Need a WONDER-ful Grad gift...or a "just because" surprise?

Millions of readers have fallen in love with Augie Pullman, an ordinary boy with an extraordinary face. Wonder tells his story from six different perspectives.  Wonder's message of kindness and tolerance inspired the "choose kind" movement which has been adopted by schools across the country.

This follow up picture book is based conceptually on the themes of Palacio's young adult novel.  Tapping into the magic of differences, We are all Wonders encourages us to see each person for  they truly are and not what our preconceived notions tell us they might be.  It is a celebration of uniqueness.

Two other Palacio books in the Wonder collection merit comment, also.  Augie and Me features stories of three characters we meet in the original novel. Like We're all Wonders, these stores provide gentle reminders for us all....good friendships are worth a little extra effort, being friendly isn't the same as being a friend....

Then there's 365 Days of Wonder...a collection of quotes, old and new, offering wisdom from famous and not so famous voices.  

I remember searching out inspirational quotation books in high school, copying favorite quotes into a journal and attempting to illustrate each one.  Some of the quotes stuck with me -Emerson for example - "A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds".  If I didn't fear needles as much as I fear rats, those words would be tattooed on my inner arm.  Someday I'll just grab a Sharpie and do the job myself.

Happy warm weather, pleasant gardening, biking, getting reacquainted with neighborhood walkers and dogs...celebrate thinking and wondering as much as doing.  The Lakeshore has plenty of choices to fill warm weather days...and when those choices overwhelm you escape into a book.

Thanks for stopping by.

A Giraffe and a Half by Shel Silverstein - Celebrate National Poetry Month

 Like so many people, I have sacrificed many, many hours waiting for April, the giraffe, to have her baby.  And of course, I missed it.  

To celebrate the birth, I am sharing this adorable girl's reading of Shel Silverstein's A Giraffe and a Half.

Silverstein, affectionately called Uncle Shelby, is best known for his funny, absurd and sometimes sinister children's poetry.  Sinister?  Yes!  

The googies are coming the old people say

To buy little children and take them away!

Do you know that Uncle Shelby also wrote for adults?  Oh yes he did.  His adult works entertain - and  they shock.  How could the same pen that wrote The Giving Tree possibly create Polly in a Porny with a Pony..."and the pony looked a little bit bored."  or the tale of Stacy Brown who had two (Two what? Is Stacy Brown male or female?  I'll let you do the research on that one.)

You can find those and other gems on albums such as Freakin" at the Freakers Ball. Of course, he gave us many commercial songs as well including "A Boy Named Sue" and "The Unicorn," that magical little Irish number.  

April in National Poetry Month. Pull up a chair and celebrate April the month, and April the Giraffe with Shel Silverstein and our little reader friend.

Thanks for stopping by.

Tails and Tales

A terrible ratting-tatting woke me around mid-night  - sounds like hail on the skylight, or gunshots.  The attack lasted way too long to go unchecked. Figuring the sight of me in mismatched pajamas would scare off intruders, I bravely checked around the house and in the basement.  Nothing, yet the noise continued. Rhythmic, so I ruled out gunshots. But it kept getting louder.  Noting it seemed to be close to the head of my bed which is on an outside wall, I grabbed a flashlight to check outside. By this time I was too annoyed to be scared any longer.  

I arrived at the side of my house in time to see the remains of a mouse being chewed violently by the air conditioner fan.  Believe me, I have never been a fan of the mouse family, but this was an awful sight. Mystery solved and I figured once the execution was complete, the noise would end.  Wrong.  The little guy's tail dangled just within reach of the fan blade and clicked with each spin.  In time, the sound ended, mostly likely due to the appendage being clipped off.  

So, if I make less sense than normal, blame the beast.

One of my book discussion groups has chosen this book for August (yup, Steve, I know that earlier I reported the new book to an Alice Munro piece.  I stand corrected.).  Needing to finish The Bolter  for an on-line group, I didn't get far with this one.  But, aren't blistering hot days (and below freezing days) perfect for binge reading?)  The haunting cover drew me in and the first few pages hold promise.  

Young Coralie opens the story explaining her life as the daughter of a freak show exhibit owner in Corney Island in the 1920's.  Even though her father refers to both the living and preserved curiosities as "wonders', he forbids Coralie to look at them.  With great respect and sadness, she reveals how the working individuals hide themselves in public since there are no laws to protect them for harassment, and worse, from attack.  She looks upon them with near reverence, saying that their differences tell us they have been touched by God.  

I can't help but think about a troubling movie called Freaks which featured real life circus exhibits, and of course, last year's installment of American Horror Story:Freak Show.  I think these types of roadside attraction have begun to fade away which is good.  However, they have been replaced by the train wrecks offered to us by Jerry Springer, Maury Povich, and the enigmatic Kim and Kanya et al.  I can't figure out the popularity of these shows, but I will say they - and their popularity - frighten and unsettle me.

One more unsettling note, I recently received an ARC (Advance Reader copy) of Anthony Bourdain's new cookbook to be released in October.  As expected, he includes many international recipes, lots of appetizing ideas.  But, why on earth does he introduce each chapter with photos of dead chicken parts?   Really. The book is filled with photos of chicken feet, chicken legs, some with feathers, some with the dimply skin exposed.  Somewhere you will find a picture of a salad or a noodle but not accompanying the recipe for roast chicken with lemon and butter.  Nope.  There we get two chicken feet, innards , the chicken head and neck along with a butcher knife.  Appetizing.  There's a guy in full camo with a rifle, a burning wishbone, and next to the recipe for sausage gravy with biscuits we have an creepily lit picture of Bourdain himself, dripping white gravy like a rabid dog.  Oh, did I mention the dusting of f-bombs throughout the narratives?  It will be interesting to see if his intended audience gets behind this unconventional offering.

Thanks for stopping by.  

Much Happiness to All!

Christmas Cheer with My Boy Sheldon

The Sound and Some Fury

Last week's live broadcast of the stage version of "The sound of Music" prompted me to grab a book I have been saving as a gift, should the proper occasion arise.  Several years ago, I picked up a copy of The Story of the Trapp Family Singers for .50 at a rummage sale.  Returning home, I discovered the book was autographed by Maria Von Trapp and several of her children.  Assuming it to be quite valuable, I went back to where I bought.  The owner said he just wanted things gone.  There was sadness in his voice and eyes.  It was then that I decided to save the book as a gift, hoping that some day my talented friend Emily would play Maria, and then the book could be hers.  

Let me be honest here, I have never been a big fan of the musical - not a fan of sentimentality in general. But, I do respect theatre and the richness it brings to my life.  Maria Von Trapp tells this story with gentle words, sincerity and an admirable reverence.  Some details differ from the script.  For some reason, the script writers changed the children's names, and did not include reference to the sick child that was to be Maria's main concern.  I learned that Maria was not asked to leave the convent because she was too spirited, but rather because her health suffered due to the dramatic change from the freshness of pure mountai  air to the conditions in cloistered life.  Maria was cautioned to remember that she was only "on loan" from the convent, and was to return in one year.  We all know that didn't happen.  Many of the stage plays lines have been taken directly from Maria's autobiography.

In the final pages, she writes of the Captain's death - a long drawn out cancer battle that had been misdiagnosed by more than one doctor.  For the longest time, Maria believed the doctors, but she had always promised Georg she would tell him when he was reaching the end of his life.  When that fact becomes evident, she does as she had promised, keeping vigil, praying and singing with the children throughout.  

The live TV telecast, and especially Carrie Underwood, has met with lots of negativity.  My first reaction, too, was that she tanked.  But I eased up eventually.  Underwood didn't miss a note.  She delivered her lines without the tiniest of baubles.  She hit all her marks and knew where the cameras were at all times.  Her delivery was flat, but maybe this was too much too soon for her.  And, a performer's learning curve is on full display.  Golfers can practice in private; artists draw in the privacy of their studios, but performers have go live to discover what they have yet to learn.  Maybe Underwood's managers, handlers or others including the production's director ill advised her.  If you watch her perform on music awards show, you know she's got it, she just needs the right team to coax it out of her in other genres.  And, come on, Captain Von Trapp played by a rather experienced actor, did not sert the screen  afire either.  Audra MacDonald?  Love her most of the time, but my TV set is still shaking from that vibrato.  

My last ranty bit on the subject is this - during a time when we should be reflecting on other subjects like the incredible life and work of Nelson Mandela to name just one, why are so many people picking on Carrie Underwood?  Too many priorities are out of whack.  Maybe 2014 will be the year we put entertainment back into perspective and let more significant issues take center stage.

Thanks for stopping by.

Night

Now that I'm back from the land of make believe, it's time to catch up on a blogging.  Theatre is a great place to be, but for me, it has to be in limited helpings.  More on that later.

On Friday, our book group will be discussing Night by Elie Wiesel.  In 1944, Wiesel, along with his family, was taken from his Transylvania home to Auschwitz and then to Buchenwald.  Wiesel freely admits to not understanding why his life was spared.  He was small, weak, frightened.  The miracle of survival is only one of the many reasons he chose to tell his story.

 Wiesel speaks of the struggle to find the right words to convey the magnitude of the horrors dealt in this dark time in history.  He fears that the truth - the reality - of these hate filled actions will be forgotten or not believed.  However, he rationalizes that some people may dismiss the Holocaust because they simply cannot accept that existence of such inhumanity.  

"Could men and women who consider it normal to assist the weak , to heal the sick, to protect small children, and to respect the wisdom of their elders understand what happened there?  Would they be able to comprehend how, within that cursed universe, the masters tortured the weak and massacred the children, the sick, and the old?"

In 120 pages, Wiesel informs, inspires, teaches, and questions.  He speaks with honesty and sadness about the breaking and eventual loss of his faith,  Somehow, without graphic details, he communicates the blackness and pure evil that existed in the concentration camps.  For me, he has chosen all the right words.  The Holocaust did happen.  Anyone who denies that, well.....they deserve words I prefer not to use here.  

Woven between the accounts of winter marches, days without food or water, and the emotionless murder of children, is Wiesel's meta cognitive journey through sadness.  He is astutely aware of how each day, each incident, each enemy word tore at his joy and left him hopeless, unable even to fear what was coming next - welcoming the possibility of death.  

Weisel has written many books, but I am anxious to read the follow-ups to Night entitled Dawn and Day.  Those titles hint that may have found peace.  

*****

So, the theatre stuff...our UW-Manitowoc/Heart-A-Rama show ended on Saturday, so now I'm in my "I'm never doing that again" phase.  That will change.  It always does.  Truth is, theatre is one of the few things that I can do a half way decent job with.  UW-Manitowoc is home for me.  Directors there gave me opportunities that I would not have gotten elsewhere.  Eventually, the theatre became my sandbox when I stepped in to do some adjunct teaching.  From that time forward, I have been lucky to be asked to take on a number of different projects over the years.  Everywhere I turn, someone on staff is asking "How can I help?" So nice working in a 100% positive environment.   How can I walk away from that?  

Thanks to everyone who came to the show and supported the Office of Continuing Education and Heart-A-Rama.  Your support has helped both education and heart health.  YIPPEE!!

Heads in Beds and Other Stuff

My neighbor's son  worked in management positions for a number of high end hotels.  He's the one who lives in the condo overlooking Chicago's Navy Pier - the condo in which Lady Gaga owns a penthouse. Scroll back several posts to see some pictures of her "apartment".  Every job has it's colorful tales, and dark corners we aren't supposed to know about.  I thought it might be fun to see what his life was like for so many years.

Heads in Beds isn't as shocking as I expected, although the author does provide several helpful hints on how to get an upgrade, and how to not ever pay for anything one consumes from the in-room mini-bar. Being a step away from agoraphobic, I was hoping for some awesomely disgusting insights into hotel culture, giving me even more reasons to not venture too far from home.  However, so far, the majority of sinful misbehavior  have been behind the closed doors of paying guests - including several dicey celebrity romps.  

The memoir follows the hotel management career of the author starting with his months as a valet parker. Nothing surprised me there.  Come on, even I am not so naive as to think these guys really care about the safety of your car.  Tomsky tells about teaching a new valet how to drive a stick using a guest's Bentley - followed by dings, and dents, and full blown car crushing accidents.  What did surprise me is that many hotels do not have their own parking lots.  The valets drive around town until they find street parking for a vehicle, and then draw a map on the back of the ticket so the retrieving valet can find your car - or so the retrieving valet can almost always find your car.  

As manager of housekeeping, he witnessed glassware being wiped down with used bath towels, and hotel staff enjoying a few private moments in your room while you're out.  That's about as far as I got yesterday, but it appears that Tomsky is finally getting warmed up.  Perhaps I'll share more next week.

**********

Like many of you, I am dealing with roof rage, both at the store and at home.  Even though insurance will cover things, it's painful to jump through the necessary hoops.  As I result, I was in need of some retail therapy last weekend.  Accompanying the therapy were these two interesting customer service incidents.

Episode One: On Saturday, I visited a local big box sore with the sole intention of buying a new camera to replace the one I clumsily ruined.  No need for details there; suffice it to say I did something stupid and it cost me.  I knew what I wanted so I figured this would only take 10 minutes or so.  Wrong.

I went to the electronics department located at the back of the store and I waited.  I looked at all the camera offerings and settled in one one I thought would be a reasonable replacement.  I waited.  I looked at videos and Cd's..  I waited.  I looked for a bell, a phone or a buzzer.  Yes, I even went behind the electronics counter to see if a clerk had crawled into one of the unlocked cabinets and died.  After 15 minutes or more, I wandered out of the department and halfway through the store before I found someone who appeared to be associated with the establishment.  He knew nothing about cameras but promised me that "Bill" would be able to help me shortly.  Eventually, Bill showed up, stopped about six feet from me and hollered  "Can I help you?"

I coaxed him closer, and asked him a few questions about the camera at which point he went behind the counter and grabbed the box.  Handing it to me he said "Everything you need to know is on the box."  "But, does it come with memory card?" I asked.  "I dunno.  What does it say on the box"  

Yes, I bought the camera, but I sure hope that no one needed to buy a big screen TV from good old, uber helpful Bill.  Did I mention that he didn't move his lips when he talked.  Who hired this guy?  How did he get through the interview?  

Episode Two:  I recently closed my Netflix account which means I get to peruse the library video collection or go to a video store.  Video store it was on Saturday night.  "You haven't been here for several years," the clerk said.  "Why?"

 I know market research when I hear it - even at a primitive level like this.  They want to know what is cutting into their business.  Netflix?  Streaming video?  The economy?  After the camera debacle, I was not interested in helping anyone.  Besides that, the clerk was reading from a script, slapping lables on DVD cases, and could not have been more disengaged with the process.  I decided to be snarky. I  needed a bit of fun.  "I have been living in Paris."  No reaction.  "Travelling through the Parisian desert by camel."  No reaction from her but the guy behind me, a local school administrator whispered  "This is great, don't stop."  I continued.  "I was aiding a group of gypsies fleeing a leprechaun who had stolen their tambourines."  She continues to put labels on DVD cases and finally said, "Three-fifty."

I grabbed the DVD and lingered just long enough to hear the guy behind me say "Well, my cat died and I have been in mourning for about four years.  And then...."

Life is grand.  Embrace the silliness.

Thanks for stopping by.