A Perfectly Eclectic Christmas Tree

I don't think I will ever be one of those people who has a gorgeous, perfectly matchety-matched  Christmas tree. I'd like to be, but even if I someday live in a home that is big enough to house two trees, two trees is . . . a lot of work. I guess I'm a fan of being able to finish all our decorating in one day. Actually in about three hours. It's really pretty nice.

And if I can only have one Christmas tree? Then I guess I'll stick with the eclectic, homemade variety I've got. It's not like I have an amazing ornament collection, but the ornaments I do have are full of happy memories.

I love the little Christmas tree ornament I made out of a paper bag when I was around nine years old--not because it's pretty to look at (to tell you the truth, I usually put it around the back of the tree), but because it was one of the first sewing projects I ever completed, and sewing has brought me a lot of joy in the years since.

I also love the handcart ornament I got when I was 12 and participated in the sesquicentennial trek commemorating the Mormon pioneers' arrival in Utah.

I even love the dozen or so beaded candy cane ornaments that Aaron made with obsessive zeal last year. Every time I turned around, he was hanging a new one on the tree, and it was actually pretty funny to pull them all out again this year and think about how he's changed (and not changed) over the last year.

But one of my favorite ornaments (and the real reason for writing this post) is one I didn't even receive until after last Christmas. So really, this is its first official year hanging on our tree.

My little hometown commissioned a series of limited edition ornaments that featured various landmarks unique to the town. One of them was the library, and my mom knew that out of all the ornaments, that's the one I would want to have. Other than my parents' house, the library was my very favorite spot and the place where I spent an amazing amount of time as a child. (If you are a fairly new reader here, you might want to go back and read My Hometown Library--still one of my very favorite posts.)

Anyway, on the back of the ornament, it gives some cool little facts--such as that the town's first library opened in 1915. But to me the most amazing info given there is that since 1931 (when the library featured on the ornament was built), there have only been three librarians. Did you catch that? Three. In over eighty years, a grand total of three women have held that position. (And something tells me that, unbelievable as that is, it must be true since in the 31 years my parents have lived there, they have only known one librarian). Apparently, when you're one of only three, you've basically reached star status, and you get your name printed on the back of the commemorative ornament.

When we decorated our tree a couple of weeks ago (and one of the added benefits of having a tree like ours is that you don't worry about your kids helping with the decorating), I was so happy to pull it out and give it a spot among the paper bag Christmas tree, handcart ornament, and beaded candycane.

It looked just right.

P.S. I seem to wax sentimental in December. Last year I wrote about the little wooden train Mike made when he was a teenager.

Australia Top 10, Part 3

I know you're probably getting sick of seeing pictures from Australia, but humor me. I've been having so much fun going through them the last couple of weeks and remembering all the fun we had.

Here's the third installment of our Top 10 (which means we're now up to a Top 30):

1. Finding Peachees

My brother served a two-year mission in Sydney (and surrounding areas), and he told us one of the things we had to try while we were over there was Peachees. We looked (and asked) for them everywhere, and everyone just looked at us like we were crazy. I was just beginning to think they weren't really an Australian thing when Mike found one (the last one in the case!) at a convenience store. I think perhaps they're not really referred to that often as "peachees," at least not in Manly. Bundaberg has a whole line of carbonated sodas (and a couple days later, we ended up trying them all). The grapefruit one was a close second to peach. (Oh, and that BenBry burger Mike's holding? Not a gross complement to the soda.)

2. The jackaranda tree

And . . . another tree makes its appearance. But tell me you don't just love this purple tree (the one in the center)? It's like a lilac bush . . . but a tree. I'm so glad we were here during the time of year when it was in bloom.

3. The Sydney Opera House

There were moments on our trip when I would forget what part of the world we were in, but this was not one of those days. I knew exactly where I was, and it was magical. We went to a performance of Brahms' Piano Concerto No. 1 in D minor (Op. 15) and Mahler's first symphony in D major. We sat at the very back, which might have been considered the worst seat in the house, but I loved it because I could see every part of the concert hall.

4. Pie Thanksgiving

Australians may not celebrate Thanksgiving, but we Americans knew how to put an Aussie spin on it. Our whole meal consisted of pies, both savory and sweet. It was delicious! Mike's sister made five of them, and the other four were purchased. I'll always remember this Thanksgiving, and I'm so grateful we got to spend it with people that we love so much.

5. Surfing

I think Mike and I both have a deeper appreciation for surfer dudes. It's not easy, and it's quite a workout as well. Even though I stuck with the body board, I still only managed to ride a few waves. It was actually relatively chilly on this morning, but once we were in the water we were perfectly comfortable.

6. Walking across the Sydney Harbor Bridge

We didn't do the climb over the bridge (my fear of heights would never have allowed that), but just walking across was super fun anyway. The harbor was absolutely beautiful from up above.

7. The view from the Sydney Eye Tower

First the bridge, then the Eye Tower--Friday was definitely the day for taking in the size and scope and look of Sydney. I'm glad we saved this for the end of our trip because by that time we had already done quite a bit of sightseeing and were able to orient ourselves fairly quickly once we were up the tower and find familiar landmarks. The picture above shows Hyde Park, which we walked through the Saturday before.

8 Fish 'n' Chips

Let's just say it's a good thing we left Australia when we did because I think we would have just kept eating fish and chips (as it was, we ate it three times). The snapper we had in Huskisson was my favorite.

9. Cousins

I'd be lying if I didn't say that being in Australia with family was one of the highlights of the trip. And for Clark, I'd say it was the highlight. Man, he loved being around his three cousins.

10. Seeing Sydney at night

The night before we left, Mike and I put Clark to bed and left him with Anne and Nate and then rode the ferry from Manly to Circular Quay. When we got there, we got off, grabbed some gelato, and got back on. Oh yes, we're that exciting. But seriously, all we really wanted was to see Sydney all lit up, and seeing it from the water definitely provided the best view. It felt somewhat symbolic to ride back to Manly and see the lights of Sydney fade away. It gave us an opportunity to bid that country a very fond farewell.

That wraps up our trip, but I still have one more post to share with you about our time in the land down under. Look for that next week!

The Saturdays by Elizabeth Enright

When I made the goal at the beginning of the year to reread a favorite from my childhood, I immediately thought of The Saturdays. I have a little tender spot in my heart for the Melendy family, but my memories of actual details were very limited (basically, the only thing I could tell you was that it was about four children who lived in a house with a cupola on top (and that little bit is actually from the next book, The Four-Story Mistake)).
At first I was just going to read it myself, but then I thought, As long as I'm reading a book from my childhood, I might as well be reading it to my children. And so I did.

There are four children in the Melendy family: Mona (13), Rush (12), Randy (10.5), and Oliver (6). They live in a tall, skinny house in New York City with their father and the housekeeper, Cuffy. On one rather boring Saturday, Randy comes up with a brilliant idea: If they all pool their allowances together each week, they can take turns using the money and going on an adventure. The plan is a good one, but it does backfire a little when Mona uses the money to bob her hair and paint her nails bright red and when Oliver takes the money on his week and goes to the circus all by himself without telling anyone. Eventually, they decide that perhaps it would be a better idea to still combine their resources but go on the adventures together instead.

When I read this book as a kid, I'm pretty sure I didn't think it was anything shocking for a kid my own age to be wandering around New York City alone. I wandered around my town alone. Why shouldn't they? (Granted, there were only 1,700 people in my little town of one square mile, but how different could it be really?) But you can bet I noticed it this time around.

I realize this book was written in the 1940's, and maybe 10-, 12-, and 13-year-olds were more mature and responsible back then (maybe there's no maybe about it), but New York was still a vast city with millions of people, and there were times when they were very much at the mercy of strangers (thankfully, always kind and well-meaning strangers). Their father sends them off with this advice: "Don't get run over. That's the first and most important rule . . . If you get lost or in trouble of any kind always look for a policeman . . . Don't talk to strangers. Unless you know by looking at them that they're kind people, and even then think twice."  (I'm not including the six-year-old in any of this because, even though he also was wandering alone around New York City, it was without his father's permission. Speaking of Oliver though, I can't imagine my own six-year-old navigating our city alone . . . he could maybe make it to the park at the bottom of our street, but that's about it.)

Besides that, there were also a couple of truly frightening moments--one when the house fills with coal gas in the middle of the night and they all nearly suffocate and another when Randy leaves a dress hanging over a bare light bulb and the house starts on fire. If I'd remembered those near-tragedies, I probably would have held off reading this to my kids for a few more years. As it was, I couldn't tell that they were negatively affected until we were two pages away from the end and Max said he wanted to stop reading because, "I haven't liked any of it. Not the fire or the coal gas or the sharks. Not any of it." I guess he was processing it after all, and it was scaring him a bit. You can be sure that I felt bad then about reading the whole thing.

So maybe it wasn't the best choice for a four-year-old, but overall, I liked it, and I can see why I liked it so much when I was eleven-ish. I loved their old brownstone, which was so full of personality. I loved their family unity and the way they loved to do things together. And I loved the distinct personalities of the children and Cuffy, captured so well in the following paragraph when they're on the train, bound for the lighthouse: "Oliver got chocolate all over the windowpane trying to get a last glimpse of Father, and Cuffy mopped her hot face with her best handkerchief. Mona started reading her book almost at once so that the other passengers would realize that travel was nothing new to her, but Randy stared out of the window frankly interested. As for Rush, he surreptitiously opened the suitcase beside him and gave Isaac [the dog] a piece of chocolate."

While it won't go down as one of our favorite readalouds ever, I would still definitely recommend it to kids in the 7-12 age range or to adults who like nostalgia. 

A Decade Old Engagement Story

One of the reasons Mike and I decided to splurge on the Australia trip was because our 10-year anniversary is this coming April, and we wanted to celebrate it in a big way. (Australia may have been too big since we probably won't be able to top it for the even more momentous 25- and 50-year anniversaries.)

I go back and forth between thinking, Whoa, it's already been ten years?! to Only ten years? Really?

This past weekend, those memories felt very close, almost like they could have happened yesterday. Mike proposed on December 4, 2004, and with the anniversary of that important date passing this past week, I decided to try and recreate the evening.

It has been a long, long time since I've told this story (although, in the days immediately following, I must have told it a hundred times). As Mike and I visited our old spots, we found our own memories clashing just a bit. But this is how I remember it.

Mike and I were students at BYU. I was a sophomore; he was a junior. We had been dating since the beginning of the year and had mentioned the possibility of marriage (while still trying to be rather vague and non-committal about it).

Several weeks earlier, I had purchased tickets to Christmas Around the World, a performance that features multicultural dances by BYU's folk dance teams. The tickets were for December 4th.

Before we went to the performance that evening, Mike suggested that we get Panda Express and take it over to the Tanner Building. The Tanner Building was a favorite of ours. Although neither of us were business majors, we had choir practice there, we loved the architecture, and we liked finding secluded corners to, er, study in.

We had time to kill, so after we ate, we rode the elevator to the seventh floor. It was a Saturday evening, and the hallways were deserted. We went to our favorite corner and sat on a couch while Mike told me about why he couldn't sleep the night before. Before he started, he pulled out a box and said, "This story has visual aids." I opened it, and inside was a gold chain with a black pearl pendant. I don't think I said anything because I didn't know if it was a present or merely a prop.

He started telling me about a woman on his mission (he served a mission for our church in the West Indies from 2001-2003) who had been like a mom to both him and his companion. Before they left, she gave each of them a black pearl pendant and told them to only give it to the girl they planned to marry.

I know it's crazy, but until he said those words, I had no idea that it was the lead-in to his proposal. I glanced down at the necklace that I was still holding. Me. And he had just said that he was only supposed to give it to the girl he married. And I was holding it.

And then I knew exactly what we were doing in a secluded corner on the seventh floor of the Tanner Building. He didn't even have to say the next words (but he did), and I don't think he even really needed my answer (but I gave it anyway).

Then he put the ring on my finger, we kissed (it was our first one), and we practically skipped on our way to the performance. I remember very little about the dances except that we hid my hand from view in case we bumped into any casual acquaintances (since we hadn't told either of our families yet).

Afterwards, we phoned our parents (who were not surprised), told my roommates (who went crazy), and basked in the glow of being engaged.

And so that is why last Saturday, we did the same things we did ten years ago (circumstances called for doing them out of order, but we did our best). We again ordered Panda Express. We walked the halls of the Tanner building and sat on the edge of the fountain and argued about which corner it really happened in. (It was a little confusing since they've recently added onto the Tanner Building, but after much debate, I ceded to Mike who got me with, "I was thinking about the location a lot more than you were, and I picked the spot farthest away from the elevator.)

We went to the same performance of Christmas Around the World (thanks to my brother and his wife who watched our four (!) kids--definitely something we didn't have to worry about the first time).

I actually think I enjoyed the performance a lot more this time. Ten years ago, I was (a little) distracted.

Tanner Building - 2004

Tanner Building - 2014

Australia Top 10, Part 2

Okay, so it should be fairly obvious with this second set of Australia pictures that this isn't so much a top 10 (since now we're up to a top 20) as just a condensed travelogue. But it's really hard to narrow it down (believe me, I'm already cutting out a lot of pictures I would love to share) since it was a near-perfect trip.

1. Visiting the Manly Public Library

 

You didn't honestly think I'd pass up such an opportunity, did you?

2. Bus tour of Manly

One of the great things about this trip was just joining in with some of the things the locals did. This bus was one of those things (although, considering the fact that we rode the entire circular route without getting off at any of the stops probably revealed the truth that we were actually tourists).

3. Driving on the left side of the road

On Tuesday and Wednesday, we borrowed Anne and Nate's car and drove south along the coast. It was an adventure. Mike took to the backwards roads like a pro, and I only caught him driving on the wrong side (i.e., the right side) twice (and thankfully, both times were in rural areas with no traffic).

4. Minnumurra Rainforest

Where we sat on this bench . . .

. . . And looked at this waterfall:

(Clark, as you can see, was unimpressed.)

5. Robertson Pie Shop

You'll never hear us complain about pie being Australia's national dish.

6. The white sands of Jarvis Bay

Sadly, the evening we'd set aside to go swimming was actually a bit chilly. Mike still got in the water, but I wrapped myself in a towel and watched him, while worrying the entire time that he was being followed by a shark. The beach (and accompanying water) was really pretty though.

7. Seeing kangaroos

If I was really limiting myself to only ten favorite things, seeing kangaroos would most definitely have made the cut. There we were, just driving along, and this family of kangaroos was just hanging out on the side of the road. That little joey was out of his mum's pouch. When we drove past, he jumped in headfirst and then turned himself around. Oh, and watching them all bound away was pretty cool too.

8. This pine tree

I guess I was a little obsessed with trees on this trip (see the fig tree in the first Australia post). I believe this is the Norfolk Island pine. They are all over down here (right next to the palm trees). Their branches look like ferns. (While the tree is beautiful, the ocean and hills in the background aren't exactly ugly.)

9. Kiama Blowhole

I actually thought this was pretty cool. It's kind of like a geyser except it sprays much more frequently (and, obviously, is not created by a hot spring). When we were there, it was going up several times each minute. This video shows it much better than a picture (skip to 0:17 for the best one--although not the best one of the day, for sure).

10. The donut van in Berry

I actually wasn't a huge fan of the donuts themselves (too spongy for my tastes), but come on: it's a van that sells donuts. How could I not love that?

And . . .  that doesn't take us to the end of our trip, so it looks like there will be an Australia Top 10, Part 3. Stay tuned.

Brown Girl Dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson

There was a time in my life when I was afraid of verse novels. You might even say I avoided them. But then I read Out of the Dust by Karen Hesse, and I was completely won over by this format of novel-writing. I wish I could remember what inspired me to read it in the first place because whatever (or whoever) it was deserves a lot of credit.

So when I saw all the attention Brown Girl Dreaming was getting on Newbery 2015 lists and found out it was also a verse novel, I ran to get my hands on a copy (which is fairly difficult to do when you're #78 on a library wait list).

For years, I have counted Out of the Dust among my very favorite books, but Brown Girl Dreaming is threatening its position. I definitely enjoyed it, and some of the poems moved past just being enjoyable and truly touched me.

Jacqueline Woodson grew up in the 1960's (yes, it's a memoir in verse). Since part of that growing up takes place in South Carolina, you can imagine that the Civil Rights movement is an important component of the story. But it's also just about the happenings, both tragic and heartwarming, that make up this thing we call life. At its heart, however, it's about Jacqueline's journey to becoming a writer, which after reading her beautifully flowing verse, you'll be surprised there was ever a time when it didn't come easily to her.

Okay, maybe I'm just so new to verse novels that I'm ignorant to any and all flaws, but I was completely blown away by this book. I found myself wanting to dogear every single page, which kind of defeats the purpose of dogearing. Some of the poems left me breathless, like this one entitled, "Ghosts":

In downtown Greenville,

they painted over the WHITE ONLY signs,

except on the bathroom doors,

they didn't use a lot of paint

so you can still see the words, right there

like a ghost standing in front

still keeping you out.

I've read my share of books (fiction and nonfiction) that explore Civil Rights issues, but that poem hit me hard and fast in a new way. In a mere seven lines, it shows how stamping out the sins of the past isn't as quick and easy as painting over a sign. The prejudices linger and hearts continue to hurt. I think it's partly the genre itself (the line breaks, the formatting on the page, the words that are said and unsaid) that is able to nudge those familiar emotions and feelings in a new way, but I was continually impressed with Jacqueline Woodson's imagery and voice, which seemed completely her own (but, like I said, I definitely need to explore this genre further to see if I'm just a sucker for anything written in verse).

The thing I love about a book like this is that, when taken as a whole, it creates a beautifully complete story, but I can also open the book at random and read a poem here, turn a few pages and read another poem there, and each one is enjoyable and complete in and of itself. It's one of the books that's going on my Christmas list this year, in part because I know that it will give something new to me every time I pick it up, whether I have time for just one or two pages or the entire thing.

One of my very favorite individual poems was called "Other People's Memory," which talks about how everyone in the family remembers Jacqueline's birth as happening at a different time of day. Grandma Georgiana swears it happened in the morning, but Jacqueline's mother says it took place in the afternoon, and Jacqueline's father says she was born when it was almost night. I wanted to share an excerpt here, but I couldn't narrow it down to one stanza. It just didn't have the same impact when separated from the rest.

I read most of this book on the 14-hour plane ride to Australia. By the end, in my nearly delirious state, my own thoughts were coming in short, clipped phrases, so I thought, Hey, I'm going to write a poem about what it's like to be on this jet for fourteen hours--a gripping subject to be sure, but one that (luckily for you) I won't be sharing here.

The book ends with a poem called "Believe," which includes these two lines:

I believe in one day and someday and this

     perfect moment called Now.

I think that's really what Jacqueline Woodson set out to do with all the poems preceding this one--capture and share the "one day"s and the "someday"s, but most of all those "perfect moment"s that makes up the present.

Raising Readers: Making Books a Part of Your Family Traditions

Last night, I spent the better part of an hour wrapping up 25 Christmas books.

I did it even though I had a dozen other things demanding I give them that hour.

Some of you will say, "Couldn't you have simplified your life by not wrapping all those books this year?" To which I'd answer, "Yes."

Others of you will say, "Nothing says you had to have all 25 wrapped up for the first day of December. Couldn't you have only wrapped up one or two and finished wrapping the rest later?" To which I'd answer, "Yes."

"So why, WHY, did you spend that precious hour wrapping two dozen books?"

Simply this: I wanted to send a subtle message to my kids: In our family, books matter.

They matter so much that we make them a central and important part of our holiday traditions.

Did you catch the message there? It's not, "Go out and buy 25 Christmas books and wrap them all up so that your kids can unwrap one each day until Christmas."

The message is this: In your family, find a way to make books matter.

You might do this through a book countdown (and if you need ideas for great holiday books, you can check out my 2012 or 2013 posts on the subject).

But there are a million other ways you can send that message to your kids, each one unique to your family.

You might read a chapter each evening from a favorite Christmas book. You might take a family trip to the bookstore and pick out a new book to add to your collection. You might take one favorite book and do some fun activities based on it. You might cozy up in the glow of the Christmas lights and read through a whole stack of your favorites in one sitting. When I was growing up, my dad always read The Forgotten Carols aloud throughout the entire month, and we listened to the accompanying music over and over again.

It doesn't matter so much what you do as just that you do something.

When my kids woke up this morning, they were thrilled to see that stack of presents to kick off the first day of December. It doesn't matter that they've seen all the books before (all but one--I added a long-time favorite, Santa Claus: The World's Number One Toy Expert by Marla Frazee, to our collection this year). In fact, opening up those well-loved books just shows them that books keep on giving, year after year, growing more loved with each reading.

I have three suggestions for beginning a book tradition of your own:

1. Keep it simple. (If it ever gets to the point where wrapping up the books becomes a chore instead of a joy, I will nix it quicker than you can say "Good-bye.")
2. Keep it inexpensive. (Guess what? You can use the library, and go all out with dozens of books and not have it cost you a penny--provided, of course, you don't accrue late fees.)
3. Keep it special. (I wrap up the books because a roll of wrapping paper is a pretty simple and inexpensive way to say, "Look at how special these books are.")

The holiday season is full of traditions, but my hope would be that after the presents are opened and the decorations put away, you still find ways to make books and reading a special part of your family culture.

How do you use books to help celebrate the Season? What are your favorite holiday books? Tell me about your book traditions throughout the rest of the year.

P.S. For more Raising Readers posts, click here.