Happy Birthday... Freda!

ne day I was speeding along at the typewriter, and my daughter - who was a child at the time - asked me, "Daddy, why are you writing so fast?" And I replied, "Because I want to see how the story turns out!"

. . . Louis L'Amour

If my mom, Freda, was alive we would have celebrated her 93rd birthday today.  Mom was an avid reader.  Louis L'Amour and Zane Grey were particular favorites of hers; she had an affinity for a good western!  She loved a good story.  She read a lot... magazines, cookbooks, novels, newspapers.  In her later years, each week our town librarian would leave a grocery bag of books on her front porch.  Mom would call the library (the "liberry" she called it) and say, "I'm ready for a new stack... you know what I like..."  And, the librarian would do a book drop.  Mom couldn't wait to see how the next story turned out!  Of course, mom would also call the librarian to give her opinion of her selections!

     Mom was born on December 11, 1916 in Denver... and on the rare times she visited, I loved driving her around "town" and listening to her stories about Denver.  She grew up on Kalamath Street, not far from where the University of Colorado at Denver is today.  We'd drive up and down the streets and she'd tell grand stories about the surrounding neighborhoods.  Oh, I wish I had written her stories down!  She was a gifted story teller and had an amazing memory; her stories were every bit as rich as the ones she read each week.  "Oh, that's where we used to hide and we'd shoot the street cars with our slingshots to see if we could break a window, we were so naughty... See that corner there, there was a Chinese restaurant there where your father and I used to go eat... There's a stuffed rattlesnake in there that my father killed in the foundry (pointing to the Buckhorn Exchange talking about The American Ironworks)... We used to go peek in the windows of that church and watch people speaking in tongues and rolling on the floor; scared us to death... I used to work in that building helping make taxidermy forms for the Jonas family; they were the nicest people... I used to fill catalog orders in that building (Montgomery Ward) and had to wear roller skates..."  Today I have bits and pieces floating in my head, but what I'd give for more!

     I heard Eugene Cerman (who happened to land on the moon on December 11, 1972) speak at the PEBC's luncheon last year and he said, "I remember starting up the ladder and looking over my shoulder.  I saw my footprints there on the surface of the moon and realized that they'd be there for eternity.  And they were mine!  I knew I might be the last person to step on the moon for a long, long time."  He also tells the story of looking at Earth from the moon and realizing that its beauty was too beautiful to grasp!

     Sometimes things are too beautiful to grasp, so we just have to hold them as memories the best way we know how.  That's what I do on December 11th, I pull one those memories out of my heart or mind and remember mom.  Perhaps by writing down what I remember about her, my own children will know how her story turned out!  It was a grand story.

     Happy Birthday, Freda!  

Conferring Conversations

 Mark Overmeyer and I have done a Voice Thread conversation comparing reading and writing conferences.

     Mark is the author of What Student Writing Teaches Us:  Formative Assessment in Writer's Workshop and When Writing Workshop Isn't Working.

     You can find the thread at:  http://voicethread.com/#q.b764898.i4057816 or on the Stenhouse blog at:  http://blog.stenhouse.com

     You can join in the conversation by asking specific questions and commenting on the Voice Thread.  Enjoy.

Joanne O'Sullivan

My wife is taking a children's literature class and it's been fun perusing my collection with her... the first week it was folk tales, last week it was personal narrative, this week we're looking through nonfiction.  We've read some good ones!

     I love Joanne O'Sullivan's books 101 Things You Gotta Do Before 12! and 101 Places You Gotta See Before You're 12!  As I was rereading them tonight, I was creating the list of things that I've never done that I was supposed to have done a very long time ago!  Who knew?
     The beauty of both of these books is that they can be used as mentor text for writing.  If you're asking children to write expository text... you might just want to check out a few pages out of either of these books.  Short pieces of text, written with voice, around a single topic:  perfect!
     Joanne O'Sullivan has written many other nonfiction books:  101 Ways You Can Help Save the Planet Before You're 12!, Calling All Dogs: Grrreat Names for Your Perfect Pooch, Calling All Cats: Purrrfect Names for Your Fabulous Feline, and I Don't Care If We're Not There Yet: The Backseat Boredom Buster.  I think her books are terrific examples of well-written expository text... children love being able to sit down to read about new things, in short snippets, and to think about what to do with the information they're learning!

Giving Thanks

It's been a week or so since Thanksgiving, but I've been thinking...
     In my latest book, Conferring: The Keystone of Reader's Workshop, I wrote a lot about my father.  In fact, the idea of seeing conferring as the keystone, the strength of reader's workshop, was based on the fact that my father was a stonemason and bricklayer.  Dad died on November 21, 1988, three days before Thanksgiving... his funeral was on the 23rd, a Wednesday.  It was no small task, planning a funeral in two days, but we did it (Mom wanted the funeral before Thanksgiving)!  And, despite the sadness of dad's death, it was one of Thanksgivings that will go down as one of my family's favorites.  Dad would have loved it!
     Wednesday was one of those beautiful Novembers in southern Colorado.  Warm.  Sunny.  Blue skies.  Fluffy white clouds.   So many memories of that day still float through my mind... I remember looking across the lawn at the funeral home as we were getting into the limousine and seeing Ruthe Smith, our next door neighbor lady staring at the hearse, dumbfounded and sad, waiting to wave goodbye to her dearly departed friend (I jumped out and went over and gave her a huge hug and I still remember her whispering "I'll miss him..." in my ear).  I remember my niece, Trudy, singing You're Something Special to Me so beautifully, so clear... and I still can't listen to Just a Closer Walk With Thee without tearing up.  I remember watching my mom, Freda, sitting there not wanting to say goodbye to the love of her life (her ol' Crab Patch).  I remember my older brother, Dan, having to say goodbye to his pal (his first funeral); Dad and Dan were kindred spirits.

     And, I remember Thanksgiving that year.
     After the funeral, we decided we should perhaps plan Thanksgiving.  So all the brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews, got busy cooking.  Everything was going well until we realized that no one had thought to thaw the turkey (can't imagine why). The turkey we were going to cook was the grand champion at the state fair (yep, that's what they are raised for) the previous year and weighed 42 pounds!  Yes, 42 pounds.  That's a HUGE turkey.  Its size created HUGE turkey roasting difficulties.
     Problem 1)  Frozen. Problem solved... (much to the chagrin of some of us), it was quickly thawed in a sterilized bathtub!  Where else would it fit?  Quick thaw methods aren't necessarily safe according to everything I've read.
     Problem 2)  Too big.  Who has an oven that fits a 42 pound turkey?  So, my brothers went to work.  They decided to "pit roast" the turkey.  Haven't heard of it?  Neither had I.  Here's the drill... you cook the turkey in an underground pit (which reminded me a bit of the cemetery).  First dig a pit deep and wide enough for the turkey and 6 to 8 inches of hot coals (burn enough wood to make a hot coal bed, 6 to 8 inches deep). Cover the hot coals with a sheet of tin. Place your wrapped turkey on the tin.  Then cover the hole with another sheet of tin. Bury the top sheet with dirt (to keep the heat in).  Supposedly, you can come back in 10 to 12 hours and you have perfectly roasted meat. An underground oven of sorts.  And supposedly if you do it at night, the next morning it's ready!  So that's what they did... it was a marvel of engineering.
     Problem 3)  Didn't work.  When we uncovered the "pit"... the fire had gone out and the partially cooked turkey had "rested" in the pit overnight.
     Problem 4)  What to do?   What else... you're on a farm, grab a saw!  Saw the partially cooked bird in half with a "sterilized" handsaw.  Postpone dinner for a few hours.  Cook half in your sister's oven, cook half in your mother's oven... Viola`... two 21 pound turkeys!
     Suddenly my brothers, who's engineering prowess had failed, were basking in the fact that the bird was indeed golden, delicious, and thoroughly cooked!
     When we sat down to dinner I whispered to my wife, "I'm not eating any turkey."
     She replied, "Me either!"  We both decided to be the designated drivers... when our family was stricken with food poisoning from quick-thawed, partially cooked, viciously sawed, and oven-roasted turkey.     
     BUT God was watching over us that Thanksgiving.  No one got sick.  The meal was delicious (less turkey on my plate).  The laughter was raucous.  The tears flowed.  The stories of dad's amazing life filled the air... 
     And we celebrated one of our favorite Thanksgivings.  Out of sadness, came joy!  Dad would have loved it... but I think, he too, would have passed on the turkey! 

 

     

Homegrown House

Who doesn't like a free book?  Thanks to Simon and Schuster, there were many lucky recipients who walked through their booth on the last day of NCTE to take a book... or two... or three... depending upon how many times you stood in line.  I went through three times (it was either that or go to the airport far too early).
     One of the books I picked up was homegrown house by Janet Wong (based on my friend Troy's recommendation).  It was a great recommendation... I love the book and the beautiful illustrations.  I love the back and forth story of the grandmother who's only lived in two houses her whole life and the girl in the book who is already moving to her fourth.  There's a sense of humor and realism floating through the pages.  When I picked it up to read it there was a sudden sense of comfort that developed as I thumbed through the pages... very Patricia MacLachlan-like.  I love the line, "...there will be nothing more to do.  Nothing except to settle into this house, to learn to live it right, to make it feel, as Grandmom says, Homegrown."
     This was another wonderful book to add to my collection.  And, the price was perfect! 

The Storm in the Barn

Another book I picked up at NCTE is The Storm in the Barn by Matt Phelan.  In 1937 Kansas, 11-year-old Jack Clark comes face to face with the horrors of the Dust Bowl.  His small town is faced with extraordinary choices related to the outcomes of the Dust Bowl... including this eery look at "dust dementia" and the choices related to survival when the entire landscape was changing.  The illustrations in this graphic novel draw the reader into a time that fewer and fewer Americans remember experiencing.  Jack "sees" the effects of the Dust Bowl--in strange and frightening ways.
     I was immediately pulled into this book.. the barns, the rabbit drives, the wind, the mystery, the uncontrollable dust permeating the very souls of the people experiencing it.  I picked this book up at the Candlewick Press booth (why am I never disappointed by a book from this publisher?) and was blown away (pardon the pun).  Perhaps because both my father and my sister (who is now 81) shared their Dust Bowl experiences with me.
     I can see boys in 5th or 6th grade loving this book and perhaps even investigating more and more about this important aspect of American life in the 1930s.  

Julie Andrews and Emma Walton Hamilton

On Friday, 11/20, Philly was alive with the sounds of Julie Andrews and her daughter, Emma Walton Hamiliton.  They were speakers at the Friday General Session.  Although her daughter spoke for a longer period of time than Ms. Andrews, it was a treat to hear from them both... I sat there, a bit in awe.  After all, this was the voice of the woman who for so many years has filled our lives with song and laughter... and there she was "spit..spot" talking to us about her love of reading and how she shared that love with her family.
     Ms. Andrews explained to us that she despises being called a called a celebrity author, because she was an author long before she was a celebrity and that writing has always been an important part of her life.  She said that when she was being tutored as a child actor, her teacher would reward her for doing other work by giving her time to write.  She said it was her father, a teacher, who taught her, "the beauty and power of language."  She also noted that, "My life in the arts has always been about evoking images" and that writing allows her to "celebrate a sense of words, wonder, and wisdom."  She credits her father for teaching her that we must "notice the miracles that happen under our noses every day."
     Her daughter, Emma, is an author of her own books as well as co-author of several books with her mother.  She has a book called Raising Bookworms: Getting Kids to Read for Pleasure and Empowerment.  While she is an "arts" teacher and not a teacher of reading, she says that we must, "restore or create a primal connection to reading."  She noted that reading, especially poetry, brings, "a vision of beauty, meaning, and joy in the world" and that everyone "deserves the open destiny of life" that reading can bring.
     I don't know what I expected when I heard that both Ms. Andrews and her daughter would be speaking, but I left the session pleasantly surprised... by their passion, by their love of language and literature, by their commitment to writing, by their loving and caring relationship, and by their belief that "words illuminate life."  
     I loved the story of how her own children asked her to repay a debt to them by writing them a story.  She asked them, "What should my forfeit be?" And they said a story.  That's how Mandy was born.  It was a great way to start a conference!  Like brown paper packages, tied up with string...