<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369</id><updated>2012-02-20T12:11:27.492-05:00</updated><category term='Photo'/><category term='Report'/><category term='POETRY'/><category term='Photo with original poem'/><category term='book review'/><category term='Review'/><title type='text'>Meribeth's Musings</title><subtitle type='html'>Meribeth C. Shank reviews children's books, writes picture books, teaches adult classes on Writing Books for Children, works in the library at Miami Country Day School, an independent school in Miami Shores, Florida, and earned her MFA in Writing for Children from Vermont College and her undergraduate degree in elementary education from Goshen College.



meribeths@earthlink.net</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>126</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-8073183257994848864</id><published>2012-02-20T12:08:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-02-20T12:11:27.503-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS  (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by David Elliott&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her shell spins round,&lt;br /&gt;a top&lt;br /&gt;a dancer&lt;br /&gt;a staircase with no end&lt;br /&gt;a question with no answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;In the Sea&lt;/span&gt; by David Elliott, 2012, Candlewick Press&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-8073183257994848864?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/8073183257994848864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2012/02/chambered-nautilus-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/8073183257994848864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/8073183257994848864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2012/02/chambered-nautilus-monday-poem.html' title='THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS  (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-5680528482290808916</id><published>2012-02-13T19:19:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-02-13T19:23:05.321-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>CORAL  (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by David Elliott&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As solid as a rock,&lt;br /&gt;as colorful as heather,&lt;br /&gt;coral's living proof:&lt;br /&gt;it pays to stick together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;In the Sea&lt;/span&gt; by David Elliott, 2012, Candlewick Press&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-5680528482290808916?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/5680528482290808916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2012/02/coral-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/5680528482290808916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/5680528482290808916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2012/02/coral-monday-poem.html' title='CORAL  (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-6574155531732604041</id><published>2012-02-07T22:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-02-07T22:42:36.133-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Review'/><title type='text'>Women Change History  (FAMILY magazine reviews)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c6UrEMZiJnA/TyCXjr1sLnI/AAAAAAAAAGE/GS3VVUr7Obs/s1600/Meribeth2.12.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c6UrEMZiJnA/TyCXjr1sLnI/AAAAAAAAAGE/GS3VVUr7Obs/s320/Meribeth2.12.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701723767570181746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Revisiting the past can give us courage and hope for what lies ahead.  These books about women who made choices that changed the world can prompt us to discover new directions for our own futures.  Read on!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Claudette Colvin: Twice Toward Justice &lt;br /&gt;by Phillip Hoose&lt;br /&gt;Square Fish, $9.99, Ages 10+&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Growing up in central Alabama during the 1950’s, if you were black, meant you lived a segregated existence and you couldn’t even touch a white person without some kind of repercussion.  Buses were central to the separation of the races, and a daily humiliation for blacks who often had no other form of transportation to get to their employment.&lt;br /&gt; Claudette Colvin, who was fifteen years old in March 1955 when she refused to leave her seat at the bus driver’s demand to “Get up, gal!” actually predates Rosa Parks’ seated activism by nine months, and re-invigorated conversations about a bus boycott that had been quietly under discussion for many years.  Colvin was arrested, later convicted, and appealed without success.&lt;br /&gt; Later, in October, another teen, eighteen-year-old Mary Louise Smith, determined to keep her seat, was booked, jailed and released after her father paid the fine.  In December, Rosa Parks was arrested for her now-famous resolve.  This last was the provocation that actually produced the bus boycott.  &lt;br /&gt; Then during the boycott, the decision was made to file a lawsuit in Alabama federal court as a “constitutional challenge to state law.”  Of the four women who finally appeared to testify in court, two were the teens, Smith and Colvin.  This resulted in the judgment by a federal court to abolish “segregated seating on … Alabama’s buses,” bringing success and an end to the boycott. &lt;br /&gt; Using sometimes-graphic archival photos and well-placed sidebars with related information, this slim, well-written, intriguing book reads almost like a novel, and includes an Epilogue, Author’s Note, Afterword, Bibliography, Notes, and an Index.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cleopatra Rules! The Amazing Life of the Original Teen Queen &lt;br /&gt;by Vicky Alvear Schecter&lt;br /&gt;Boyds Mills, $17.95, Ages 11-14&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Using a chatty writing style, refreshing brief sidebars to accompany often-diverting archival photos, and slightly longer sidebars to enhance the occasionally funny text, author Schecter immediately engages her readers in the Introduction by asking questions and predicting surprise.  The layout of the book makes it a quick read, in large part because the headings – chapters, sections, even sidebars – are captivating, and the sections are brief but dynamic, using a staccato conversational reporter voice that is nearly irresistible.  &lt;br /&gt; Beginning with a warning that everything the reader may have previously read or heard about this fascinating, intelligent ruler is likely manipulated by her detractors, Schecter follows with the observation that the famous (or perhaps infamous) last pharaoh of Egypt grew up nerdy – that is to say, she spent a lot of time in the renowned Library of Alexandria (Egypt) becoming a scholar, especially of languages, but also of mathematics, science, philosophy and politics.  All of which prepared her for her role as princess, queen, ruler, pharaoh, and beloved goddess of the Egyptian people.&lt;br /&gt; The text manages to mix palace intrigue, sibling marriage, independence, strategic alliances, assassination, feuding, wars, negotiations, sumptuous barges and power parties, wealth and jewelry, cosmetics and wigs, even calendars, and of course suicide, to successfully display a brilliant and visionary intelligence wedded to a formidable magnetic presence, to characterize this ruler whose female force was used to create a world of power sharing.  Back matter includes: Chapter End-notes, Timeline, Glossary, Bibliography, Picture Sources, and Index.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rosa’s Bus: The Ride to Civil Rights &lt;br /&gt;by Jo S. Kittinger&lt;br /&gt;illustrated by Steven Walker&lt;br /&gt;Calkins Creek, $17.95, Ages 7-9&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; This nonfiction book is the biography of a bus, telling the story of the Montgomery, Alabama bus boycott that lasted for 382 days, after Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat.  This particular bus, #2857, was manufactured by General Motors in Pontiac, Michigan in 1948, and served first in Terre Haute, Indiana for six years, before arriving in Montgomery.&lt;br /&gt; The story of this bus is also the story of the different ways white people and black people were treated on public buses in Alabama, and other southern states of the United States in 1955.  “That’s just the way things were” is a repeating line, insistently reminding readers of both the unfairness of the Jim Crow laws, and the fact that people accepted this injustice as part of daily life.&lt;br /&gt; Other important elements in this picture book are the commitment of black people to walk instead of ride, and the financial losses the bus company experienced when black people, and their money, disappeared from daily bus trips for over a year. Oil illustrations strengthen the power of the story with dark and light in opposition, adding intensity, and with perspectives from inside the bus, alternating with outdoor views.  One vigorous double page spread shows pairs of feet, at street level, striding across the sidewalk, spreading the energy behind the boycott and alternating with other pages of faces during an indoor church gathering, and both within and outside the bus.&lt;br /&gt; The book concludes with the rescue of the old bus from a junkyard and later, from a field where it stood for many years, rusting, before being sold at auction, restored, and placed on display back in Michigan where it was “born” -- this time at the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn. An Author’s Note, another note About the Bus, Sources, Further Reading and Web Sites of Interest are all part of the end material.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-6574155531732604041?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/6574155531732604041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2012/02/women-change-history-family-magazine.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/6574155531732604041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/6574155531732604041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2012/02/women-change-history-family-magazine.html' title='Women Change History  (FAMILY magazine reviews)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c6UrEMZiJnA/TyCXjr1sLnI/AAAAAAAAAGE/GS3VVUr7Obs/s72-c/Meribeth2.12.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-3594881574545375767</id><published>2012-02-06T19:26:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-02-06T21:02:31.062-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>THE DOLPHIN (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by David Elliott&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He jumps.&lt;br /&gt;He leaps.&lt;br /&gt;He twirls.&lt;br /&gt;He spins.&lt;br /&gt;He's the jester&lt;br /&gt;of the briny deep.,&lt;br /&gt;an acrobat with fins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;In the Sea&lt;/span&gt; by David Elliott, 2012, Candlewick Press&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-3594881574545375767?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/3594881574545375767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2012/02/dolphin-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/3594881574545375767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/3594881574545375767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2012/02/dolphin-monday-poem.html' title='THE DOLPHIN (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-7649710965918435600</id><published>2012-01-30T21:37:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-30T21:42:06.397-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>STARFISH (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by David Elliott&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five fingers,&lt;br /&gt;like a hand,&lt;br /&gt;the starfish shines&lt;br /&gt;in a sky of sand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;In the Sea&lt;/span&gt; by David Elliott, 2012, Candlewick Press&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-7649710965918435600?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/7649710965918435600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2012/01/starfish-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/7649710965918435600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/7649710965918435600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2012/01/starfish-monday-poem.html' title='STARFISH (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-8570705669592374875</id><published>2012-01-25T08:55:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-25T09:38:33.384-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>HOW TO TELL THE TOP OF THE HILL (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by John Ciardi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The top of a hill&lt;br /&gt;Is not until&lt;br /&gt;The bottom is below.&lt;br /&gt;And you have to stop&lt;br /&gt;When you reach the top&lt;br /&gt;For there's no more UP to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To make it plain&lt;br /&gt;Let me explain:&lt;br /&gt;The one &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;most&lt;/span&gt; reason why&lt;br /&gt;You have to stop&lt;br /&gt;When you reach the top -- is:&lt;br /&gt;The next step up is sky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sing a Song of Popcorn: Every Child's Book of Poems&lt;/span&gt; selected by Beatrice Schenk de Regniers, Eva Moore, Mary Michaels White, Jan Carr, 1988, Scholastic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-8570705669592374875?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/8570705669592374875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2012/01/how-to-tell-top-of-hill-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/8570705669592374875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/8570705669592374875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2012/01/how-to-tell-top-of-hill-monday-poem.html' title='HOW TO TELL THE TOP OF THE HILL (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-6986854133432179762</id><published>2012-01-17T06:44:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-17T06:47:15.860-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>UNTIL I SAW THE SEA (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Lilian Moore&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until I saw the sea&lt;br /&gt;I did not know&lt;br /&gt;that wind&lt;br /&gt;could wrinkle water so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never knew&lt;br /&gt;that sun&lt;br /&gt;could splinter a whole sea of blue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nor&lt;br /&gt;did I know before,&lt;br /&gt;a sea breathes in and out&lt;br /&gt;upon a shore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sing a Song of Popcorn: Every Child's Book of Poems&lt;/span&gt; selected by Beatrice Schenk de Regniers, Eva Moore, Mary Michaels White, Jan Carr, 1988, Scholastic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-6986854133432179762?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/6986854133432179762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2012/01/until-i-saw-sea-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/6986854133432179762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/6986854133432179762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2012/01/until-i-saw-sea-monday-poem.html' title='UNTIL I SAW THE SEA (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-2986535967267233299</id><published>2012-01-16T14:41:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-16T14:49:08.166-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Review'/><title type='text'>Men of the American Revolution (FAMILY magazine reviews)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jxf97qY-CJM/TxR-D8WizPI/AAAAAAAAAF4/672iK0i0ss8/s1600/Meribeth1.12.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jxf97qY-CJM/TxR-D8WizPI/AAAAAAAAAF4/672iK0i0ss8/s320/Meribeth1.12.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698318034735910130" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Completing one war, still engaged in another, and especially during the year ahead as we contemplate the upcoming presidential election, our country is on the cusp of major changes.  We can experience the urgency of a similar period in our country’s history through the pages of these amazing books.  Choose from this list to share the adventures of these brave and talented individuals whose persuasive skills and daring helped to shape a nation whose freedoms we cherish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Crossing: How George Washington Saved the American Revolution&lt;br /&gt;by Jim Murphy  &lt;br /&gt;Scholastic, $21.99, Ages 9-12&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; An early indecisive leader, readers can observe the amateur George Washington grow into a strong confident commander as he organizes unruly rebellious men into a disciplined army and in the process is shaped by the responsibilities he assumes and strategies he crafts.  Attentively researched, written with vigorous language, and supported by carefully chosen paintings, maps and engravings, author Murphy, recognized for his award-winning nonfiction, shares his passion for his subject in the nimble text and play-by-play of the fighting, as if readers were participants.  Quoting from letters and journals, Murphy energizes this book with the voices of those who were there, as they recount what happened, and the secrecy surrounding many of Washington’s orders.  &lt;br /&gt; Constantly coping with deserters and inexperienced troops, Washington kept up a “hit-and-run style of fighting, avoiding head-to-head” combat and with the remaining committed, trained fighters, who grew to trust and follow him, he transformed the army and himself, helping to birth a new nation.  While not a thorough account of the many long years of war, this book shows Washington’s emerging leadership, his skill as a strategist, and his ability to inspire loyalty and maintain a following.&lt;br /&gt; With an Introduction, Timeline, Notes and Sources, Index and a list of Revolutionary War Sites to visit in New Jersey, New York, and Pennsylvania, the backmatter also includes a reproduction of the famous painting of Washington crossing the Delaware, and a brief commentary on the painting itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lafayette and the American Revolution&lt;br /&gt;by Russell Freedman  &lt;br /&gt;Holiday, $24.95, Ages 10-13&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; While still a teen, young Gilbert de Lafayette, who was born into a wealthy French family, joined his fortune and reputation to that of the American patriots, viewing the war between England and its colonies as a chance to demonstrate his abilities and commitment.  Such an opening was unavailable in France, where there was no war in which to prove oneself, and where appointments were given according to position and wealth, not ability.  Serving under General Washington, provided him with the opportunity to learn, and ignited a friendship between the two – “the forty-five-year-old commander who had never fathered a son, and the nineteen-year-old French nobleman who had never seen his father.&lt;br /&gt; Author Freedman, whose biographies for children regularly win awards, writes with absorbing detail and infuses his storytelling with anecdotes of Lafayette’s early life giving shape to his eagerness to show what he can do.  Paintings, portraits, engravings, and pages from documents accompany the text on nearly every double page spread, adding interest and setting Lafayette’s eventful life in the context of the era in which he lived.&lt;br /&gt; As Lafayette’s tour of duty with the American army extended and his rank was no longer “honorary,” he was granted command, shared hardships with his men, negotiated treaties with Indian tribes, and grew in admiration and respect for Washington.  These experiences supplied him with an insider’s view and, uniquely positioned, Lafayette returned to France to persuade his king and country to support the colonies.  &lt;br /&gt; Following the conclusion of the war and Lafayette’s arrival in France amid great acclaim, he continued to work, during his long life, for the same ideals in France, he had fought for in America.  Includes a Time Line, Source Notes, a Selected Bibliography, and Index. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Many Rides of Paul Revere&lt;br /&gt;by James Cross Giblin&lt;br /&gt;Scholastic, $17.99, Ages 9-12&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Award-winning author, editor, lecturer and avid history buff Giblin once again makes a revolutionary war hero accessible to young readers with his formidable storytelling talents.  Engravings, paintings, drawings, portraits, and photos in sepia tones illustrate the engrossing text on almost every page, inviting readers into the life of a first-generation immigrant American whose work for the revolution took many different forms.  &lt;br /&gt; Revere was a master craftsman silversmith, learning the craft as a youngster, apprenticed to his skilled father.  When British rule pressed hard on colonists’ incomes, Revere acquired new skills, becoming a dentist and a copper engraver.  As the owner of a horse, Revere added “messenger for the revolution” to his many tasks, making numerous rides across the countryside on missions that not only involved carrying messages, but put him in a position to win support for his city of Boston in its times of need.  &lt;br /&gt; Revere later built a powder mill and made gunpowder for the colonists’ army!  After the war Revere continued to support the newly independent United States by setting up a foundry in Boston’s shipyards and producing a wide variety of objects in daily use, such as iron hammers and stoves.  As needs in the new country grew, Revere developed his capacities further, repairing and casting bells for church towers, even making metal fittings for ships.  He also built the first rolling mill in America; to produce sheet copper for the bottoms of ships, to cover the dome of the Boston Statehouse, and to protect boilers, on the then-new steamships, from exploding.&lt;br /&gt; After his death at the age of 83, newspapers paid him tribute, calling him an early and tireless Patriot. Additional featured material at the end; the famous poem “Paul Revere’s Ride,” its author Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and a brief Comparison, a Time Line, Historic Sites to Visit, with a map of Boston and surrounds, Source Notes and Bibliography, and Index.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-2986535967267233299?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/2986535967267233299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2012/01/men-of-american-revolution-family.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/2986535967267233299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/2986535967267233299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2012/01/men-of-american-revolution-family.html' title='Men of the American Revolution (FAMILY magazine reviews)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jxf97qY-CJM/TxR-D8WizPI/AAAAAAAAAF4/672iK0i0ss8/s72-c/Meribeth1.12.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-7137371476028564720</id><published>2012-01-09T23:43:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-09T23:47:10.897-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>PAPER II  (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Carl Sandburg&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I write what I know on one side of the paper&lt;br /&gt;   and what I don't know on the other.&lt;br /&gt;Fire likes dry paper and wet paper laughs at&lt;br /&gt;   fire.&lt;br /&gt;Empty paper sacks say, "Put something in me,&lt;br /&gt;   what are we waiting for?"&lt;br /&gt;Paper sacks packed to the limit say, "We hope&lt;br /&gt;   we don't bust."&lt;br /&gt;Paper people like to meet other paper people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sing a Song of Popcorn: Every Child's Book of Poems&lt;/span&gt; selected by Beatrice Schenk de Regniers, Eva Moore, Mary Michaels White, Jan Carr, 1988, Scholastic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-7137371476028564720?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/7137371476028564720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2012/01/paper-ii-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/7137371476028564720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/7137371476028564720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2012/01/paper-ii-monday-poem.html' title='PAPER II  (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-3376580463873453390</id><published>2012-01-02T16:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-02T17:04:08.467-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>PAPER I  (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Carl Sandburg&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paper is two kinds, to write on, to wrap with.&lt;br /&gt;If you like to write, you write.&lt;br /&gt;If you like to wrap, you wrap.&lt;br /&gt;Some papers like writers, some like wrappers.&lt;br /&gt;Are you a writer or a wrapper?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sing a Song of Popcorn: Every Child's Book of Poems&lt;/span&gt; selected by Beatrice Schenk de Regniers, Eva Moore, Mary Michaels White, Jan Carr, 1988, Scholastic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-3376580463873453390?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/3376580463873453390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2012/01/paper-i-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/3376580463873453390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/3376580463873453390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2012/01/paper-i-monday-poem.html' title='PAPER I  (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-6381932457717809372</id><published>2011-12-26T12:36:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-26T12:50:51.442-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>FRUGAL FRIGATE (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Emily Dickinson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no frigate like a book&lt;br /&gt;To take us lands away,&lt;br /&gt;Nor any coursers like a page&lt;br /&gt;Of prancing poetry.&lt;br /&gt;This traverse may the poorest take&lt;br /&gt;Without oppress of toll;&lt;br /&gt;How frugal is the chariot&lt;br /&gt;That bears the human soul!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Poetry for Young People: Emily Dickinson&lt;/span&gt; Edited by Frances Schoonmaker Bolin, 2000, Scholastic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-6381932457717809372?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/6381932457717809372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/12/frugal-frigate-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/6381932457717809372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/6381932457717809372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/12/frugal-frigate-monday-poem.html' title='FRUGAL FRIGATE (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-7390562240757382095</id><published>2011-12-22T11:38:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-22T11:59:35.865-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>THE STARFISH (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Douglas Florian&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although it seems&lt;br /&gt;That I'm all arms,&lt;br /&gt;Some other organs&lt;br /&gt;Give me charm.&lt;br /&gt;I have a mouth&lt;br /&gt;With which to feed.&lt;br /&gt;A tiny stomach &lt;br /&gt;Is all I need.&lt;br /&gt;And though it's true&lt;br /&gt;I have no brain,&lt;br /&gt;I'm still a &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;star--&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't complain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;in the swim &lt;/span&gt;poems and paintings by Douglas Florian, 1997, Harcourt&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-7390562240757382095?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/7390562240757382095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/12/starfish-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/7390562240757382095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/7390562240757382095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/12/starfish-monday-poem.html' title='THE STARFISH (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-5215938672044016123</id><published>2011-12-06T19:29:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-06T19:38:30.894-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>DAY BEFORE CHRISTMAS (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Marchette Chute&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have been helping with the cake&lt;br /&gt;And licking out the pan,&lt;br /&gt;And wrapping up our packages&lt;br /&gt;As neatly as we can.&lt;br /&gt;And we have hung our stockings up&lt;br /&gt;Beside the open grate.&lt;br /&gt;And now there's nothing more to do&lt;br /&gt;Except&lt;br /&gt;     to&lt;br /&gt;          wait!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sing a Song of Popcorn: Every Child's Book of Poems&lt;/span&gt; selected by Beatrice Schenk de Regniers, Eva Moore, Mary Michaels White, Jan Carr, 1988, Scholastic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-5215938672044016123?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/5215938672044016123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/12/day-before-christmas-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/5215938672044016123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/5215938672044016123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/12/day-before-christmas-monday-poem.html' title='DAY BEFORE CHRISTMAS (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-4829139765568737667</id><published>2011-12-01T16:14:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-01T16:24:41.362-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Review'/><title type='text'>In Anticipation of the Holidays (FAMILY magazine reviews)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2I31teO4Pm4/TtfvC5PrgzI/AAAAAAAAAFs/EhZPfrbb1gM/s1600/Meribeth12.11.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2I31teO4Pm4/TtfvC5PrgzI/AAAAAAAAAFs/EhZPfrbb1gM/s320/Meribeth12.11.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681272287956534066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; When hard times come, we often turn to traditions that have served us well in the past.  Gatherings of family and friends, food to share, and tales to tell, are among the treasures of memory making we can use to moderate trying periods.  Make use of any or all of these fascinating books to enhance the season!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Franklin and Winston: A Christmas That Changed the World &lt;br /&gt;by Douglas Wood&lt;br /&gt;illustrated by Barry Moser  &lt;br /&gt;Candlewick Press, $16.99, Ages 7-10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Not a good student in school, Prime Minister Winston Churchill, was nonetheless a tenacious bulldog, inspiring defense of Great Britain through grim years of war against Nazi forces.  His trip to the United States in December 1941was to plan, with President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, how to confront the Nazi threat felt around the world.  &lt;br /&gt;The US President, who despite polio, had continued to guide and encourage the people of the US through the Great Depression, had met previously and begun a working friendship with PM Churchill and the two were pleased to meet again for this important work.  The task of creating the largest alliance in history, coupled with fighting a World War, required much discussion, negotiation, and decision-making.&lt;br /&gt;However, the most charming elements of this nonfiction picture book are the humorous anecdotes author Wood peppers throughout.  One example is the time Franklin enters Winston’s room as he is getting out of the bathtub, and celebrated illustrator Moser captures the PM bent over and wrapped in a towel.  The watercolor illustrations are, in large part, based on cropped and modified photographs and have the life-like qualities of realism characteristic of Moser’s work. &lt;br /&gt;Capturing the celebration of Christmas at the White House, press conferences, and even Churchill’s address to the US Congress, this is a masterful tale, told of two powerful and dedicated men in a charged and difficult period of history.  An Afterword lists the accomplishments of these two leaders during the weeks they spent together in December 1941 and January 1942.  An Author’s Note, Bibliography, and a note about the illustrations are appended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lighthouse Christmas &lt;br /&gt;by Toni Buzzeo &lt;br /&gt;illustrated by Nancy Carpenter  &lt;br /&gt;Dial, $16.99, Ages 5-8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Inspired by a New England tradition, this holiday story begins with Peter and Frances as they plan and hope for Christmas.  The lighthouse, where they live with Papa, is located on an island, and the supply boat is late.  When Aunt Martha radios that she will send a dory for the children, they must decide if Papa will stay alone for the holiday, since someone must keep the light burning.  &lt;br /&gt; When a storm blows up, a fishing boat with an injured man overturns in the water, and the wind blows out the light.  Frances must re-light the lamp, while her Papa rescues the fisherman.  In addition, there will be no trip to the mainland in the storm.  &lt;br /&gt; Using pen and digital media, acclaimed illustrator Carpenter matches her palette to the text, in this 1930’s era picture book.  She creates a light-filled house and deftly contrasts the darkness of the storm and its choppy wind and high waters, with the brightness of the Light.   &lt;br /&gt;Younger brother Peter is very upset about the lost trip to the mainland, until he and Frances determine how they will celebrate Christmas in the lighthouse.  Heightened by the unexpected arrival of an airplane circling overhead, to drop a package from the “Flying Santa,” this cozy, intimate story concludes with a warm, happy gathering of the “Ledge Light family” as Peter has named them, including the one-eared cat that Papa doesn’t like and the rescued fisherman.  An Author’s Note at the end explains the Flying Santa Service, launched in 1929 and continuously active ever since (except for the war years, 1941-1944).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Flying Canoe: A Christmas Story &lt;br /&gt;by Eric A. Kimmel &lt;br /&gt;illustrated by Daniel San Souci and Justin San Souci  &lt;br /&gt;Holiday House, $16.95, Ages 6-9&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; On a Christmas Eve long ago six French fur traders squeeze around a tiny fire in Ontario, far from families, wishing they were home in Quebec.  A magical figure is suddenly among them, offering to transport them to Montreal in one night.  His only condition is that they may not speak until they are home.  They agree, knowing they are able to use Indian sign language to communicate.&lt;br /&gt; Celebrated author Kimmel, known for his award-winning folktales, has based this retelling on a French Canadian legend, with roots in Norse mythology.  This story chronicles the trip as the trappers pass over places they recognize; “paddling” their canoe through the air, they “fly” through a blizzard, hear Niagara falls below them, and as they drop lower over Montreal, recognize some of their loved ones.  &lt;br /&gt;The San Souci’s, father and son artists, combine their talents to create enchanted illustrations, peopled with fur traders whose dress, head coverings and facial hair are reminiscent of Snow White’s dwarfs.  Using both traditional and digital media, the illustrators companion the text with gleaming snow, ice-coated mountains, and cloud cover to conjure this crisp winter tale, in a skillful play of light and dark, for a story whose main action occurs during nighttime hours.&lt;br /&gt;Casting the canoe’s shadow in the shape of the full moon’s brilliance, the illustrations show a happier conclusion than many versions.  Since the agreement is, of course, broken, Kimmel’s text is a salute to “miracles” that often lay claim to the entrancing wonder of Christmas Eve.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-4829139765568737667?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/4829139765568737667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/12/in-anticipation-of-holidays-family.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/4829139765568737667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/4829139765568737667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/12/in-anticipation-of-holidays-family.html' title='In Anticipation of the Holidays (FAMILY magazine reviews)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2I31teO4Pm4/TtfvC5PrgzI/AAAAAAAAAFs/EhZPfrbb1gM/s72-c/Meribeth12.11.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-6023518412756042603</id><published>2011-11-22T22:53:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-22T23:00:31.442-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>BOOKS (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Mordicai Gerstein&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Books!&lt;br /&gt;All sizes, all colors,&lt;br /&gt;whispering,&lt;br /&gt;"Come inside!"&lt;br /&gt;"Come inside!"&lt;br /&gt;Printed words&lt;br /&gt;are a mystery.&lt;br /&gt;How can they be &lt;br /&gt;full of sounds?&lt;br /&gt;How can you&lt;br /&gt;look at this page&lt;br /&gt;and hear my voice?&lt;br /&gt;Read this and see&lt;br /&gt;a green parrot&lt;br /&gt;with a &lt;br /&gt;bright red head&lt;br /&gt;and long&lt;br /&gt;purple&lt;br /&gt;tail&lt;br /&gt;feathers.&lt;br /&gt;Words can frighten.&lt;br /&gt;Words can sing.&lt;br /&gt;Words can tickle.&lt;br /&gt;Words can sting.&lt;br /&gt;Words show us &lt;br /&gt;worlds&lt;br /&gt;never seen before.&lt;br /&gt;Read this&lt;br /&gt;and see&lt;br /&gt;golden waves&lt;br /&gt;crash&lt;br /&gt;on a crimson shore.&lt;br /&gt;And don't forget . . .&lt;br /&gt;books smell good&lt;br /&gt;too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;em&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dear Hot Dog &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;by Mordicai Gerstein, 2011, Abrams&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-6023518412756042603?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/6023518412756042603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/11/books-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/6023518412756042603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/6023518412756042603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/11/books-monday-poem.html' title='BOOKS (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-538582760680421427</id><published>2011-11-17T11:52:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-17T12:00:09.745-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>HAUNTED HOUSE (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Karma Wilson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We go peeking, peeking, peeking&lt;br /&gt;in the broken-down, old window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We go sneaking, sneaking, sneaking&lt;br /&gt;up the stairrway, throught the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Old boards start cracking, creaking&lt;br /&gt;as we walk on tippy-toe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A mouse starts squeaking, squeaking&lt;br /&gt;in his hole there by the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait, a voice is speaking!&lt;br /&gt;Deep and dark, it says so clear,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"WHY ARE YOU HERE?&lt;br /&gt;WHY ARE YOU HERE!?&lt;br /&gt;WHY ARE YOU HERE!?!?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We go shrieking, shrieking, shrieking&lt;br /&gt;down the stairs, back out the door!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I promise, we aren't going to&lt;br /&gt;that haunted house no more!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;i&gt;What's the Weather Inside?&lt;/i&gt; by Karma Wilson, illustrations by Barry Blitt, 2009, Simon &amp; Schuster&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-538582760680421427?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/538582760680421427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/11/haunted-house-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/538582760680421427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/538582760680421427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/11/haunted-house-monday-poem.html' title='HAUNTED HOUSE (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-3144277415601885573</id><published>2011-11-09T21:00:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-17T11:17:11.700-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>THE LITTLE TURTLE (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;by Vachel Lindsay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a little turtle.&lt;br /&gt;He lived in a box.&lt;br /&gt;He swam in a puddle.&lt;br /&gt;He climbed on the rocks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He snapped at a mosquito.&lt;br /&gt;He snapped at a flea.&lt;br /&gt;He snapped at a minnow.&lt;br /&gt;He snapped at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He caught the mosquito.&lt;br /&gt;He caught the flea.&lt;br /&gt;He caught the minnow.&lt;br /&gt;But he didn't catch me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;em&gt;Sing a Song of Popcorn: Every Child's Book of Poems &lt;/em&gt;selected by Beatrice Schenk de Regniers, Eva Moore, Mary Michaels White, Jan Carr, 1988, Scholastic &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-3144277415601885573?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/3144277415601885573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/11/little-turtle-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/3144277415601885573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/3144277415601885573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/11/little-turtle-monday-poem.html' title='THE LITTLE TURTLE (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-2230196639690799701</id><published>2011-11-01T19:21:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-11-01T19:24:15.724-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>WHEN YOU TALK TO A MONKEY (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Rowena Bennett&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you talk to a monkey&lt;br /&gt;He seems very wise.&lt;br /&gt;He scratches his head,&lt;br /&gt;And he blinks both his eyes;&lt;br /&gt;But he won't say a word.&lt;br /&gt;He just swings on a rail&lt;br /&gt;And makes a big question mark&lt;br /&gt;Out of his tail.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-2230196639690799701?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/2230196639690799701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/11/when-you-talk-to-monkey-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/2230196639690799701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/2230196639690799701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/11/when-you-talk-to-monkey-monday-poem.html' title='WHEN YOU TALK TO A MONKEY (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-5868541592881058606</id><published>2011-10-26T21:46:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-26T22:02:42.366-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Review'/><title type='text'>Monkey Tales (FAMILY magazine reviews)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MDHQ9QLN-_E/Tqi4EfO-SwI/AAAAAAAAAFU/Dw12-AnMdWE/s1600/Meribeth11.11.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MDHQ9QLN-_E/Tqi4EfO-SwI/AAAAAAAAAFU/Dw12-AnMdWE/s320/Meribeth11.11.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667982518289058562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Especially during November, we often turn our thoughts toward spending time with family and giving thanks.  Among many things for which we are thankful are family experiences of storytelling and reading together.  This month we show off several books for reading together – specifically about monkeys, these are folk tales, stories to spark imagination, and one in particular, about a family of monkeys from the rainforest.  During this season of thanksgiving, remember to take time to read and laugh together. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cloud Tea Monkeys &lt;br /&gt;by Mal Peet and Elspeth Graham &lt;br /&gt;illustrated by Juan Wijngaard &lt;br /&gt;Candlewick Press, $15.99, Ages 5-8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; More than a picture book, co-authors Peet and Graham have based this intriguing story on an ancient legend of tea-picking monkeys.  Beginning with Tashi, a small girl, whose mother becomes too ill to harvest tea from the plantation near the mountain village where they live, this book takes readers to the long-ago and far-away in its opening sentence and initial painting.  &lt;br /&gt; The overseer, an unpleasant man with sharp eyes and a temper, intimidates the tea pickers -- women all -- and chases away the monkeys who usually arrive mid-morning, coming down from the mountains.  Hidden under a large tree at the edge of the tea bushes, Tashi often shares her lunch with the monkeys she begins to recognize and name.&lt;br /&gt; Deft ink and gouache illustrations capture contrasts in the expressive text; mist-cold morning (“light the color of lemons, soaking into the sky”), hazy burning midday sun, and especially the dappling light cast by tree-shade.  Illustrator Wijngaard’s subtle use of color conveys the vast sweep of fields, sky, clouds and mountains; while perceptively highlighting the colors of clothing, headgear and even the textures of leaves, hair, rocks and baskets.  From the overseer’s mean smirk, to the cautious expressions of the women workers, accenting Tashi’s smiling pleasure, the monkeys’ fearful grins -- and indeed the faces made as the Royal Tea Taster tests the flavor of the tea leaves from Tashi’s basket filled by the monkeys -- the artist makes astute use of brush and palette to reveal movement, emotion, and even pain on the sick mother’s features.&lt;br /&gt; An Author’s Note at the end explains briefly, the difference from today’s easily accessible items, how dangerous the paths often were, to acquire goods for trade, making them costly because they were so precious – as are the origins of this rare tale.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meet the Howlers &lt;br /&gt;by April Pulley Sayre &lt;br /&gt;illustrated by Woody Miller  &lt;br /&gt;Charlesbridge, $16.95, $7.95, Ages 4-7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Award-winning author Sayre introduces her readers to howler monkeys from the rainforests of Central and South America in this playful picture book poem.  These noisy animals live together in family groups and travel through the trees, climbing and leaping, even in the rain.&lt;br /&gt; Rhyming verses are printed in a larger font while prose, in smaller print on the same double page spread, supplies additional information about howler monkeys’ habitat, diet and behavior. Miller’s soft-focus illustrations are done in an almost tactile fuzzy/furry-looking acrylic with watercolor crayon and colored pencil in rainforest shades of green and brown.  &lt;br /&gt; The repeating lines of a rhythmic rhyming chorus furnish readers with the howlers’ call and an opportunity to howl along:  “Woo-hoo-hoo! AH-UH-OH!”  This is especially appealing to youngsters and is a careful matching with the active creatures whose energy moves across the pages to the accompanying text (except, of course, the pages where they’re sleeping!).&lt;br /&gt; A map and “More about Howler Monkeys” pages are included at the back of this fascinating nonfiction book about a little known mammal.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monkey: A Trickster Tale from India &lt;br /&gt;by Gerald McDermott &lt;br /&gt;Harcourt, $16.99, Ages 3-7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The sixth and final book in author/illustrator McDermott’s series of trickster tales, this story comes from the Buddhist tradition, and written originally in Sanskrit, is one of a well-known collection of legends and fables called the Jataka Tales.  Fast moving Monkey, who lives in a tree along a river, is a mango-lover.  Hoping to eat Monkey for dinner, Crocodile offers Monkey a ride to an island in the middle of the river where there are ripe mangos. Eager Monkey hops on Crocodile’s back.&lt;br /&gt; As Crocodile swims, he drops lower and lower in the water until Monkey, frightened, warns Crocodile that he cannot swim. Right, agrees Crocodile, explaining that he wants to eat Monkey’s heart.  Clever Monkey answers that his heart is back in his tree, convincing Crocodile to return, where Monkey scampers to safety, taunting his former captor.&lt;br /&gt; Using fabric paint and ink to hand-color textured paper, and choosing vigorous colors, characteristic of India, to accent the action, McDermott’s double page collage spreads are alive with vivid movement, a seamless match of text and illustration.  Monkey’s clever solution to eating luscious mangos and escaping hungry Crocodile is three-fold:  Downriver, Monkey discovers rocks in the river between the trees on the bank and the mango tree on the island, and is able to reach the fruit he desires without Crocodile’s assistance; when Crocodile decides to imitate a rock, hoping to catch unwary Monkey, he teases Crocodile into speaking, proving that Crocodile is not a rock after all; and finally, agreeing that Crocodile’s suggestion to hop on him like a rock is a good idea, Monkey instead tosses a mango into Crocodile’s open mouth, leaping on Crocodile’s nose, after he snaps closed his mouth, and arriving safely on the riverbank.  This lively tale will mesmerize the youngest children and, keep adults captivated even as they read it aloud.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maggie’s Monkeys &lt;br /&gt;by Linda Sanders-Wells&lt;br /&gt;illustrated by Abby Carter &lt;br /&gt;Candlewick Press, $16.99, Ages 3-5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; A “family of pink monkeys” has moved into the refrigerator, reports Maggie’s big brother.  Although he is never named, his frustration is palpable as he describes first how his dad, then his mom, and finally his older sister Kate, buy into younger sister Maggie’s imagined monkeys, playing along.  He unsuccessfully approaches each one, offering his opinion that pretending has gone “too far.”&lt;br /&gt; Author Sanders-Wells uses imaginative language to show each family member’s creative response to Maggie’s monkeys:  when he takes out the mayonnaise, Dad carefully closes the door to avoid the monkeys’ tails; Mom fills a bowl with banana pudding just for the monkeys; Kate helps dress the monkeys in imaginary clothes.  When the older brother attempts to adapt, he sits in one monkey’s lap and is scolded by Maggie; he tries talking in monkey, and Maggie explains that they speak English; and when he chooses a book about the zoo to read to the monkeys, Maggie is appalled and says so.&lt;br /&gt; Artist Carter varies her illustrations with borders to define the black colored pencil and gouache paintings, or to confine text, and sometimes both or neither.  This use or not, of borders, supplies a framework for the story, and when bright double page spreads anchor the story at pivotal stages, this strategic arrangement increases both energy and movement.  This is especially true when Calvin and Grady, the brother’s friends come over and begin to laugh about the monkeys in the refrigerator.&lt;br /&gt; Cartoon-like illustrations keep the humor high in this imaginative tale of a reality obsessed sibling and his reality challenged younger sister, Maggie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-5868541592881058606?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/5868541592881058606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/10/monkey-tales-family-magazine-reviews.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/5868541592881058606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/5868541592881058606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/10/monkey-tales-family-magazine-reviews.html' title='Monkey Tales (FAMILY magazine reviews)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MDHQ9QLN-_E/Tqi4EfO-SwI/AAAAAAAAAFU/Dw12-AnMdWE/s72-c/Meribeth11.11.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-6837493905330414772</id><published>2011-10-24T17:36:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-24T17:42:03.256-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>WHO HAS SEEN THE WIND? (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Christina G. Rossetti&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who has seen the wind?&lt;br /&gt;Neither I nor you.&lt;br /&gt;But when the leaves hang trembling,&lt;br /&gt;The wind is passing through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who has seen the wind?&lt;br /&gt;Neither you nor I.&lt;br /&gt;But when the trees bow down their heads,&lt;br /&gt;The wind is passing by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sing a Song of Popcorn: Every Child's Book of Poems&lt;/span&gt; selected by Beatrice Schenk de Regniers, Eva Moore, Mary Michaels White, Jan Carr, 1988, Scholastic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-6837493905330414772?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/6837493905330414772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/10/who-has-seen-wind-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/6837493905330414772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/6837493905330414772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/10/who-has-seen-wind-monday-poem.html' title='WHO HAS SEEN THE WIND? (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-6415190690154520497</id><published>2011-10-15T18:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-15T18:55:42.929-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>WIND SONG (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Lilian Moore&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the wind blows&lt;br /&gt;the quiet things speak.&lt;br /&gt;Some whisper, some clang,&lt;br /&gt;Some creak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grasses swish.&lt;br /&gt;Treetops sigh.&lt;br /&gt;Flags slap&lt;br /&gt;and snap at the sky.&lt;br /&gt;Wires on poles&lt;br /&gt;whistle and hum.&lt;br /&gt;Ashcans roll.&lt;br /&gt;Windows drum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the wind goes --&lt;br /&gt;suddenly&lt;br /&gt;then,&lt;br /&gt;the quiet things &lt;br /&gt;are quiet again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;em&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sing a Song of Popcorn: Every Child's Book of Poems &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;selected by Beatrice Schenk de Regniers, Eva Moore, Mary Michaels White, Jan Carr, 1988, Scholastic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-6415190690154520497?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/6415190690154520497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/10/wind-song-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/6415190690154520497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/6415190690154520497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/10/wind-song-monday-poem.html' title='WIND SONG (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-1064018988587904566</id><published>2011-10-12T22:15:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-15T18:55:42.935-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photo with original poem'/><title type='text'>BEETLE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FAU0LRA8XOY/TpZKcyvDEKI/AAAAAAAAAFI/4ys4gI4D5kQ/s1600/PA120058%255B1%255D.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FAU0LRA8XOY/TpZKcyvDEKI/AAAAAAAAAFI/4ys4gI4D5kQ/s320/PA120058%255B1%255D.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662795439980875938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;B&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;   Black beetle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;E&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;   Easily&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;E&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;   Enters and&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;T&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;   Turns&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;L&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;   Left to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;E&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;   Escape&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-1064018988587904566?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/1064018988587904566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/10/beetle.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/1064018988587904566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/1064018988587904566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/10/beetle.html' title='BEETLE'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FAU0LRA8XOY/TpZKcyvDEKI/AAAAAAAAAFI/4ys4gI4D5kQ/s72-c/PA120058%255B1%255D.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-7388409469516817948</id><published>2011-10-04T21:35:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-04T21:43:45.246-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Review'/><title type='text'>School Stories  (FAMILY magazine reviews)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cYtwQv3ZONI/Tou0lljkXjI/AAAAAAAAAFA/wnmOBVZV9T4/s1600/Meribeth10.11.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cYtwQv3ZONI/Tou0lljkXjI/AAAAAAAAAFA/wnmOBVZV9T4/s320/Meribeth10.11.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659815914550615602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School is the work kids do.  And relationships are an important foundation.  For children and the adults who love them, these stories offer opportunities to explore the establishment and strengthening of long-lasting friendships.  From bullies to gender identity, to exclusion and welcome, we all need determination and gumption to make our way in the world.  These books will make you laugh in recognition and appreciation.  Have fun and take heart!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;The Gingerbread Man Loose in the School&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;by Laura Murray &lt;br /&gt;illustrated by Mike Lowery  &lt;br /&gt;Putnam, $16.99, Ages 4-7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Especially if you are a fan of the famous Gingerbread Man tale, this version by author and former teacher Murray is perfect for introducing students to school staff members.  Beginning the story, children mix and roll and bake; then after he’s done, they pull out the pan, and it’s time for recess.  When they leave to go outside, he races after shouting, “I’m the Gingerbread Man, and I’m trying to find the children who made me and left me behind.”  &lt;br /&gt; This attempt to find the children takes him on a series of adventures, introducing him to the coach, the school nurse, the art teacher, and even the principal, who helps him relocate his class.  Lowery’s cartoon-like illustrations use pencil, traditional screen-printing and digital color to grab attention and sustain a high level of energy.  Additionally, a couple maps give readers an idea of the school’s geography, and enhance the rollicking rhythm and rhymes of Murray’s text.   &lt;br /&gt; A poster, similar to ones the children make in the story as an attempt to locate the missing Gingerbread Man, is included inside the back cover, with activities and a gingerbread recipe. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Pirates and Princesses&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;by Jill Kargman &amp; Sadie Kargman &lt;br /&gt;illustrated by Christine Davenier  &lt;br /&gt;Dutton, $16.99, Ages 4-7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Based on an actual kindergarten incident, author Kargman and her eight-year-old daughter Sadie, team up to share a spirited playground story.  Ivy and Fletch have grown up together since they were infants, born a day apart.  Pregnant at the same time, the moms spent time together, and the two babies played with each other, from babbling to crawling, to preschool.&lt;br /&gt; But when they get to kindergarten, things change.  During recess the girls play with the girls, and the boys with boys.  Initially Ivy and Fletch play together, as always, on the swings.  But, the boys invite Fletch to play pirates, while the girls persuade Ivy to join them in the princess palace.&lt;br /&gt; Veteran illustrator Davenier uses colored pencils, watercolors and oil pastels, especially pinks and blues, to establish typical gender identities.  The lines and designs give shape and form to support the text, establishing personality with facial expressions and movement in this energetic picture book.&lt;br /&gt; Fletch and Ivy almost forget each other, they are having so much fun.  Until the pirates decide to RAID!  Pirates and princesses chase each other and Ivy is captured!  At first this is fun, and Ivy doesn’t mind.  But when the princesses can’t rescue her, Fletch realizes it’s not fun anymore.  Together he and Ivy change playground expectations.&lt;br /&gt; This cheery tale of gender differences, trumped by imagination, friendship, and shared history, supplies kids and parents with samples of the importance of sharing swings and cupcakes for overcoming obstacles to getting along. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;You’re Mean, Lily Jean!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;by Frieda Wishinsky &lt;br /&gt;illustrated by Kady MacDonald Denton  &lt;br /&gt;Albert Whitman, $16.99, Ages 5-8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Carly and Sandy always play together, using their imaginations as only sisters can.  And then ---- Lily Jean moves in next door, and wants to play only with Sandy.  At Sandy’s insistence Lily Jean agrees that Carly can play if she’s the baby.  Then, if she’s the cow.  And again, if she’s the dog.&lt;br /&gt; With watercolors, acrylic ink, oil crayons, gouache and salt, award-winning illustrator Denton deepens the text with her characteristic blend of colors, expressive faces, and motion to show Carly’s inventive solution to transforming a bully into a friend.  (With her sister, Sandy’s help, of course!)&lt;br /&gt; While its characters are three girls, this brief, bouncy tale is accessible to both genders, since the games are not specific to girls only, and open-minded boys will not be put off by girly games.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Back to School Tortoise&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;by Lucy M. George&lt;br /&gt;illustrated by Merel Eyckerman&lt;br /&gt;Albert Whitman, $15.99, Ages 5-8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Tortoise is nervous about school. Maybe he will trip and fall, or hate his lunch, or the kids will be mean to him. He gets to school, but sits down by the door and doesn’t go in.&lt;br /&gt;  Sunny illustrations show Tortoise’s preparations for school and his anxious imaginings about potential problems.  As his imagination changes, his uneasiness abates.  He begins to think about the possible fun and new friendships.  He takes a deep breath, opens the door, and bravely greets everybody with a “good morning!”&lt;br /&gt; The ending will surprise you and make you laugh!  And remind us all that courage is something required of adults and children alike.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-7388409469516817948?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/7388409469516817948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/10/school-stories-family-magazine-reviews.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/7388409469516817948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/7388409469516817948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/10/school-stories-family-magazine-reviews.html' title='School Stories  (FAMILY magazine reviews)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cYtwQv3ZONI/Tou0lljkXjI/AAAAAAAAAFA/wnmOBVZV9T4/s72-c/Meribeth10.11.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-6527381727265506191</id><published>2011-09-28T02:53:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-28T02:56:33.502-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>PAPA SAYS (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Libby Stopple&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Papa&lt;br /&gt;Says rain&lt;br /&gt;Makes things grow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stood out in the rain&lt;br /&gt;All morning&lt;br /&gt;With my toes in the mud,&lt;br /&gt;But Grandma says I really&lt;br /&gt;Didn't get any Bigger.&lt;br /&gt;It's just that my pants&lt;br /&gt;Shrunk&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-6527381727265506191?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/6527381727265506191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/09/papa-says-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/6527381727265506191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/6527381727265506191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/09/papa-says-monday-poem.html' title='PAPA SAYS (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-8231743164211393983</id><published>2011-09-19T22:22:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-19T22:25:49.106-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>TAKING TURNS (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Norma Farber&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When sun goes home&lt;br /&gt;behind the trees,&lt;br /&gt;and locks her shutters tight--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then stars come out&lt;br /&gt;with silver keys&lt;br /&gt;to open up the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;The Bill Martin Jr Big Book of Poetry&lt;/span&gt; edited by Bill Martin Jr with Michael Sampson, 2008, Simon &amp; Schuster&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-8231743164211393983?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/8231743164211393983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/09/taking-turns-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/8231743164211393983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/8231743164211393983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/09/taking-turns-monday-poem.html' title='TAKING TURNS (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-7863161453148281269</id><published>2011-09-14T22:06:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-14T22:30:22.644-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Review'/><title type='text'>Let's Celebrate Hispanic Heritage (FAMILY magazine reviews)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-74aHHUi_sZk/TnFeVfMVaOI/AAAAAAAAAE4/FYQLKGbkyhc/s1600/Meribeth9.11.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-74aHHUi_sZk/TnFeVfMVaOI/AAAAAAAAAE4/FYQLKGbkyhc/s320/Meribeth9.11.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652402730570180834" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    For the month between September 15 and October 15, Latinos, especially those whose family roots are in Central and South American countries, take time to honor their ancestry by paying tribute to those whose passion and commitment secured liberty, equality and self-government as a legacy for future generations.  Here are a few titles whose stories salute this inheritance.  Enjoy!  Disfruta!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Mango in the Hand: A Story Told Through Proverbs &lt;br /&gt;by Antonio Sacre &lt;br /&gt;illustrated by Sebastia Serra  &lt;br /&gt;Abrams, $16.95, Ages 5-8&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;When Francisco wakes on the morning of his saint day, his father approves him as old enough to go alone for the first time to pick his favorite fruit, mangos, for Francisco’s contribution to the family feast.  Excited, the young boy discovers this initially delightful task is not as easy as he expected.  &lt;br /&gt; The pencil and ink illustrations use a digital infusion of color to support the folkloric sensibilities of this story. Artist Serra, who lives in Spain, makes use of important details, such as a soccer ball, guitar, dominoes, chilies and hats to create a Latino setting.  He also includes common elements of daily life like a swing set, cats, flowers and bicycles, making important use of background features to amplify the text.  &lt;br /&gt; Author Sacre’s storytelling skills sparkle in his use of Spanish language proverbs that glow with humor and universal appeal as Francisco is distracted by bees and family members in his attempts to bring the mangos home.  Making adept use of English to carry the proverbs, this delightful tale infuses family relationships, problem solving, and independent thinking into an absorbing story of love and acceptance.  A glossary of Spanish words and phrases is included at the back.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Cazuela that the Farm Maiden Stirred &lt;br /&gt;by Samantha R. Vamos &lt;br /&gt;illustrated by Rafael López  &lt;br /&gt;Charlesbridge, $17.95, Ages 5-8&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;A bilingual adaptation of the familiar “House That Jack Built,” author Vamos “cooked” up this yummy version in her kitchen.  Using ingredients for rice pudding (Arroz con Leche), this scrumptious communal concoction is a favorite for many, whether or not it’s part of a family’s history.  In this cumulative tale, the repetition is highlighted in Spanish as a sweet repetition of the English translation, announcing the ingredient as it’s added to the pot (cazuela).&lt;br /&gt; Rose and golden acrylics characterize the double page spreads in this vivid picture book, emphasizing the sunlit radiance of a Central American daytime.  Each animal makes an important contribution, and is given prominence as they prepare ingredients, and add to the music while the pudding is cooking.  This is in distinctive contrast to the animals in another familiar folktale –The Little Red Hen – where the main character invites several others to participate, and each time is rejected.  Award winning artist López once again furnishes an experience of fiesta, harmonizing text and illustration, in a tale well suited to community celebration.  Back matter includes recipe and glossary of Spanish words. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No More, Por Favor &lt;br /&gt;by Susan Middleton Elya &lt;br /&gt;illustrated by David Walker  &lt;br /&gt;G. P. Putnam’s Sons, $16.99, Ages 3-5&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The rain forest – selva -- is filled with wonderful, tasty things to eat.  It’s also full of baby animals deciding they are fed up with the usual.  Author Elya’s rhymes tell an amusing story of picky eaters and parents who fix a fiesta to change things up.&lt;br /&gt; With glossary and pronunciation guide at the beginning, adults who read aloud to the youngest children will introduce their listeners to a lilting combination of English and Spanish language.  Large double page spreads with bright and pastel acrylics illustrate some of the Spanish words, making it easy for non-Spanish speakers to infer meaning.  &lt;br /&gt; Elya makes wise use of rhymes; matching only English words together, and only Spanish words together (with a single exception, finito, an Italian word, matched with the Spanish, Quetzalito).  This humorous take on a frequent family problem will tickle grownups and entertain even the most finicky of youngsters.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Welcome to my Neighborhood!  A Barrio A-B-C &lt;br /&gt;by Quiara Alegría Hudes &lt;br /&gt;illustrated by Shino Arihara  &lt;br /&gt;Scholastic, $16.99, Ages 4-7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Without glamorizing inner city problems, this engaging alphabet book, opens cultural doors for readers with descriptive rhyming language (“G is for graffiti right beside the subway grate. H is for the hoop. It used to be a crate.”).   Creating a panorama of authentic urban neighborhood life – “M is for los muralistas” – the dynamic language mix of English and occasional Spanish words, pairs seamlessly with active realistic gouache paintings.  Pastel highlights add energy and build interest from start to finish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good-bye, Havana! Hola, New York! &lt;br /&gt;by Edie Cólon &lt;br /&gt;illustrated by Raúl Colón  &lt;br /&gt;Simon &amp; Schuster, $16.99, Ages 4-8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Just published, this thoughtful, tender reminiscence is based on the author’s childhood in Cuba, and enhanced by her acclaimed, Puerto Rico-born, illustrator husband’s “memorable” paintings.   With watercolor, colored pencils and lithograph pencils, artist Cólon evokes an earlier era, using sepia tones in backlit paintings, and featuring clothing, house and school furnishings, hairstyles, and even eyeglasses, notable for the late 1950’s and early 1960’s.  &lt;br /&gt; Author and elementary teacher Cólon writes with an easy mix of English and Spanish, sharing her carefully crafted story of growing up in two cultures.  This beautiful picture book blends text and illustration in a seemingly effortless partnership, to bring this sensitive story to young readers and listeners.  An Author’s Note and a brief dictionary of Spanish words are located at the end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-7863161453148281269?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/7863161453148281269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/09/lets-celebrate-hispanic-heritage-family.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/7863161453148281269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/7863161453148281269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/09/lets-celebrate-hispanic-heritage-family.html' title='Let&apos;s Celebrate Hispanic Heritage (FAMILY magazine reviews)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-74aHHUi_sZk/TnFeVfMVaOI/AAAAAAAAAE4/FYQLKGbkyhc/s72-c/Meribeth9.11.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-2553138681858841241</id><published>2011-09-13T19:22:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-13T19:33:13.639-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>METAPHOR (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Eve Merriam&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Morning is&lt;br /&gt;a new sheet of paper&lt;br /&gt;for you to write on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever you want to say,&lt;br /&gt;all day,&lt;br /&gt;until night&lt;br /&gt;folds it up&lt;br /&gt;and files it away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bright words and the dark words&lt;br /&gt;are gone&lt;br /&gt;until dawn&lt;br /&gt;and a new day&lt;br /&gt;to write on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;The Bill Martin Jr Big Book of Poetry&lt;/span&gt; edited by Bill Martin Jr with Michael Sampson, 2008, Simon &amp; Schuster&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-2553138681858841241?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/2553138681858841241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/09/metaphor-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/2553138681858841241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/2553138681858841241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/09/metaphor-monday-poem.html' title='METAPHOR (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-8270376174180962794</id><published>2011-09-08T11:58:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-08T15:39:59.542-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photo with original poem'/><title type='text'>Brown Anole</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zTMtBaSBgMI/Tmjm_IW0URI/AAAAAAAAAEw/Rh8H9I4oC7s/s1600/P9080050.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zTMtBaSBgMI/Tmjm_IW0URI/AAAAAAAAAEw/Rh8H9I4oC7s/s320/P9080050.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650019704785621266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anole races on sticky feet, &lt;br /&gt;stopping only to breathe and eat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watch the red throat fan under its chin,&lt;br /&gt;as the dewlap peeks out, then in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hungry Anole moves tongue and eyes &lt;br /&gt;to capture and eat ants and flies,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Catch Anole, the tail detaches!&lt;br /&gt;It re-grows, no need for patches. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It looks like a gecko, don't you think?&lt;br /&gt;When you see it, don't wink or blink,&lt;br /&gt;'cause it moves swiftly and can escape,&lt;br /&gt;hiding from you in the landscape.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-8270376174180962794?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/8270376174180962794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/09/brown-anole.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/8270376174180962794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/8270376174180962794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/09/brown-anole.html' title='Brown Anole'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zTMtBaSBgMI/Tmjm_IW0URI/AAAAAAAAAEw/Rh8H9I4oC7s/s72-c/P9080050.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-7657368166108872457</id><published>2011-09-06T22:44:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-06T22:48:10.806-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>SHOES (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Mordicai Gerstein&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You sleep under my bed,&lt;br /&gt;yawning at dawn&lt;br /&gt;when I wake you.&lt;br /&gt;You swallow my feet&lt;br /&gt;for breakfast.&lt;br /&gt;You love to run&lt;br /&gt;and though I'm fast&lt;br /&gt;you always&lt;br /&gt;want to run faster&lt;br /&gt;and faster.&lt;br /&gt;Do you wish I were&lt;br /&gt;a horse?&lt;br /&gt;Do you want to be &lt;br /&gt;horseshoes&lt;br /&gt;when you grow up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Dear Hot Dog&lt;/span&gt; by Mordicai Gerstein, 2011, Abrams&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-7657368166108872457?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/7657368166108872457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/09/shoes-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/7657368166108872457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/7657368166108872457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/09/shoes-monday-poem.html' title='SHOES (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-2494336832940144262</id><published>2011-08-29T21:21:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-29T21:31:01.171-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>VOCABULARY LESSON (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Ann Wagner&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We don't have wars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     conflicts&lt;br /&gt;     campaigns&lt;br /&gt;     operations&lt;br /&gt;     escalations&lt;br /&gt;     missions&lt;br /&gt;     offensives&lt;br /&gt;     preemptive strikes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We don't have soldiers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     peace keepers&lt;br /&gt;     troops&lt;br /&gt;     servicemen&lt;br /&gt;     servicewomen&lt;br /&gt;     forces&lt;br /&gt;     coalitions&lt;br /&gt;     units.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We don't have mistakes in combat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     incidents&lt;br /&gt;     accidents&lt;br /&gt;     friendly fire&lt;br /&gt;     flawed intelligence&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And we don't have death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     casualties&lt;br /&gt;     loss of life&lt;br /&gt;     collateral damage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What we do have is&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     a careful vocabulary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;America At War&lt;/span&gt; selected by Lee Bennett Hopkins, 2008, Simon &amp; Schuster &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-2494336832940144262?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/2494336832940144262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/08/vocabulary-lesson-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/2494336832940144262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/2494336832940144262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/08/vocabulary-lesson-monday-poem.html' title='VOCABULARY LESSON (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-1504152237293824550</id><published>2011-08-28T09:24:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-28T09:41:33.484-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photo'/><title type='text'>Grasshopper</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O2H6hnmeIbA/TlpCMckgaDI/AAAAAAAAAEo/sRUvmaigq0w/s1600/112_0330.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O2H6hnmeIbA/TlpCMckgaDI/AAAAAAAAAEo/sRUvmaigq0w/s320/112_0330.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645897864457513010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it's first born as a tiny black grasshopper, less than half an inch long, with a single red stripe across its back, it's one of about fifty babies.  It loves to eat the leaves and bulbs of amaryllis flowers.  As it grows, its colors change to green, yellow, and orange just like the one in this photo.  I took this picture of the grasshopper on the stem of a large white-flowered lily.  It munches on the lily leaves turning them into tattered green lace.  Come visit in March to watch the black babies after they hatch!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-1504152237293824550?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/1504152237293824550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/08/grasshopper.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/1504152237293824550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/1504152237293824550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/08/grasshopper.html' title='Grasshopper'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O2H6hnmeIbA/TlpCMckgaDI/AAAAAAAAAEo/sRUvmaigq0w/s72-c/112_0330.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-347402822524981109</id><published>2011-08-22T20:15:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-22T20:21:36.816-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>THERE WILL COME SOFT RAINS (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Sara Teasdale&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,&lt;br /&gt;And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And frogs in the pools singing at night,&lt;br /&gt;And wild plum trees in tremulous white;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Robins will wear their feathery fire&lt;br /&gt;Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And not one will know of the war, not one&lt;br /&gt;Will care at last when it is done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree&lt;br /&gt;If mankind perished utterly;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And spring herself, when she woke at dawn,&lt;br /&gt;Would scarcely know that we were gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;America At War&lt;/span&gt; selected by Lee Bennett Hopkins, 2008, Simon &amp; Schuster&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-347402822524981109?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/347402822524981109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/08/there-will-come-soft-rains-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/347402822524981109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/347402822524981109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/08/there-will-come-soft-rains-monday-poem.html' title='THERE WILL COME SOFT RAINS (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-2997862994278902131</id><published>2011-08-21T21:57:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-21T22:17:31.529-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photo'/><title type='text'>Black Lizard</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tExyBHcYL84/TlG33ADacrI/AAAAAAAAAEg/-LNuU5p-wik/s1600/112_0283.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tExyBHcYL84/TlG33ADacrI/AAAAAAAAAEg/-LNuU5p-wik/s320/112_0283.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643493963606946482" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This lizard was on the porch outside our room on Casey Key, Florida's west coast, where we were last weekend.  So far unsuccessful locating what kind of lizard.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To grandboy Layton, who is nearing his three-year birthday, and interested others, let's name it! &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-2997862994278902131?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/2997862994278902131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/08/black-lizard.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/2997862994278902131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/2997862994278902131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/08/black-lizard.html' title='Black Lizard'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tExyBHcYL84/TlG33ADacrI/AAAAAAAAAEg/-LNuU5p-wik/s72-c/112_0283.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-7654849203930849180</id><published>2011-08-16T22:41:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-16T22:47:00.781-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>DREAMS (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Langston Hughes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hold fast to dreams&lt;br /&gt;For if dreams die&lt;br /&gt;Life is a broken-winged bird&lt;br /&gt;That cannot fly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hold fast to dreams&lt;br /&gt;For when dreams go&lt;br /&gt;Life is a barren field&lt;br /&gt;Frozen with snow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;America At War&lt;/span&gt; selected by Lee Bennett Hopkins, 2008, Simon &amp; Schuster&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-7654849203930849180?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/7654849203930849180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/08/dreams-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/7654849203930849180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/7654849203930849180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/08/dreams-monday-poem.html' title='DREAMS (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-1423742482061586342</id><published>2011-08-09T18:31:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-10T06:34:48.526-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photo'/><title type='text'>Chicago Zen Garden</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CAdYITZaJd0/TjxDw6KPhNI/AAAAAAAAAEY/cvuAN9IerjI/s1600/112_0121.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CAdYITZaJd0/TjxDw6KPhNI/AAAAAAAAAEY/cvuAN9IerjI/s320/112_0121.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637455341086016722" border="0"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Bark crackles --&lt;br /&gt;a sharp ironic contrast --&lt;br /&gt;on an arch&lt;br /&gt;curved by disaster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you see?  Please share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-1423742482061586342?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/1423742482061586342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/08/chicago-zen-garden.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/1423742482061586342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/1423742482061586342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/08/chicago-zen-garden.html' title='Chicago Zen Garden'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CAdYITZaJd0/TjxDw6KPhNI/AAAAAAAAAEY/cvuAN9IerjI/s72-c/112_0121.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-8469769989714527093</id><published>2011-08-08T21:05:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-08T21:15:55.656-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>MISSING (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Cynthia Cotten&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brother is a soldier&lt;br /&gt;in a hot, dry,&lt;br /&gt;sandy place.&lt;br /&gt;He's missing--&lt;br /&gt;missing things like&lt;br /&gt;baseball, barbecues,&lt;br /&gt;fishing, French fries,&lt;br /&gt;chocolate sodas,&lt;br /&gt;flame-red maple trees,&lt;br /&gt;blue jays,&lt;br /&gt;and snow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm missing, too--&lt;br /&gt;missing&lt;br /&gt;his read-out-loud voice,&lt;br /&gt;his super-special&lt;br /&gt;banana pancakes,&lt;br /&gt;his scuffed up shoes&lt;br /&gt;by the back door,&lt;br /&gt;his big-bear&lt;br /&gt;good night &lt;br /&gt;hug.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are people&lt;br /&gt;with guns&lt;br /&gt;in that land of sand&lt;br /&gt;who want to shoot&lt;br /&gt;my brother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope&lt;br /&gt;they miss him,&lt;br /&gt;too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;America At War&lt;/span&gt; selected by Lee Bennett Hopkins, 2008, Simon &amp; Schuster &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-8469769989714527093?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/8469769989714527093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/08/missing-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/8469769989714527093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/8469769989714527093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/08/missing-monday-poem.html' title='MISSING (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-4139810457051775130</id><published>2011-08-05T15:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-05T15:18:18.555-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Review'/><title type='text'>Numbers Can Tell Stories (FAMILY magazine reviews)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7z_ioxgUHMw/TjDLU8f5IVI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/NxxIZg5F6k8/s1600/Meribeth8.11.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7z_ioxgUHMw/TjDLU8f5IVI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/NxxIZg5F6k8/s320/Meribeth8.11.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634226694538207570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you’re looking for summer ways to engage your brain, these books are both absorbing and entertaining.    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Growing Patterns: Fibonacci Numbers in Nature &lt;br /&gt;by Sarah C. Campbell &lt;br /&gt;photos by Sarah C. Campbell and Richard P. Campbell  &lt;br /&gt;Boyds Mills Press, $17.95, Ages 5-11&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; First written about in India, the pattern of numbers found in nature and featured in this book is actually named after an Italian mathematician, Fibonacci.  Starting with a small photo of a seed, the text gradually leads readers into a beginning understanding of patterns formed in the natural world. As this nonfiction book unfolds, the author  and her husband make intriguing and careful use of photos of plant and animal life to expand the text, featuring the famous chain of numbers as spiraling shapes of building blocks.  &lt;br /&gt;Using blocks of boxes to demonstrate the pattern of increasing numbers, this compelling book shows spiraling shapes in pinecones, pineapples, sunflowers and more.  Campbell’s text shows the different number effects created as parts of plants spiral first in one direction and then in a different direction.  &lt;br /&gt;Demonstrating the pattern using the outside sections of a pineapple, the author shows how these sections actually grow in three different directions and can be counted as 5,8, and 13 in the familiar sequence.  The author/photographer invites the reader/listener into her exploration and discovery of the literal building blocks in creation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How Many Donkeys? An Arabic Counting Tale &lt;br /&gt;retold by Margaret Read MacDonald and Nadia Jameel Taibah &lt;br /&gt;illustrated by Carol Liddiment  &lt;br /&gt;Albert Whitman, $16.99, Ages 5-7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Jouha, the famous wise fool or trickster beloved in many Middle Eastern cultures (called Goha in Egypt, Hodja in Turkey, and the Mullah in Iran), is the main character in this retelling from Saudi folklore.  Taibah, and well-loved master storyteller MacDonald, collaborate to shape this tale from Taibah’s family. Although variants of this folktale can be found in cultures as widely spread as Syria, Romania, Spain, Germany, Italy, Hungary, Puerto Rico, Switzerland, India, and Indonesia, this Saudi version is especially amusing.&lt;br /&gt; Before leaving for a market trip, Jouha asks his young son to help him count his donkeys loaded with dates to sell.  The Arabic words for the numbers from one to ten are included along the bottom of several double page spreads, reading from right to left, perfect for children in a storytelling circle to count along with the storyteller/reader.  (A pronunciation guide is included on an early page.)  &lt;br /&gt; Enroute, Jouha forgets to count the donkey he is seated on, especially when he stops for water, for lunch, at the market itself, and sleeping on the way home.  Someone is always there to remind him to “Count again, Jouha!”  Especially his son when he gets home and thinks he’s lost a donkey on the return trip.&lt;br /&gt; Artist Liddiment uses bright colors in her sunny paintings, capturing the light and shadows as Jouha crosses the desert and arrives at the shady oasis and later, the tree covered marketplace.  It’s a silly tale, but one which young children love because, unlike Jouha, they can see the dilemma in the illustrations, as Jouha gets on and off his donkey.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary’s Penny by Tanya Landman &lt;br /&gt;illustrated by Richard Holland  &lt;br /&gt;Candlewick Press, $15.99, Ages 7-10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; In this feminist retelling of a traditional tale, award-winning author Landman sets her story in the “long, long ago, golden, olden days.”  A farmer father devises a clever plan for determining which of his two sons will inherit the farm.  He does not intend to include his daughter, Mary, in this competition, since “everyone thought girls couldn’t run farms.”  &lt;br /&gt; In this long past era, the value of purchases is quite different from today and each of the sons uses a penny gift from their father to purchase something to fill the entire house.  The eldest, Franz, buys a load of straw, but it’s not enough.  Neither is the load of feathers, bought by the second son, Hans.  The family sleeps in the barn each night.  And the farmer becomes sad and anxious about what to do and what will happen to the farm when he is gone.&lt;br /&gt; Holland’s mixed media illustrations supply important information; worried, relieved, happy facial expressions, bright red and yellow accents to contrast with greys and tans, background details especially at the market, and a comedic sense of timing.  Adding to the book’s folkloric quality is the simplicity and lack of clutter in the double page spreads and the use of multiple font stylings, including a strategic use of capitalizations, lower case letters and cursives.    &lt;br /&gt; Finally when Mary asks, her father reluctantly gives her his “very last penny.”  After her trip to market and when dark falls that night, she lights a candle and plays a melody on her knife-shaped river reed.  The farmer takes her hand, speaking quietly, “You have filled the house many times over . . . . You shall run the farm . . . .”&lt;br /&gt; While this book makes use of simple math and money ideas, it also communicates that intelligence and wisdom require a different measure.  Text and art together craft a satisfying ending in this beautifully cadenced storybook with a “nugget of old wisdom” at its heart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-4139810457051775130?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/4139810457051775130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/07/numbers-can-tell-stories-family.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/4139810457051775130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/4139810457051775130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/07/numbers-can-tell-stories-family.html' title='Numbers Can Tell Stories (FAMILY magazine reviews)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7z_ioxgUHMw/TjDLU8f5IVI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/NxxIZg5F6k8/s72-c/Meribeth8.11.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-3264486339441513294</id><published>2011-08-02T21:25:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-02T21:29:56.001-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>TO YOU (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Karla Kuskin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I could walk&lt;br /&gt;through the simmering sand&lt;br /&gt;if I held your hand.&lt;br /&gt;I think I could swim&lt;br /&gt;the skin-shivering sea&lt;br /&gt;if you would accompany me.&lt;br /&gt;And run on ragged, windy heights,&lt;br /&gt;climb rugged rocks&lt;br /&gt;and walk on air:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I could do anything at all,&lt;br /&gt;if you were there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;America At War&lt;/span&gt; selected by Lee Bennett Hopkins, 2008, Simon &amp; Schuster&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-3264486339441513294?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/3264486339441513294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/08/to-you-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/3264486339441513294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/3264486339441513294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/08/to-you-monday-poem.html' title='TO YOU (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-935830959135095401</id><published>2011-07-27T16:07:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-27T16:54:04.009-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photo'/><title type='text'>Oregon Coast, Netarts Bay</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HRDdVoZ7llc/TjBxWltUBOI/AAAAAAAAAEI/ceCrVq__Ef0/s1600/112_0201.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 198px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HRDdVoZ7llc/TjBxWltUBOI/AAAAAAAAAEI/ceCrVq__Ef0/s320/112_0201.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634127766733718754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earlier this month, I spent a writing week along the Oregon coast.  It was nearly thirty degrees cooler there than most of the rest of the continental U.S.  Although the photo does not do justice to its rocky beauty, I found it a magical place.    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Space and time breathe, compressing and expanding. Fog alters reality. Stones reflect weather. Tides change visibility. Shells create memories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Want to write a title for this photo? Please share it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-935830959135095401?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/935830959135095401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/07/oregon-coast-netarts-bay.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/935830959135095401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/935830959135095401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/07/oregon-coast-netarts-bay.html' title='Oregon Coast, Netarts Bay'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HRDdVoZ7llc/TjBxWltUBOI/AAAAAAAAAEI/ceCrVq__Ef0/s72-c/112_0201.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-552448303415977294</id><published>2011-07-25T21:23:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-25T21:30:30.862-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>ODE TO THE LIZARD (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Pablo Neruda&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the sand&lt;br /&gt;a&lt;br /&gt;lizard&lt;br /&gt;with a sandy tail.&lt;br /&gt;Beneath&lt;br /&gt;a leaf,&lt;br /&gt;a leaflike&lt;br /&gt;head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From what planet,&lt;br /&gt;from what&lt;br /&gt;cold green ember&lt;br /&gt;did you fall?&lt;br /&gt;From the moon?&lt;br /&gt;From frozen space?&lt;br /&gt;Or from&lt;br /&gt;the emerald&lt;br /&gt;did your color&lt;br /&gt;climb the vine?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a rotting&lt;br /&gt;tree trunk&lt;br /&gt;you are&lt;br /&gt;a living&lt;br /&gt;shoot,&lt;br /&gt;arrow&lt;br /&gt;of its foliage.&lt;br /&gt;On a stone&lt;br /&gt;you are a stone&lt;br /&gt;with two small, ancient&lt;br /&gt;eyes--&lt;br /&gt;eyes of the stone.&lt;br /&gt;By the&lt;br /&gt;water&lt;br /&gt;you are&lt;br /&gt;silent, slippery&lt;br /&gt;slime.&lt;br /&gt;To&lt;br /&gt;a fly&lt;br /&gt;you are the dart&lt;br /&gt;of an annihilating dragon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;The Dreamer&lt;/span&gt; by Pam Munoz Ryan, 2010, Scholastic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-552448303415977294?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/552448303415977294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/07/ode-to-lizard-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/552448303415977294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/552448303415977294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/07/ode-to-lizard-monday-poem.html' title='ODE TO THE LIZARD (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-4684381510219379281</id><published>2011-07-20T22:41:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-20T23:02:45.167-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Review'/><title type='text'>Preparing for Hurricane Season (FAMILY magazine reviews)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JkW-FSYxvoc/TieSCtK_c_I/AAAAAAAAAEA/cTbrxiK8IO0/s1600/Meribeth7.11.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 310px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JkW-FSYxvoc/TieSCtK_c_I/AAAAAAAAAEA/cTbrxiK8IO0/s320/Meribeth7.11.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631630434233185266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the close of school for the summer comes the arrival of the storm season in South Florida.   This selection of books for young people includes a variety of stories to appeal across a range of ages for the time that spans vacation.  Whatever you need, choose from these books to make use of easily accessible information or to get lost in the grasp of a sweeping story.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hurricane Dancers: The First Caribbean Pirate Shipwreck &lt;br /&gt;by Margarita Engle  &lt;br /&gt;Henry Holt, $16.99, Ages 10+&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Cuban-American author Engle seamlessly blends her talents as journalist, poet and novelist to bring historic figures and settings to life.  With her distinctive writing style, she again treats her readers to poetry in each characters’ voice, allowing them to tell their own story, while simultaneously showing how the Spanish-Indian slave boy who, used by his pirate captain master as a translator, escapes during a hurricane shipwreck to safety.  And further, learning to live again on land, helping a pair of young lovers, and ultimately deciding the fate of his former pirate/owner Talavera, and Talavera’s conquistador hostage, Ojeda, this former slave creates a new life and a new name for himself.&lt;br /&gt; A fictionalized account divided into six parts, it is by turns suspenseful, captivating, ill fated, and stirring as readers are led into the age of Spanish exploration and conquest, which also includes islands in the Caribbean, and the Cuban/Taíno love story of Caucubú and Naridó.  Award-winning writer Engle has woven family ancestry, hurricanes, slavery, pirates, shipwrecks, forbidden love, caves, and island spirits into a poetic feast of historic fiction.  An Author’s Note, Historic Note, and References are added at the end.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ready, Set . . . Wait! What Animals Do Before a Hurricane &lt;br /&gt;by Patti R. Zelch &lt;br /&gt;illustrations by Connie McLennan  &lt;br /&gt;Sylvan Dell, $8.95, Ages 4-9&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Humans are not the only ones who prepare for a hurricane – animals, in South Florida author Zelch’s first picture book, sense and prepare for oncoming storms too.  Zelch’s use of poetic language and simple repetitive phrases, brings her readers into the moments before a howling storm arrives:  “Sharks explode from the shallows” of a bay, birds “huddle among the twisted roots” of mangrove islands, “rabbits race across the land,” instinctively (“They know!”) moving into their own safety range.&lt;br /&gt; Award-winning illustrator McLennan’s paintings spread across double pages, ushering readers from human land preparations, into shallow ocean reef waters, then to the open sea and safety in deeper water.  She uses her varied color palette to show animals on their island homes, in inland rivers and grasslands, and both offshore and along sea shorelines. &lt;br /&gt; Informative back matter includes answers to questions, What is a Hurricane?, maps, the Saffir-Simpson Hurricane Scale, Preparations for the Storm, and Animal Behavior.  Perfect for a home or classroom setting, this nonfiction book is an excellent choice both for before a storm or following a hurricane to assist families as they respond to these powerful tempests.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hurricane Song: A Novel of New Orleans &lt;br /&gt;by Paul Volponi  &lt;br /&gt;Viking, $15.99, Ages 11-14&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Hurricane Katrina arrives in New Orleans about two months after Miles moves from Chicago, where he’s been living with his remarried mother’s new family, to live with his jazz musician father.  Miles believes his father’s first love is his trumpet and playing jazz, and he becomes both angry and disappointed when his father’s birthday gift to him is an African drum, instead of new cleats and a football.  &lt;br /&gt; In bumper-to-bumper traffic on the highway out of the city, Miles’ uncle’s car dies, and the three end up hiking to the Superdome in the rain.  At this super shelter they, and another jazz musician friend they meet up with later inside, decide not to become involved in other people’s dramas.  But along with a woman, her father, and her two young daughters, plus a preacher and his family, they begin to form a small community of safety and comfort, drawing together in the sharing of music as an antidote to loss and grief.  &lt;br /&gt; This becomes even more necessary when Miles meets up with a couple of boys from his new high school football team.  Initially he’s pleased because they are both seniors, and he thinks he’ll be part of the social chain in school if he hangs out with these guys – until they bully themselves into the food line and later, want protection money from the people in Miles’ section.&lt;br /&gt; Headlined by verses, both known and new, of the jazz spiritual often characteristically used as a funeral march in New Orleans, each of the twelve chapters (plus a prologue and an epilogue) is also captioned by a date and time, and chronicles the painful experiences of three days in the before and after of Hurricane Katrina.  In this short but gripping story of nightmarish tragedies and profound hope, Volponi’s passionate writing is a careful crafting of contrasts -- gritty language and sensitive interactions -- in this tale of a desperate time, as a son and his father discover each other in new ways and begin to feel like a family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Additional titles to consider:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hurricanes! &lt;br /&gt;by Gail Gibbons  &lt;br /&gt;Holiday House, $17.95, Ages 7-9&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Discover how hurricanes form, how to prepare when you learn a hurricane is coming, what kinds of damage results, and how information is gathered to forecast and track hurricanes.  Brief descriptions of several famous historic hurricanes, including Hurricane Andrew (1992), and Hurricane Katrina (2005) are included.  (Nonfiction)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hurricane Wolf &lt;br /&gt;by Diane Paterson&lt;br /&gt;Albert Whitman, $16.99, Ages 5-8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Noah learns about and helps prepare for approaching Hurricane Anna, which he calls a hurricane wolf, because it’s scary like a big bad wolf trying to blow down houses.  The family plots the hurricane’s course on a map, while it batters the house, and Noah asks questions: “Can it see us?” he whispers when it gets suddenly quiet; his mom explains the silence as the eye, the center of the storm.  Information about hurricanes is included at the end as a “book” Noah makes with help from his mom: the Saffir-Simpson Scale, a sample Hurricane Plan, Hurricane Kit, and what to do After the Storm.  (Fiction) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ellie Ever &lt;br /&gt;by Nancy Ruth Patterson&lt;br /&gt;illustrations by Patty Weise&lt;br /&gt;Farrar, Straus &amp; Giroux, $15.99, Ages 7-10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; After a hurricane in which nine-year-old Ellie and her mother lose her father, her beloved Saint Bernard, Pandy, their house and all their possessions, they move to Virginia for her mother to complete a farrier’s apprenticeship at a mansion, which also houses stables for retired horses.  Ellie is accepted into Twin Creeks Preparatory School and discovers the other girls in her fourth grade class think she’s a princess because she lives at the mansion.  This tender, restrained story shows a family’s steady recovery from the huge losses of a big storm.  (Fiction)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-4684381510219379281?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/4684381510219379281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/07/preparing-for-hurricane-season-family.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/4684381510219379281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/4684381510219379281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/07/preparing-for-hurricane-season-family.html' title='Preparing for Hurricane Season (FAMILY magazine reviews)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JkW-FSYxvoc/TieSCtK_c_I/AAAAAAAAAEA/cTbrxiK8IO0/s72-c/Meribeth7.11.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-82758439369434811</id><published>2011-07-18T10:04:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-18T10:09:16.940-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>BOMBS AWAY (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Sara Holbrook&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It happens when&lt;br /&gt;the weather warms.&lt;br /&gt;The sky explodes&lt;br /&gt;in thunderstorms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cloud puffs change&lt;br /&gt;from white to gray.&lt;br /&gt;The sun retreats,&lt;br /&gt;then&lt;br /&gt;BOMBS AWAY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forget those ten umbrellas,&lt;br /&gt;the hat,&lt;br /&gt;or the place to hide.&lt;br /&gt;When storm clouds start to grumble,&lt;br /&gt;I want&lt;br /&gt;a good friend&lt;br /&gt;by my side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Weird? (Me, Too!) Let's Be Friends&lt;/span&gt; by Sara Holbrook, 2010, Wordsong&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-82758439369434811?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/82758439369434811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/07/bombs-away-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/82758439369434811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/82758439369434811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/07/bombs-away-monday-poem.html' title='BOMBS AWAY (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-9074696819774373315</id><published>2011-07-12T00:02:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-18T10:00:34.988-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>WHAT'S IN A WORD? (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Siv Cedering&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Say "bird,"&lt;br /&gt;and a sparrow appears&lt;br /&gt;inside you and ruffles&lt;br /&gt;its feathers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Say "cardinal,"&lt;br /&gt;and the bird turns red.&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly it is winter.&lt;br /&gt;With a lot of snow. And look!&lt;br /&gt;There are sunflower seeds&lt;br /&gt;in the feeder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;em&gt;How to Write Poetry &lt;/em&gt;by Paul B. Janeczko,1999, Scholastic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-9074696819774373315?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/9074696819774373315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/07/whats-in-word-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/9074696819774373315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/9074696819774373315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/07/whats-in-word-monday-poem.html' title='WHAT&apos;S IN A WORD? (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-2530929577892502492</id><published>2011-07-05T16:44:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-05T22:23:46.421-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>THIS BOOK (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Avis Harley&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This book is the best--&lt;br /&gt;I woke up to read it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Before&lt;/span&gt; getting dressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This book is so cool--&lt;br /&gt;It's the first thing I grabbed&lt;br /&gt;When I rushed in from school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This book is a winner--&lt;br /&gt;I forgot I was hungry.&lt;br /&gt;I almost missed dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This book is just right--&lt;br /&gt;I'm reading by flashlight deep into the night&lt;br /&gt;Deliciously thirsty to see how it ends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Books are such mind-thrilling &lt;br /&gt;Spine-tingling friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I Am the Book&lt;/span&gt; selected by Lee Bennett Hopkins, 2011, Holiday House&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-2530929577892502492?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/2530929577892502492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/07/this-book-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/2530929577892502492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/2530929577892502492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/07/this-book-monday-poem.html' title='THIS BOOK (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-2499138418386116690</id><published>2011-06-27T12:14:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-27T12:21:21.720-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>RAIN (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>The rain is raining all around,&lt;br /&gt;It falls on field and tree,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It rains on the umbrellas here,&lt;br /&gt;And on the ships at sea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;em&gt;&lt;em&gt;A Child's Garden of Verses &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;by Robert Louis Stevenson, 1978, Random House&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-2499138418386116690?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/2499138418386116690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/06/rain-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/2499138418386116690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/2499138418386116690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/06/rain-monday-poem.html' title='RAIN (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-3367979092590299027</id><published>2011-06-24T15:28:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-24T17:04:58.174-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome to the World, Ella Elizabeth!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yKAeijEk6Sc/TgTl1XGgGZI/AAAAAAAAAD4/THO_WKXXcug/s1600/112_0153.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 180px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621870939762334098" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yKAeijEk6Sc/TgTl1XGgGZI/AAAAAAAAAD4/THO_WKXXcug/s320/112_0153.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; We have a new dear to love!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-3367979092590299027?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/3367979092590299027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/06/welcome-to-world-ella-elizabeth.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/3367979092590299027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/3367979092590299027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/06/welcome-to-world-ella-elizabeth.html' title='Welcome to the World, Ella Elizabeth!'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yKAeijEk6Sc/TgTl1XGgGZI/AAAAAAAAAD4/THO_WKXXcug/s72-c/112_0153.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-1348267568275159262</id><published>2011-06-20T10:41:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-20T10:51:48.154-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>THE SWING (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Robert Louis Stevenson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you like to go up in a swing,&lt;br /&gt;Up in the air so blue?&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing&lt;br /&gt;Ever a child can do!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Up in the air and over the wall,&lt;br /&gt;Till I can see so wide,&lt;br /&gt;Rivers and trees, cattle and all&lt;br /&gt;Over the countryside. --&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Till I look down on the garden green,&lt;br /&gt;Down on the roof so brown--&lt;br /&gt;Up in the air I go flying again,&lt;br /&gt;Up in the air and down!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;em&gt;&lt;em&gt;A Child's Garden of Verses &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;by Robert Louis Stevenson, 1978, Random House&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-1348267568275159262?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/1348267568275159262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/06/swing-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/1348267568275159262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/1348267568275159262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/06/swing-monday-poem.html' title='THE SWING (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-2380510194753078627</id><published>2011-06-13T22:51:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-13T22:55:24.686-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>WHAT WAS THAT?  (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Rebecca Kai Dotlich&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was that&lt;br /&gt;that made me blink?&lt;br /&gt;Made me wonder,&lt;br /&gt;made me think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turned me inside&lt;br /&gt;upside down;&lt;br /&gt;under, over&lt;br /&gt;all around?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was that&lt;br /&gt;that I just heard?&lt;br /&gt;A treasured tale,&lt;br /&gt;a magic word?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A breathless thought&lt;br /&gt;inside my head--&lt;br /&gt;what was that&lt;br /&gt;that I just read?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I Am the Book &lt;/span&gt;Poems selected by Lee Bennett Hopkins, 2011, Holiday House&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-2380510194753078627?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/2380510194753078627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/06/what-was-that-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/2380510194753078627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/2380510194753078627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/06/what-was-that-monday-poem.html' title='WHAT WAS THAT?  (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-1926195868058461701</id><published>2011-06-07T21:25:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-07T21:35:38.418-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Review'/><title type='text'>First Rate Father Figures (FAMILY magazine reviews)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-o8jM3GOTnTo/Te7Q7D7J_7I/AAAAAAAAADw/_SnZztQsiKI/s1600/Meribeth6.11.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-o8jM3GOTnTo/Te7Q7D7J_7I/AAAAAAAAADw/_SnZztQsiKI/s320/Meribeth6.11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615655498461872050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;Fathers can help us fashion who we are from our dreams.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Choose from these great storybooks to celebrate the father you adore.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;          &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }@font-face {   font-family: "Georgia"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;My Side of the Car&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;by Kate Feiffer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;illustrated by Jules Feiffer&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;Candlewick Press, $16.99, Ages 4-7&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;           &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Readers of this funny, quirky picture book see the difficulty Sadie has had trying to get to the zoo – her mom trips and they must go to the hospital, Pasha the dog gets lost and the family looks for him all day, the grandparents make a surprise visit and prefer the museum.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But finally Sadie and her dad are on the way, having a great time, until her father notices it’s raining.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;“No, it’s not raining on my side of the car,” says Sadie, again and again, in answer to her father’s concern.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Modeled on a trip the author, Kate Feiffer, and her father, Jules Feiffer, the illustrator, once took to a nature preserve, the watercolor and pencil paintings explicitly capture images of a rain-soaked landscape in contrast to a bright sunny day, with the red car serving as the dividing line between.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;From Sadie’s comments, one is never entirely certain whether her observations are based in reality or hope.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But the text and images complement each other fully; as it becomes clear that Sadie is determined, nothing will keep them from the zoo today. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;When they finally arrive however, and Sadie gets out, she declares she doesn’t want her father to get wet from the rain on his side of the car.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They make a big turn, and after passing some boring roads, her dad observes that it’s not raining on his side of the car now.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The satisfying final scene is complete with them “going to the zoo.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;At last!”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;(Appended is a comical discussion between daughter and father about the real-life event – it’s clear there is, to this day, no agreement about whether it was raining!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;           &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }@font-face {   font-family: "Georgia"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;Passing the Music Down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;by Sarah Sullivan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;illustrated by Barry Root&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Candlewick Press, $16.99, Ages 5-8&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;When a young boy travels from Indiana to Appalachia mountain country, it’s to meet the old fiddler whose playing he admires.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The two become fast friends, working in the old man’s garden, sharing meals, and playing fiddle tunes together.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;To strengthen the relationship, rooted in the music they both love, the boy’s family moves to a neighboring county.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Accenting the title by recurrent use of the phrase, author Sullivan, a West Virginian, like the musicians and the traditional folk music she admires, keeps readers connected to the characters by favoring a ballad-like storytelling style with poetic images – “Like a katydid in the spring, the boy’s heart dances.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Illustrator/musician Root’s sunlit watercolor and gouache images emphasize the mountain setting by liberal, yet delicate choices of yellows, oranges and greens, merging with the text for a timeless composition.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Inspired by the true story of Melvin Wine and Jake Krack, the combined talents of author and illustrator smoothly convey the power of a passion for great fiddling and long-lasting fiddle tunes to shape a bond between generations – the tradition of “passing the music down” in this lovely lyrical story.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Helpful back matter features an Author’s Note, explaining the remarkable story behind the book; A Note on the Tunes; and Resources, which include:&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Books and Articles, a Discography, Videos, and Websites.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;           &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }@font-face {   font-family: "Georgia"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;     &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;These Hands&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;by Margaret H. Mason&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;illustrated by Floyd Cooper&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Houghton Mifflin, $16.99, Ages 6-9&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Using the “yes, I can” phrase, famous from Barak Obama’s 2008 presidential campaign, as a refrain, the loving African American grandfather in this story tells about his life, subtly encouraging his grandson to develop his own skills.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;With a repetitive “Did you know . . . .?, author Mason’s lyrical language shifts the grandfather’s remembering from the simple art of tying shoes, and joyful singing at the piano, to card games and baseball, and the inequity of being prevented from making bread at the Wonder Bread factory because, “white people would not want to eat bread touched by these hands.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;In just a few brief phrases, the storyteller moves the reader from hands that “were only allowed to sweep the floors and work the line and load the trucks,” to hands that joined with other hands to write petitions, carry signs and raise voices together, fashioning changes that make it possible for any hands now, to “mix the bread dough, no matter their color.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;With his characteristic “erased” oil wash, an artistic styling which gives both depth and texture, illustrator Cooper also effectively suggests another era, by his choice of sepia tones and a soft focus.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Hands are prominent without being dominant, and the expressive faces add dimension, structure and drive to the story.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;This latter is especially true as the rhythmic language transfers to the grandson who, discovering what his hands can do now, brings the grandfather along to share the conclusion that “those hands can do anything.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Anything at all in this whole wide world.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;An Author’s Note at the end shares some of the oral history of bakery factories, where workers, who joined together to fight for fair treatment in their jobs, established labor unions.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-1926195868058461701?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/1926195868058461701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/06/first-rate-father-figures-family.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/1926195868058461701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/1926195868058461701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/06/first-rate-father-figures-family.html' title='First Rate Father Figures (FAMILY magazine reviews)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-o8jM3GOTnTo/Te7Q7D7J_7I/AAAAAAAAADw/_SnZztQsiKI/s72-c/Meribeth6.11.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-7823522072048943440</id><published>2011-06-07T09:20:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-07T13:01:48.614-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>WONDER THROUGH THE PAGES  (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Karla Kuskin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I picked out a book&lt;br /&gt;on my own&lt;br /&gt;from the shelf&lt;br /&gt;and I started to read&lt;br /&gt;on my own&lt;br /&gt;to myself.&lt;br /&gt;And nonsense and knowledge&lt;br /&gt;came tumbling out,&lt;br /&gt;whispering mysteries,&lt;br /&gt;history's shout,&lt;br /&gt;the wisdom of wizards,&lt;br /&gt;the songs of the ages,&lt;br /&gt;all wonders of wandering&lt;br /&gt;wonderful pages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I Am the Book &lt;/span&gt;Poems selected by Lee Bennett Hopkins, 2011, Holiday House&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-7823522072048943440?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/7823522072048943440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/06/wonder-through-pages-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/7823522072048943440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/7823522072048943440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/06/wonder-through-pages-monday-poem.html' title='WONDER THROUGH THE PAGES  (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-502039984184617882</id><published>2011-05-30T10:07:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-30T11:59:34.313-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>WHO'S RICH (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Naomi Shihab Nye&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who's rich?&lt;br /&gt;The boy with a book he hasn't read yet.&lt;br /&gt;The girl with a tower of books by her bed.&lt;br /&gt;She opens and opens and opens.&lt;br /&gt;Her life starts everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who's rich?&lt;br /&gt;Anyone befriended again &amp;amp; again&lt;br /&gt;by a well-loved book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a wealth&lt;br /&gt;we never lose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I Am the Book &lt;/span&gt;Poems selected by Lee Bennett Hopkins, 2011, Holiday House&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-502039984184617882?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/502039984184617882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/05/whos-rich-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/502039984184617882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/502039984184617882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/05/whos-rich-monday-poem.html' title='WHO&apos;S RICH (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-4919347132389928938</id><published>2011-05-23T14:38:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-23T14:52:19.639-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>WALKING ON THE BOUNDARIES OF CHANGE (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Sara Holbrook&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day by day&lt;br /&gt;a tightrope,&lt;br /&gt;walking on the boundaries&lt;br /&gt;of change.&lt;br /&gt;One step--&lt;br /&gt;firm, familiar.&lt;br /&gt;The next step--&lt;br /&gt;shaky, strange.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some friends will dare danger,&lt;br /&gt;mock or push each step.&lt;br /&gt;Some friends&lt;br /&gt;knock your confidence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Real friends&lt;br /&gt;form a net.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Weird? (Me, Too!) Let's Be Friends&lt;/span&gt; by Sara Holbrook, 2010, Wordsong&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-4919347132389928938?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/4919347132389928938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/05/walking-on-boundaries-of-change-monday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/4919347132389928938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/4919347132389928938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/05/walking-on-boundaries-of-change-monday.html' title='WALKING ON THE BOUNDARIES OF CHANGE (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-8709997848728109703</id><published>2011-05-16T17:24:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-16T17:29:58.755-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>RAIN, RAIN, RAIN (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Karma Wilson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, the rain is such a pain&lt;br /&gt;when it's falling from the sky&lt;br /&gt;and we want to be out playin'&lt;br /&gt;and we'd like a little dry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, the rain is such a pain.&lt;br /&gt;And it wouldn't come, I bet,&lt;br /&gt;if our garden were a-wiltin'&lt;br /&gt;and we'd like a little wet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What's the Weather Inside? &lt;/span&gt;by Karma Wilson, 2009, McElderry Books&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-8709997848728109703?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/8709997848728109703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/05/rain-rain-rain-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/8709997848728109703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/8709997848728109703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/05/rain-rain-rain-monday-poem.html' title='RAIN, RAIN, RAIN (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-8984476298771115845</id><published>2011-05-10T22:43:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-10T22:52:28.667-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Review'/><title type='text'>Soccer Counts (FAMILY magazine reviews)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y4g7BmSGUjo/Tcn4T3VyccI/AAAAAAAAAC8/khn9y1oJU9I/s1600/MeribethMay5.11.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y4g7BmSGUjo/Tcn4T3VyccI/AAAAAAAAAC8/khn9y1oJU9I/s320/MeribethMay5.11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605284231395832258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;          &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Written by three moms, these books demonstrate the strength of a game and the power of a good story to make connections, sustain friendships, and engage kids of all ages in the unifying experience of play.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;          &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;My Name is Sangoel&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;by Karen Lynn Williams and Khadra Mohammed&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;illustrated by Catherine Stock&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Eerdmans, $17.00, Ages 6-8&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Sudanese refugee Sangoel, whose father was killed in the war, leaves the refugee camp and arrives by “sky boat” in the United States with his Mama and younger sister, Lili.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They learn to cross the street safely, eat with forks, and use the phone.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But the doctor, the teacher and even the soccer coach cannot pronounce his name correctly.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Veteran author/illustrator Stock chooses both vivid and muted colors to convey the contrast between the refugee camp and the busy, noisy US city with its cold weather, and crowds.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The sunlit illustrations, showing Sangoel acting on his “bright” idea follow immediately after the dark despair of the shadowed bedroom, where dreams disturb his sleep.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This juxtaposition increases the power of the text and escalates the impact of the story’s climax.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;With a deft combination of dialog and narrative, the authors show readers the enormous changes Sangoel and his family experience.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Although he feels the freedom and openness in the US, Sangoel also suffers what feels like the loss of his name.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Coming as a refugee without a country or even a home, pride in his Dinka name is nearly the only inheritance that survives of Sangoel’s knowledge about himself.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Sparked by Lili, Sangoel takes an idea from his soccer team shirt, and using an almost-white shirt from the bag of donated clothing, fashions a message about his name.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Under the words, &lt;i style=""&gt;My name is,&lt;/i&gt; he draws a sun above a soccer ball in the goal net.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When his classmates solve the rebus-like sentence on his shirt, correctly pronouncing Sun-goal, they each begin to create a name rebus.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The teacher’s approving comment supplies the quiet Sangoel with a chance, finally, to explain the value of his name.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;(Using simple language, a brief Author’s Note at the end explains what can cause people to become refugees and why the ancestral name can be important.)&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;          &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;Goal!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;by Mina Javaherbin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;illustrated by A. G. Ford&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Candlewick Press, $16.99, Ages 7-9&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;In a South African township alley, six boys play soccer with a ball won by the one who is its owner, as a “prize for being the best reader in class.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They kick, they dribble, they run, they shoot for their goal, between two dented water buckets.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They are champions, even in streets that are not safe.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;They take turns guarding against ruffians by drawing sticks.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But when Badu, the rooftop guard, jumps down to help solve a disagreement about a corner kick, bullies on bikes arrive to steal the ball.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Iranian immigrant and debut picture book writer Javaherbin, uses short, staccato sentences to energize a story with universal appeal.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;While repetitive language reinforces safety issues, oil paintings show brilliant blue skies, and varied textures -- of the dusty street, the proud new black and white patches on a&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;federation-size football, and even the beat-up shanties.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Although conversation drives the story, the illustrations supply skin tones to reflect the sun’s glow, as body postures and faces reflect laughter, fear, intimidation, and especially triumph. Together, painting and text create a strong picture book whose resilience lies not only in the friendship among the boys, but also in the magic of the world’s most popular team sport.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;An Author’s Note is appended.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;Pelé King of Soccer&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;by Monica Brown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Illustrated by Rudy Gutiérrez&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;HarperCollins, $17,99, Ages 5-9&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;           &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;       &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Beginning in the middle of a game, just as the featured soccer player is about to score, this book about the life of Brazil’s superstar shifts easily between commentary about specific games, and following him from his early days as a shoe-shine boy on the streets of Três Corações, helping his family earn money.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;His relationship with his father, the times he and his friends played soccer – sometimes with a grapefruit or an old sock, stuffed with newspapers, sometimes barefoot – and including his invitation to try out for a professional team at the age of fifteen, are all highlighted.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Combining the award-winning talents of author Brown and artist Gutiérrez, this fast moving biography features Pelé’s famous bicycle kick.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Also, playing with his team and winning the first World Cup for Brazil at the age of seventeen, traveling all over the world to play and teach soccer, and scoring his one thousandth goal are emphasized.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Gutiérrez uses bold, sunlit colors and curved lines to frame the words of this bilingual picture book in English and Spanish.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He energizes Brown’s already lively text by pulling and stretching images of city streets, balls, Pelé himself, stadiums, and even the word, GOAL. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Primitive designs, plus smaller images of people’s faces – some famous -- add action to this book about a remarkable player and a beloved game.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-8984476298771115845?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/8984476298771115845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/05/soccer-counts-family-magazine-reviews.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/8984476298771115845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/8984476298771115845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/05/soccer-counts-family-magazine-reviews.html' title='Soccer Counts (FAMILY magazine reviews)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y4g7BmSGUjo/Tcn4T3VyccI/AAAAAAAAAC8/khn9y1oJU9I/s72-c/MeribethMay5.11.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-8344300423927923131</id><published>2011-05-03T19:38:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-03T19:49:01.085-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>CALLING ALL GRANDMOTHERS (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Alice Walker&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have to live&lt;br /&gt;differently&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or we&lt;br /&gt;will die&lt;br /&gt;in the same&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;old ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Therefore&lt;br /&gt;I call on all Grand Mothers&lt;br /&gt;everywhere&lt;br /&gt;on the planet&lt;br /&gt;to rise&lt;br /&gt;and take you place&lt;br /&gt;in the leadership&lt;br /&gt;of the world&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come out&lt;br /&gt;of the kitchen&lt;br /&gt;out of the&lt;br /&gt;fields&lt;br /&gt;out of the&lt;br /&gt;beauty parlors&lt;br /&gt;out of the&lt;br /&gt;television&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Step forward&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; assume&lt;br /&gt;the role&lt;br /&gt;for which&lt;br /&gt;you were&lt;br /&gt;created:&lt;br /&gt;To lead humanity&lt;br /&gt;to health, happiness&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; sanity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I call on&lt;br /&gt;all the&lt;br /&gt;Grand Mothers&lt;br /&gt;of Earth&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; every person&lt;br /&gt;who possesses&lt;br /&gt;the Grand Mother&lt;br /&gt;spirit&lt;br /&gt;of respect for&lt;br /&gt;life&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp;&lt;br /&gt;protection of&lt;br /&gt;the young&lt;br /&gt;to rise&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; lead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The life of&lt;br /&gt;our species&lt;br /&gt;depends&lt;br /&gt;on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; I call on all men&lt;br /&gt;of Earth&lt;br /&gt;to gracefully&lt;br /&gt;and&lt;br /&gt;gratefully&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;stand aside&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; let them&lt;br /&gt;(let us)&lt;br /&gt;do so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hard Times Require Furious Dancing,&lt;/span&gt; by Alice Walker, 2010, New World Library.  Printed in MS. MAGAZINE, Fall 2010, p.50&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-8344300423927923131?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/8344300423927923131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/05/calling-all-grandmothers-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/8344300423927923131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/8344300423927923131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/05/calling-all-grandmothers-monday-poem.html' title='CALLING ALL GRANDMOTHERS (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-33413972294062492</id><published>2011-04-25T11:33:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-25T11:41:25.335-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>RECALCULATING  (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Sara Holbrook&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My pencil broke.&lt;br /&gt;See my point?&lt;br /&gt;I didn't set out to&lt;br /&gt;disappoint.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please!&lt;br /&gt;Give me a break&lt;br /&gt;and lose that look.&lt;br /&gt;It's library day;&lt;br /&gt;I forgot my book.&lt;br /&gt;My alarm slept in.&lt;br /&gt;No time to brush.&lt;br /&gt;My mom was in a mood.&lt;br /&gt;I whacked my shin&lt;br /&gt;trying to rush.&lt;br /&gt;The bus driver was rude.&lt;br /&gt;Okay, a little late,&lt;br /&gt;but just my luck,&lt;br /&gt;my zipper stuck.&lt;br /&gt;I only could find one glove!&lt;br /&gt;How 'bout a little love?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today&lt;br /&gt;turned the wrong way&lt;br /&gt;down a one-way street with&lt;br /&gt;bird poop on its shoulder.&lt;br /&gt;If you don't mind,&lt;br /&gt;can we make a deal&lt;br /&gt;and start this whole day over?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Wierd? (Me, Too!) Let's Be Friends, &lt;/span&gt;by Sara Holbrook, 2010, Wordsong&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-33413972294062492?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/33413972294062492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/04/recalculating-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/33413972294062492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/33413972294062492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/04/recalculating-monday-poem.html' title='RECALCULATING  (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-5084938881855359859</id><published>2011-04-19T10:09:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-19T10:24:21.500-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>WHAT'S JUST  (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Sara Holbrook&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Just&lt;/span&gt; deny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Just&lt;/span&gt; postpone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Just&lt;/span&gt; press forward,  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;delete.&lt;br /&gt;          Didn't see it.&lt;br /&gt;          Not my mix.&lt;br /&gt;          Couldn't care.&lt;br /&gt;          Cannot fix.&lt;br /&gt;So whatever.&lt;br /&gt;I'm &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;just&lt;/span&gt; so not into this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except . . .&lt;br /&gt;          &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;just&lt;/span&gt; some sweat on my forehead,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;         just&lt;/span&gt; this bite on my lip.&lt;br /&gt;Except . . .&lt;br /&gt;         &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;just&lt;/span&gt; this clench in my eyebrows,&lt;br /&gt;        &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;just &lt;/span&gt;this scream in my throat.&lt;br /&gt;I should &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;just &lt;/span&gt;walk away.&lt;br /&gt;This is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;just&lt;/span&gt; not my fight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except . . .&lt;br /&gt;my voice &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;just&lt;/span&gt; escaped,&lt;br /&gt;and I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;just&lt;/span&gt; have to say&lt;br /&gt;          that&lt;br /&gt;          that&lt;br /&gt;                   &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;just&lt;/span&gt; isn't right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Wierd? &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(Me, Too!)  Let's Be Friends &lt;/span&gt;by Sara Holbrook, 2010, Wordsong.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-5084938881855359859?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/5084938881855359859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/04/whats-just-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/5084938881855359859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/5084938881855359859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/04/whats-just-monday-poem.html' title='WHAT&apos;S JUST  (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-7700515897114760525</id><published>2011-04-14T22:26:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-14T22:38:00.873-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book review'/><title type='text'>Earth Day Books for Poetry Month (FAMILY magazine reviews)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YQMgy5pRwXo/Taetnz_x-uI/AAAAAAAAAC0/heXGlQud7AE/s1600/Meribeth4.11.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YQMgy5pRwXo/Taetnz_x-uI/AAAAAAAAAC0/heXGlQud7AE/s320/Meribeth4.11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595631961515358946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;           &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;These poetic books are perfect for the month of April when poetry is particularly celebrated, and when we honor our planet for Earth Day and beyond.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;With the youngest among us hopping, growling, or flapping we can tune along -- while older children might prefer to follow the path of a plastic bag, or join the youngster who’s saving salamander lives.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;          &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;Big Night for Salamanders&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;by Sarah Marwil Lamstein&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;illustrated by Carol Benioff&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Boyds Mills Press, $17.95, Ages 7-9&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;On the first warm rainy night of spring – Big Night – spotted salamanders emerge from the forest tunnels where they’ve spent the winter, to return to the pools where they were born.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Many must cross a road, and volunteers with flashlights, like Evan in this story, keep watch to help these small amphibians to safety.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Similar to volunteers who help egg laying turtles on east coast Florida beaches, by putting protective fences around the nests, and turning off street lights so newly hatched turtle babies can find their way to the ocean by moonlight.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The salamander volunteers near forests in North America stand watch to warn motorists of the migration.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Using two different fonts to follow the two tracks of this book helps readers understand the path of the migrating salamanders, while simultaneously showing young Evan’s excitement at helping the small creatures to safety.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Benioff’s colorful gouache brightens paintings of the rainy night.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Flashlights and automobile lights contrast with darker colors showing the forest path, as the rain falls.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Evan’s solution to protect the salamanders even after he goes to bed suits the rainy night elements of the story, and demonstrates the passion many feel as they work to protect creatures in our world.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;This engaging picture book includes two pages explaining the Life Cycle of the Spotted Salamander, a few paragraphs about Big Night and Vernal Pools, plus a Glossary, Index and Resources at the back.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;          &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;If You’re Hoppy&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;by April Pulley Sayre&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;illustrated by Jackie Urbanovic&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Greenwillow, $16.99, Ages 2-5&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The award-winning author of numerous books for children about science and natural history, Sayre brings her rollicking brand of humor and creativity to this rhyming picture book, based on the traditional song “If you’re happy and you know it.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Whether you act like a frog, a bunny or a cricket, hopping happiness abounds, as does flappiness as a bird, butterfly or pterodactyl.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;The craziness doesn’t stop with pterodactyls, but moves quickly into being sloppy or growly, and starts to include “slimy and scaly and mean,” as illustrator Urbanovic’s watercolors, outlined in ink, leap and growl across the double pages in bright colors.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The light green frog with red legs and tongue from the early pages is especially captivating, as are the unexpected bird choices of a large white pelican with widespread wings, and the almost laughing pterodactyl.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;The slightly scary purple pages with slimy, scaly and mean descriptors turn out to be the frog making shadows in front of a flashlight, immediately reducing any potential anxiety for young children.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The final pages shower readers with movement using both words and pictures, circling back to the dancing frog that wants to be with YOU!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;           &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;Bag in the Wind&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;by Ted Kooser&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;illustrated by Barry Root.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Candlewick Press, $17.99, Ages 5-8&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Set during a cold early spring, this windy story begins in a landfill with a yellow onion-colored, two-handled plastic grocery bag, escaping as air fills it, to get caught on a chain link fence with other trash.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Showing the bag as it bounces over the fence to catch on a tree branch, where a redwing blackbird finally pecks it free, the story follows the bag, as it rolls along the ground, and snags on a barbed wire, where a girl grabs it for carrying cans to recycle, at a nearby gas station.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;After the bag is emptied, it gets wedged under the door to keep out the wind, until a small truck with bags full of leaves for the landfill arrives.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Freed once again, the bag tosses in the wind, and when it’s captured this time, it’s by a homeless man’s crutch.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Later, it blows away on the nearby stream, and floats into a river, then alongside a dock, where another homeless person grabs it, and loses it again.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;The recycling is complete when a man picks up the bag, and with other bags, sells it to a second-hand store for the owner to use.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When the first little girl buys a baseball and glove there, her purchases go with her in the same ordinary two-handled bag.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;The watercolor and gouache paintings use subdued yellows and oranges, to cast the late winter in colors that supply the requisite overcast chills of the changing season.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Accompanying the tonal qualities of re-use, the illustrator captures the essence of earth-care as each aspect of the bag’s journey reflects another phase of the recycling processes that show care for our planet.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;A Note About Recycling Plastic Bags is included at the end.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-7700515897114760525?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/7700515897114760525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/04/earth-day-books-for-poetry-month-family.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/7700515897114760525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/7700515897114760525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/04/earth-day-books-for-poetry-month-family.html' title='Earth Day Books for Poetry Month (FAMILY magazine reviews)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YQMgy5pRwXo/Taetnz_x-uI/AAAAAAAAAC0/heXGlQud7AE/s72-c/Meribeth4.11.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-2168346498503522956</id><published>2011-04-11T20:16:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-11T20:35:32.833-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>Terns Galore</title><content type='html'>by Jane Yolen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the seaside, terns galore,&lt;br /&gt;One tern, one tern, one tern more.&lt;br /&gt;I tern.  You tern.&lt;br /&gt;My turn to fly, tern,&lt;br /&gt;Overhead and high, tern,&lt;br /&gt;Underneath and 'bye, tern.&lt;br /&gt;Why, tern, why turn?&lt;br /&gt;Turning terns are all returning,&lt;br /&gt;There upon the shore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-2168346498503522956?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/2168346498503522956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/04/terns-galore.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/2168346498503522956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/2168346498503522956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/04/terns-galore.html' title='Terns Galore'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-180143990949580215</id><published>2011-04-05T23:11:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-05T23:20:13.166-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>Wood/Peck</title><content type='html'>by Jane Yolen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wood&lt;br /&gt;Peck&lt;br /&gt;Peck&lt;br /&gt;Peck&lt;br /&gt;Up the&lt;br /&gt;Bark&lt;br /&gt;Bark&lt;br /&gt;Bark&lt;br /&gt;In the&lt;br /&gt;Day&lt;br /&gt;Day&lt;br /&gt;Day&lt;br /&gt;Not the&lt;br /&gt;Dark&lt;br /&gt;Dark&lt;br /&gt;Dark&lt;br /&gt;Time to&lt;br /&gt;Work&lt;br /&gt;Work&lt;br /&gt;Work&lt;br /&gt;Flick and&lt;br /&gt;Fleck&lt;br /&gt;Fleck&lt;br /&gt;Fleck&lt;br /&gt;Look for&lt;br /&gt;Bugs&lt;br /&gt;Bugs&lt;br /&gt;Bugs&lt;br /&gt;As I&lt;br /&gt;Peck&lt;br /&gt;Peck&lt;br /&gt;Peck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-180143990949580215?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/180143990949580215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/04/woodpeck.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/180143990949580215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/180143990949580215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/04/woodpeck.html' title='Wood/Peck'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-2403043907890110245</id><published>2011-03-28T15:22:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-28T15:24:56.733-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>Candle Flame</title><content type='html'>by Rebecca Kai Dotlich&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watch carefully&lt;br /&gt;the candle&lt;br /&gt;flame;&lt;br /&gt;its yellow dance,&lt;br /&gt;its curvy wave . . .&lt;br /&gt;an oven on&lt;br /&gt;one leg of wick.&lt;br /&gt;High above we shape&lt;br /&gt;our lips into an &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;O&lt;/span&gt;, then blow&lt;br /&gt;its fire dance away,&lt;br /&gt;then say good night&lt;br /&gt;to butter-bright&lt;br /&gt;and candlelight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-2403043907890110245?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/2403043907890110245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/03/candle-flame.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/2403043907890110245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/2403043907890110245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/03/candle-flame.html' title='Candle Flame'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-5711845220251008449</id><published>2011-03-22T09:03:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-22T09:05:31.463-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>Waterfalls</title><content type='html'>by Rebecca Kai Dotlich&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;come spilling&lt;br /&gt;bluer&lt;br /&gt;     than blue;&lt;br /&gt;splashing&lt;br /&gt;cool buckets&lt;br /&gt;of giant's tears&lt;br /&gt;over tops of mountains&lt;br /&gt;into the gurgling laps&lt;br /&gt;of rivers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-5711845220251008449?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/5711845220251008449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/03/waterfalls.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/5711845220251008449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/5711845220251008449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/03/waterfalls.html' title='Waterfalls'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-6696294396599867523</id><published>2011-03-14T15:41:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-14T15:48:23.224-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>snowflakes</title><content type='html'>by Bob Raczka&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a&lt;br /&gt;few&lt;br /&gt;flakes&lt;br /&gt;fall&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a&lt;br /&gt;new&lt;br /&gt;season&lt;br /&gt;awakes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(another poem using the letters from the one word title)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-6696294396599867523?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/6696294396599867523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/03/snowflakes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/6696294396599867523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/6696294396599867523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/03/snowflakes.html' title='snowflakes'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-7612519106431810420</id><published>2011-03-07T14:35:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-07T14:42:45.994-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>constellation</title><content type='html'>by Bob Raczka&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a&lt;br /&gt;silent&lt;br /&gt;lion&lt;br /&gt;tells&lt;br /&gt;an&lt;br /&gt;ancient&lt;br /&gt;tale&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Using letters in the title word, the author has crafted a poem -- part anagram, part rebus, part riddle.  Try it.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-7612519106431810420?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/7612519106431810420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/03/constellation.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/7612519106431810420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/7612519106431810420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/03/constellation.html' title='constellation'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-1266315794415259081</id><published>2011-03-07T09:16:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-07T09:33:56.965-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book review'/><title type='text'>Women Create Her-Story (FAMILY magazine reviews)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Rk6a0Vzmilk/TXTpugI4wzI/AAAAAAAAACs/lpYWktbanOs/s1600/Meribeth3.11.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Rk6a0Vzmilk/TXTpugI4wzI/AAAAAAAAACs/lpYWktbanOs/s320/Meribeth3.11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581342823329350450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The women whose lives inspire these picture books have worked hard and with intention to achieve.  Their histories, or her-stories, challenge readers to set and seek goals, making the journey as significant as the destination. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;          &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;Skit-Scat Raggedy Cat: Ella Fitzgerald&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;by Roxane Orgill&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;illustrations by Sean Qualls&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Candlewick Press, $17.99, Ages 8-11&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Biographer Orgill uses her award-winning talents as a writer about music to capture the rhythm and beat that characterizes Fitzgerald’s musical and dancing abilities, beginning as a young child.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Ella and her friend Charlie practice on the Yonkers streets, take a trolley to Harlem’s Savoy Ballroom to watch, learn and dance some more, and later get a few dancing jobs in neighborhood clubs.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;But after her mother dies and she must live with her aunt, Ella’s raggedy toughness gets her in trouble and sent to a school for orphans up the Hudson River, where she is mistreated before she runs away.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Back in Harlem by 1934, Ella’s experience of being homeless and out of work is not uncommon, and she gets by on soup at the Baptist church, used clothing and more toughness.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;What is uncommon however, is Ella’s courage, persistence and determination to audition for Amateur Night at the Apollo Theater and later at the Harlem Opera House, where she wins first prize both times.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Her big break comes when, despite being dressed in big second-hand boots and raggedy clothes, Ella holds her beloved mother’s memory in her heart and, using her voice with a dancing beat, convinces the reluctant Chick Webb to offer her a chance to swing with his band at the Savoy.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It’s a few successful years later that her idea to record a swing version of the children’s game tune, “A Tisket, A Tasket,” brings the band its first number one hit song on the radio. &lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Illustrator Qualls brings his much honored skills with acrylic, pencil and collage to set the pages for the dancing text, with words from Ella’s music interspersed.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Flat paintings with bubbles and ribbons of color provide a rhythmic backdrop for action throughout this story, contrasting the poverty of Ella’s early life with the sparkly gowns, jewelry, shoes and stage lighting of her later success.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;A Bibliography for Further Reading, Listening, Viewing, and Web searching is included at the end.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;Ballet for Martha: Making Appalachian Spring&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;by Jan Greenberg and Sandra Jordan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;illustrated by Brian Floca&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Roaring Brook Press, $17.99, Ages 7-11&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;           &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;While this is initially the story of Martha Graham’s dance about America, it is ultimately a collaboration of three artists whose collective work produces a masterpiece.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;However, “before it was a dance it was a story.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And although Graham begins by writing her story as a script, fundamentally the story is told through movement and music.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Graham asks composer Aaron Copeland to create music for her ballet.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And as he begins, a lilting old Shaker melody, “’Tis a gift to be simple, ‘tis a gift to be free . . . seems to draw out the story, winding its way through his musical score, which also includes a Virginia reel and rodeo themes.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;As Martha constructs steps and patterns for her ballet, she and her dancers allow Copeland’s music to suggest movement.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They listen to their bodies, imagining and trying many different kinds of motion, searching for what works, by discovering what doesn’t.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Graham contacts her friend, sculptor Isamu Noguchi, who is skilled at transforming materials like wood, and stone into art.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;She hopes he will be able to transform an empty stage into a space where dancers can perform.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;With its angular shapes, slanted steps, and thin skeleton-like edges, Noguchi’s invented stage set is something of an obstacle course for the dancers as they practice and perfect their movements.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Graham’s title for the ballet comes from a poem, and it is ready for the premier performance, at the Library of Congress in Washington, DC on October 30, 1944.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Award winning artist Floca, with authors Greenberg and Jordan, in a cooperative effort reminiscent of the story itself, adroitly uses his signature watercolors to bring both the crafting of the ballet and its performance to life.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Motion and power are contrasted with quieter moments of rocking a baby as the painter uses line and color to generate a sense of energy, celebration and hope that characterize this artistic love letter. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;As a frontier story, Appalachian Spring is a “legend of American living,” showing how pioneer families put down roots in a new home, and create a new family and a new life.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;As a favored masterpiece, it is performed year after year, a continuing synergy of teamwork.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;At the end are biographies of the three featured collaborators and a list of source notes.&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;Sonia Sotomayor: A Judge Grows in the Bronx &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;by Jonah Winter,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;illustrated by Edel Rodriguez.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Atheneum, $16.99, Ages 5-9&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;           &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;       &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;           &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Effectively written in both English and Spanish, (including front and back covers and flaps) this picture book biography of the first Latin American to be seated as Supreme Court justice follows the life of a little girl from New York City whose parents were born in Puerto Rico.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Comparing her to a moonflower growing next to an abandoned building, best-selling author Winter shows readers how Sonia’s mother worked hard, despite only a third grade education herself, to make it possible for her children to go to school.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She set high standards for herself, and Sonia and her brother stretched to reach their own high goals, following their mother’s loving example. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Although the children’s father died when Sotomayor was only nine years old, the extended family surrounded the three with much love, good food, wonderful parties and game nights.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Sonia also read books, lots of them, all the time, or at least as much as she could.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;She began to think about the power held by a judge in her favorite TV show, &lt;i style=""&gt;Perry Mason,&lt;/i&gt; a courtroom drama.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;As her interest bloomed, she continued to study harder, winning a highest achievement award in high school, and being accepted as a student at Princeton University, where later, after continuing to study rigorously, Sotomayor again graduated with highest honors. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Rodriguez’s bright illustrations, with their sunny orange cast, use pastels, acrylics, oil-based inks and spray paint to fill many of the double page spreads.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The latter gives, especially the partial page paintings, a soft focus, with contrasting shadings and texture, even on the night pages.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Her work as a judge brought her recognition, and later attention from President Barack Obama who nominated Sotomayor to the Supreme Court, where she works as a justice, proud to be Latina.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;(An Author’s Note, also in both English and Spanish is included at the back.)&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-1266315794415259081?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/1266315794415259081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/03/women-create-her-story-family-magazine.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/1266315794415259081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/1266315794415259081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/03/women-create-her-story-family-magazine.html' title='Women Create Her-Story (FAMILY magazine reviews)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Rk6a0Vzmilk/TXTpugI4wzI/AAAAAAAAACs/lpYWktbanOs/s72-c/Meribeth3.11.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-2143942005951964284</id><published>2011-02-28T22:28:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-28T22:32:48.383-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>Love After Love</title><content type='html'>by Derek Walcott&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The time will come&lt;br /&gt;when, with elation,&lt;br /&gt;you will greet yourself arriving&lt;br /&gt;at your own door, in your own mirror,&lt;br /&gt;and each will smile at the other's welcome,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and say, sit here.  Eat&lt;br /&gt;You will love again the stranger who was your self.&lt;br /&gt;Give wine. Give bread.  Give back your heart&lt;br /&gt;to itself, to the stranger who has loved you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;all your life, whom you ignored&lt;br /&gt;fr another, who knows you by heart.&lt;br /&gt;Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the photographs, the desperate notes,&lt;br /&gt;peel your own image from the mirror.&lt;br /&gt;Sit.  Feast on your life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-2143942005951964284?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/2143942005951964284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/02/love-after-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/2143942005951964284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/2143942005951964284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/02/love-after-love.html' title='Love After Love'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-1843316977222293399</id><published>2011-02-14T10:46:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-14T10:56:08.399-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>Loving Humans   For Aung San Suu Kyi</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;by Alice Walker&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loving humans&lt;br /&gt;is tricky&lt;br /&gt;sometimes&lt;br /&gt;a slap&lt;br /&gt;in the face&lt;br /&gt;is all you get&lt;br /&gt;for doing it&lt;br /&gt;just right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loving humans is a job&lt;br /&gt;like any other&lt;br /&gt;only&lt;br /&gt;more&lt;br /&gt;bumps&lt;br /&gt;on the way&lt;br /&gt;to work&lt;br /&gt;which is full on&lt;br /&gt;all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loving humans&lt;br /&gt;makes us&lt;br /&gt;want&lt;br /&gt;to invite&lt;br /&gt;ourselves to tea&lt;br /&gt;with rancid&lt;br /&gt;dictators&lt;br /&gt;we think we&lt;br /&gt;can convince&lt;br /&gt;of our&lt;br /&gt;story's side&lt;br /&gt;while all&lt;br /&gt;they think&lt;br /&gt;about&lt;br /&gt;while&lt;br /&gt;we sit &amp;amp; dream&lt;br /&gt;is how&lt;br /&gt;they can&lt;br /&gt;get away&lt;br /&gt;with&lt;br /&gt;poisoning&lt;br /&gt;our tea&lt;br /&gt;and how&lt;br /&gt;if only they&lt;br /&gt;had&lt;br /&gt;enough tea&lt;br /&gt;already&lt;br /&gt;brewed&lt;br /&gt;they could&lt;br /&gt;waterboard us&lt;br /&gt;to death&lt;br /&gt;with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loving humans&lt;br /&gt;means&lt;br /&gt;writing poems &amp;amp; songs&lt;br /&gt;novels &amp;amp; plays, slogans, chants&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; protest signs&lt;br /&gt;our critics&lt;br /&gt;want&lt;br /&gt;to stone&lt;br /&gt;us for&lt;br /&gt;while&lt;br /&gt;we think of&lt;br /&gt;them&lt;br /&gt;as people&lt;br /&gt;under different&lt;br /&gt;circumstances&lt;br /&gt;we might&lt;br /&gt;be able&lt;br /&gt;to help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is&lt;br /&gt;indeed&lt;br /&gt;a Buddha&lt;br /&gt;in&lt;br /&gt;every one&lt;br /&gt;of us.&lt;br /&gt;Loving humans&lt;br /&gt;with all&lt;br /&gt;our clear &amp;amp;&lt;br /&gt;unmistakable&lt;br /&gt;reluctance&lt;br /&gt;to evolve&lt;br /&gt;makes this hard&lt;br /&gt;for most humans&lt;br /&gt;to see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But not you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-1843316977222293399?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/1843316977222293399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/02/loving-humans-for-aung-san-suu-kyi.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/1843316977222293399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/1843316977222293399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/02/loving-humans-for-aung-san-suu-kyi.html' title='Loving Humans   For Aung San Suu Kyi'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-6256775330011796202</id><published>2011-02-09T18:34:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-09T18:46:56.989-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book review'/><title type='text'>Gripping Historic Books for Black History Month (FAMILY magazine reviews)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B9w_NL1CCtM/TVMlf7we0eI/AAAAAAAAACk/Eu8UKU-zphk/s1600/Meribeth2.11Spread.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 208px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B9w_NL1CCtM/TVMlf7we0eI/AAAAAAAAACk/Eu8UKU-zphk/s320/Meribeth2.11Spread.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571838394534646242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;          &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;During this month when we recognize the historic struggles for Civil Rights through the decades of the 1950’s and 1960’s in the United States, the titles featured here are worthy accounts of how many lives have been affected by the impact of African slaves on the national identity.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Deepen your understanding by introducing yourself and your children to one or all of these mesmerizing books.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;          &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;Birmingham Sunday&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;by Larry Dane Brimner&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Calkins Creek, $17.95, Ages 10-14&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Beginning in the late 1940’s, the city of Birmingham, Alabama received “so many racially motivated bombings—more than 40—that” it was “nicknamed ‘Bombingham.’”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But until the Sunday referred to in the title, none had been fatal.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;At 10:22 am on that Sunday morning, a dynamite blast so intense it “blew a passing motorist out of his car” rocked the church, thundering “thirty-inch-thick stone and brick walls” until they tumbled in on five young girls, killing four, and blinding the other in one eye.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;This stirring photo essay by award-winning author Brimner features his accessible writing augmented with detailed sidebars and accompanied by well-researched captions under quality black and white photos. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;His documentary writing provides context for the tragedy by giving his readers facts about Jim Crow laws, the Supreme Court’s 1954 &lt;i style=""&gt;Brown v. The Board of Education,&lt;/i&gt; which outlawed racial segregation in schools and other public places, the beginning of the NAACP, the resistance of Rosa Parks and subsequent Montgomery (AL) bus boycott, leadership from the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and another black preacher--Fred Shuttlesworth, sit-ins at lunch counters, and more.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;The writer’s skill at blending information, from his thorough exploration of primary-source material surrounding the deadly Sunday bombing, with personal reflections by members of the victims’ families, strengthens readers’ understanding of the emotional impact and human consequences from this important segment of the Civil Rights era. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Profiles, with photos, of the four who were killed in the bombing of the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church, on September 15, 1963 are included in the final pages, which also register the profiles of two additional children, who were victims that day.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;A bibliography, Author’s Note, Acknowledgments, Source Notes, and Picture Credits are featured at the back.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;Ben and the Emancipation Proclamation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;by Pat Sherman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;illustrated by Floyd Cooper&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Eerdmans, $16.99, Ages 8-12&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;           &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Ben is a slave boy, apprenticed to a tailor in 1850’s Charleston, South Carolina.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He has learned the alphabet from his father, who had a bit of education, but was sold.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Ben teaches himself to read and write by learning from street signs, shop windows, and discarded newspapers.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Although he kept these skills secret from whites in the pre-Civil War south when slaves were often punished for literacy skills, other slaves knew and were eager for him to teach them.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Later, in the slave prison, waiting to be sold after his tailor master flees town, Ben reads the Emancipation Proclamation aloud, urged by other slave inmates who have bribed a guard for a newspaper.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The cheers that break out following this remarkable reading are a celebration for the good news of freedom, and for Ben himself--likely the first time other slaves had ever heard a black person read out loud.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Award winner Cooper uses his signature sepia-toned style once again, shedding light throughout this dynamically written episode of a dark period in US history.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;An especially poignant painting shows the young Ben, wearing a newspaper hat, reading cross-legged under the dense branches of a large beech tree, suffused in a golden glow. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;This adept weaving of story with illustration simultaneously salutes the power of freedom and the power of the written word in a tapestry of truth.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The subject of this nonfiction picture book, Benjamin Holmes; about whom author Sherman explains in an Author’s Note, was passionate about education.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He attended Fisk University and taught in a Tennessee rural school.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;(Additional sources and websites are also included at the end.)&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;Finding Lincoln&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;by Ann Malaspina&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;illustrations by Colin Bootman&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Albert Whitman, $16.99, Ages 6-10&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;           &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;       &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;By 1951 there were no black slaves in Alabama, but black children and their families were prevented from using libraries throughout the American south by segregation laws.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Louis, who can “play all his piano scales and roller-skate backwards”, is, nonetheless, prevented from borrowing books from the library.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Following a class discussion about the Civil War and President Lincoln who wanted slaves to be free, Louis’s teacher suggests he write an essay, to answer a question she cannot answer, about Lincoln as a boy.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;When the book she gives him says nothing about Abe’s childhood, and neither his father’s stack of books nor the books in the small basement library at his church include any books about Lincoln, Louis takes courageous steps into the public library with its WHITES ONLY signs.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;One brave librarian finds a way to help him, whispering, “Come back tomorrow after five.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Finding the information he needs is only part of Louis’ success: his parents applaud him, reminding him to be careful; and he is able to complete his report on Lincoln who, even as a boy, “shook people up….Just like you, Louis,” says his mother.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Artist Bootman’s watercolor paintings feature his award-winning realistic expertise, and enhance this passionate story, based on real-life experiences of black people in the days before the Civil Rights movement.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Back matter includes a Note from the author with historical information about library segregation in the south, information about President Lincoln, and bibliographical references.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-6256775330011796202?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/6256775330011796202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/02/gripping-historic-books-for-black.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/6256775330011796202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/6256775330011796202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/02/gripping-historic-books-for-black.html' title='Gripping Historic Books for Black History Month (FAMILY magazine reviews)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B9w_NL1CCtM/TVMlf7we0eI/AAAAAAAAACk/Eu8UKU-zphk/s72-c/Meribeth2.11Spread.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-611620854062495946</id><published>2011-02-07T22:47:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-07T22:48:46.612-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>Penguin</title><content type='html'>by Amy Gibson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On land, he cannot fly,&lt;br /&gt;'tis true--&lt;br /&gt;an awkward waddle&lt;br /&gt;has to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But slip into the blue&lt;br /&gt;below--&lt;br /&gt;a tuxedoed&lt;br /&gt;torpedo--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watch him go!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-611620854062495946?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/611620854062495946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/02/penguin.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/611620854062495946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/611620854062495946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/02/penguin.html' title='Penguin'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-8591044368142322121</id><published>2011-01-31T08:37:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-31T08:43:17.958-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>Chinchilla</title><content type='html'>by Amy Gibson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Way up high atop the Andes&lt;br /&gt;(land that's mountainous&lt;br /&gt;and hilly)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;       lives a silky silver rodent&lt;br /&gt;       hurrying, scurrying&lt;br /&gt;       willy-nilly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;              When the mercury starts dropping,&lt;br /&gt;              does he worry?&lt;br /&gt;              Don't be silly!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                     Though it's winter,&lt;br /&gt;                     he's so furry,&lt;br /&gt;                     the chinchilla's not&lt;br /&gt;                     chinchilly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-8591044368142322121?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/8591044368142322121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/01/chinchilla.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/8591044368142322121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/8591044368142322121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/01/chinchilla.html' title='Chinchilla'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-696013677878833433</id><published>2011-01-24T23:00:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-24T23:13:11.757-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>Snowy Night</title><content type='html'>by Mary Oliver&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Last night, an owl&lt;br /&gt;in the blue dark&lt;br /&gt;tossed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;an indeterminate number&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;of carefully shaped sounds into&lt;br /&gt;the world, in which,&lt;br /&gt;a quarter of a mile away, I happened&lt;br /&gt;to be standing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't tell&lt;br /&gt;which one it was--&lt;br /&gt;the barred or the great-horned&lt;br /&gt;ship of the air--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it was that distant.  But, anyway,&lt;br /&gt;aren't there moments&lt;br /&gt;that are better than knowing something,&lt;br /&gt;and sweeter?  Snow was falling,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so much like stars&lt;br /&gt;filling the dark trees&lt;br /&gt;that one could easily imagine&lt;br /&gt;its reason for being was nothing more&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;than prettiness. I suppose&lt;br /&gt;if this were someone else's story&lt;br /&gt;they would have insisted on knowing&lt;br /&gt;whatever is knowable--would have hurried&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;over the fields&lt;br /&gt;to name it--the owl, I mean.&lt;br /&gt;But it's mine, this poem of the night,&lt;br /&gt;and I just stood there, listening and holding out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my hands to the soft glitter&lt;br /&gt;falling through the air.  I love this world,&lt;br /&gt;but not for its answers.&lt;br /&gt;And I wish good luck to the owl,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;whatever is name--&lt;br /&gt;and I wish good luck t o the owl,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;whatever its name&lt;br /&gt;and I wish great welcome to the snow,&lt;br /&gt;whatever its severe and comfortless&lt;br /&gt;and beautiful meaning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-696013677878833433?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/696013677878833433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/01/snowy-night.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/696013677878833433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/696013677878833433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/01/snowy-night.html' title='Snowy Night'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-8549029921844299895</id><published>2011-01-17T21:37:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-17T21:46:50.150-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>Moonlight</title><content type='html'>by Mary Oliver&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now comes the white-striped, sharp-nosed digger of dampness&lt;br /&gt;        in her black and oily coat.&lt;br /&gt;All night in the moonlight she has been wandering&lt;br /&gt;        the stony beach; now she steps&lt;br /&gt;into the gardens and under the street lights&lt;br /&gt;        like a flat cat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her eyes are gleaming and her tail aloft, she is afraid&lt;br /&gt;       of nothing--not dogs, not policemen who see her&lt;br /&gt;and do not remove themselves from their cruisers, but sail on&lt;br /&gt;       down the dark roads.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything is famous for something:  the eagle for power,&lt;br /&gt;       the fox for cunning.&lt;br /&gt;This one we know for her temper and also her smell,&lt;br /&gt;      which comes from the wicks of fire.&lt;br /&gt;Yet once I watched and heard her, deep in the woods,&lt;br /&gt;       humming to herself as she carried&lt;br /&gt;leaves into her humble house, that was nothing&lt;br /&gt;       but a scratched-out hole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take care you don't know anything in this world&lt;br /&gt;       too quickly or easily.  Everything&lt;br /&gt;is also a mystery, and has its own secret aura in the moonlight,&lt;br /&gt;       its private song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                     If you meet her&lt;br /&gt;don't be afraid, just stand still.&lt;br /&gt;And, while you let her stare you down,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;notice how she stamps her pretty, little feet.&lt;br /&gt;Notice how she shines.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-8549029921844299895?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/8549029921844299895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/01/moonlight.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/8549029921844299895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/8549029921844299895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/01/moonlight.html' title='Moonlight'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-5821634107928709055</id><published>2011-01-10T14:24:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-10T14:33:00.046-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>Early Snow</title><content type='html'>by Mary Oliver&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Amazed I looked&lt;br /&gt;out of the window and saw&lt;br /&gt;the early snow coming down casually,&lt;br /&gt;almost drifting, over&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the gardens, then the gardens began&lt;br /&gt;to vanish as each white, six-pointed&lt;br /&gt;snowflake lay down without a sound with all&lt;br /&gt;the others.  I thought, how incredible&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;were their numbers.  I thought of dried&lt;br /&gt;leaves drifting spate after spate&lt;br /&gt;out of the forests,&lt;br /&gt;the fallen sparrows, the hairs of all out heads,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;as, still, the snowflakes went on pouring softly through&lt;br /&gt;what had become dusk or anyway flung&lt;br /&gt;a veil over the sun.  And I thought&lt;br /&gt;how not one looks like another&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;though each is exquisite, fanciful, and&lt;br /&gt;falls without argument.  It was now nearly&lt;br /&gt;evening.  Some crows landed and tried&lt;br /&gt;to walk around then flew off.  They were perhaps&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;laughing in crow talk or anyway so it seemed&lt;br /&gt;and i might have joined in, there was something&lt;br /&gt;that wonderful and refreshing&lt;br /&gt;about what was by then a confident, white blanket&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;carrying out its&lt;br /&gt;cheerful work, covering ruts, softening&lt;br /&gt;the earth's trials, but at the same time&lt;br /&gt;there was some kind of almost sorrow that fell&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;over me.  It was&lt;br /&gt;the loneliness again.  After all&lt;br /&gt;what is Nature, it isn't&lt;br /&gt;kindness, it isn't unkindness.  And I turned&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and opened the door, and still the snow poured down&lt;br /&gt;smelling of iron and the pale, vast eternal, and&lt;br /&gt;there it was, whether I was ready or not:&lt;br /&gt;the silence; the blank, white, glittering sublime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-5821634107928709055?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/5821634107928709055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/01/early-snow.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/5821634107928709055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/5821634107928709055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/01/early-snow.html' title='Early Snow'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-7497263464061713660</id><published>2011-01-09T18:56:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-09T19:06:58.418-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book review'/><title type='text'>Uncommon Biographies of Exceptional Men (FAMILY magazine reviews)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B9w_NL1CCtM/TSpMGYefkFI/AAAAAAAAACY/MLJZhB0oN74/s1600/Meribeth1.11.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B9w_NL1CCtM/TSpMGYefkFI/AAAAAAAAACY/MLJZhB0oN74/s320/Meribeth1.11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560340362475573330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;          &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Examining this small selection of now-famous personalities supplies readers with a window into several unconventional lives.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Remembering that each of us is unique as well, we can consider how our own contributions make this world a better place.&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;          &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;The Brothers Kennedy:&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;John, Robert, Edward&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;by Kathleen Krull&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;illustrated by Amy June Bates&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Simon &amp;amp; Schuster, $16.99, Ages 6-9&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;This remarkable shared biography is also a story of three brothers whose intertwined lives made it possible for them to help shape the world we know today.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;While the book begins with Joe, the eldest of the nine Kennedy children (all of whom are mentioned by name on the first page of the story), the focus is on the three brothers who held public office.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Before he ever “had a chance to run for office,” Joe died, a World War II fighter pilot.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;His loss shadowed the entire family and contributed to the strength of the values they shared -– hope, compassion, and loyalty.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;These values become a theme not only in the book, but characterize the life of public service each brother chose.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;John, often sick, was also the biggest reader.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;As the youngest elected president of the U.S., he spoke about equal rights for African Americans, started the Peace Corps and, sadly, was assassinated only 1000 days after taking the oath of office. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Robert, the quiet one, noted injustices he saw, and began to ask questions.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;As both Senator and presidential candidate he marched with migrant workers, saw appalling living conditions of Native American Indians, and lost his life to an assassins bullet as well.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Edward, the youngest, who often made the others laugh, was passionate in his family loyalty.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;As one of the longest serving U.S. Senators in history (more than 46 years), he worked to pass laws protecting the most needy, and in fact helped nearly every man, woman and child in America.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;With additional pages of Further Information, a Time Line, and Sources at the end, this beautifully illustrated book uses subdued watercolor, gouache, and pencil to interactively support the strength of the well-written text.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The portraits of the brothers as children, as adults, and whether thoughtful, grieving, at work or play, demonstrate the active contributions characteristic of the brothers Kennedy, whose lives continue to inspire.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;           &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;     &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;The Extraordinary Mark Twain (According to Suzy)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;by Barbara Kerley&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;illustrated by Edwin Fotheringham&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Scholastic, $17.99, Ages 8-11&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;What makes this book’s title accurate is not only that it’s subject (Mark Twain, also known as Samuel Clemens) is extraordinary, but its author and co-author are also extraordinary – all three, outstanding writers, capable of capturing their subjects with characteristic authenticity and charm.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Author Kerley quotes liberally and with humor, from Clemens’ daughter Suzy’s little brown notebook, kept also as a diary during her thirteenth year (spring 1885 through summer 1886).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She also employs Clemens’ comments, inserted into Suzy’s original manuscript, to inform her text.&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Suzy studied Papa by day, noticing his habits, what he did, and said, and writing it down at night, before hiding it under her pillow.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She wrote about his early years, his public and private life, distractions from his own writing, the complications of his fame, and anecdotes to summarize her observations.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She mentions his work on &lt;i style=""&gt;The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn&lt;/i&gt;; followed by nightly readings to the family of the pages he had written that day.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Especially she notes the work Mamma did, at Papa’s request, to “expurgate” “questionable passages.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Book designer, Marijka Kostiw’s skill is also evident as smaller pages of a journal in imitation of Suzy’s handwriting are included multiple times throughout the book, accenting Kerley’s storytelling in the book’s larger pages. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Additionally, artist Fotheringham’s over-sized illustrations lure readers’ attention, reinforcing the energy of the story. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;This humorously told biography is engrossing for its engaging language, informative sidebars, changing text type to denote quotes, digitally produced illustrations with active movement, absorbing page arrangements and fascinating back matter.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;The latter includes an Author’s Note, which incorporates a section on Papa, another on Suzy, and a third describing, in easy-to-use details and tips, how to gather information and write a biography.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Additional end material comprises A Selected Time Line of Mark Twain’s Life, a family photo, and Sources.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;Racing Against the Odds: The Story of Wendell Scott, Stock Car Racing’s African American Champion&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;by Carole Boston Weatherford&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;illustrated by Eric A. Velasquez&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Marshall Cavendish, $17.99, Ages 7-10&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;           &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;       &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;A former cab driver, World War II veteran, and self-taught mechanic, Scott bought his first car (a Ford Model T) for $15 when he was fourteen years old.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He used his many car related skills to put his sister, and all of his children through college.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Award-winning author and college literature professor Weatherford draws readers into this action-packed biography of NASCAR racing’s first and only African American winner.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Cars were his passion, whether he was driving taxi, running moonshine, making repairs in his garage, building or racing stock cars.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;“And when Hollywood made a movie about his life” (Greased Lightening, 1977), “he built three cars for the film and even drove in action scenes.”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Using pastels, artist and award-winner Velasquez makes careful choices of both bright and dark colors, to shape his illustrations toward high-powered movement.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Sometimes tilting the paintings, other times framing several on a double page spread, his canny work invests the visuals with brisk vitality.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The successful marriage of text and image forms a dynamic biography of a dreamer who worked full-time, competing on the side, making his love of cars and racing the center of his life and work.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;(A Note from the Author supplies additional information at the end.)&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-7497263464061713660?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/7497263464061713660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/01/uncommon-biographies-of-exceptional-men.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/7497263464061713660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/7497263464061713660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/01/uncommon-biographies-of-exceptional-men.html' title='Uncommon Biographies of Exceptional Men (FAMILY magazine reviews)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B9w_NL1CCtM/TSpMGYefkFI/AAAAAAAAACY/MLJZhB0oN74/s72-c/Meribeth1.11.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-6504123187886458175</id><published>2011-01-03T17:20:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-03T17:23:07.417-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>Where the Map Begins</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt;"&gt;by Jan Richardson&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is not&lt;br /&gt;any map you know.&lt;br /&gt;Forget longitude.&lt;br /&gt;Forget latitude.&lt;br /&gt;Do not think&lt;br /&gt;of distances&lt;br /&gt;or of plotting&lt;br /&gt;the most direct route.&lt;br /&gt;Astrolabe, sextant, compass:&lt;br /&gt;these will not help you here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the map&lt;br /&gt;that begins with a star.&lt;br /&gt;This is the chart&lt;br /&gt;that starts with fire,&lt;br /&gt;with blazing,&lt;br /&gt;with an ancient light&lt;br /&gt;that has outlasted&lt;br /&gt;generations, empires,&lt;br /&gt;cultures, wars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look starward once,&lt;br /&gt;then look away.&lt;br /&gt;Close your eyes&lt;br /&gt;and see how the map&lt;br /&gt;begins to blossom&lt;br /&gt;behind your lids,&lt;br /&gt;how it constellates,&lt;br /&gt;its lines stretching out&lt;br /&gt;from where you stand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You cannot see it all,&lt;br /&gt;cannot divine the way&lt;br /&gt;it will turn and spiral,&lt;br /&gt;cannot perceive how&lt;br /&gt;the road you walk&lt;br /&gt;will lead you finally inside,&lt;br /&gt;through the labyrinth&lt;br /&gt;of your own heart&lt;br /&gt;and belly&lt;br /&gt;and lungs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But step out,&lt;br /&gt;and you will know&lt;br /&gt;what the wise who traveled&lt;br /&gt;this path before you&lt;br /&gt;knew:&lt;br /&gt;the treasure in this map&lt;br /&gt;is buried not at journey’s end&lt;br /&gt;but at its beginning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-6504123187886458175?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/6504123187886458175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/01/where-map-begins.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/6504123187886458175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/6504123187886458175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2011/01/where-map-begins.html' title='Where the Map Begins'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-4654288809139844388</id><published>2010-12-20T12:08:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-20T12:17:15.640-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>Oranges</title><content type='html'>by Mary Oliver&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cut one, the lace of acid&lt;br /&gt;rushes out, spills over your hands.&lt;br /&gt;You lick them, manners don't come into it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Orange -- &lt;/span&gt;the first word you have heard that day --&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;enters your mind.  Everybody then&lt;br /&gt;does what he or she wants -- breakfast is casual.&lt;br /&gt;Slices, quarters, halves, or the whole hand&lt;br /&gt;holding an orange ball like the morning sun&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on a day of soft wind and no clouds&lt;br /&gt;which it so often is.  "Oh, I always&lt;br /&gt;want to live like this,&lt;br /&gt;flying up out of the furrows of sleep,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fresh from water and its sheer excitement,&lt;br /&gt;felled as though by a miracle&lt;br /&gt;at this first sharp taste of the day!"&lt;br /&gt;You're shouting, but no one is surprised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here, there, everywhere on the earth&lt;br /&gt;thousands are rising and shouting with you --&lt;br /&gt;even those who are utterly silent, absorbed --&lt;br /&gt;their mouths filled with such sweetness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-4654288809139844388?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/4654288809139844388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/12/oranges.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/4654288809139844388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/4654288809139844388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/12/oranges.html' title='Oranges'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-602039187816247142</id><published>2010-12-13T15:29:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-13T15:36:17.357-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>The Annunciation</title><content type='html'>by Denise Levertov&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She had been a child who played, ate, slept&lt;br /&gt;like any other child -- but unlike others,&lt;br /&gt;wept only for pity, laughed&lt;br /&gt;in joy not triumph.&lt;br /&gt;Compassion and intelligence&lt;br /&gt;fused in her, indivisible.&lt;br /&gt;Called to a destiny more momentous&lt;br /&gt;than any in all of Time,&lt;br /&gt;she did not quail, only asked&lt;br /&gt;a simple, "How can this be?"&lt;br /&gt;and gravely, courteously,&lt;br /&gt;took to heart the angel's reply,&lt;br /&gt;perceiving instantly&lt;br /&gt;the astounding ministry she was offered:&lt;br /&gt;to bear in her womb&lt;br /&gt;Infinite weight and lightness; to carry&lt;br /&gt;in hidden, finite inwardness,&lt;br /&gt;nine months of Eternity; to contain&lt;br /&gt;in slender vase of being,&lt;br /&gt;the sum of power --&lt;br /&gt;in narrow flesh, the sum of light.&lt;br /&gt;Then bring to birth,&lt;br /&gt;push out into air, a Man-child&lt;br /&gt;needing, like any other,&lt;br /&gt;milk and love --&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-602039187816247142?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/602039187816247142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/12/annunciation.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/602039187816247142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/602039187816247142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/12/annunciation.html' title='The Annunciation'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-6961150017317120998</id><published>2010-12-08T19:25:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-08T19:39:41.748-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book review'/><title type='text'>Tales of Holiday Happiness (FAMILY magazine reviews)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B9w_NL1CCtM/TQAinxPhW6I/AAAAAAAAACM/CB_UCpDZo4Q/s1600/Meribeth12.10.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B9w_NL1CCtM/TQAinxPhW6I/AAAAAAAAACM/CB_UCpDZo4Q/s320/Meribeth12.10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548472807549131682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;           &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }@font-face {   font-family: "Cambria"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 10pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;Family, friends and food are among the ingredients we choose to help us honor and celebrate holidays in ways we value.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Choose any and all of these wonderful tales to remember the past and establish unforgettable traditions to share.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;           &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }@font-face {   font-family: "Cambria"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 10pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;     &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;The Spider’s Gift: A Ukrainian Christmas Story&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;retold by Eric Kimmel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;illustrated by Katya Krenina&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;Holiday House, $16.95, Ages 6-9&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Celebrated author Eric Kimmel collaborates once again with Ukrainian artist Katya Krenina for this version of a lovely folktale from her native land where Christmas customs are ancient.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Not only the story itself, with roots in central and eastern Europe, but the contrasting bright and dark acrylic illustrations, showing clothing, landscapes, and iconic images, transmit both cultural and family traditions in an almost primitive flat style that accents the descriptive language and importance of the foods and symbols, which were significant aspects of the religious experience for people from that time. &lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Young Katrusya is upset to learn her peasant family will not be celebrating Christmas because the harvest has been so poor there is no money for the extras that define the celebration.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But the family ultimately decides that although there is no money to spend, they can still celebrate with a tree, -- which costs nothing to cut down in the forest – by making their own presents, tree ornaments from old brass buttons and paper, hand embroidered cloth, whittled nativity figures, bandura music, and even a braided Christmas bread whose three rings symbolize the Christian trinity.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Bringing the tree into the warm house hatches hundreds of spider eggs hidden in the branches, drawing the attention of Katrusya’s mother who wants the spiders out of the house, immediately.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The family convinces her to keep the tree and its spiders in the house until after Christmas, a kind gesture that causes Katrusya to rejoice.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When they all return from the evening worship celebration, she discovers the webs have, miraculously, become real silver.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Graciously, the family shares the wealth of silver with those from their village.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;          &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }@font-face {   font-family: "Cambria"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 10pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;           &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }@font-face {   font-family: "Cambria"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 10pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;La Noche Buena: A Christmas Story&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;by Antonio Sacre&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;illustrated by Angela Dominguez&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;Abrams, $16.95, Ages 5-8&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;For those unfamiliar with a Miami Christmas, here is a grand introduction to many special Cuban traditions that characterize this holiday.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Even for local South Floridians, acquainted with warm winter festivities instead of the typical northern icy winter fare, this lively picture book is a rare treat.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Storyteller and author Sacre uses strong sensory language to show the differences Nina experiences from her customary ice skating and building snowmen at Christmas with her mother’s family up north.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This year, since it’s her dad’s turn, Nina arrives in Miami’s Little Havana to stay with her Abuela (Grandmother) Mimi for La Noche Buena, (Christmas Eve) the best night of the year for many Cuban families.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Not only does Nina have a chance to meet many extended family members, pick fresh avocados and prepare ingredients for the fiesta, she also meets other neighbor children, gets to see everyone (including herself) dressed in their best, shares the huge traveling party through many nearby backyards, walks to the Rooster’s Mass at midnight, dances, and listens to stories and jokes.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Readers can almost feel onion- and spice-generated tears in their eyes, see and hear loud bright colorful parrots, listen to Cuban-accented Spanish words -- part of the lilting language of the story -- taste the garlic flavored marinade, smell the roasting pig and feel the warm hugs from family and congregation members.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Nina is charmed, as are readers and listeners, by both the bright pastel background colors of buildings, clothing, and food reproduced with joyful acrylics by artist Dominguez in this accessible and entertaining story, and by this intriguing glimpse into a distinctive cultural celebration of La Buena Noche.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;A helpful small glossary of Spanish words and phrases is included at the back.&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;           &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }@font-face {   font-family: "Cambria"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 10pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;Great Joy&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;by Kate DeCamillo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;illustrated by Bagram Ibatoulline&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;Candlewick Press, $8.99, Ages 4-8&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;When an organ grinder man with his monkey appears, in the week before Christmas, on the street where Frances lives with her mother, Frances wonders where the two newcomers go at night.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The music sounds sad and, while her mother finishes Frances’ costume for the pageant, Frances watches from the window as the monkey holds out his tin cup to the people walking past.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Luminous, lightly focused paintings in sepia tones suggest a city setting from the 1940’s with clothing, streetlights and cars to strengthen this perception along with a photo of a navy officer on a shelf in the living room.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Illustrator Ibatoulline carefully contrasts bright holiday lights with dark snowy night, using tenderly textured acrylic gouache to focus attention on important details like the monkey, the falling snow and faces, especially Frances’ face in her pageant role.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;On her way with her mother to the nearby church for the Christmas play, Frances stops long enough to drop a nickel in the monkey’s cup and invite the man with the monkey to come to the play.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Although he smiles at her, it’s the sadness in his eyes that stays with her later as she prepares to speak her line.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But the words simply won’t come out . . . . until the sanctuary door opens to show her guests, releasing Frances to smile.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;“Behold!” she shouts. “I bring you tidings of Great Joy!”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The use of repetition emphasizes the importance of the simple, direct language; particularly as the final double page spread wordlessly shows the entire congregation, including the organ grinder and the monkey, joyfully celebrating with refreshments afterward.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-6961150017317120998?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/6961150017317120998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/12/tales-of-holiday-happiness-family.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/6961150017317120998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/6961150017317120998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/12/tales-of-holiday-happiness-family.html' title='Tales of Holiday Happiness (FAMILY magazine reviews)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B9w_NL1CCtM/TQAinxPhW6I/AAAAAAAAACM/CB_UCpDZo4Q/s72-c/Meribeth12.10.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-7233194085894069855</id><published>2010-12-06T21:20:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-06T21:25:21.816-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>Untitled poem from "The Dinner Party"</title><content type='html'>by Judy Chicago&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then all that has divided us will merge&lt;br /&gt;And then compassion will be wedded to power&lt;br /&gt;And then softness will come to a world that is harsh and unkind&lt;br /&gt;And then both men and women will be gentle&lt;br /&gt;And then both women and men will be strong&lt;br /&gt;And then no person will be subject to another's will&lt;br /&gt;And then all will be rich and free and varied&lt;br /&gt;And then the greed of some will give way to the needs of many&lt;br /&gt;And then all will share equally in the Earth's abundance&lt;br /&gt;And then all will care for the sick and the weak and the old&lt;br /&gt;And then all will nourish the young&lt;br /&gt;And then all will cherish life's creatures&lt;br /&gt;And then all will live in harmony with each other and the Earth&lt;br /&gt;And then everywhere will be called Eden once again&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-7233194085894069855?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/7233194085894069855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/12/untitled-poem-from-dinner-party.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/7233194085894069855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/7233194085894069855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/12/untitled-poem-from-dinner-party.html' title='Untitled poem from &quot;The Dinner Party&quot;'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-3843427366985520552</id><published>2010-11-22T22:12:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-22T22:19:10.396-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>LAST NIGHT THE RAIN SPOKE TO ME (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Mary Oliver&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night&lt;br /&gt;the rain&lt;br /&gt;spoke to me&lt;br /&gt;slowly, saying,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what joy&lt;br /&gt;to come falling&lt;br /&gt;out of the brisk cloud,&lt;br /&gt;to be happy again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in a new way&lt;br /&gt;on the earth!&lt;br /&gt;That's what it said&lt;br /&gt;as it dropped,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;smelling of iron,&lt;br /&gt;and vanished&lt;br /&gt;like a dream of the ocean&lt;br /&gt;into the branches&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and the grass below.&lt;br /&gt;Then it was over.&lt;br /&gt;The sky cleared.&lt;br /&gt;I was standing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;under a tree.&lt;br /&gt;The tree was a tree&lt;br /&gt;with happy leaves,&lt;br /&gt;and I was myself,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and there were stars in the sky&lt;br /&gt;that were also themselves&lt;br /&gt;at the moment,&lt;br /&gt;at which moment&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my right hand&lt;br /&gt;was holding my left hand&lt;br /&gt;which was holding the tree&lt;br /&gt;which was filled with stars&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and the soft rain --&lt;br /&gt;imagine!  imagine!&lt;br /&gt;the long and wondrous journeys&lt;br /&gt;still to be ours.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-3843427366985520552?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/3843427366985520552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/11/last-night-rain-spoke-to-me-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/3843427366985520552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/3843427366985520552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/11/last-night-rain-spoke-to-me-monday-poem.html' title='LAST NIGHT THE RAIN SPOKE TO ME (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-228501054911305474</id><published>2010-11-15T07:38:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-15T07:42:11.362-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>DEAD END (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Karma Wilson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you ever come to a dead-end road,&lt;br /&gt;you'll take it, if you're smart.&lt;br /&gt;For just past every end that's dead&lt;br /&gt;is a fresh, alive new start.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-228501054911305474?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/228501054911305474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/11/dead-end-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/228501054911305474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/228501054911305474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/11/dead-end-monday-poem.html' title='DEAD END (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-3736970156069454265</id><published>2010-11-08T18:13:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-08T20:29:20.444-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>SOY WHAT? (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Karma Wilson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My aunt is a strict vegetarian.&lt;br /&gt;She refuses to eat any meat.&lt;br /&gt;No burgers, baloney, or bratwurst.&lt;br /&gt;No barbecue ribs for a treat.&lt;br /&gt;She hopes I grow up to be like her.&lt;br /&gt;But I fear that her wish won't come true.&lt;br /&gt;I'm telling you now that I'd rather eat cow&lt;br /&gt;than that goo that my aunt calls tofu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ew &lt;/span&gt;. . .&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-3736970156069454265?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/3736970156069454265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/11/soy-what-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/3736970156069454265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/3736970156069454265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/11/soy-what-monday-poem.html' title='SOY WHAT? (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-7768330932494941981</id><published>2010-11-01T14:38:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2010-11-01T14:48:40.688-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book review'/><title type='text'>Autumn Stories for a Season of Abundant Thanks (FAMILY magazine reviews)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B9w_NL1CCtM/TM8KOF5Y-uI/AAAAAAAAACE/_crmW1YWn3Q/s1600/Meribeth11.10.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B9w_NL1CCtM/TM8KOF5Y-uI/AAAAAAAAACE/_crmW1YWn3Q/s320/Meribeth11.10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534653704278964962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }@font-face {   font-family: "Cambria"; }@font-face {   font-family: "Georgia"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 10pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;Harvest tales can offer new opportunities to consider the abundance in our lives, and ways we can share our gratitude.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Not only at this season, but especially now, allow these delightful books to lure you into appreciation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;           &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }@font-face {   font-family: "Cambria"; }@font-face {   font-family: "Georgia"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 10pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;     &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;Thank You For Me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;by Marion Dane Bauer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;illustrated by Kristina Stephenson&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;Simon &amp;amp; Schuster, $14.99, Ages 2-5&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Rhythmic text matches with light-infused, energetic watercolors in a curling, bouncing, twirling book for the youngest of children.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Award winning author Bauer begins with a lilting examination of body parts and what they can do, using the language of movement and sound to engage the senses.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We feel the splash of rain puddles, see the love on mama’s face, hear a rush of wind followed by thunder, “boom-a-room, room-a-boom.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Even the smells of Grandpa’s bread and roses, and the singing, smiling, and especially tasting of “long licks of chocolate ice cream” are there, bringing the body together into one skin.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Bauer uses her characteristic nimble phrasing to advance from awareness to thanks, launching readers into an authentic appreciation for the same body parts. All the while, Stephenson’s images in bright, vigorous colors stretch and leap across double pages of white to dance beside the lyrical lines, in this engaging picture book.&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;           &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }@font-face {   font-family: "Cambria"; }@font-face {   font-family: "Georgia"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 10pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;     &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;Too Many Turkeys&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;by Linda White&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;illustrated by Megan Lloyd&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;Holiday House, $16.95, Ages 4-8&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Farmers Fred and Belle adopt a lost young turkey named Buford, who contributes significantly to the fertility of Belle’s vigorous vegetables, bountiful berries, and flourishing flowers.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Other gardeners ask for Belle’s secret, but she simply smiles and talks about “smidges of this and that.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It’s after Belle leaves for her “annual birdhouse convention” that the trouble begins.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;White’s detailed watercolor artwork in luxuriant colors uses framed and unframed paintings to shape the story’s lively action.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;As an assortment of turkeys arrive to sample Belle’s gardens, one can observe how White’s design provides a strong undercurrent to the captivating alliterative language of the story.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;A harassed Fred tries multiple solutions to rid the farm of the winged invaders, but each time he thinks Belle’s gardens are safe, the gobblers return in greater numbers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Exhausted, Fred makes a deal with the “gawking neighbors” to help him clean up the turkey mess.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When Belle returns, she’s concerned about whether her secret has been discovered, noting the neighbors’ new turkeys.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Fred, who is relieved to hear her compliments for the care he gave in her absence, doesn’t explain.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But an observant reader will note a hidden complication that surfaces only at the end.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;           &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }@font-face {   font-family: "Cambria"; }@font-face {   font-family: "Georgia"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 10pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;     &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;The Brothers’ Promise&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;by Frances Harber&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;illustrated by Thor Wickstrom&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;Albert Whitman, $6.99, Ages 5-9&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Based on a biblical era legend from the Talmud, a book of Jewish teachings, this retelling is set in early twentieth century Eastern Europe and reads like a folk tale.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Two brothers, Josef and Yankel, promise their dying father, Chayim, “to divide the land in half, to work together, and to always take care of each other.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Because when a brother helps a brother, the angels in heaven weep tears of joy.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Using the rich, heavy colors and textures of oils on board, Wickstrom’s paintings undergird this tantalizing tale with contrasting dark and light, mixing curving lines with angles to demonstrate the differences between the two brothers.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The short more rotund, light-hearted Yankel, is married, plays the fiddle, and delights in his dancing children.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;The taller more angular Josef lives in a simple home, alone, and studies the holy books of wisdom.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The brothers continue to be friends, and because of their work together the farm flourishes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;When a drought changes their fortunes, each thinks of his own abundance and is concerned his brother may be in need.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In the dark of night they each take a full wheelbarrow of food to the other’s barn or cellar.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;However, in the morning each discovers that his food supply has not diminished.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This trip is repeated two more times, until the brothers discover each other.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;Remembering their father’s final words, the last page shows the brothers in loving embrace as the now overcast sky erupts in a joyful downpour to heal the parched earth.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-7768330932494941981?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/7768330932494941981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/11/autumn-stories-for-season-of-abundant.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/7768330932494941981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/7768330932494941981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/11/autumn-stories-for-season-of-abundant.html' title='Autumn Stories for a Season of Abundant Thanks (FAMILY magazine reviews)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B9w_NL1CCtM/TM8KOF5Y-uI/AAAAAAAAACE/_crmW1YWn3Q/s72-c/Meribeth11.10.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-6956286456432130878</id><published>2010-11-01T14:27:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-11-01T14:32:34.266-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>RAIN SONG (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Andrew Fusek Peters&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rockabye raindrops&lt;br /&gt;Fall from the sky;&lt;br /&gt;They tapdance on tiles&lt;br /&gt;A wild lullaby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They gush through the gutters.&lt;br /&gt;On smooth windowpanes,&lt;br /&gt;They scribble and scrabble,&lt;br /&gt;Then gargle down drains&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To spatter and scatter&lt;br /&gt;In silvery streams&lt;br /&gt;With a cradle of wind&lt;br /&gt;And rockabye dreams.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-6956286456432130878?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/6956286456432130878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/11/rain-song-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/6956286456432130878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/6956286456432130878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/11/rain-song-monday-poem.html' title='RAIN SONG (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-8557398423501825998</id><published>2010-10-18T07:41:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-18T07:44:02.227-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>THE FIRST RUB OF DAWN (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Roger McGough&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Glimpsed through the night&lt;br /&gt;Is the glimmer of day&lt;br /&gt;Light is but darkness&lt;br /&gt;Worn away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-8557398423501825998?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/8557398423501825998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/10/first-rub-of-dawn-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/8557398423501825998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/8557398423501825998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/10/first-rub-of-dawn-monday-poem.html' title='THE FIRST RUB OF DAWN (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-765697256784739140</id><published>2010-10-11T19:58:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-11T20:04:58.459-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>STARS WITH WINGS (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Betsy Franco&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes it seems&lt;br /&gt;like all the stars&lt;br /&gt;have fallen&lt;br /&gt;from the skies,&lt;br /&gt;but when I see&lt;br /&gt;the stars have wings&lt;br /&gt;I know they're fireflies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-765697256784739140?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/765697256784739140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/10/stars-with-wings-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/765697256784739140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/765697256784739140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/10/stars-with-wings-monday-poem.html' title='STARS WITH WINGS (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-4319376437913168889</id><published>2010-10-08T22:19:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-08T22:37:30.451-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book review'/><title type='text'>Tales of the Unexpected:  Halloween Surprises (FAMILY magazine reviews)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B9w_NL1CCtM/TK_SqAcoOCI/AAAAAAAAAB8/Tqd53Nr2omA/s1600/meribeth10.10.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 208px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B9w_NL1CCtM/TK_SqAcoOCI/AAAAAAAAAB8/Tqd53Nr2omA/s320/meribeth10.10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525866886923302946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;          &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }@font-face {   font-family: "Cambria"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 10pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;An unusual treat, these uncommon story books appeal to the curious and unconventional aspects of the Halloween season, disturbing readers expectations.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Reading these intriguing tales will capture your imagination, a trick of skill and mastery.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Enjoy!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;           &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }@font-face {   font-family: "Cambria"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 10pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;     &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;Zen Ghosts&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;by Jon J. Muth&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Scholastic, $17.99, Ages 4-9&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Muth has based his third book about Stillwater, the giant panda, and his friends Karl, Addy, and Michael, on a Zen Buddhist question he treats as a ghost story.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Using brilliant autumn watercolors, the book opens with Stillwater dressed as a ghost, and the children preparing their own costumes for a trick or treat outing.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Instructing the children to meet him at the stone wall, Stillwater promises them a full moon Halloween tale.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Retelling a Chinese story about a girl and her friend who are together so much as they are growing up, that even the parents expect them to marry, Muth describes a change in the family fortunes, which causes the parents to promise to wed their beloved daughter, Senjo, to a nice wealthy man who can take care of the family.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Both the girl and her friend, Ochu, now in love, are saddened by this alteration in the plan.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Muth’s flaming autumn watercolors shift to mostly grays and blacks to separate the ancient tale from the bright elements of the children’s Halloween adventures.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And he uses blue and purple in Senjo’s white garment to give readers a sense of the split in Senjo’s heart.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;The similarities between Senjo’s robe and Addy’s Moon Princess costume add to the spookiness, as does Karl’s comment that Michael must be one thing, either an owl or a pirate, “He can’t be an Owl-Pirate!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There’s no such thing!”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Yet, as the children travel their trick or treat route, readers see that Michael is, in fact, dressed as a pirate with wonderful, amazing owl wings.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Ochu, from the Chinese tale Stillwater tells, who cannot bear to live in the same village with Senjo married to someone else, packs up and leaves at midnight on the day he learns of the betrothal.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The conclusion of both stories, the story and the story within the story, requires one to reflect on identity and self, and simultaneously shiver at this haunting tale, which despite its age is a fresh as today.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;The Goblin and the Empty Chair&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;by Mem Fox&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;illustrated by Leo &amp;amp; Diane Dillon&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;Beach Lane, $17.99, Ages 6-8&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;           &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }@font-face {   font-family: "Cambria"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 10pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;An original folk tale, this story begins “In a time long past, in a country far away,” with a hairy green goblin, who is so frightened when he sees himself reflected in a pond, that he hides from the world, covering his face, and living a lonely life.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;His compassion is evident however, when he notices the farmer’s pain and, taking care not to be seen, digs, chops, and paints.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Yet, the farmer, who is unable to sleep, sees.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;As does the farmer’s wife, the next night, when the goblin, again taking care not to be seen, responds to her pain by watering, planting, and pruning.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Even the daughter’s pain is noted by the goblin, who still thinking he’s not being seen in his efforts to soothe, is watched once again.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When the fourth day brings the silent family to the breakfast table, a chair that has “been empty all winter” is filled at last by the goblin, whose face, although uncovered by the child, the reader never sees.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;What the reader &lt;i style=""&gt;does&lt;/i&gt; see are formerly grieving faces, wreathed in smiles, a transformation achieved by the same visage that so terrified its owner.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;The softened watercolors in these stylized paintings demonstrate both the medieval period and the goblin’s wealth, while borders in colored pencil contribute narrative actions, preceding the text at the bottom of each page. Gargoyles, peeking around the borders of the illustrations, echo the changes in the characters experiences.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;The unexpected concluding illustration, on the back cover, shows the goblin inviting the family to his home.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Internationally recognized author Mem Fox, and award-winning team illustrators Leo and Diane Dillon combine their trademark styles and talents in this beautiful, mysterious, elegant picture book, that begs for multiple readings.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;Ant and Honey Bee: A Pair of Friends at Halloween&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;by Megan McDonald&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;illustrated by G. Brian Karas&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;Candlewick Press, $14.99, Ages 7-10&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;           &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }@font-face {   font-family: "Cambria"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 10pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Author McDonald has once again successfully crafted a new series, this time for early readers, inhabiting it with a pair of individuals as memorable, imaginative, and funny as her popular chapter books, whose title character, Judy Moody, names that series.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Best friends, Honey Bee and Ant, view themselves as belonging together.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is their efforts to create Halloween costumes, reflecting this lasting friendship, that make for the comedy in this engaging holiday tale.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Tired of the boring Pilgrim outfits from past years, the insect friends spend the first chapter, trying to decide what to be as a pair (not pear, as they finally agree!).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;No salt and pepper shakers, no moth and bee costumes, not even pencil and eraser will work this year.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;In Chapter Two they agree to be a washer and dryer, combining their talents, to complete the ensembles made from “two boxes . . . just the right size.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;After all their work, they discover the difficulties of simply navigating the trip to trick or treat, wearing their new attire.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Although neighbors comment about the clever and original costumes, it’s because they think the pair are a couple of ice cubes or dancing computers.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Moreover, the few treats they do receive turn out to be both disappointing and undesirable.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;And, adding insult to injury, it begins to rain, turning the cardboard into soggy blobs.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;However, when the pair decide to take shelter with friend Cricket, he greets them at the door holding their favorite treats, and in response to his question, “what are you?” they answer for each other that one is a beehive and the other an anthill, ending the book on a creative note by eliciting the perfect response from Cricket.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;The Very Best Pumpkin&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;by Mark Kimball Moulton&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;illustrated by Karen Hillard Good&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;Simon &amp;amp; Schuster, $12.99, Ages 5-7&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;           &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Arial"; }@font-face {   font-family: "Cambria"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 10pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;       &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;A sweet, unsentimental tale, this autumn picture book is a story of friendship.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is set in the countryside, where Peter lives on a pumpkin farm with his grandparents, and tends the pumpkin patch all summer long in preparation for fall pumpkin sales.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;One day he follows a long vine, trailing beyond the far edge of the pumpkin field, into the meadow where a tiny pumpkin is growing among the weeds, alone.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Day after day Peter weeds and waters all the pumpkins, giving special attention to the lonely pumpkin.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And, a new family moves in next door, with a daughter, Meg.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She watches Peter, caring for the pumpkin patch, and admires the most beautiful of all pumpkins in the meadow, alone.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;However, the two don’t meet until Meg and her parents come to choose their pumpkins.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Illustrator Good has chosen greens, browns, and golden orange tones to suggest late summer and early autumn, aging her watercolor paintings with instant coffee and bleach, muting the colors to reflect the season.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;A variety of page layouts support the movement of the story; sometimes a double page spread smoothly weaves words and images.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Other pages frame the text, and still others feature the text below or beside the illustration.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;The growth of the glowing, deep orange-red pumpkin becomes a luminous language mirror, for the growth of a friendship between Peter and Meg the next year, as they plan, plant and tend the new pumpkins, side by side.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The book concludes with an easy guide page for growing your own pumpkins.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-4319376437913168889?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/4319376437913168889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/10/tales-of-unexpected-halloween-surprises.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/4319376437913168889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/4319376437913168889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/10/tales-of-unexpected-halloween-surprises.html' title='Tales of the Unexpected:  Halloween Surprises (FAMILY magazine reviews)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B9w_NL1CCtM/TK_SqAcoOCI/AAAAAAAAAB8/Tqd53Nr2omA/s72-c/meribeth10.10.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-8123172665346438126</id><published>2010-10-04T09:31:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-04T09:36:41.658-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>WORDLESS WORDS (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Karla Kuskin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wordless words.&lt;br /&gt;A tuneless tune.&lt;br /&gt;Blow out the sun.&lt;br /&gt;Draw down the shade.&lt;br /&gt;Turn off the dog.&lt;br /&gt;Snap on the stars.&lt;br /&gt;Unwrap the moon.&lt;br /&gt;Wish leafy, sleeping trees good night&lt;br /&gt;And listen&lt;br /&gt;To the day shut tight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-8123172665346438126?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/8123172665346438126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/10/wordless-words-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/8123172665346438126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/8123172665346438126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/10/wordless-words-monday-poem.html' title='WORDLESS WORDS (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-6799273258393672354</id><published>2010-09-27T15:33:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-27T15:36:37.156-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>NIGHT SONG (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Leland B. Jacobs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the sun has set&lt;br /&gt;And night has come,&lt;br /&gt;The insect chorus&lt;br /&gt;Starts to hum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And nothing else&lt;br /&gt;Is there to hear,&lt;br /&gt;But the insect voices&lt;br /&gt;Soft and clear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The insects hum&lt;br /&gt;In sweet delight,&lt;br /&gt;Singing their praises&lt;br /&gt;Of the night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-6799273258393672354?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/6799273258393672354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/09/night-song-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/6799273258393672354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/6799273258393672354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/09/night-song-monday-poem.html' title='NIGHT SONG (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-4659650931160291028</id><published>2010-09-20T13:21:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-20T13:24:50.413-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>NIGHT NOISES IN THE  CITY (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Jane Yolen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the country&lt;br /&gt;Things are quiet.&lt;br /&gt;In the city&lt;br /&gt;Noise runs riot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Car horns beep.&lt;br /&gt;Buses boom.&lt;br /&gt;People shout.&lt;br /&gt;Trucks zoom-zoom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fire engine&lt;br /&gt;Siren wails,&lt;br /&gt;Someone whistles&lt;br /&gt;Taxi hails.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Garbage truck&lt;br /&gt;Churns crackety-crack.&lt;br /&gt;Subway rails&lt;br /&gt;Go clickety-clack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Close your eyes&lt;br /&gt;And use your ears.&lt;br /&gt;And hear what&lt;br /&gt;A city sleeper hears.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-4659650931160291028?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/4659650931160291028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/09/night-noises-in-city-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/4659650931160291028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/4659650931160291028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/09/night-noises-in-city-monday-poem.html' title='NIGHT NOISES IN THE  CITY (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-4841634157488794504</id><published>2010-09-13T08:43:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-13T08:52:20.558-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>MY BOOK (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by David L. Harrison&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did it!&lt;br /&gt;I did it!&lt;br /&gt;Come and look&lt;br /&gt;At what I've done!&lt;br /&gt;I read a book!&lt;br /&gt;When someone wrote it&lt;br /&gt;Long ago&lt;br /&gt;For me to read,&lt;br /&gt;How did he know&lt;br /&gt;That this was the book&lt;br /&gt;I'd take from the shelf&lt;br /&gt;And lie on the floor&lt;br /&gt;And ready by myself?&lt;br /&gt;I really read it!&lt;br /&gt;Just like that!&lt;br /&gt;Word by word,&lt;br /&gt;From first to last!&lt;br /&gt;I'm sleeping with &lt;br /&gt;This book in bed,&lt;br /&gt;This first FIRST book&lt;br /&gt;I've ever read!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-4841634157488794504?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/4841634157488794504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/09/my-book-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/4841634157488794504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/4841634157488794504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/09/my-book-monday-poem.html' title='MY BOOK (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-3092627764101174811</id><published>2010-09-06T21:12:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-06T21:13:52.529-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>STORIES (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Allan DeFina&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only a city &lt;br /&gt;has more stories&lt;br /&gt;behind each windowed&lt;br /&gt;shelf&lt;br /&gt;than a library&lt;br /&gt;can hold&lt;br /&gt;or a storyteller&lt;br /&gt;tell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-3092627764101174811?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/3092627764101174811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/09/stories-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/3092627764101174811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/3092627764101174811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/09/stories-monday-poem.html' title='STORIES (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-5578027350289033502</id><published>2010-09-01T21:57:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-01T22:35:48.830-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book review'/><title type='text'>Grandparents - A Global Future (FAMILY magazine reviews)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B9w_NL1CCtM/TH8FiQ2AqRI/AAAAAAAAAB0/-vF-h6Gx5vY/s1600/Meribeth9.10.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B9w_NL1CCtM/TH8FiQ2AqRI/AAAAAAAAAB0/-vF-h6Gx5vY/s320/Meribeth9.10.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512130555119970578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The vital connections between grandparents and the children of &lt;br /&gt;their children is a bond, linking the fabric of the future with the potency of the past.  These books offer a glimpse into the substantial influence wielded, often gently, by those who love profoundly and understand the dynamic energy of education, the power of story, and the strength of memories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Perfect Gift &lt;br /&gt;by Mary Ellen DePalma.  &lt;br /&gt;Scholastic, $16.99, Ages 4-8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        Blending a loving grandmother with the reading and telling of stories is a &lt;br /&gt;perfect match between story, characters, and readers, as Lori, the lorikeet, finds a strawberry to give her grandmother.  When the strawberry “hip, hop, plops!” into the river, Lori is interrupted in her tearful moaning by first, a helpful chipmunk who strains, unsuccessfully, to rescue the berry, then by a lovely, long-necked goose, who also comes up empty-handed.&lt;br /&gt; A “flip-flopping frog” finally brings the berry back to the surface for Lori.  But before she can even thank him, disaster strikes in the form of a crocodile.  The lorikeet frantically tosses her beautiful berry into the air to distract the crocodile, rescuing everyone, but losing the berry, and injuring herself in the process.&lt;br /&gt;        Author-artist DePalma uses a medley of illustrations to convey movement, by choosing to cast some of the action outside the framework of the illustration’s usual boundaries, making expansive use of white space, with just a few elements to cast the story, as a story within a story.  This foreshadowing of Lori’s final idea of a gift, gives extended dimension to a busy text, and along with the childlike font, adds zest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our Grandparents: A Global Album &lt;br /&gt;by Maya Ajmera, Sheila Kinkade, Cynthia Pon &lt;br /&gt;(with a foreword by Archbishop Desmond Tutu)  &lt;br /&gt;Charlesbridge, $16.95 ($7.95 paperback), Ages 4-7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Featuring vibrant photos of grandparents with grandchildren, often in pairs, from more than 30 countries, with an additional dozen or more profiling varied cultural realities in the USA, this affectionate book demonstrates the joy and respect experienced across generations.  Using multiple languages, the words for grandmother and grandfather are highlighted between the title page and Tutu’s Foreword.  &lt;br /&gt;Additionally, this book is both supported by and, with its sales, supports the work of the Global Fund for Children, a nonprofit organization “committed to advancing the dignity of children and youth around the world, by teaching the value of diversity.”  Also, backmatter includes a world map, identifying the countries represented in the photos, and a couple pages of Things to Do together.&lt;br /&gt; A variety of skin tones, assorted backgrounds in the photos, as well as captivating activities, or simply the involvement in being present to each other, are all further demonstration of active language used in the text to engage readers.  As one moves through this charming book, one can be compelled to remember one’s own grandparents and the enchantment of those experiences, or be energized to launch a similar opportunity. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nasreen’s Secret School: A True Story from Afghanistan &lt;br /&gt;by Jeanette Winter.  &lt;br /&gt;Simon &amp; Schuster, $16.99, Ages 6-9&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Nasreen’s grandmother shows her granddaughter’s losses – schools formerly available for girls are no longer permitted by the Taliban; soldiers have taken her father; Nasreen’s mother goes searching for him, although the streets are forbidden to women and girls who are alone – and Nasreen’s resulting months-long, sad fearful silence.  When there are whispers of a secret school for girls, the grandmother risks suspicion and discovery to take Nasreen, who sits at the back.&lt;br /&gt; Award-winning nonfiction author/artist Winter is skilled in her use of simple sentences to invoke powerful experiences.  She uses window-like borders to confine her strong-toned acrylic illustrations, partnering the vivid text with equally  &lt;br /&gt;evocative paintings, supplying readers with another kind of window -- into a different reality.  Winter’s blue burqas (required coverings for women away from home), grey-blue soldiers, and smoky-blue shadowed figures contrast with greens, pinks, golds and purples in the girls’ clothing, and in the illustrations representing education and the arts.  An author’s note at the beginning explains the context of the story and why the nonprofit, Global Fund for Children, is featured on the cover.&lt;br /&gt;The danger to the students and teacher is constant, and the cold winter recess is long and anxious.  But the grandmother’s loving concern drives her to hazard true peril, supporting her granddaughter’s opportunity to learn, to develop friendships, to discover, opening still another window – this one for Nasreen.  A window of knowledge, offering both solace in her experience of isolation, and hope for the future.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-5578027350289033502?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/5578027350289033502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/09/grandparents-global-future-family.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/5578027350289033502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/5578027350289033502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/09/grandparents-global-future-family.html' title='Grandparents - A Global Future (FAMILY magazine reviews)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B9w_NL1CCtM/TH8FiQ2AqRI/AAAAAAAAAB0/-vF-h6Gx5vY/s72-c/Meribeth9.10.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-1174274324387800136</id><published>2010-08-30T15:02:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-30T15:05:16.686-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>NIGHT SKY (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Margaret Hillert&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sky is not so far away.&lt;br /&gt;It reaches to the ground.&lt;br /&gt;I'm standing right inside of it.&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't make a sound.&lt;br /&gt;And once I almost held a star,&lt;br /&gt;A small and shining light&lt;br /&gt;That turned into a firefly&lt;br /&gt;And flickered out of sight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-1174274324387800136?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/1174274324387800136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/08/night-sky-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/1174274324387800136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/1174274324387800136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/08/night-sky-monday-poem.html' title='NIGHT SKY (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-6490214613257912764</id><published>2010-08-23T21:09:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-23T21:12:26.250-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>THE LION (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by David Elliott&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;stands alone&lt;br /&gt;on the grassy plain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He has his pride;&lt;br /&gt;he shakes his mane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In his eye&lt;br /&gt;the sunset glistens:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when he roars,&lt;br /&gt;the wide world listens.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-6490214613257912764?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/6490214613257912764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/08/lion-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/6490214613257912764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/6490214613257912764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/08/lion-monday-poem.html' title='THE LION (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-373058412566882042</id><published>2010-08-16T21:32:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-16T21:35:44.567-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>VACATION RELAXATION?  (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Dave Crawley&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soccer games.&lt;br /&gt;Dancing school.&lt;br /&gt;Swimming lessons&lt;br /&gt;at the pool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little League.&lt;br /&gt;Summer camp.&lt;br /&gt;Leaf woods.&lt;br /&gt;Trails to tramp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hunting shells &lt;br /&gt;at the shore.&lt;br /&gt;Shooting hoops.&lt;br /&gt;Keeping score.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doing chores.&lt;br /&gt;(Mom's request.)&lt;br /&gt;School begins.&lt;br /&gt;Time to rest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-373058412566882042?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/373058412566882042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/08/vacation-relaxation-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/373058412566882042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/373058412566882042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/08/vacation-relaxation-monday-poem.html' title='VACATION RELAXATION?  (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-8319519392939854138</id><published>2010-08-09T08:13:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-09T08:22:10.450-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>NEW KID  IN SCHOOL (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Dave Crawley&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not easy being the new kid in school.&lt;br /&gt;Nobody knew me.  I felt like a fool.&lt;br /&gt;I missed all my friends, who were so far away.&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't quite sure I cold get through the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't help thinking I shouldn't be here,&lt;br /&gt;wishing I somehow could just disappear.&lt;br /&gt;A tap on my arm.  Now who could that be?&lt;br /&gt;Whoever she was, she was talking to me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You must be the new kid.  We heard about you."&lt;br /&gt;"That's right," said her friend.  "What's it like to be new?"&lt;br /&gt;More kids were stopping to ask me my name.&lt;br /&gt;I started enjoying my moment of fame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was last Monday.  The days have flown by.&lt;br /&gt;I've made some new friends, and I don't feel so shy.&lt;br /&gt;Now there's a new kid.  Her name is Marie.&lt;br /&gt;They're asking her questions like they did with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They ask, and she answers.  They ask her some more.&lt;br /&gt;And she's in the spotlight, as I was before.&lt;br /&gt;I'll make her feel welcome.  Yeah, that would be cool.&lt;br /&gt;It's not easy being the new kid in school.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-8319519392939854138?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/8319519392939854138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/08/new-kid-in-school-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/8319519392939854138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/8319519392939854138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/08/new-kid-in-school-monday-poem.html' title='NEW KID  IN SCHOOL (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-8348884688901320687</id><published>2010-08-06T09:01:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-06T09:11:52.271-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book review'/><title type='text'>Tales of Cuba:  Refuge and Revolution  (FAMILY magazine reviews)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B9w_NL1CCtM/TFwIUSmGNGI/AAAAAAAAABk/A7VVLDqEw10/s1600/meribeth8.10.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B9w_NL1CCtM/TFwIUSmGNGI/AAAAAAAAABk/A7VVLDqEw10/s320/meribeth8.10.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502281989421937762" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Within the last century, escaping children have become refugees to and from Cuba.  And although desperation, confusion and isolation are far more universal than we may be willing to admit, these books are also powerful stories of family, home, and freedom.  Are you taking a trip? On vacation? Or simply ready for riveting reading? Try these titles. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;90 Miles to Havana &lt;br /&gt;by Enrique Flores-Galbis.  &lt;br /&gt;Roaring Brook, $17.99, Ages 9+&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Novelist Flores-Galbis offers readers a mesmerizing piece of history in this growing up story of one young boy, evacuated with his older brothers from 1960’s Cuba to Miami as part of Operation Pedro Pan.  Among more than fourteen thousand young people who were part of the largest recorded exodus of unaccompanied minors in the Western Hemisphere, the author taps his own experience, capturing the urgent immediacy of both betrayal and kindness, in this first-person narrative.&lt;br /&gt; Beginning with a traditional New Year’s Eve family fishing trip that blends both the comfort of the familiar and introduces the approaching changes associated with the revolution, in the following days Julian watches as neighbors and friends leave the country for Miami and safety.  He notes the mix of sadness and determination as parents send their children to a strange country alone.&lt;br /&gt; When later he and his brothers are among those leaving without parents, the danger and brokenness are clearly shown in a multitude of word images, and represented by a broken plate Julian promises to mend.  Their arrival at a camp on the outskirts of Miami is accompanied by an immediate dunking in the pool, and a meeting with a bully the brothers recognize.  The most helpful encounter is the discovery of their good friends from next door in Cuba.&lt;br /&gt; The brothers are assigned to sleep in the bathroom, and to kitchen duty, where Julian begins slowly to trust the camp cook, who although she must protect her job, is still able to offer some small assistance.  Incidents of bullying and retributive justice intensify, as the overworked priest is often unavailable to supervise the understaffed camp. &lt;br /&gt; When Julian and his Cuban neighbor-friend, join the weekly Saturday group who drive to Miami for an outing, Julian makes plans to help his parents escape.  This well-paced novel works for both genders, exploring the bravery, resourcefulness, and resolve required by many Cuban refugees to survive and thrive, despite their uprooting and requisite grafting into a new land.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The Red Umbrella &lt;br /&gt;by Christina Diaz Gonzalez.  &lt;br /&gt;Knopf, $16.99, Ages 10+&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Based on real events, this well-written debut novel is the story of middle class teen Lucia, who watches the crushing consequences of the Cuban revolution in her small town as soldiers arrive, freedoms are dismantled, people disappear, friends act like strangers, and even her family changes.  As the name-calling, betrayals, and even lynchings escalate, her parents feel compelled to make the heart-wringing decision to send Lucia, and her younger brother Frankie, to the U.S.&lt;br /&gt;Lucia and Frankie join thousands of Cuban children who, beginning late 1960 until 1962, are separated from their families, their country and their culture, in what came to be called Operation Pedro Pan.  This complex, breath-stopping escape plan at least temporarily orphaned many children, who had no family members to meet them and were placed, at best, with host families across the U.S.  &lt;br /&gt;Arriving first in Miami at a facility, Frankie and Lucia are separated, which ultimately leads to a decision by the administrators, to send them to a foster home in Nebraska.  There they begin adapting to a new language, a new country, a new way of life, with changes as shattering as bullying, missing the important quinceanera (a girl’s all-important fifteenth birthday celebration), rural farm life, periodic long-distance phone calls with the parents still in Cuba, and even the first-time experience of snow.  &lt;br /&gt;Gonzalez is adept in employing Spanish language phrases through dialog, augmenting and clarifying the meaning in her use of paraphrasing and furnishing context cues.  Additionally, newspaper headlines serve as chapter titles, supplying contemporary commentary.  An Author’s Note at the end provides further historical detail. &lt;br /&gt;Basing her story on the experiences of her family members who were among these children, Gonzalez writes with simplicity and understanding of the complex issues in this important part of American history.  Many of these concerns are still alive as the 40th anniversary of this remarkable Cuban exodus approaches.&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tropical Secrets: Holocaust Refugees in Cuba &lt;br /&gt;by Margarita Engle.  &lt;br /&gt;Henry Holt, $16.99, Ages 12+&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Award-winning poet Engle once again writes in verse, adding this novel to her historic Cuban repertoire.  Told in brief but emotionally authentic narrative poems, each of four characters adds a distinctive voice to this immigrant tale.&lt;br /&gt; Thirteen-year-old Daniel, whose musician parents had “only enough money for one ticket to flee Germany,” as the Nazis gain power, arrives in Cuba on a ship that has been turned away from too many harbors.  Paloma, also thirteen, whose father, El Gordo, is a corrupt public official who accepts bribes for visas, befriends him.  And David, an older Russian Jew, also an immigrant from the previous decade, mentors Daniel, urging him to adapt to Cuba’s warm weather, wonderful fruit, music and dancing.&lt;br /&gt; Ironically, the “J” for Jew, that condemned Daniel in Germany, contributes to saving his life, when German Christians are imprisoned as spies by Cuban authorities.  Paloma and Daniel with David’s assistance, help to rescue an elderly mixed religions couple, and begin to trust each other enough to share their secrets.&lt;br /&gt; Daniel’s dream is to be reunited with his parents in Cuba, where they will be able to live once again as a family together.  Paloma wants both to become a dancer like the mother who abandoned her, and to confront her father, whose ethical compromises have increased his income.&lt;br /&gt; The Author’s Note at the back explains her family background, which adds vitality to her storytelling and helps to animate her interest in this aspect of Cuban history.  As secrets are revealed and trust deepens, the characters expand into hopefulness and young readers are engaged at multiple levels.  This superbly written novel strengthens both its characters and its readers, making a hidden part of Cuban history newly accessible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reviews published in August 2010 issue of &lt;a href="http://www.familymagazine.biz"&gt;FAMILY magazine&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-8348884688901320687?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/8348884688901320687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/08/tales-of-cuba-refuge-and-revolution.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/8348884688901320687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/8348884688901320687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/08/tales-of-cuba-refuge-and-revolution.html' title='Tales of Cuba:  Refuge and Revolution  (FAMILY magazine reviews)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B9w_NL1CCtM/TFwIUSmGNGI/AAAAAAAAABk/A7VVLDqEw10/s72-c/meribeth8.10.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-7109047112843389745</id><published>2010-08-02T10:32:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-02T10:35:14.611-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>ROYAL RIDDLE  (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Dawn Watkins&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What inched along like a furry worm?&lt;br /&gt;What thought of flying but could only squirm?&lt;br /&gt;What made a case as clear as glass,&lt;br /&gt;And hung it on a stalk of grass?&lt;br /&gt;What went to sleep a dull, slow thing,&lt;br /&gt;And woke to find himself a king?*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*a monarch butterfly&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-7109047112843389745?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/7109047112843389745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/08/royal-riddle-monday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/7109047112843389745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/7109047112843389745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/08/royal-riddle-monday-poem.html' title='ROYAL RIDDLE  (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1022756425857436369.post-9028081576850801785</id><published>2010-07-26T23:23:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-26T23:30:40.298-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='POETRY'/><title type='text'>THE EGRET GOES HOME TO HER ROOST (Monday Poem)</title><content type='html'>by Jane Yolen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bedtime--and like an arrow loosed,&lt;br /&gt;The Great Egret flies back to roost&lt;br /&gt;With others of her company&lt;br /&gt;To decorate a greening tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like great white balls, they seem to light&lt;br /&gt;The soft and mellow southern night.&lt;br /&gt;They sleep the dusky dark away,&lt;br /&gt;To rise again and greet the day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1022756425857436369-9028081576850801785?l=meribeths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/feeds/9028081576850801785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/07/egret-goes-home-to-her-roost-monday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/9028081576850801785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1022756425857436369/posts/default/9028081576850801785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meribeths.blogspot.com/2010/07/egret-goes-home-to-her-roost-monday.html' title='THE EGRET GOES HOME TO HER ROOST (Monday Poem)'/><author><name>Meribeth Shank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13247454350811900346</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3nXBCq9ROA/TdqpJrIkUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/D7Ll1DsLdhc/s220/professional4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
