Master Brooks's Bookses: Should I Share My Ice Cream?

            Sorry it has been so long since my last review, but lately life in our household has been hectic. And a little strange. First, my mommy and daddy started asking me if I would like to have a baby brother. I’m not sure what a baby brother is, but I try to be cooperative as often as possible, so in response to the question, I always say, “Okay.” Then some men came to our house and started tearing up the big, messy room upstairs. Now Daddy asks me if I want to sleep up there with Bennett. Huh? Who’s Bennett? And why would I want to sleep upstairs with him? Sounds kind of scary to me. My answer to that question is an unequivocal “No.”  Cooperation is fine in its place, but no need to get carried away. 

            The best thing that has happened over the past few weeks, though, is that I turned two.  Two!!! Can you believe it? And for my second birthday, Aunt Missy and Uncle Brandon gave me a terrific new book by Mo Willems entitled Should I Share My Ice Cream?  

Aunt Missy reading my new book to me.
It's a particularly gripping moment in the plot
when Gerald's ice cream is about to fall on
the ground!

     Of course, my immediate reaction to that question is “no way,” but remember I’m working on cooperation these days, so I decided to give the book a read-through and see what it had to say on the subject. I’m glad I did. Not only did I read it once but about twenty-one-hundred times just to be sure I got the message right. It seems that sharing is a good idea. Not only does it pay off in the event your own ice cream cone falls on the ground, but also sharing ice cream with a good friend can double the pleasure of the experience. In addition to the great story, I enjoyed the simple, comic-like illustrations of Gerald the elephant (who, by the way, wears glasses), his friend Piggie, and LOTS and LOTS of pastel -colored ice cream cones! 

            Yum! I’m making myself hungry. Think I’ll close this post and go have a snack. Maybe some ice cream.

I give Should I Share My Ice Cream 5 out of 5 goldfish.
(Another good idea for a snack!)

       

             

 

           

 

 

 

 

What a Difference a Phrase Makes

              “You watch your phraseology!”

            Remember that line from The Music Man? Audiences laughed at Mayor Shinn’s pretentious use of phraseology, but when you think about it, there is wisdom behind the caution. Friend and fellow writer Carol Gee recently reminded me of the difference a well-turned phrase can make.
 
             Unless you’re a Danielle Steele or a Ken Follett—writers whose names ensure instant bestsellers—the responsibility for book sales falls heavily on the author. Not good news for someone like me, someone whose attempts at sales have met with dismal failure over the years.
 

            My lackluster career started with a seventh-grade fundraiser. For Christmas that year, many of our friends and relatives received a two-foot long, plastic candy cane filled with M&M knock-offs, courtesy of the Southmore Junior High choir and my mother’s willingness to buy up my inventory. A few years later, as a young adult, I let my sister recruit  me to sell Amway products. When I announced my new enterprise at work,  fellow employees couldn’t have cleared  the coffee room  any faster had I declared I was carrying the Ebola virus.  Even my best friend returned my glossy brochure with a polite  note—“I’m sure you’ll be successful,”—but without so much as  an order for shampoo. Then came a short—and I mean very short—stint selling World Book encyclopedias.

             But what I lack in salesmanship, I make up for in gullibility and baseless optimism. So fifteen years ago at a Mary Kay rally, I signed  up to be a Personal Beauty Consultant. I’m still using up my lifetime supply of Extra Emollient Night Cream and hoping it has a long shelf life.

            Don’t get me wrong. None of those are bad products. It’s just that I’m a very bad salesperson. So, understandably, my excitement at the publication of Beyond the Farthest Star was somewhat tempered by the discovery I was once again in the selling business.

            Then came Carol to the rescue. In an email she asked me about ways in which I was generating interest in my book.  The words generating interest gave me an immediate attitude adjustment. Maybe because I can “generate interest” by doing activities I like such as talking and teaching and encouraging others on their writing journey. And maybe because it sounds so much better than promotion or marketing which—let’s be honest here—are just kinder, gentler ways of saying sales.

             Generating interest. Yes, I like that phraseology. What about you? Have there been moments in your life in which just the right words gave you an entirely new outlook? If so, please share!



"Generating interest" this past weekend at the
 Into the Book:Festival for Readers and Writers.
Thanks, Bartlesville WordWeavers for a great experience!
 

                 

           
           
          

Circle of Friends Book for August: Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand

            The Circle of Friends Book Club met last week at Carole’s house, and, as usual, the food was amazing and the conversation engaging. At least, that’s what they told me. I missed it because I was in Nashville celebrating my grandson’s second birthday. Talk about being torn. I love seeing Brooks and his mother and dad, but I particularly wanted to be at this meeting as we were discussing Unbroken, one of my all-time favorite books. 

            No doubt, you’ve heard of this book by Laura Hillenbrand (of Seabiscuit fame) and  probably have read it. If not, RUN to your nearest bookstore, library, e-reader and buy, borrow, or download it. I promise, you’ll be entertained, engrossed, and inspired. I happened to be in Washington, D.C. when I read this book and, right after finishing it, toured the World War II Museum there. The combination of those two activities gave me a better understanding of that tumultuous period and a renewed appreciation for the men who served in that war. In times when there is so much criticism of the United States’ actions and involvement in world affairs, we can look to that event and know we got it right. 

            But enough of my ramblings. What were the “Friends” thoughts? Brenda, our de facto leader, was kind enough to take notes, and this is what she reported:

·         Judy (who taught journalism) felt the beginning was repetitive and “unjournalistic” in style. But once the action started, she was into it.

·         Elizabeth commented that Hillenbrand suffers from chronic fatigue syndrome and was never able to personally meet with Louis Zamperini while writing the book. Some critics feel that “Zamperini’s personality suffered at her hands” because of this, while others say the writing was not affected by it.

·         Probably the question that most closely deals with the theme and title of the book was raised by Nicci: What can the human spirit survive? How strange it seems that Zamperini was able to endure the loss of a promising track career, a plane crash, being lost at sea for forty-seven days, and a Japanese POW camp, but what came closest to “breaking” him was post-traumatic shock disorder and alcoholism. What rescued him from those destructive forces was his faith and ability to forgive.

·         As a group, the Friends agreed this was a great book, some even saying it was the best book they’d ever read. Shelly said it was one of those books that you can’t get out of your mind and continue to think about even after you’ve finished it. I agree. Your thoughts? 

            On a lighter note, it seems the star culinary attraction of the night was Tomato Pie, prepared by Sandra. Sandra reports this recipe is “pure Paula Deen." I tried it myself and am both happy and sad to report that Bill and I finished a whole pie in two meals!

 

           

Just Give Me Books and a Bic and Call Me Old

I try really hard to resist induction into the-older-I-get-the-better-I-was club. But on a recent morning bike ride through the UCO campus (yes, Bill and I were the old fa...olks, swerving to avoid students and cars), I came alarmingly close to qualifying for membership.  

I’d braced myself for the latest campus fashion trend—Daisy Dukes paired with black pantyhose and Doc Martens. According to friend and author Sonia Gensler, this is a hot new look at Oxford. But I spotted no such outfit on the UCO coeds. Either wriggling into pantyhose takes too much time and effort before an early morning class, or this uber style has not yet made it across the  pond. Give it a couple of years. 

While I was prepared for what I thought students would be wearing, I wasn’t prepared for what they were carrying. Or, rather, weren’t carrying. Riding through the campus, I noticed the same thing over and over: students hurrying to class, carrying nothing more cumbersome than a purse or a wallet or a can of Red Bull. No books, no laptops, not even an iPad that I could see. I counted exactly three scholars whom I considered properly prepared for class: an Asian girl toting a book bag, a woman who appeared to be in her mid-thirties pulling a wheelie (pretty sure she wasn’t a professor), and—bless his heart—one rather nerdy-looking young man gripping a briefcase. 

When we returned home and were pouring milk over our Raisin Bran, I asked Bill, “Did you notice anything strange about those students this morning?” 

Being a card-carrying member of the aforementioned club, he gave the exact response I was expecting: “Everything about them is strange.” 

Rather than risk an I-don’t-know-what-this-world-is-coming-to lecture, I dropped the subject. But my mind was still churning, and here’s what I determined. A lot has changed on college campuses since the days I roamed them. Where my generation lugged twenty-pound tomes and bulging notebooks to class, today’s students have downloaded all their information on computers. Having read all assignments prior to class and having stored that vital information in their brains, they head to class burden-free, ready for stimulating and thought-provoking dialogue with their professors. OR tucked into their purses or pockets are teeny, tiny computers on which to take notes for further review. OR the class is being pod-cast and they can catch it again in the evening.   

Please assure me that these scenarios are feasible. I try not to dwell on the negative, but occasionally I worry about the future of our youth. And about the future of my Social Security check.

The Boys and Girls of Fall

On a recent bike ride, the slightest nip of coolness in the air gave hope that fall would soon relieve our summer suffering. And my route past the UCO practice fields offered an additional sign that autumn was near: young men and women in training for fall sports. Seeing these young athletes brought to my mind Kenny Chesney’s song "The Boys of Fall." (Yes, I’m a country music fan. ‘Nuff said.) I like this song for its soothing melody and Kenny’s mellow voice. But mostly I like its lyrics.  

In this song Kenny is waxing nostalgic about his high school football days. After all, he is from the south, and this is country music. I happen to like football, but whatever your feelings toward the sport might be, if you listen to the words, I think you’ll find he's saying there's more to it than just playing the game. “You mess with one man, you got us all” suggests that much of the thrill is about the camaraderie, about being a team. And that thought brought me to reflect on another fall event: the beginning of the school year.  

Regardless of what they admit to, I think most students look forward to the new school year. It’s a time for new beginnings, new hopes, new adventures. But sadly, not all students share this excitement. Some unfortunate souls approach this event with a sense of dread.  

I’m no expert, but my experiences as a former teacher and as a parent suggest to me that a child’s attitude toward school rests hugely on the opportunity to get involved in something other than academics. Whether it’s a sports team, the drama club, or the philatelist (look it up) society, being part of a group that shares common goals and interests can have an enormous impact on success in school. Humans are social animals. Even the shyest among us wants to feel that he belongs, that he matters, that someone’s “got [his] back, when [his] back’s against the wall.” 

Granted, Kenny's song states that the football team doesn't "let just anybody in that club." It is a fact that certain groups require certain skills. But at the school where I taught, myriad opportunities for involvement existed from Astronomy Club to Young Republicans/Democrats, and everything in between. All a student needed in order to join was the interest and desire. If you have or know of young people who are less than enthusiastic about starting school, encourage them find an extracurricular activity. It might be difficult at first, but if they work at it, I’m almost certain they can find a group that interests them. The feeling of belonging can be a real game-changer. 

(For expert advice on the value of student involvement, visit Dr. Lisa Marotta's blog.)

 

       

The Importance of Shock Absorbers: Lesson #2 from My Bike

At Al's Bicycles, Jason the salesman (or salesboy—to me he looked about twelve years old) asked, “So what’s your main objective, speed or comfort?” 

“Comfort.” The question was barely out of his mouth before I responded. I’m sixty-two years old. My biking goal is to burn a few calories and keep my joints moving while semi-enjoying the experience. The Tour de France or a reasonable facsimile was not, is not, and never will be on my bucket list. So when Jason directed me to the Raleigh Route 4.0 and explained it was built for comfort, I was interested. He pointed out the seat with extra padding and extra width, the raised handlebars that didn’t require a 170° bend at the waist, and the shock absorbers. Shock absorbers? Now he really had my attention. The only shock absorbers I’d ever had while bike riding were the extra padding and extra width on my backside.

At Jason’s suggestion, I took the Raleigh out for a test drive. I rode it up and down the street that ran in front of Al’s shop. The gears made pedaling easy, the seat was comfy, and the handlebars were at just the right height. To test the shock absorbers, I purposely drove over speed bumps and potholes. Oh, my! The difference between that bike and my previous one was the difference between a Lexus and a Pinto. (For those of you under fifty, I’ve provided a helpful link to explain what a Pinto is.) I still felt the bumps to some degree, but they weren’t the bone-jarring, teeth-rattling jolts I’d been used to. Jason made his sale. 

Since then, subsequent rides on my new bike have given me time to do a lot of reflecting on life. One such reflection was on the importance of shock absorbers— not those on our vehicles but the ones in our lives. Just like those on my bike, our “life” shock absorbers cushion the ride. They don’t eliminate the bumps and rough spots, but they do lessen the pain as we navigate our way over or through life’s challenges. And their assistance bolsters our belief that we can endure and will survive the pain. 

I consider the essential shock absorbers in my life to be faith, family, friends. In that order. I know several people right now who are facing difficulties, some life-threatening. The ones who seem to be handling their challenges the best have faith, family, and friends to rely on. 

What about you? Are your shock absorbers in place? I pray that they are and that you’ll enjoy a smooth ride.

From Chamber Pot to Party Spot: The Evolution of the Bathroom

    
            I’ve finally convinced my accountant husband (Did you catch that—accountant?) that our twenty-seven-year-old master bath needs a make-over. I’ve been collecting ideas for this event for the past ten years, so I have a pretty good idea of what I want. But just to be sure I wasn’t overlooking any new innovations, I researched some bathroom ideas online. My mind is reeling. 

            I’m still adjusting to the idea that every home needs a theater room, and now I learn I need a bathroom with a couch, a 72” flatscreen, and a shower with piped-in music and room for twenty people.  I try to be modern and open-minded, but really. At what point did the bathroom replace the family or living room as the entertainment center for the home? When I’m bathing, the last thing I want is someone sitting on a couch, chatting with me while I scrub my...face. Or a crowd joining me in the shower as we sway to the salsa music and sip our margaritas. And am I to stay in the tub until I’m shivering and shriveled in order to watch an entire football game? Okay, half the game. I guess I can always towel off during half-time.  And where is the toilet? I can’t imagine anyone desiring nearby company while using that particular fixture.

            Call me squeamish, prudish, even uptight. I mean it. Call me those things. I don’t go into the sauna at the gym if I see a “nekked” woman in there. I just clutch my bath sheet a little tighter and wait until she vacates. This overdone modesty is most likely unhealthy and probably stems from my conservative upbringing. Or maybe from a poor body image inflicted on me during adolescence. But whatever the source of my damaged psyche, it’s there and I deal with it in my own way. Quite frankly, at this point in my life, it’s a lot easier and cheaper to avoid nekked sauna people—or entertaining in the bathroom—than it is to seek therapy. 

            So back to the re-do. I have four requirements for the new bath: 1) no wallpaper 2) updated fixtures 3) plenty of storage 4) easy maintenance. Of course, I want it to be pretty and functional, but one of the functions doesn’t need to be housing a party. Call me a party pooper—no pun intended—but I’m keeping the toilet and tub in the bathroom and the margarita machine in the kitchen. 

Come right in! The party's in the bathroom.