"H" Authors -- Home, Hearth, and Heartbeat

Author's note: A couple of years ago, my library system added blog posts to our website. Many of the posts were short collections of book reviews, often following a theme. I tried writing a few of these, but never felt like I could keep up with the thought-provoking themes of my librarian colleagues. It was a good challenge, a growth opportunity, and I was honored to have been selected to write for our site. After a few successes, and several wadded-up-and-thrown-in-the-trashcan failures, I realized that what I needed was my old writing partner to get me going again. Enter Polo! 

All of the books reviewed here are available as downloadable audiobooks.

Polo in "active sleeping" mode, ears cocked to listen to book

The Word is Murder

Anthony Horowitz

Anthony Horowitz, creator and contributor to many BBC television series (including Foyle’s War) and the popular Alex Rider books for young adult readers, also writes fiction for adults. Imagine that! Mr. Horowitz inserts himself into this story, supposedly observing former police detective Daniel Hawthorne as he works to unravel a suspected murder case. Horowitz cannot keep his fingers out of the pie, though, and he becomes enmeshed in the story. The narrator of the audiobook is amazing, bringing a radio drama presentation to his narration, and I’ll be looking for more audiobooks featuring Rory Kinnear.

Polo’s take: “I like accents when they’re easy to understand, like these. Hawthorne has a hard edge. Horowitz is nicer, believable but sometimes a little clumsy. Good woof!”

The New Kids: Big Dreams and Brave Journeys at a High School for Immigrant Teens

Brooke Hauser

Nonfiction stories of immigrant and refugee teens in a New York City high school and at home. Although we live in one of the most diverse communities in the nation, this is no New York City. We could relate to the students’ histories, though, because refugees are refugees, and their varied backstories have common threads of navigating life despite upheaval, relocation, poverty, and strong cultural identity. The staff at the International High School at Prospect Heights is diverse, quirky, and all-in dedicated to the students who come through their doors. For many of the teens, earning a high school diploma seems a dream – yet the staff do all they can to urge the students to aim for college, to be able to help their families in bigger and better ways over the long haul.

Polo’s response: “I wish I could smell the foods these people eat. The students and their families all sound very interesting… but the dad who comes to cook spicy Chinese dinner for his daughter could be my best new friend!”

A Deadly Grind

Victoria Hamilton

First in the series, “Vintage Kitchen Mysteries.” Antique shopping can be fun, except when it turns deadly. Avid collector Jaymie Leighton has her eye on a 1920’s Hoosier-brand kitchen cabinet, but after she brings it home she finds that someone else wanted it, too, and will do anything to get at it. Murder and lurking villains ensue, while Jaymie works on cleaning up her treasure and stumbles on an unexpected piece of history that is much more valuable than her beloved cabinet. The descriptions of the cabinet brought back memories of a metal cabinet that my parents had in their beach cabin. It was a heavy two-piece thing, too tall to be assembled, so the bottom part lived beside our sink while the top part held dishes and canned goods next to the stove. It was useful at the beach because its construction kept the mice out better than any wood cabinets could.

Polo’s feedback: “I like kitchens. There’s lots of make-fooding there, you know. And this story had food. This story also has a dog, but it’s small and not my kind of DOG. I could have helped a lot more. Still, a woof for this one.”

Spy Secrets That Can Save Your Life

Jason Hanson

Scary at first, but practical “keep your head on a swivel” reminders and suggestions. Polo regularly assures me (barking at the top of his lungs at any crunch of gravel on the street) that he is keeping me safe from everything. That’s great, when I’m at home, but I do leave the house to go to work, shop, or dine out. For these situations, I appreciate being prompted to pay attention to my surroundings, to people who might be watching me a little too closely, and to anything that seems a little “off.” If I am confronted by someone with ill intent, the author impressed on me that I do not have to follow normal social custom in response. Move! Step forward or step aside, look them in the eye or look around for help, but do NOT freeze. Good to know.

Polo’s thoughts: “If I had more language, I would tell you these things. If I am with you, watch my body language. But I don’t ride in car, and I don’t go to the library, so listen to this book again to keep it fresh. Although, if you’d take me to restaurants, I could learn to like car rides.”

The Right Hand

Derek Haas

Spy thriller, black ops, car chases and hiding and explosions and murder… with so many twists and turns that you can only guess at the identity of the villain. The fast pace and action of this story count, for me, as aerobic exercise because of the heart-pounding effect. CIA agent Austin Clay is assigned to find and protect a young Hungarian woman who may have stumbled onto a deadly secret. Hit men are out to get her, there’s a mole in the CIA, the main characters are far from home and safety. Yikes! The scenes play like a movie in your mind, enhancing the effect of the drama.

Polo’s feedback: “Scary! Exciting! Kept raising the fur on the back of my neck!”

Epic Seattle Adventures, Part 2

Or should the title be "Epic Seattle Tourist Adventures"? Chihuly Garden and Glass has become one of those tourist must-see sites in Seattle proper, and rightly so. The exhibits are breathtaking. Perfect presentation, absolutely wonderful lighting, and photography is allowed. This place is a dream!

There's an oops in my very non-professional photo. Can you spot it, or are you too enthralled by the sculpture?

Two venues in one!

Even the gift shop is amazing!

I don't usually include so many photos in a single post, but I'm sharing these with friends and wanted to give the best of the best. The folks with whom I shared this adventure are as beautiful and complex as any of these works of glass -- but way less fragile!

Epic Seattle Adventures, Part One

I had an unexpected opportunity to see a few of THE things to do in Seattle. Here are a few photos from our first stop -- the Space Needle! First time I've been up there since my son became a t**nager lo, those many years ago. (When my kids were adolescents, I vowed I would not say that particular four-letter word.)

Wheel Ferry Crane Port

it was kind of wet that day

"Rain Gets in Your Eyes"

it stopped raining for a while

fall colors

Sea plane! Sea plane! Landing on Lake Union

those hills are pretty marvelous way out there

the Stadia, and that remarkable red building

For authentication purposes, here's a self portrait from the glass-floored observation level. Sorry I didn't think to adjust the lighting, but this is obviously me. You can even see the tread on my left boot.

My First Tattoo!

I am afraid to make up my mind. I'm a perfectionist.

These two statements form the foundation for my reluctance to get a tattoo. There may or may not be biblical reasons against permanent body markings, but I'm not going there. For me, it's my personal hang-ups. How could I choose something to place on my skin forever?

It would be impossible for me to choose a design, first of all. Should my tattoo be an image, or text? If an image, realistic or artistic? If text, what words and what kind of font?

Then there's the artist. Allowing someone to permanently  ink me would require my complete trust in that person's competence, artistry, and commitment.

Most serious of all is my tendency to dig at my own imperfections. One might call this obsession. When I write, I edit... and edit... and edit... until I choose to hit "send" and walk away. When I knit, I plan on making two or three dry runs at a project until I'm satisfied that it looks good enough to continue. When I draw, I compose geometric figures, because I cannot replicate the intricacies I see in my mind.

If I were to get a tattoo, I would obsess over it, learning every dot and line. Measuring, comparing, evaluating detail upon detail, until I realized the flaws. And the next logical step is to see only the flaws. I'm afraid I would hate the whole thing, just for the sake of one millimeter of ink.

On the other hand, random imperfection is the silent asset of the greatest artistry of all: God's creation. A mountain is beautiful thanks to the jaggedness of its ridges. Towering Douglas fir trees are not mirror images of one another. One bird has more red plumage than its siblings.

Yes, there's the whole body-image thing. Talk about hang-ups! But I am learning to accept myself as I am, not arguing with my Maker or trying to bargain with Him to remove this trait or those few inches. Either my physical being matters not a whit (because it's the spiritual stuff that endures), or the stuff that bugs me is allowed to help me to practice patience and graciousness.

          For Thou didst form my inward parts;
          Thou didst weave me in my mother's womb.
          I will give thanks to Thee, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
          Wonderful are Thy works,
          And my soul knows it very well. 

I have a pile of my mother's DNA, and a touch of my father's, but I have been crafted by the Master and it's all good.

Oh, and my tattoo? It's just a temp, a free henna opportunity that I get to smile over for a couple of weeks. See how it blends perfectly with my random freckles?

henna, drying

 

henna, top of wrist

Code Talker -- Book Review or Vicarious Experience?

My father volunteered in the Army during World War II, serving in the South Pacific. My mother was an Aerographer's Mate in the Navy and helped crack an enemy weather code. Those two sentences sum up almost everything I know about their experiences. I'm very grateful for their service, but wish I had a better understanding of what they did and what it was like.

Chester Nez grew up in the Checkerboard area of New Mexico, herding sheep and goats, living a pretty traditional Navajo life in the 1920's and 1930's. No electricity, no running water, sleeping under the stars while roaming with the grazing animals, he appreciated life and honored his elders. Then came boarding school.

Because it was deemed necessary for Navajo kids to learn English, Chester and his siblings ended up having to leave the sheep and goats and the secure familiarity of the hogan for the alien discomforts of live-in elementary and secondary schools. Nothing in his life seemed easy, but Chester held firmly to the values and beliefs taught by his father and grandmother. He learned to remember the small joys and look for beauty wherever it might be found.

During the beginning stages of WWII, it was realized that a super-sophisticated code might be created using the unwritten and little-known language of the Navajo nation. Chester and many other young men volunteered for a "special project" in the Marine Corps, and the Code Talkers were born.

Chester was involved in the battles of Guadalcanal, Guam, Peleiu, Bougainville, and Angaur. The conditions were awful and even horrific. The odds were often significantly against the US troops. Although most (if not all) of the other Marines got occasional R&R away from the front lines, the Code Talkers were an absolutely vital piece of our strategic success and could not be spared for even a few days' respite. Those hard times back on the Checkerboard, sleeping on the ground and going for days without fresh food or any comforts of home, made the Navajos able to be survivors.

I listened to this book as an audio, and the reader (David Colacci) became Chester Nez for me. His pronunciations of Navajo names and words, as well as his careful use of emotional voice, brought the story to life. Although it was difficult to hear accounts of the treatment of Native Americans of that time, I appreciated their resiliency of spirit and commitment to their family values. Survivors.

Code Talker -- the First and Only Memoir by One of the Original Code Talkers of WWII (link to library catalog)

Is This Hyperbole, or am I Exaggerating?

No personal photos this time. I was too busy driving -- and gawking. I attended a meeting on Mercer Island this week, and had to arrive early so I could find the place. This being only my second time ever on The Island, I had a good look around.

I've heard that "island life" is a little different, no matter what island it is. There's the whole transportation thing, having to rely on ferries or bridges to get to the mainland. Seems like that would make you consider the necessity of each trip and consolidate off-island errands whenever possible. Then, when you're on the island, make the most of its quieter, slower pace.

Methinks Mercer Island has the "slower pace" thing nailed down. (Here's where the hyperbole comes.) The highest speed limit I found was a mere 35 mph. Residential streets were narrow and they  *ALL*  had speed bumps! Everywhere, speed bumps! The winding road that circles the southern two-thirds of the island had to be shared with bicycles, but they were going nearly the speed limit so it wasn't really advantageous to pass them even if you could find a wide enough place to do so.

Some of the homes were very upscale, set into the woods for a natural effect or surrounded by meticulously groomed gardens. One house was perched on the edge of a gully, road on one side and steep drop-off on the other. No grass to mow there!

All of this made me think about how the location and situation of your home has much to do with your lifestyle. If you live in the city, you've got people and traffic and busy-ness all around, all the time. Out in the country on acreage, there's a necessary degree of self-sufficiency. The suburbs? Well, I guess I have some of the hustle and bustle but not the easy public transportation of the city, and a little space but more access to consumer conveniences than the country. Middle ground.

Another lifestyle consideration is participation in community. The closer you are to people (geographically), the more you are a part of their lives as you see one another frequently. Country life benefits from neighborly interdependence, but maybe there's more intentionality required.

I enjoy reading a blog by a Canadian gal living "in community" in Amsterdam. She and her husband live in an apartment, but she is very much a part of a close-knit group of Christians who are committed to sharing their lives together. Interdependence is a balance, and Brenda occasionally shares in some detail what it means to be part of a wholly intentional community.

Thanks for reading my ponderings this morning.

Memory Stones, Indeed!

Erin, you nailed it. The item I purchased in bulk at the dollar store was a bag of semi-polished rocks. They're small, they come in different shapes and colors, they're pretty, and it's unlikely that anyone would already have one in his/her pocket.

The convention was excellent. The highlight for me (aside from doling out rocks and talking with lots of people) is the business meeting on Saturday. The democratic process is alive and well in the American Council of the Blind, and it's cool to experience it. I'm blessed with an abstract-random learning style, so it amazes me that there are folks who know Robert's Rules of Order inside and out. I was relieved to hear that, at the national conventions, ACB hires a parliamentarian consultant to keep things in order.

At the business meeting, the really cool thing is the voting method. Accessible ballots at their finest! Each member is given a few slips of paper and a nail. When a vote is to be taken, the names of candidates are announced in alphabetical order. A vote for the first candidate is noted by punching a single hole through a piece of paper. The second name would require two holes, and so on. All you have to do is use the nail to make visible, tactile holes in your ballot. Sighted guests (not voting members) are designated to collect and count the votes and report to the president. Even though this is a beautifully simple process, there were still a number of invalid ballots. Hanging chads are okay, however!

In the photo above, I displayed my notebook (anti-dozing aid), reading glasses, a few of my rocks, and the voting materials. Mementos of a weekend well spent.

In another post, I'll tell you about the perils of making plans for other people, and how close we were to having a stampede and riot to get off the bus.

Day of Caring 2009

Every year, my employer offers an opportunity for us to get out into the community and do a one-day service project. Also every year, a friend who works for a state agency invites me to join her for a day of outdoor recreation. Finally, finally, because both of these worlds converged, I had to say yes.

The Department of Services for the Blind, specifically the Orientation and Training Center in Seattle, provides a variety of learning experiences for people who are blind and visually impaired. Their curriculum includes outdoor "challenge" activities such as hiking, biking, skiing, boating, rock climbing, and riding the city bus. (Oops -- strike that last item. It belongs in another section of the course.)

I've been around a lot of people who are blind and visually impaired. It has been my great privilege to participate as a student at three week-long conferences of the Lutheran Blind Mission. While each of those weeks involved a small group of 25 folks, I was the only sighted student. Those times were fantastic immersion experiences. Since then, I've attended two conventions of the Washington Council of the Blind, with somewhere over 250 attendees. People have told me I'm an excellent sighted guide, and that I come across as a very trustworthy sighted person. For all these things, I am grateful.

Although I was introduced at the Day of Caring activity as a member of the WCB and someone knowledgeable about the blindness community, I was reticent to appear as an expert. I wanted to watch and learn, and also help. What I was most curious about was how this group of sighted volunteers would be trained as guides, how confident they'd feel about guiding, and how the interactions would progress.

I'm very pleased to say that everything went swimmingly! The volunteers plunged into their assignments, the students from the OTC teamed up with their guides, and the activities began. The guides weren't overly hesitant, and it probably helped that there were clear expectations and a schedule for the day. I heard from the OTC students and staff how much they enjoyed everything and how pleasantly surprised some of them were because they had fun. I didn't get to talk with my library colleagues, but I suspect they would have said much the same thing. And it was fun.

One student freely stated that she had had no intention of getting on any kind of bicycle contraption that day. But, when the time came, she wasn't exactly given a choice, and she climbed aboard. Her guide was very steady and quiet, she said, until she finally gave up and let herself relax a bit. At that point, her partner began to give bits of commentary on what he was seeing. The longer they rode, the more she enjoyed it! In fact, when lunch was delayed, she was the first to ask to take one more ride before eating.

As I continue to craft fiction, my goal is to peel back layers of misconceptions regarding people who are visually impaired. It would be wonderful to write a novel that would promote understanding and discussion between the sighted and blind communities. There's a lot that the sighted folks just don't see, so to speak.

And with that, I'll get back to work editing my novel-in-progress. Thanks for reading.

Behind the Curtain

Although this story has been told in other places, it seems like it's time for a transparent update right here on the dogs' blog. Thanks for indulging me as I tell the story again... although, if you choose to slip away quietly, I won't notice.

Several years ago (like, maybe nine years?), I began writing a novel. Although I hadn't planned it, I'd already been toying around with part of what became the story line. One of the main characters happened to be visually impaired, and another character was recovering from an abusive relationship.

As work progressed on that first draft, I heard a preacher on the radio who had a ministry to people who are blind or visually impaired. It so happened that this pastor is also blind, and I immediately thought that would be the kind of professional I could approach to consult with about my fictional character. If anything were to come of my writing, and if the Lord were to bring someone like this across my path, then I'd better take the opportunity to check my work. If.

Several months later, preparing to travel to the Midwest for a convention, the Lord brought that pastor to mind again. My convention was to be in St. Louis, and the headquarters of that ministry was in St. Louis. Imagine that! A few emails brought me into contact with the Lutheran Blind Mission and Pastor Dave Andrus, and a couple more emails set up a meeting while I was in town. There were a number of small miracles, God-ordained details, that brought this about.

The more I heard about the peer-to-peer outreach and support modeled by the outreach centers of Blind Mission, the more impressed I was. Another ministry I'd been involved with used a similar model. One of the benefits I had seen again and again was that brand new leaders were trained in a "safe" environment where it was okay to make mistakes, okay to try new things, okay to find out what didn't work.

As near as I can recall without looking it up, that first contact was in the fall of 2001. Since then, it has been my privilege to learn more about Lutheran Blind Mission as I have participated in an outreach center and participated in three conferences. Those conferences were week-long immersions in blind culture. Amazing experiences. Affirming acceptance.

This weekend, I enjoyed being able to witness Pastor Dave presenting the vision of Blind Mission's outreach to people in my local area. It was good. I'm excited to see what God is preparing to do here.

And in the mean time, I'll keep writing.