SPRINKLED WITH BOOKS

 

Before my oldest child was born, my book club hosted a baby shower for me that I’ll never forget.

Each member gave me a copy of her favorite children’s book. The collection became my son’s first library.

I was touched by the stories each person told as I unwrapped the books, and my friends shared why each gift was a favorite.

The collection remains on our shelves today, even though my son is graduating middle school.

Once in a while, when he’s searching for something to read, he’ll see “Guess How Much I Love You” by Sam McBratney, “Thump, Thump, Rat-a-Tat-Tat” by Gene Kaer, “Good-night Gorilla” by Peggy Rathmann or “Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?” by Bill Martin Jr.

“I remember that board book,” he’ll say, selecting one off the shelf.

To this day, reading “Love You Forever” by Robert N. Munsch still makes me cry.

I feel a wave of gratefulness when I see my son spontaneously reading Marianna Mayer’s “Pegasus” or A.A. Milne’s “When We Were Very Young.” I credit his love of reading to my book club. Their kindness gave him a great head start.

But the book club didn’t just shower me with gifts for my son. They also copied their favorite poems about motherhood and compiled them elegantly inside two pieces of lavender tulle tied with a grape satin ribbon.

The collection includes “My Mother” by Jane Taylor, “Lines and Squares” and “Halfway Down” by A.A. Milne, “The Reading Mother” by Strickland Gillilan, “The Children’s Hour” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, “Misnomer” by Eve Merriam and “The Swing” by Robert Louis Stevenson.

I like to read their favorite poems on Mother’s Day as my son and his younger brother prepare me breakfast in bed. The gift and their friendship truly is a treasure. And so are my sons.

-- cawk

SMALL PRINT

During baseball season, I get a lot of reading done.

While my sons practice their batting and fielding, I walk a couple of loops through the park and then settle in the car or on a bench, depending on the weather, with a good book to read.

Unlike at home, I feel no guilt turning the pages instead of folding laundry. No telephone rings or computer dings interrupt me in the middle of chapters. The coaches keep my children occupied, and my favorite authors keep me engrossed.

Yesterday, I grabbed a paperback book of short stories by Stephen Crane on my way out the door. When we arrived at the park, one of my sons headed toward the baseball diamond while his older brother remained in the back seat. He had about a half hour to wait until his practice started.

He mumbled something about not having anything to do because he left his electronics at home.

“Well, I brought my book,” I boasted with a bit of an attitude.

But when I turned the front cover and opened the book, I couldn’t read the pages. The words were all blurry.

“I can’t see!” I said with alarm. “The print is too small! I can’t see.”

“Mom, you have on your glasses,” my son said.

“I know. Can you believe that? I can’t see, even with my glasses on,” I was so disturbed.

“No, Mom. You have on your sunglasses,” he said.

And so I did. Gracefully, I switched them with my reading glasses and the words on the page came into focus.

The first time I read “The Blue Hotel” by Stephen Crane was in high school in the 1980s. I think the book I read had the same cover as the volume I was trying to read at the park. I checked the front pages and found the copyright date of 1970. The words had to be 8 point type. They were so small!

“If I had my electronic reader with me, you could download the book and make the type any size you want,” my son said.

What a blessing that would be not to have to squint and maneuver the page at certain angles to read the words.

“I’d like to try that,” I said.

 

Let's hope the change is as easy as switching glasses.

--cawk

 

POCKET POEMS

 

Tomorrow’s holiday is not on the calendar, but it’s an occasion everyone can celebrate.

April 18 is Poem in Your Pocket Day.

People are encouraged to carry poems in their pocket to share with friends and family throughout the day.

I read about the event at www.poets.org, a website sponsored by the Academy of American Poets.

This will be my first year participating.

To prepare, I’ve been searching for a poem that makes me happy. But as I’m looking at tomorrow’s schedule, I’ve decided that I also want to find poems that will make other people happy.

I’ll need a children’s poem about music for my son’s band carpool; an inspirational poem for my Faithbook scrapbook club; maybe a poem about butterflies for my sister, baseball for my sons and cooking for my friend. I’ll put a poem or two in the mail today for my mom and dad to receive. I also can send poetry by email to a few close friends.

What I like about this holiday is that poetry is easy to find, and it’s free. I can share my own original poems or choose verses written by someone else.

The biggest obstacle tomorrow will not be the search for poems. It will be finding an outfit with big enough pockets. I may have to fudge a little and celebrate "Poem in Your Pocketbook" instead.

-- cawk

POETRY SEARCH

My son in middle school spends a lot of time searching for Major League Baseball information on the internet. But recently I found him searching for poetry.

He was looking for a poem by Maya Angelou to recite in literature class for extra credit. I was thrilled.

“Maya Angelou read a poem at President Bill Clinton’s inauguration. Are you going to read that one?” I asked.

He settled on “The Lesson,” a much shorter poem which points out that as we live and endure hardships, we are also dying. But because life is so sweet, we want to stay alive and continue living. At least, that was our lesson from reading the poem.

“How did it go?” I asked him the next day.

“They thought it was depressing,” he said of his classmates.

“Well, what did the other kids read – the inaugural poem ‘On the Pulse of Morning’?” I asked.

“No.”

“’Still I Rise’?” I guessed.

“I don’t remember,” he answered.

It turns out that only a handful of kids in his class recited poems.

I couldn’t believe it! All they had to do was Google Maya Angelou, print out one of her poems and read it aloud to add points to their grades.

My surprise turned to hope when my son said, “Mom, listen to this. I’m going to rap her poem, ‘Phenomenal Woman.’”

My son started reciting the brag poem like it was a rap song. He was smiling and having fun. I wondered what Maya Angelou would think.

By the end of the night, he had re-written some of the lines in her poem and titled his new version, “Phenomenal Man.”

“I want to rap this for the class tomorrow,” he said.

Poetry is a challenge to write and must be difficult to teach. I applaud my son’s instructors for exposing their students to Maya Angelou’s words and presenting them in a form that speaks to teen-agers. Young people need more exposure to poetry.

Stopping to look at the words of a poet can reveal many principles in life just like viewing the veins of a leaf under a microscope. Poems teach and entertain. They make readers think and see the world from different points of view. They can be serious, romantic, humorous and dark. They can be as short as tweets or written in more complicated patterns.

Many students see reading poetry as a struggle. After nursery rhymes, they barely glance at poetry until they are deciphering Shakespearean sonnets or Homer’s “Odyssey,” which can seem like an odyssey in itself.

Another obstacle is the idea that poetry is “for girls.” When my son was in second grade, he wanted to attend Poetry Night at his school. Before agreeing to take him, I hesitated, worrying that only girls would show up with their parents. To my delight, the poetry that night was recited by the principal, a police officer, the mayor, other dignitaries and teachers. All were male, and my son was not the only little boy in the audience.

Last week, hundreds of boys and girls were gathered with their parents, coaches and friends in the outfield at our local park for Little League Opening Day ceremonies. For the first time, someone read a poem at the event, which kicks off spring baseball and softball.

I expected to hear the classic “Casey at the Bat” by Ernest Thayer. But the poem was called “Just a Little Boy,” written by Chaplain Bob Fox. The words were a gentle reminder that the fine young athletes committed to playing ball are kids, something easy to forget in the throes of competition.

I was struck by what a firm and strong message such a “light” piece of poetry could provide. I wonder how it sounds in rap.

-- cawk

“DREAMT” AND OTHER WORD ODDITIES IN ENGLISH

There are two words in the English language that have all five vowels in order: "ABSTEMIOUS” and "FACETIOUS.”

“DREAMT” is the only English word that ends in the letters "MT".

There are only four words in the English language which end in "dous": TREMENDOUS,  HORRENDOUS, STUPENDOUS, and HAZARDOUS.

The words 'KAYAK’, 'LEVEL’, and 'RACECAR,’  are the same whether they are read left to right or right to left (palindromes).

"LOLLIPOP” is the longest word typed with your right hand.

No word in the English language rhymes with MONTH, ORANGE, PURPLE, or SILVER.

“STEWARDESSES” is the longest word typed with only the left hand.

TYPEWRITER is the longest word that can be made using the letters only on one row of the keyboard.

Compiled by John Witkowsky. Edited and rearranged by A Muhammad Ma`ruf.

BOOK TOSS

One of my chores today was to scan our family’s shelves for books that can be discarded or donated to the local elementary schools for their libraries and classrooms.

The best time to do this is while my two sons are at school because they want to keep all of their books – read and unread.

I sympathize. I have stacks of hardbacks that I have enjoyed as an adult and want to keep and paperbacks that I want to read and haven’t had time.

Weeding through my sons’ books is much easier than weeding through mine. At least, that’s what I thought.

Scanning the goofy titles and covers of books that have never been opened and most likely never will at our house, I tossed them easily into the give-away pile.

Others were classics. Should I pass Hugh Lofting’s “Dr. Dolittle” on to someone else? What about L. Frank Baum’s “The Wizard of Oz”? The kids were lukewarm on those stories, and we can easily check them out at the library. They went into the donation pile.

The books I struggled with were children’s books that my sons have definitely outgrown such as Dr. Seuss’ “The Cat in the Hat” rhymes, Gertrude Chandler Warner’s collection of “The Boxcar Children,” and Jonathan London’s adventures of “Froggy.” They were favorites at our house, read over and over. What about series of books including “The Hatchet” by Gary Paulsen, “Captain Underpants” by Dav Pilkey and “The Magic School Bus” by Joanna Cole? Although they were once favorites, the kids haven’t read them in years.

I opened a Ready Freddy book by Abby Klein, and on the inside cover my oldest son had printed as a kindergartener, “I see a red cat,” a reminder of the days when he was learning to read and write. I saved that book.

The final category included books that my sons have no attachment to now that they are older, but the stories bring back memories for me.

One such book is “Airline Pilots” by O.B. Gregory. I read that book to my oldest son every night for months at bedtime before he could read. Each evening I hoped he would choose another story. But his little fingers continued to reach for that hardcover book about aviation. I had the book memorized we read it so often. He is long finished with the book and would probably say “toss,” but my memories kept it in the “keep” pile.

I saved way more books than I decided to give away. Still, I put a stack of about 30 books to donate on the dining room table.

When the kids got home from school, they were curious.

“What’s this?” my oldest asked.

“Books to donate to the schools,” I answered.

A little later I passed the table again. The pile had dwindled down to three lone books. The rest had been put back on our home shelves.

-- cawk

CURSIVE WRITING

My son received mail from his grandmother the other day. She writes in cursive.

I can remember a time when I would have to sit down next to him on the sofa and read such a letter to him as he looked over my shoulder and asked, “What’s that word?”

But thanks to the local schools, my son can read cursive writing.

Other kids may not be so lucky.

What I’m reading online – which is not in cursive – is that many schools in 44 states across the nation have stopped teaching this “archaic” and “unnecessary” form of writing.

Apparently, it’s up to the local school districts to decide in New Jersey whether cursive writing is taught. Thankfully, my son’s school district sees its advantages.

I agree that learning to type in today’s world of technology is a mandatory skill that each student should learn. And it’s a skill that requires the use of both hands, not just two thumbs.

But cursive writing is important, too.

It’s a sign of maturity to be able to read and write in cursive.

When I was growing up, I wanted a library card.

“That’s a big responsibility,” my mother said.

“When can I get one?” I asked.

“When you can write your name in cursive,” she said. “That’s the rule.”

As kids, we were judged on our penmanship. Handwriting was an indicator of who we were as individuals – neat or sloppy. And we could identify each other by our handwriting. We knew who wrote with tiny letters and who wrote big. We all wanted a name that would take our pencils in loops beneath the faint lines of our notebook paper.

We admired the way the best writers in our class made the graceful curves of their capital letters. We worked hard to perfect our own writing. On our report cards, penmanship was listed as a primary subject along with language arts, math and science.

Granted, times have changed. But the value of cursive writing remains.

Signatures are written in cursive. The U.S. Constitution was written in cursive. Thank-you notes should be written in cursive.

Cursive has its advantages.

Practicing letters over and over helps students develop their motor skills and teaches them the importance of accuracy, patience and concentration.

Cursive writing is more formal and exudes a message of importance.

It’s faster than printing when taking notes in class or business meetings.

As a society, do we want a president who cannot read a post card from his grandmother because it is written in cursive writing? Do we want engineers, doctors, lawyers and scientists who can only print their knowledge?

If some schools teach the curriculum and others do not, cursive writing is going to separate the educated and the uneducated.

I asked my son, a fifth grader, if he thought cursive writing is important. He often has to print his spelling words and then write them in cursive. He got 5 points off recently because of a faulty letter.

“Yes, it’s important,” he said defiantly. “Do you think I can get a job if I don’t know how to read and write in cursive?”

I’m thankful my son can put this basic skill on his resume. Many kids in 44 states cannot. My son has an awesome signature, too -- and a library card.

-- cawk