Nails

Last summer I read Opa Nobody by Sonya Huber.  There’s a scene in the book where Huber’s German grandfather, Heina. becomes so exasperated with his mother that he nails shut the door that connects his family’s quarters with his mother’s. 

I thought of that today as my husband was pounding nails.  For months now, my mother-in-law has been accusing us of messing with her stuff (or if not us, some stranger who is possibly entering her rooms via our quarters).  Someone has taken her keys…and then put them back.  Someone has put spoiled food in her refrigerator…in her own dishes.   Someone has stolen the shampoo she kept under the sink.  And so on.

As a desperate measure, my husband has nailed the doors connecting our rooms shut.  She can no longer come freely into our house, and we can’t get into her house unless we go to her front door.  The thing is, I know that it won’t make much of a difference.

I Am Scary

In another life, I sometimes saw babies while standing in line at the supermarket check-out, or maybe in a restaurant or a bank.  I smiled at these babies, and the babies smiled back.

Then, I came to Japan.  For the first time ever, the babies did not smile back.  Instead, they were more apt to crumple their faces in horror or to cry.  I’m pretty much used to it by now, after twenty years in Japan.  There are two babies at my daughter’s school – siblings of students.  At the last post-open class parent-teacher meeting, a mother and baby were sitting next to me.  All I did was look at the baby, and the baby started crying.  I wasn’t even trying to engage the baby in any way.  Typical.

My own children have been exposed to a variety of faces since birth – white, Asian, and occasionally black.  Never once did they burst into tears upon seeing a foreigner.  Multiculturalism, it seems, begins at birth.

Reading as a Child

In Katia Novet Saint-Lot’s debut picture book Amadi’s Snowman, a young Nigerian boy dreams of being a trader.  He thinks he’ll wash cars like the older boys he sees around, and then use the money to buy things like plastic hangers, dish towels and matchboxes, that he’ll sell later.  His mother has different ideas.  She’s hired a tutor to teach him to read so that he can have an office job in the future.  Amadi escapes from the tutor and stumbles upon a book stall on his own.  There, in a book, he sees his first snowman – and discovers the wonders that can be found on the page.

Katia has started a meme about first reading experiences.  Paste the following five questions in your blog.  Answer them, and pass them along.

1. Do you remember the first book you ever read on your own?

2. Do you remember how you felt? If not, maybe you remember how you felt seeing a child read for the first time?

3. Do you remember a book that you read again and again as a child?

4. Why that book? Have you read it again as an adult? If so, was it like you remembered?

5. Why do you read?

Here are my answers:

1. Do you remember the first book you ever read on your own?

I honestly don’t.  My earliest memory of reading is of those Dick and Jane readers in first grade (See Dick run!  See Spot run!  Run, Jane, run.”  But my mother tells me that I started reading earlier.  I remember enjoying Go, Dog, Go.  That’s also the first book that my son read in English on his own.

2. Do you remember how you felt? If not, maybe you remember how you felt seeing a child read for the first time?

The first time my son read a book in English, I wanted to break out the champagne.  I was thrilled!  And Go, Dog, Go is very long!!  Back in the day, picture books could go up to 40 or 50 pages! 

3. Do you remember a book that you read again and again as a child?

I loved the Madeline books, the Babar books, the Curious George books, and the series about Clifford the Big Red Dog.  I remember making Babar paper dolls.

4. Why that book? Have you read it again as an adult? If so, was it like you remembered?

I’ve read all of these books to my children.  My kids love them, and I still enjoy them, though the Babar books and the Curious George books seem politically incorrect now…

5. Why do you read?

I love to be transported to other worlds, to learn about new things, to be entertained, to be provoked, to have the pleasure of reading beautiful writing.  Reading relaxes me.  If I can’t read, I become very grumpy.  Books can also offer companionship and help us feel less alone.

Punk Babysitters

In one or two movies I’ve seen recently, there were punk babysitters with pierced noses, multiply-pierced ears, dyed hair, and in at least one case, a surly attitude.  These babysitters appeared for comic effect, and I’ve always believed that no mother would seriously hire someone looking like that to take care of their kids.  I guess that shows my Midwestern, middle-aged conservatism.

This weekend, I went to Tokyo for Writer’s Day, an event put on by the Tokyo Branch of SCBWI.  It was world class.  Three international picture book writers (actually one, Tanya Batt, bills herself as more of a storyteller) gave stellar presenations.  Irene Smalls had us acting out our characters, and Laura Rennert, of the Andrea Brown Literary Agency, had us all dreaming of half a million dollar deals (the kind that she puts together), but she also gave us some very practical advice.  (And she told us fun stuff about her husband Barry Eisler.)

I had a great time, and my mind was at ease because I knew that my kids were safe at my sister-in-law’s.  I trust her, and the kids love her.  She had a few errands, so she told me in advance that one of my niece’s friends would be helping with the babysitting.  I’ve never met this girl, but my kids have, and they like her.  And if my sister-in-law says she’d dependable, then I believe her.

Last night, as I was tucking Lilia into bed, I asked if she’d finished her homework.

“Yes,” she signed.  “B. [the friend] helped me.”

“Wonderful!” I said, liking B. very much at that moment.

Then Lilia pointed to her tongue and made the sign for “ouch.”   A stud??

“Does B. have a pierced tongue?” I asked Yoshi.

“Yes,” he said, “and multiple piercings in her ears.”

This morning it occurred to me to ask Jio about her hair color.

“It’s yellow,” Jio said.  (B. is a high school drop-out.)

“Oh!”

I’ve totally revised my ideas about pierced and dyed babysitters.   Anyone who can get Lilia to do the weekend’s  homework in one day is all right in my book.  Punk babysitters rule!

And the Nobel Prize Goes to…

I seem to be one of the few Americans to have read a book written by J.M.G. Le Clezio, this year’s Nobel laureate for literature.  Here’s what I thought of Wandering Star.

Interview

I’m still way excited whenever someone that I’ve never met before reads my novel and likes it well enough to tell others.  Someone, for instance, like Anna who interviewed me for her blog.  Check it out here.

Also, you might want to read Penny Wolfson’s post at Beacon Broadside concerning Sarah Palin and mothers of disabled children.

Maelstrom

Here’s my dilemma:  Do I stay home tomorrow and watch the second Obama-McCain debate live via Internet, or do I go to my son’s open class?

Just kidding.  Of course I will attend the open class.  I’ve rearranged my schedule for tomorrow, and given up any hope of getting any work done this week on the three essays (and one speech) that I have to complete by the end of the month.  Oh, yes, and I also need to do an interview and prepare for a workshop on writing for children in addition to helping out with the preparations for the deaf school culture festival/bazaar and my normal load of classes.

But I will be standing at the back of my son’s class tomorrow, trying to figure out third grade math.

 

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Other Reasons Why You Should Read Cicada

The magazine I mentioned yesterday, Cicada, is aimed at young adults, ages 14-22 or thereabouts, but I’ve been enjoying it for years.  The editors have kindly selected three other stories of mine for publication, and also the works of many writers that I admire.  In the current issue, for example, my novella appears along with a story by O. Henry and poetry by Ted Kooser (featuring a girl in a wheelchair) and William Shakespeare.  Not bad company, eh?  In previous issues I’ve enjoyed poetry in these pages by Billy Collins, Ted Hughes, Nikki Giovanni,  and my Literary Mama colleague Violeta Garcia-Mendoza.  I’ve also had the pleasure of reading new fiction by established young adult writers such as Linda Sue Park, Cynthia Letich Smith, and Marina Budhos.

The editors of Cicada don’t shy away from difficult topics.  There have been stories concerning the war in Iraq, stories about alcoholism, racism, and illness.  The current issue includes an edgy story by fantasy writer Nancy Springer about a missing child.  Another bonus:  the magazine introduces readers to many different cultures.  In the past, I’ve especially enjoyed the stories by Tish Farrell which are set in Africa.

If this sounds like a sales pitch, well, it is.  The editors of Cicada and Ladybug (where my first children’s stories were published) have been good to me, and I’d like to do what I can to give back.  If you’ve got a teen reader in the house, this magazine is the perfect antidote to the Gossip Girls, et al.  If your kids are still young, get a subscription for yourself.