Flowering plants and I have something in common (except that I am human). After a winter of dormancy, we wake up as spring approaches. Warmer temperatures, longer days, and the return of butterflies, bees, and other spring and summer critters signal that winter is all but over for another year.
The sights and sounds of spring do more than help me emerge from my winter doldrums. With renewed energy, I take up my virtual pen. There are a number of books I’ve read that I want to share with you. However, my first springtime post isn’t about a written work.
As I was scrolling through YouTube’s list of movies (yes, I do watch them if they’re good enough) similar to some well-liked films, one caught my eye. This movie was the brainchild of a {white) filmmaker who wanted to produce a Native American movie with Native American actors. The result is a film mostly taking place on the expansive Navajo reservation, with acting talent coming from “the Rez.”
As the story opens, we meet Turquoise Rose, an aspiring photojournalist living in Phoenix. The city is a far cry from the Navajo reservation where she was born and lived until she was about two years old. Working for a no-nonsense newspaper editor who makes no secret of her displeasure with the young woman, Turquoise Rose is looking forward to a planned vacation to Rome with her roommate.
However, her mother has other plans. She feels Turquoise Rose should spend a month with her elderly grandmother on the reservation. So the young Navajo (who feels little connection to her people or birthplace) suddenly finds herself, instead of in Europe, driving to the Rez. (Turquoise Rose left a letter for her roommate, explaining her change of plans and wondering if she is crazy to do this.)
However, there is little time for contemplation. After being welcomed home by an elderly man, getting instructions to her grandmother’s residence, and arriving at the hogan (a traditional Navajo dwelling), Turquoise Rose is thrust into the role of her grandmother’s caretaker and companion. Knowing almost no Navajo (while her ama sani doesn’t speak English), our heroine confronts difficulty after difficulty as she slowly learns the tasks expected of her and tries to feel at home in this unfamiliar world.
This movie has it all: an intriguing plot, believable characters, challenging situations, a touch of humor, and even some romance. To top it all off, impressive cinematography makes the audience feel the starkness and beauty of the Rez. There’s a bonus: unlike so many contemporary books and films, Turquoise Rose has no strong language or sexual subject matter. These perks make this a perfect family film; however, don’t think only kids will enjoy Turquoise Rose. {An important hint: don’t turn off the movie until after the credits have finished,) I’m sure many viewers will do what I did: watch it more than once.
Earlier this year, while “shopping” on some book review websites I frequent, a title caught my interest. It seemed like an easy read and with an appealing storyline. When I downloaded the title, the plot, characters, and setting drew me in. The novel was what I expected: a pleasant read with enough substance to keep me interested.
However, it was the life story of a secondary character that would prove to be of interest. Some time after finishing the novel, I was searching for something to read on a theme I’ve found fascinating: the stories of women who pursued careers often not open to them at the time. One real-life book I discovered was Code Girls: the Untold Story of the American Women Code Breakers Who Helped Win World War II by Liza Mundy. When I brought the book home and began reading, the fictional character’s occupation (which had been unfamiliar to me) came to mind.
Even before the surprise attack by Japanese aircraft on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, pointed to a glaring lack of intelligence, the American Navy was becoming aware that this reality needed to undergo a “sea change” (no pun intended). And so, secret letters began arriving in the mailboxes of students attending women’s colleges. The soon-to-be-graduates, chosen for aptitude, intelligence, and personal qualifications, were wanted by the Navy to secretly train in cryptanalysis. The Army followed suit. Not only college students but schoolteachers were sought out.
(Their story actually opened decades before. While code-breaking had been in use in previous wars, World War I saw an increased need: radio came into play to direct soldiers, ships, and aircraft. Around this time, a rather eccentric and immensely wealthy Chicagoan named George Fabyan was fascinated with the practice of Elizabethan thinkers of using secret writing. Surrounding himself with bright, like-minded individuals, he jump-started the careers of cipher experts who would change the face of cryptanalysis and make the discipline into a game-changer.)
After being carefully chosen, the candidates were sworn to secrecy and began receiving exercises testing their skills. Those passing muster headed to Washington after graduation to begin work for the Navy as cryptanalysts, deciphering encoded messages to learn of enemy troop movements, supply shipments, strategy, and more. Recognizing that their efforts were as essential as those on the front lines, they worked tirelessly to turn the tide of the war while keeping their activities a secret from everyone they knew and with whom they came in contact. Women like Dot Braden, a schoolteacher frustrated by the overwhelming workload of teaching classes on multiple subjects who enthusiastically signed on with the Navy and Louise Pearsall, a math major who joined up and helped develop a high-speed deciphering machine were only two of the many unsung heroes of the Allied war effort..
Liza Mundy’s detailed account of the story behind the history-making efforts and achievements of women from all walks of life who had much in common grabs and keep the reader’s interest like a great novel. Under her capable pen, we follow the exploits, frustrations, successes, and determination of this almost-unknown group of women. We feel along with them the tedium, difficult living situations, long working hours and days, impatience with (often male-centered) bureaucracy, subtle and overt sexism, misunderstanding on the part of family and fellow members of the service alike, the thrill when efforts translate into victories on the warfront, and the overarching need for absolute secrecy.
Code Girls is one of many nonfiction works that rival great fiction for engaging plot, intriguing characters, important messages, and detailed setting–and have the advantage of having really happened. Truth may be stranger than fiction, but it can be just as attention-grabbing.
As I was (as usual) in the mood for a feel-good story about wild animals, an online search yielded some attractive results. One, in particular, looked enticing. Discovering that my trusty public library has the book in its collection, I reserved the title. When the book arrived, I began looking on the holds shelf for an adult-sized book. What was there, with my name on it, was a picture book with the same title. Since I have no aversion to reading material geared for any age group, I was happy to bring it home and check it out.
I enjoyed this picture book that’s not for little kids only so much I decided to share it with you.
Suzy Eszterhas is a well-respected wildlife photographer, specializing in baby animals and photographing them as they grow up. Knowing that leopards are shy and elusive–-and mothers are even more so–-she is thrilled when an amazing opportunity arises. There is a female leopard dubbed The Camp Female living in Botswana’s Jao Reserve, where, being safe from hunters, she is relaxed around humans. When Suzi learns that the leopard has given birth, she quickly packs and flies to Botswana. Wanting to always remember this experience, the photographer decides to keep a diary.
Immediately upon her arrival, Kambango, Suzi’s guide, takes her directly to the leopard family’s well-hidden den. When the mother returns from a hunt, Suzi “meets” the cubs as they emerge from their hiding place. As the days pass, Suzi and Kambango, after the mother determines it’s safe for them to see her cubs, spend time with the leopards, and the photographer discovers that everything is an essential learning experience. Even play has a purpose. Pouncing, wrestling, and chasing Mom’s tail give them the strength and coordination necessary for hunting prey. While Suzi travels between Botswana and the U.S. to complete other assignments, she continues to chronicle the cubs’ growth, development, and growing abilities to live and hunt on their own.
Suzi Eszterhas’ diary gives readers a front-row seat in the drama of the lives of leopards in the African savannah. Her descriptions of their habits and her experiences are detailed, lively, informative, and spiced with entertaining and humorous tidbits. Not only does the author give us insights into the leopards’ lives and habits, she introduces us to some other critters that share the savannah. Her skill as a photographer shows: she captures scenes like a leopard’s sudden pouncing that are both unexpected and fleeting. Like the author/photographer, readers see the savannah through her camera lens and are enamored of the little furballs who grow up to become successful adults. Kids who like animals will delight in reading about the experiences of the author and the leopards she loves.
A very smart lady gave me a suggestion that should help me relax in the evening: instead of reading something heavy or even a sad part of an enjoyable novel, try some uplifting or humorous reading. Taking her advice, I remembered the name of a writer who specializes in this genre. Naturally, I checked out the public library app and discovered some of his books are available. Some days after a hold was placed, two arrived. Needless to say, even though it had been a busy and exhausting day, I made tracks to my trusty local branch (which regular readers of my blog know I talk about a lot) and returned home with the treasures. As soon as I opened one at random, I was treated to a humorous look at everyday events and phenomena.
Even though talking about books geared to a Jewish religious audience (and presuming familiarity with practices, precepts, and Biblical people and events) isn’t something that I usually do on my blog, there are exceptions. Mordechai Schmutter’s clever and often laugh-out-loud writings are one of them.
It’s a universal truth: kids can’t wait until they grow up. And adults encourage it: “Grow up.” “I’m trying!”
Yet youngsters don’t need motivation. Grownups can go anywhere they want, do whatever they like, don’t have to eat anything they dislike, and can stay up late. (Kids haven’t yet been reined in by the wishes, advice, and demands of their spouses, the parents who accompany them, their bosses, doctors…)
The book is divided into sections, such as Putting Your Kids First, Do It Yourself, Keeping on Top of Studies, Leaving Your Comfort Zone, Staying Organized, and other things that are expected of adults.
There is so much tongue-firmly-in-cheek food for thought here. From teaching kids to talk (and then expecting them to be quiet), to snow days, to the Spanish language (these essays are funny and do not poke fun at those for whom this is their primary language), to technology, there’s a bright, funny-because-it’s true side to everything. For example, here’s how to bake pastry.
In a noisy kitchen, preheat oven to 375.
Fahrenheit.
Wonder what that smell is.
Suddenly remember that you left some Tupperware in the oven…so the guests woudn’t see it.
Turn off the oven and scrape out the melted plastic.
Mix the first three ingredients, then the fith, and then the fourth.
Tell your children that it’s not time to lick the bowl yet.
Spend twenty minutes rummaging through the drawers, looking for the spatula.
In a separate bowl that somehow still fits your stand mixer, mix the sixth and eighth ingredients. and then fold it into the first bowl.
Using a third bowl that you borrowed from a neighbor, mix the seventh ingredient with itself and fold that in as well. Or just say, “Forget it,” and dump everything into one bowl in the first place. Ingredients are ingredients. we believe.
Weaving around the multiple stepstools that your kids set up to watch you, put the mixture in the fridge and allow it to chill at 38 degrees.
Tell your children it’s not time to lick the bowl yet.
Whenever you remember (allow 6-8 days), take mixture out of the fridge and say, “How long has this been here…? Oh, that’s right.”
With floured hands, on a floured surface, while standing on a floured floor, and just generally surrounded by mounds and mounds of flour, roll out mixture until it is 1/4-inch thick.
Using a relatively clean drinking glass or a garbage can lid, cut dough into neat circles.
[Put a small amount of fruit filling or ground beef or chicken in the center of each and fold over into a triangle shape. Pinch edges closed.]
Using an oven mitt…place pastries in the oven.
On a cookie sheet, genius.
They are ready when the smoke alarm goes off (at least 20-25 minutes, assuming you remembered to turn the oven back on.)
Once I stop chuckling over some of the choicest tidbits, I’ll look forward to delving into the other Mordechai Schmutter books beckoning from their perches. On the other hand, why wait?
Among the books begging me to write about them is a title I referred to in an earlier post: An Otterly Marvelous Tale. So, without further ado, here is my review of a book that isn’t only for kids.
“I begin in darkness, and my nose tells me everything I know.” With this introduction, a wolf pup named Swift describes his siblings: his brothers Sharp, bigger and aggressive, and Warm, the only one smaller than Swift, and his sisters Pounce, who delights in wrestling, and Wag, who speaks with her tail. Swift longs to be able to see the world outside their den. When the pups’ mother invites them out to meet the rest of the pack, he is ecstatic.
As Swift and his siblings grow, they learn many things: which animals are and are not prey; how to work together for a successful hunt; and the importance of marking their territory to keep invaders out. Their existence is ideal (except for Sharp’s swagger and prowess at hunting). When the young wolves are yearlings, their mother returns to the den and eventually emerges with a new litter.
However, their idyllic existence comes to a sudden end. A pack of rival wolves. so numerous they could overrun Swift’s pack, approach. As their mother leads the pups away, the defenders manage to drive off some of the enemy, but more keep coming. Swift, feigning weakness, draws a wolf away, relying on his knowledge of his home territory. He squirms through the tangled branches of fallen trees and runs over a log before leaping onto a meadow. As the other wolf follows, the log breaks, sending him into the sharp edges of the branches.
However, Swift’s victory is short-lived. As he races back to draw another invader away, he hears his father’s death song. “Carry on. Carry on. Carry on…” The frightened young wolf runs through the night, stopping in the morning to drink from a pond. A despondent Swift waits, but no one comes. At nightfall, he hears the howls of the enemy wolves, followed by Sharp’s lower howl. He understands that if Sharp is reduced to being their following wolf, there is no hope for the rest of his pack.
Driven by hunger, Swift comes across a herd of elk. He gives chase, only to see his target stop and turn around. The elk kicks him in the stomach, leaving him wounded and weak. Unable to move, the young wolf decides he is Swift no longer. He subsists on grass, insects, and a snake until he heals enough to look for water. Things look up when he finds a stream. Not only is it a source of water, it attracts other animals who come to drink, and Swift is able to kill a raccoon. Even better, the wolf is visited by a raven. Remembering that these birds would lead his father to prey in return for a share, Swift offers the raven some of his kill. Instead of taking it, the bird indicates she wants him to follow her.
This is the beginning of a symbiotic relationship. The raven leads the young wolf to water and prey. He opens the animal (which she cannot do, lacking teeth and claws). As the pair travels, they encounter a “black river” with noisemakers travelling along it. The wolf crosses, but realizes it is dangerous to do so and determines to never cross one again. Even though he craves companionship, Swift warns away a female wolf who appears on the other side. He follows the raven away from the black river, knowing that she is the only pack he has now.
Roseanne Parry has performed an incredible feat. She gives us a wolf’s-eye-view of Swift’s world. And the young wolf is a capable narrator. His experiences, feelings, aspirations, and personality come through his narrative. With simple statements, he expresses his emotions and describes what he sees and does: When his mother comes to the den, he tells us, “I can smell her sweet-wild, milk-wind smell. ‘Come,’ she says. I am all wag. ‘Outside?'” “I run. Run to feel the wind in my fur and the pound of my feet on the sweet grass and soft needles of my home ground.” “I am on my own, and come nightfall even the moon is gone.” “The skin over my belly goes slack, but I do not feel hunger. I only feel empty.”
Monica Armino’s detailed black-and-white illustrations capture the mood of and are a perfect backdrop for the events of the story. The fact that the novel is based on a true story adds to the air of reality. A Wolf Called Wander is ideal for any middle-to-upper- grade reader who loves animal stories. Even if someone is not into tales about wildlife, he or she might very well be long before finishing the story.
When I saw this book among some recommended titles, it looked so intriguing that I requested a hold from our local public library. As soon as it was available, I made tracks to our nearby branch. When I opened the book, I discovered an eye-opening and hard-to-put-down gem was in my hands.
Female medical practitioners are a common sight. Visit any hospital, clinic, or doctor’s office and you’ll find at least one lady doctor. Yet, there was a time that this was not the reality.
Olivia Campbell’s fascinating book is a look back at that time. Her sweeping story is one of a revolution–one which gave rise to the phenomenon described above.
Less than two centuries ago, most women who wanted to practice medicine were discouraged, rejected by medical schools, and/or objects of ridicule. After all, claimed more than one male member of the medical profession, the female brain is smaller, rendering women incapable of the rigorous study required of future physicians. Women in classrooms and labs would be too much of a distraction for male students. Why not become a nurse instead, take a position as a governess, or be content to remain at home, marry, and raise a family?
Despite these prevalent attitudes (shared by women as well as men), the mid-19th century saw an increasing number of women determined to pursue a career as a physician. Elizabeth Blackwell was a pioneer in the movement. Born in England in 1821, she was fortunate to be raised by a father who helped his nine children, daughters as well as sons, reach their full potential. The family moved to America when Elizabeth was eleven and took up the abolitionist cause.
When Elizabeth was in her mid-20s, she visited Mary, a critically ill friend, who told her something profound. Her illness would have been easier to bear if she received her treatment from a woman, who, being naturally more compassionate, would spare her the agonizing examinations and treatment she received at the hands of male doctors. It was Mary who suggested that her scholarly friend study medicine. If Elizabeth’s upbringing planted a seed, Mary’s observation allowed it to take root. So began a journey fraught with frustration, misunderstanding, and rejection (until a medical school in upstate New York accepted her) and bolstered by the encouragement of open-minded physicians.
As Elizabeth was inspired by her friend, she became a source of inspiration: young women on both sides of the Atlantic chose to travel the rocky road to a medical career. Her younger sister, Emily, followed in her sister’s footsteps, becoming the third woman in the United States to earn an MD from a regular college.
And, across the Atlantic, Elizabeth Garrett, the daughter of well-to-do parents, eschewed the role her upbringing and station in life expected of her. After being rejected by one medical school after another, Lizzie began to learn privately with physicians and in hospitals. In 1865, the Society of Apothecaries granted her a license to practice, and she became the general medical attendant at the Marylebone Dispensary (where she created a women’s medical school). Finally, the University of Paris awarded her the coveted M.D. degree. Lizzie was a groundbreaker in another area: she disproved the theory that a female physician would abandon her medical career if she married. James Skelton Anderson, the financial adviser of Middlesex Hospital, recruited Lizzie for the position of visiting physician at a new children’s hospital. As the pair worked to better conditions for young patients, Jamie and Lizzie eventually made the partnership permanent, and Dr. Elizabeth Garrett Anderson continued performing the work she loved.
Like the Blackwells and Lizzie Garrett Anderson, Sophia Jex-Blake was born in England. Traveling to America to learn about educational opportunities open to women, she met the health and social reform activist Dr. Lucy Sewell and spent time as an assistant at the New England Hospital for Women. Deciding on a medical career, Sophia applied to Harvard and was rejected on the basis of her gender; her next step was to enroll in Elizabeth Blackwell’s medical school. However, before she could do so, family issues forced her to return to England.
Even though no English medical college would open its doors to women, Sophia and four others passed Edinburgh University Medical School’s entrance examination and were admitted. However, opposition on the part of male students, lecturers, and the public was intense. After completing their training, the women were defeated by the university’s refusal to grant degrees to females. Not to be deterred by this setback, Sophia helped establish the London School of Medicine for Women and earned an MD at the University of Berne in Switzerland.
Returning to Edinburgh, she entered private practice, established the Edinburgh Hospital and Dispensary for Women and Children, and advocated for the Russell Gurney Enabling Bill allowing examination boards to accept women as candidates. Finally, two decades after Sophia’s rejection, the University of Edinburgh began awarding medical degrees to women.
Olivia Campbell did her homework, and it shows. To the author’s credit, her attention to detail does not result in a dull recitation of names, dates, places, and events. First-person accounts give the narrative a personal touch, and all players are true-to-life. Advocates, nay-sayers, and the groundbreaking medical practitioners themselves are three-dimensional, and their stories read like a great novel. Comprehensive, chapter-by-chapter source notes and a detailed index round out Campbell’s work.
There is one drawback, which many readers would probably not see as such. In the author’s efforts to paint an accurate portrait of the endeavors and personalities of these heroines, there are a few mentions of (albeit rare) preferences of some women for members of their gender. Such references are brief.
All in all, Women in White Coats takes its rightful place among worthy accounts of the successes of women professionals like Hidden Figures: The American Dream and the Untold Story of the Black Women Who Helped Win the Space Race by Margot Lee Shetterly and The Roses of No Man’s Land by Lyn Macdonald, the riveting account of doctors and nurses who landed on the battlefields of World War I–and performed unimaginable feats with little preparation under the most horrendous conditions.
People who know me are aware of one fact: I’m an animal lover. No vacation or day trip is complete without a visit to a zoo, wildlife sanctuary, beach, or any other spot where you’ll find our feathered, furry, or scaly friends. And since I’m a hard-core bibliophile, any book featuring one or more critters with whom we share our planet is sure to attract my attention. And if I’m really fortunate, a book review site will feature such a title.
So you can imagine my delight when I learned that an author of memorable animal (and other) children’s stories has penned a new book. As soon as the digital library copy appeared on my Kindle app, I began reading and immediately knew a literary treat was in store. So, without further ado, here is my review of Katherine Applegate’s latest blockbuster.
Meet Odder. She’s an energetic, fun-loving sea otter. Her mother, Ondine, gave the pup this name because, unlike most otters, she always wants to keep moving and has an insatiable curiosity.
Her story, told in free verse, begins when Odder is three years old. She and her closest friend, Kairi, are floating on the shallow water of Elkhorn Slough, a protected area in California’s Monterey Bay.
Play,
Odder wants to know,
or eat?
First, we eat,
then we play,
answers Kairi,
who is always practical,
a cautious sort.
Having none of Kairi’s advice, Odder entices her friend to frolic in the waves. The curious otter, seeing something interesting, swims up to a kayak and takes a whiff of its passenger before her friend reprimands her. To distract Odder, Kairi, lacking the energy to keep up with her, asks to hear the story of the 50. So Odder relates the frightening tale of how humans hunted sea otters until only 50 remained. Afterwards, others worked to bring them back from near extinction.
Unknown to the otters, a hungry shark is searching for a meal. Smelling the pair, the young shark (too inexperienced to know that otters are not good to eat) decides to target Kairi because she is slower. Odder, unaware of the danger, cajoles her friend to swim into the deeper ocean. A frightened Kairi implores her to return to safer waters.
Odder ignores her until she sees the shark. When the predator bites Kairi’s tail, Odder, feeling guilty because she caused this trouble, attacks the shark in the hopes of distracting him so Kairi can escape. Biting Odder in the stomach, the big fish realizes his mistake and spits her out. The embarrassed shark’s only consolation is that nobody saw him go after an animal that is not prey.
A badly wounded Odder, remembering she once found help on the shore, fends off unconsciousness and manages to swim to the beach and drag herself out of the water. Odder, unsure if she will survive, attracts the attention of humans. When help arrives, the scientists who answer the call and Odder recognize each other. Will they be able to save the badly wounded sea otter?
Katherine Applegate has done it again. The author who brought us the unforgettable The One and Only Ivan–a true story about a gorilla kept in a cage in a shopping mall told from Ivan’s perspective, The One and Only Bob, and (drum roll, please) The One and Only Ruby, scheduled for publication in May, 2023–turns her attention to the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Under her capable pen, the scientists’ real-life efforts to rehabilitate sea otters and return them to the wild becomes a moving story. Through her ingenious use of free verse, Applegate takes us into the minds of the adorable critters, a young shark, and the humans who care for the sea mammals. This charming story appears, because of its free-verse format, simple on the surface but has depth and meaning. Applegate’s skill shows: she blends the right touch of humor, drama, realism, and adventure. The author portrait of the otters’ world is sheer poetry:
Beyond the slough
lies Monterey Bay,
a whole different animal,
a watery whale,
huge and intimidating
but breathtaking beneath the surface:
kelp forests weave green blankets
while sun shafts
cut like blades.
Charles Santoso’s well-placed, expressive illustrations of not only sea otters but starfish, sea urchins, sea lions, and–at the story’s opening–the shark enhance the short chapters. Readers who are enamored with Odder are sure to enjoy Katherine Appel’s Once Upon a Camel and A Wolf Called Wander by Rosanne Parry.
We’ve just finished celebrating Chanukah, one of the most joyous holidays on the Jewish calendar. The commemoration of a miraculous victory of a relatively small, untrained fighting force over the mighty Greek army machine–a battle for the right to live and worship as Jews in the face of the oppressive occupiers’ attempts to stamp out all religious observance–is a dual celebration. For, after the oppressors were driven from the Jews’ homeland, the victors entered the defiled Holy Temple–only to find the menorah missing and only enough undefiled oil to last one day. A temporary one was constructed, and a second miracle occurred: the small amount of oil burned for eight days, the time it would take to produce more.
As we light the menorah each evening, we recite the benedictions thanking the Almighty for both the military and spiritual victories. When Jews relive the double miracle, we re-experience the jubilation of our ancestors and express our gratitude to G-d. And we realize that the eight-day celebration is one example of a truth: Judaism is a joyous religion.
This statement, at first blush, sounds a bit strange. There are so many thou-shalts and thou-shalt nots, observing Judaism’s tenets may seem more complicated than joyful. For eight days (seven in Israel), Jews are expected to refrain from eating anything leavened. A Shabbat (Sabbath) observer doesn’t answer the phone, heat water for tea, or do so many other routine activities for a full twenty-five hours every week. Mixing meat (including poultry) and dairy is off limits. Think about all the foods we are enjoined to not eat (no clam chowder or ham sandwiches). And on Yom Kippur, Jews aren’t supposed to eat at all! If not observing the rules is a no-no, how can anyone think the religion that mandates them is a source of joy?
However, stop in at any Orthodox synagogue at the beginning of Shabbat and watch the congregation ecstatically welcome the holy day. Anyone who attends a religious wedding is struck by the sheer joy expressed by the couple and everyone present. (In fact, the happiness begins well before the event: from the engagement party until the wedding, the rejoicing intensifies–and continues through the week following the actual nuptials.) The same goes for a circumcision ceremony, bar or bat mitzvah celebration, or even moving into a new home. Each of these lifestyle events is celebrated by a gathering of family and friends with plenty of food and a sense of being part of something special.
People on the outside may notice something that they are not used to: in synagogues and at weddings and other occasions, males and females do not sit, eat, or dance together. A partition may divide the men’s and women’s sections. There is nothing sexist here: worshippers and guests realize these are holy gatherings; as such, the mingling of men and women (which is often based on or leads to behavior inappropriate for events like these) has no place. The atmosphere is no less joyous because members of both sexes celebrate on opposite sides of the partition.
Since, as everyone knows, I’m a bibliophile, I naturally thought of a few children’s books that demonstrate this theme. Being Jewish is not a requirement to enjoying these titles.
In this classic story (published in 1976 and reissued in 2009) by prolific author David Adler, we meet an elderly resident of an apartment building. One day, he begins bringing in a number of objects, including crates, branches, and magazines, and carrying them up several flights. His landlady objects, complaining about what she thinks is junk and thinking the old man’s activity will damage the stairs and hallway. The conflict continues as we discover what the old man is doing: constructing a sukkah (a temporary dwelling used by Jews during the holiday of Sukkot) on the building’s roof. The landlady takes him to court, where the judge issues a wise ruling. This story, based on a real court case, is a delightful tale of perseverance, joy at the creation of a beautiful sukkah for a joyous holiday, and understanding.
A young boy discovers that fun isn’t dependent on the weather. Throughout the year, he is thankful for sun-filled mornings at the pool, puddles for jumping in when it’s raining, fun in the snow, and going to the park on windy days. As young readers and listeners turn the page to see what delightful thing happens next, they discover the importance of all types of weather for people, animals, and plants alike.
It’s a common occurrence: kids are adamant about which is the best seat in class, at the table, in the car, or anywhere else. It doesn’t matter if someone else has to settle for less.
It’s Friday night and Tova Leiba’s family is about to begin the festive Sabbath meal. The little girl’s brother doesn’t like where he’s sitting at the table, so she offers to change places. “In any seat, no matter where, in any spot, in any chair, whether it is here or there, I’ll be happy anywhere!” becomes Tova Leiba’s refrain as she moves to her new location.The scene repeats itself many times as her siblings want to sit somewhere else. And Tova Leiba indeed discovers a benefit to each new seat. Author Seryl Berman’s lively tale is sure to strike a chord with adults and kids alike, and Ari Binus’ lively illustrations are a delightful complement to the story. Around the Shabbos Table, an AJL Notable Book for Younger Readers, tells a universal story that appeals to Jewish and non-Jewish readers alike.
It’s easy to take our abilities for granted. That’s why this delightful picture book’s message is an important one.With gentle rhymes, author Alana Schreiber teaches an important truth: a child who appreciates life’s pleasures is a happy one.Being able to see, hear, taste, touch, smell, talk, walk, and sing are all reasons to be thankful.
With Madame Chamberlaine, life is never dull. Huge sea monsters, scary noises coming from the attic, and a swarm of irate bees are no match for the fascinating, cheerful French lady. Join plucky sisters Shprintzi and Shuly as they embark on one hilarious adventure after another. Kids can’t help but enjoy the antics of Madame Chamberlaine. Her escapades are as delectable as her homemade pastries. The icing on the cake? This is the first in a series that is a definite kid-pleaser.
Any huge task, pleasant or disagreeable, becomes easier if you take one step at a time. Repeating these steps is the beginning of a new habit. It’s especially true for a healthful routine: little changes can have a positive effect on everything you do. Join Binyamin, Devora, Elisheva, Chava, and Aaron as they discover new ways to improve their health–which have a positive effect on their lives.
People who know me (and that includes readers of my humble blog) know that I’m an animal lover. No vacation or day trip is complete without a visit to a zoo, animal sanctuary, beach, or any other place our furry, feathered, or scaly friends call home. And, since I’m a bibliophile, any book–fiction or nonfiction, kiddie lit or adult fare–fea More
This is not my usual type of post. But these are not normal times.
I’m heartbroken. For the unthinkable has happened. Our son-in-law, who was diagnosed a few weeks ago with an aggressive tumor, left us a week ago. Only realizing the devastation caused by the disease when my daughter called me in tears, I heard the distress in her voice. Please come to the hospital immediately. Naturally, my husband and I dropped everything and took an agonizingly slow taxi ride–traffic was horrendous in Manhattan. (Why didn’t we take the subway?) We spent an anxious several hours that evening with our son-in-law’s mother and some of his siblings. (They have the blessing of a large family.)
The next morning, my daughter called again. Come now, she cried. Things were different: instead of nurses’ adamant refusal to allow more than two visitors in the room at a time, there were no limits. The next six and a half hours were spent watching the monitors, hearing a nurse practitioner spell out the reality of the situation, calling nurses whenever a machine started beeping, checking out the tubes running into and out of my sedated son-in-law, watching a ventilator help him breathe, and waiting, As evening approached, two of his sisters arrived. I asked my daughter if she minded if I went home. She was agreeable, so I left.
About midnight, there was another tearful call from our daughter. It was over. She was alone in the hospital. In shock and filled with remorse that I didn’t stay with her, there was no chance of my sleeping. Our younger, usually upbeat daughter was a widow. Their three children were orphans.
Since Jewish tradition mandates a funeral as soon as possible, the family made lightning arrangements. The next morning, we spent a short time at the funeral home to pay our respects and offer what consolation we could, then formed a procession to the cemetery. Heartbroken, we watched their nine-year-old son approach the coffin, heard him recite the prayer loved ones say (and will recite daily for eleven months), and said goodbye.
How could a man so young, who miraculously survived severe Covid two and a half years before and didn’t come home for four months, be gone? At this season, when Jews the world over make a spiritual accounting, offer prayers for a year of life, health, happiness, and good news to share, and express the wish to everyone we meet that they be remembered Above for these things, there is a different aura surrounding everything.
Yet, even though we are numb with grief and feel like crying–and sometimes do–when we speak about it or something reminds us of our son-in-law, there are already bright spots. Members of a congregation started a fundraiser for his family that people are generously contributing to. Friends, relatives, and the children’s schools are reaching out. The owner of a fish store our daughter patronizes told us that she should come in for, I’m sure, anything they want for free. And there is our daughter: in the face of an unspeakable tragedy, she is there for her children and planning for a gradual return to a normal routine.
There is a song with a memorable line: “There’s no such thing as a silver lining. It’s a golden world created just for you.” Even if the gold is dull now, in time it will regain its luster. We look forward to the day when it will shine with a brilliance that is more marvelous than we can imagine.
Booklovinggrandma's Blog 