Poetry Friday: Tiny Roads Inside the Cabbage

I have this book, titled above. I'm not even sure where I got it -- a teacher's conference I suppose. It was published by New Hampshire poets Marie Harris and Deb Alberts; made possible by a grant from the NH Commission on the Arts and National Endowment.

The book celebrates ten years of poets working in the schools, and highlights some of the poems written by students from 1972-1982.

Here are a couple I love from Marie Harris's students:

Great Grandad

He was a strong man,
sitting up in his chair,
his calloused hands
running through his thin gray hair.
He was a funny man
always with a hat upon his head.
When he pinched Great Grandma
her gentle face turned red.
He would reach down to his shoe
and pretend he was tying a knot,
then when she wasn't looking
he would take a shot.
He told us never to tell
about his little bottle.

              -- Mike Evenson, Grade 9, Spaulding Jr. High, Rochester (NH)


Shy Soup

What to put in?
Let's try the loneliness of the corner
The pain of downcast eyes
The lone gloom that hangs above
The damp chill of the closed door
Maybe the soreness of quick moving feet
The rapid heartbeat
Or the yellow mist that drowns the soul

We will cook it on the smallest match
A broken spiderweb
A drop of dew.
With luck it will taste like a cleraed throat
or the loss of breath.

We'll stir it with the thinnest icicle
and it eat with a butterfly's wing.
Lastly, it will look like a piece of silk,
alone in a field of cashmere.

                     -- Carrie Steadman, grade 8, Spaulding Jr. High, Rochester

Carol his hosting Poetry Friday over at her corner. Check it out!

Women of Wednesday: Let’s Hear it For the (Pitch) Ladies

When you think of women who have been featured in advertisements, you might think of the “Where’s the Beef?” lady or the one who had “…fallen and can’t get up.” But other women successfully have lent their talents to product promotion. Their personalities not only helped to make particular products household names, we often enjoyed their commercial antics.

Josephine the Plumber, (for Comet cleanser) was one, as portrayed by popular comedic actress and former child star Jane Withers. She appeared on the heels of the Women’s movement, (pun intended) wearing a jaunty plumber’s cap, overalls, and just the right amount of makeup:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OZxc-XvTPl0

Today we have Flo the perky Progressive Insurance clerk portrayed by actress/comedian Stephanie Courtney. Flo is so well-liked she has over 3 million Facebook fans: http://www.facebook.com/#!/flotheprogressivegirl

One of the first of the pitch ladies was Nancy Green, an African American woman who had been born into slavery in 1834.

In the late 1800s, the R.T Davis Milling Company bought a pancake recipe from the Pearl Milling Company. R.T. Davis wanted a warm, friendly-looking woman to represent his new product at the World Columbian Exposition to be held in Chicago in 1893.

Fifty-nine-year-old Nancy Green was just that person. At that time she was living in Chicago. And she was a first-rate cook, too. Nancy was hired to become the face of the new pancake recipe that was called “Aunt Jemima’s Pancake Mix.” R.T. Davis thought people would be more interested in buying his product if they thought there was a real Aunt Jemima behind the recipe.

Nancy’s debut as the real-life face of Davis’ pancake mix took place at the Columbian Exposition. (That world’s fair would launch the careers of many notable women but those are stories for another Wednesday).

Nancy was a hit! People loved her warmth and charm and also loved “her” pancakes. Thousands came through to meet “Aunt Jemima” and try her new recipe. It was said that police had to be hired to keep the crowds moving through her exhibit.

Over the years, many people felt the Aunt Jemima character was a poor choice because it could also be construed as a glorification of slavery. The term, an “Aunt Jemima” was often used as the female version of the “Uncle Tom” –a black person who remains submissive to any white authority figure. Others believed that Aunt Jemima represented anyone’s friendly, loving relative. In spite of the disagreement, the icon—now modernized—is still in use over 100 years after it was originated.

Nancy Green portrayed Aunt Jemima for over 30 years. As time went on, several other women took over the role of the woman that, like her pancakes, was warm and comforting. But Nancy was the first and today we recall the lady that made one product a success.

Mentor Monday: Who’s Your Audience—In 2011?

A couple of weeks ago I received a very nice cover letter and manuscript from a stay-at-home mom from the Seattle area. She sent a rhymed picture book story about a stuffed animal that, as you might have guessed, was her baby’s favorite toy.

Lots of writers for kids start out like this mom. We get interested in children’s books because we are in the process of parenting young children. Maybe we fall in love with the picture book genre and dream of seeing our name in print. We want to write books that will appeal to our children or will tell a story of something that happened in our child’s life.

I had no opinion one way or the other about the manuscript I’d received. It’s not the sort of book I’m interested in. But, as a publisher, I spend a lot of time thinking about who reads my books, who needs my books, and who buys my books. I have a definite audience in mind for the work I produce.

Do you ever wonder, as a writer for children, what kind of children make up today’s readership? How many are actually like that Seattle mother’s child, being raised by a stay-at-home mom in a middle-to-upper-class home, where books and favorite toys abound? If you haven’t thought about that question, I challenge you to try. Many successful writers have already done so.

Here’s just one type of statistic about today’s young readers. These numbers are from the Federal Interagency on Child and Family Statistics. The “Leave It to Beaver” family still exists, but there are lots of other family variations:

• In 2010, there were about 75 million children in the United States ages 0–17.
  69% lived with two parents
  23 % lived with only their mothers,
  3% lived with only their fathers,
  4% lived with neither of their parents. (Harry Potter, anyone?)



• 
  About 5 percent of children who lived with two biological or adoptive parents had parents who were not married. (Brad and Angelina’s kids fit here.)
  
  


• 
  About 70 percent of children in stepparent families lived with their biological mother and stepfather. (Like Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson).







• 
  The majority of children living with one parent lived with their single mother. (Like Katniss Everdeen in The Hunger Games.)




• 
  Among the 3.0 million children 24 percent lived with non-relatives. Of children in non-relatives' homes, 27 percent (200,000) lived with foster parents. (Like Katherine Paterson’s Gilly Hopkins)
  

I’ve only touched on the one type of statistic describing America’s children, that of the family dynamic. This list doesn’t touch on some of the other factors that might tell us what our readers are like today. Do they live in a house, shelter, or car? Are their parents employed? Do they shop at the mall and grocery store, or Goodwill and the local food bank?

Maybe some of these statistics will inspire you because every one of those children needs their own story to be told.

Poetry Friday: Reluctance

 

Out through the fields and the woods

And over the hills I have wended;

I have climbed the hills of view

And looked at the world, and descended;

I have come by the highway home,

And lo, it is ended.

 

The leaves are all dead on the ground,

Save those that the oak is keeping

To ravel them one by one

And let them go scraping and creeping

Out over the crusted snow,

When others are sleeping.

 

And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,

No longer blown hither and thither;

The last lone astor is gone;

The flowers of the witch hazel wither;

The heart is still aching to seek,

But the feet question"Whither?"

 

Ah, when to the heart of man

Was it ever less than a treason

To go with the drift of things,

To yield with a grace to reason,

And bow and accept the end

Of a love or a season?

                -- Robert Frost 

Heidi is hosting Poetry Friday over at My Juicy Little Universe, where she has a fabulous poem by one of my favorites -- Louis Untermeyer. You need some exercise after yesterday's feast, so trot on over.

Before you go, scroll down and read about Sarah Josepha Hale, who -- in a fashion -- brought you yesterday's feast . . .

Photo by Janet Buell

Women of Wednesday: The Lady Behind Thanksgiving

If you've got time to read this blog, you're probably not hosting Thanksgiving this year. The rest of us are busy putting leaves on tables, getting out the good dishes or at least enough paper plates to feed the troops, and taking stock of the menu. If you’re waitstaff, you probably don’t have the day off. If you’re in retail, you’re stocking shelves before the Black Friday rush.

While we run around either preparing for or participating in the annual feast and everything that goes with it, let’s give a moment to thank the woman who was responsible. I don’t think Sarah Josepha Hale had restaurants and Christmas sales in mind when she devoted part of her life to the establishment of a national day of thanks. Her plans were more idealistic.

Sarah’s father, Gordon Buell, had fought in the American Revolution under George Washington. She grew up not only hearing stories about the famous hero, but admiring anything our first president stood for. He had proclaimed a national day of thanksgiving during his presidency and Sarah decided that his proclamation should one day be the law of the land.

Later, Sarah achieved a measure of fame herself as the first woman magazine editor in the United States, and as a well-known author. She used her fame to reach out to other presidents and urge them to follow Washington’s lead.


It was not until the Civil War, however, that she was successful. Abraham Lincoln agreed with Mrs. Hale and proclaimed a day of thanks in the middle of our national conflict. It would take nearly another century before Franklin D. Roosevelt signed the national holiday into law.

Young Talon Douglas does a fabulous job of summing up the story with the help of his siblings and some friends. Stop mashing the potatoes, make yourself a cup of tea, and take a minute to watch: