he eventually re-reads, after a nervous breakdown. He has a final epiphany--and the reader is left with the understanding of the futility of the ENTIRE venture--from the Chinese dominance of Vietnam, to France, to the U.S., to the South Vietnamese who want to retake their homeland.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My epiphany as a reader is that when the narrator is rereading his 300 some page confession--it is really the book that I am reading that he means. At least, that's how I took it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">MY NAME IS LUCY BARTON by Elizabeth Strout</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My Name is Lucy Barton is a very low key incisive portrayal of a mother/daughter relationship. The title character--Lucy--is in the hospital following an unnamed procedure after which she acquired a bacterial infection. Her stay in the hospital is extending far beyond what she expected. She and her husband have two small daughters--that fact alone makes it difficult for her husband to visit her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Lucy yearns for someone to talk to--so her husband calls Lucy's mother. Mother and daughter have been somewhat estranged, though still civil.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Lucy awakens to find her mother in the hospital room with her. And they begin to talk. Over the several days of the mother's visit, they talk about all manner of things. Family dynamics--with some deep issues only hinted at: poverty, abuse, a sibling who is homosexual. Additionally, they talk about former friends and neighbors. These are the "whatever happened to so-and-so" that we sometimes have with family members.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Through the course of the book, a great deal of Lucy's life is explored. She does recover and is discharged from the hospital. Her mother has returned to her home. Her husband and children reconnect in her life--this was one of the puzzling things for me, the almost complete absence of any sense of family relationships in Lucy's current family.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">At the close of the book, Lucy Barton completely owns her own story, even though there is recognition that this could be so many women's stories.</span><br />
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<span itemprop="name"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">THE HIDDEN LIFE OF TREES by Peter Wohlleben</span></span><br />
<span itemprop="name"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I began reading this book with great enthusiasm. I am a tree lover....maybe even a tree hugger. I periodically battle, gently, with a neighbor about trees. We have many trees bounding our property. Some extend branches across the property lines. And my neighbor, whose yard is ALWAYS spotless, hates raking leaves or having to remove anything that vaguely resembles dirt. One day, a tree trimming truck rolled, and began to prune OUR tree. Well, I do understand why. But I did exchange a few words with the neighbor. I ended rather inelegantly by saying "We need trees, because they provide us with oxygen."</span></span><br />
<span itemprop="name"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So, with that frame of mind, I read THE SECRET LIFE OF TREES. In many ways, it is a scientific work written for non-scientists. At times it is circular and repetitious. Eventually, I got to the point where I was thinking "all right, already, trees are living organisms. Got it!" </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I enjoyed it, but also got tired of it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Off to continue the reading for 2019.</span><br />
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KGMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05165941950953938943noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31402520.post-77385268871931414632019-01-09T10:23:00.001-05:002019-01-09T10:48:49.331-05:00TEAR DOWN THAT WALL<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The current seemingly unending drum beat to "build the wall" inspires me to make a few historical observations.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Walls separating peoples and countries may "work" for a time, but the historical record shows that eventually they all fail, or at the very least change and no longer serve the intended purpose.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Here are a few examples:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Border Walls through History<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><u>The walls of Jericho</u>—a favorite Bible story from the OT.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Remember the spiritual—“Joshua fit the battle of Jericho…and the walls came tumbling down”?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Built to protect the city of Jericho, this famous wall is the one brought down by Joshua in the battle for Jericho. So, its intended purpose of protection failed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><u>Hadrian’s Wall</u>—located in England along the border between England and Scotland, the wall was built by the Romans as both a barrier and a way to identify people coming into England, taxing them as a way to discourage immigration. The wall stood until the Roman Empire collapsed, and was then dismantled by “barbarians.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Photo of Hadrian's Wall from website listed below</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><u>The Great Wall of China</u>—which was really a series of walls built by various emporers. It was designed as protection to help China fight off various invaders. While the Wall benefited China in its growth in trade, it ultimately failed to keep invaders out when Genghis Khan led his army into China.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><u>Wall Street</u>—built in New York City as it was developing. It was intended to separate the native American peoples from the Dutch settlers. This wall did not last for long, and was dismantled. From the wall the name Wall Street was derived—and of course, is now a center in world trade and finance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><u>Berlin Wall</u>—when World War II ended, the Allies divided up Europe--the Soviets controlling the eastern zone where Berlin was located, and the western zone with England, France and the United States each controlling an area. As the Cold War heated up, the western powers united into one zone, West Germany. Berlin remained still divided into an eastern and western sector. Because of its location in East Germany, Berlin became a place where people under Soviet rule could escape to the West. Thus, to stop people from going from east to west, in 1961 a wall was constructed virtually overnight to separate the eastern sector from the western sector. In 1989, caught up in democratic changes in Eastern Europe, the East German government suddenly eased restrictions, permitting families to cross from east into west. East German citizens took that as "permission" and began to “tear down the wall." With no military intervention stopping them, the wall came down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">More descriptions of various walls through history can be found on the Internet, including here: <a href="http://origins.osu.edu/connecting-history/top-ten-origins-walls" style="color: #954f72;">http://origins.osu.edu/connecting-history/top-ten-origins-walls</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This website is the source for many of the details used above.</span></div>
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KGMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05165941950953938943noreply@blogger.com3