To Read, or Not to Read

Posted on September 20, 2023 by DianeSh

To Read, or not to read – that is the question. I think of vital choices like Shakespeare’s poor Hamlet who uttered, “to be or not to be….” while he considered whether to live and suffer life’s slings or die and possibly be at peace. Hamlet was unsure about life after death, so it wasn’t a “black or white” choice for him, but we can be surer about the “not to read” choice. When it comes to education, insight, and exposure, the result of a vital choice about whether or not to read is “black or white.” It is reflected in our culture. The abundance of schlock choices is increasing in direct proportion to the substantive choices decreasing. How many people do not read anything at all?

Alas, if only I had one-zillionth Shakespeare’s brilliance at causing individuals to see themselves through the mirror of his complex characters! Of course, Shakespeare didn’t have to compete with TV, movies, or video games. As it is, the optic nerve and the auditory canals have often become the pickup route leading to the largest human garbage dump of all – the brain. Even if I could manage to dash off a few breathtaking lines, the kind of thing which, doubtless, would dazzle with the force of its impact if only it might penetrate the gray matter, there would still be the need to market it effectively enough to garner sufficient notice. Writers’ tools consist of the basics, just ink on paper. No exploding paint balls, whistling rockets, peephole activity, pulsating flashes of free-falling bodies, or dizzying camera angles. Not even any red blood or purplish green ooze. None of it. Just the power of language, the music of thought, the connection of ideas jumping synapses; not following trends blindly with trite buzzwords, but taking control of the thought process. A lot of how this is accomplished comes about through reading/thinking or thinking/reading, then acting. In the case of writers, reading opens thought and feeds creativity. Imagine no polls, no comparisons with neighbors, or no political correctness, but just brave logic. It would be as liberating as morphing an overpopulated rat colony into a bevy of butterflies.

Everyone wants to fly, to be free. Reading has a way of doing just that by unleashing minds and voices. It takes us over the world, back through time and forward into the future. It validates ones’s thoughts or offers new insights. Instead, too often we stare and distract at computer and phone screens, searching endlessly, lured by excess, failing in our quest to quench the thirst. We resist most the work that is hard, effort that is demanding of our minds and bodies. Reading teaches, comforts, compares, reveals, provokes, engages, inspires; it does all this while exercising and revealing the many layers of the mind.

Reading the stories of other lives and writing the stories from our own experiences forms a human link through ages of time. People say, “I don’t have time to read newspapers, books, or magazines. I get all the news from TV or my phone or computer.” It’s true that we are flooded with soundbites from over the globe. What seem like nanoseconds of information constantly bombard us and are shoved aside for even more breaking news so that our heads are reeling. There is too much repetition and too much selective sensationalism. Ignorance is directing intelligence. What to do?

Limit the noise. Decipher the competition for attention. Think for yourself. Assess the information. Do some research. Read history, read about cultures and places, read lives, loves, and outcomes of real people. Feed your own mind rather than allow the clamor to deceive, spew random opinions, and exert control. That familiar sequence in Act III, Scene I of Hamlet states it best: “Madness in great ones must not unwatched go.”

If we lose our love of reading and get caught up in the treadmill of speedy words going nowhere, we’ll lose what made great thinkers unique. There are so many books with treasures to unlock. They were freely given to future generations and exist long past their authors. The founding fathers of our country were readers and writers. Their thoughts became our basis. We can’t all write books, but each person can leave something written which expresses free thought and individual ideas. It can be a recipe, a poem, a hand-written letter or note. No time? Give up one phone call, one snack, one TV program, one Facebook scrolling session, and you’ve got it. It can mean the world to someone who will read it.

Read and write go together like fingers on the same hand. They have a direct line to the brain. To read or not to read is an individual decision, but I cannot imagine an existence without it. It turns my motor, is my barometer, connects me with humanity. It is a way to satisfy insatiable curiosity about everything. The summer between fifth and sixth grade found me diligently building a neighborhood newspaper where I wrote every feature article, opinion piece, and ad. There were interviews with all the neighbors, human interest stories about their pets, announcements about lost dogs, recipes generously provided by my grandmothers, garden tips from my mother, and much more. I clipped headline letters from our regular newspaper and glued them into place for my column titles and drawn illustrations. It was a daily labor of love that I hoped would help everyone love to read as much as I did. It was shared with those who seemed to enjoy reading about themselves and there was a lot of kind interest in my early journalism. The Secret Garden, Heidi, and Black Beauty were favorites among dozens of books which inspired my childhood attempts to create stories for others.

READ! Encourage your children to read and entertain themselves. Let them see you read. Laugh, cry, and talk together about stories. You never know where it will lead, but lead them, it will. Here’s my grandmother, Emmie, reading in 1928 to my mother in her lap, and my two aunts. This led to some very great things!

Midnight in the Garden

Posted on October 24, 2020 by DianeSh

Superstition has never figured in my life; so it didn’t really alarm me one recent day when a black cat crossed directly in front of me on my favorite garden path. With all the sinewy grace and confidence of a panther, it surveyed me with menthol green eyes which were extraordinary even for a cat. It had never been seen in my favored green spaces; or at least, it had never made me aware of its presence.

I, who pride myself in knowing the habits of particular chameleons and salamanders, their identifying marks, their times and places of hiding and stealth; the number of buds on my climbing roses; the day of fullest flavor to harvest my herbs just before bloom; the very cardinals who sing me awake and tap at my window, surely I would know if the rhythm and balance of my little symphony were in some small way altered. But it was improbable that a cat with such deliberate airs and purposeful movement could be finding himself in this, my very private, place for the first time. Perhaps he had viewed me often from behind those green agates, his blackness blending low into the shadowy spaces, leaf thickets concealing his steady gaze. I am the watcher, watched. This time, I know it; but how many times and places do our footsteps leave an impression on ground we thought was impervious, or certainly ours alone?

What does it mean to say “mine” or to claim ownership? We stake a claim, pay good money for a plot of ground. Then we go about “cultivating.” We think and plan, study and work, make all sorts of improvements to shape it to our will. We toil until we are sore, sacrifice pleasure and rest to ensure its health. We deserve to reap the flowers, to bask in beauty. (Are we talking gardens or children here?)

It’s so natural to think in terms of ownership. It’s such a human thing to desire a tangible reward. We can blame Ben Franklin and a good many enterprising immigrants for our American work ethic. Franklin’s almanacs are filled with aphorisms we live daily, mostly suggesting the equation of diligence + industry = success, i.e. material gain. But all it took was one sleek little tomcat to remind me about how much, if anything, I really own.

My garden landscape may have been claimed, variously, by sea life, dinosaurs, pirates, Indians, French trappers, black bears, and who knows how many others through the vicissitudes of natural development and physical science. I should probably feel more lucky than amazed at the realization, once more, that I am merely part of a succession, that the black cat has improved my vision.

Am I to chase away this dark intruder in the name of defending the dozen species of regulars at my bird feeders? He is not part of my overall plan. I didn’t sketch him into the blueprints of my carefully designed walks, beds, lawns, pond, and patios. I didn’t say to myself, “A sleek black cat would be a nice touch, roaming the ground cover, brushing the mint border with his serpentine tail.” But roamer and brusher he is. Meower and lounger and charmer he is, daily insinuating himself into and complicating the life of this bird lover.

What to do, then? Of course, find him a suitable home. He looks a bit thin. (All young animals and children look a bit thin to someone who loves to cook and feed.) He wears no collar but bears the countenance of a free spirit as clearly as he might a scarlet letter. He adores albacore tuna. That was clear from the second day. A consultation with my friend, Sylvia, yielded only three words of advice, “Accept your destiny.” But he looks longingly in the direction of my doves and cardinals. It’s the tuna-tasting look.

Phone calls and inquiries were made to the vet’s office, the local school, and around the neighborhood. Rumors and false leads abounded. Meanwhile, “Midnight” seemed to establish “squatter’s rights” in the garden. He perfected the most exquisite languishing countenance whenever I opened a door. Every scolding word died in my throat; silent scowls had no effect whatever.

News of my latest dilemma spread through the neighborhood with the speed of native drums. There is a diminutive bicycle brigade which is as reliable as any newsletter, and much more creative. They carried my concern that this small, seemingly homeless creature needed a caring family who would assume responsibility for medical care, food, and love. My worrying days were few.

Two mornings later, Midnight appeared atop my fence, resplendent in his light green, jewel-studded collar. The morning sun danced in his eyes and glinted off the tag that dangled beneath his soft neck. He resumed his station under my chaise lounge and punctuated my thoughts about our relationship. If we aren’t greedy, we can share all the good things, actually end up having more. We don’t own a darned thing. We can’t fence in butterflies, but they come to well-tended places where love grows. It’s like that with kids, and cats and gardens.

National Pollinator Week, June 18-24, 2018

Image

Here at our home, every week is “pollinator week.” It’s great to know that eleven years ago the U.S. Senate unanimously approved and designated a week in June as “National Pollinator Week.” Because our vital pollinator populations are declining at an alarming rate (down 25% since 1990), there is an international celebration of the contribution our bees, birds, butterflies, bats and beetles make to our ecosystems. Pollination makes our food supply possible. E. O. Wilson, in his introduction to The Forgotten Pollinators by Stephen L. Buchmann and Gary Paul Nabhan, said, “Every third bite of food you take, thank a bee or other pollinator.” Our kids can understand this a lot better when we tell them that we can’t have pizzas without bees and others to pollinate wheat for the crust and tomatoes and vegetables for the sauce and toppings.

Our great-granddaughter, Sydney, was fascinated watching bumblebees from our laps on the porch at six months of age. She quickly progressed to pointing, questioning, and learning the wonderful world just outside our back door. We have many adventure walks to observe nature and pollinators at work. She helps plant flowers in our garden to attract them, and helps harvest herbs and flowers we grow from our saved seeds each year. She knows this would not be possible without pollinators.

There are many websites with information and facts about every aspect of pollination. Just type a key word or two into the search bar of your device; “bees” or “pollinators” will get you to many interesting sites. My book, Lemon Trees and Bumblebees, was inspired by our own experience which is described in the November, 2011, blog post on this site.

The video below shows Sydney talking with me about one of her favorite subjects, pollination. She loves to play “teacher” and give me science lessons we have shared. We also cook together using the variety of foods that have grown because of pollination. She is always willing to eat what she has learned about and helped prepare. In these ways, Sydney is keenly aware of the importance of providing for and promoting our pollinators, and we hope your family will celebrate the addition to our lives and future that they bring.

The Birds and The Bees

Posted on June 23, 2017 by DianeSh

When most parents think of the birds and the bees, they dread THE TALK. There’s a whole other meaning to this conversation which needs to begin with pre-school, and that is the role of pollinators in our food supply. To a curious, mind-wide-open pre-schooler or elementary-age child, the drama of the pollination process and how it relates to people, directly, is utterly fascinating.

Imagine a world without pizza. If we begin to explain to our kids how the birds and the bees help us get our favorite pizza ingredients, we get attention. Tomatoes, peppers, onions and other vegetable toppings require pollination to reproduce and grow. There would be no pizza crust without wheat to make flour for the dough. Every fruit and vegetable is part of our diet because of the vital role of pollinators. They are responsible for every third bite of food we put into our mouths. Bees are the superstar pollinators, but many others such as hummingbirds, bats, butterflies, moths, ants, flies, wasps, and beetles carry out the transfer of pollen among plant parts. This pollination enables seed production, without which we would face widespread crop extinction and a major shift in our food supply.

We are halfway through National Pollinator Week, and I’ve been thinking a lot about the small winged creatures we often take for granted, but who make our very existence possible. Loss of habitat, pesticides, and disease have been responsible for declining pollinator populations. For those of us along the Mississippi Gulf Coast, there is still a good bit of animal habitat, but agricultural practices as well as building and clearing land are responsible for diminishing pollinator populations in alarming numbers. Pollinators need us to provide cover, water, native plants for food, and a place to raise young. The National Wildlife Federation website has information on how to plan our gardens or even very small spaces to attract and protect pollinators. When we create habitat for our pollinators, we help prevent loss of plants we depend upon for food, as well as help our gardens bloom.

There are many books for children which spark their desire to nurture their surroundings and understand the interdependence of plants and animals. Some of my favorites are MY GARDEN by Kevin Henkes, ON BEYOND BUGS! All About Insects by Tish Rabe, and A SEED IS SLEEPY by Dianna Hutts Aston. My book, LEMON TREES AND BUMBLEBEES, was inspired by watching the bees in our garden. When my little great-granddaughter, Sydney, was six months old, we spent hours of adventures following, watching, and falling asleep to the humming of bees. Now about to celebrate her fifth birthday, Sydney still loves bees and enjoys telling about all the pollinators, plant parts, and the process of pollination. It’s so exciting to plant the best seeds early in a fertile mind!

My Unexpected Ghostwriter

Posted on September 14, 2014 by DianeSh

When I’m asked to give a nutshell description of my latest book-in-progress, I say that it’s Thoreau for toddlers. It’s widely known that Henry David Thoreau knew how to convey the exuberance of a fresh morning. He didn’t have to leave the close environs of Walden Pond to examine and learn from every living thing, whether animal or plant, right in his own “back yard.” In his words, “the only medicine I need is a draught of morning air.”

I have always gotten stopped in my tracks while on the way to the mailbox, my gardening chores, errands, or whatever may have led me outdoors. Something always scuttles, buzzes, flies, or sings my attention away from what may have been intended. Even if I just want to amble or think, I know the new and unexpected will be just outside my door. Now I have some surprising help writing my world.

A two-year-old great-granddaughter has become a vital part of our lives, so the unexpected in nature brings even greater thrills, squeals, and baby questions. Her eyes see the wonder she constantly investigates, and my latest manuscript is influenced greatly by her “ghostwriting” observations. I don’t have to wonder what to present to a young child or how important it might be to choose certain subject matter. Sydney gives me great material.

The other day, we were holding hands as usual while walking down a length of flowerbed. A very long, fat earth worm wriggled over the dirt searching for a “door” down under. Sydney stopped short and squeezed my hand hard. “What’s that? What’s he doing?” Our walks and play times are packed with “Look, doves” or “Look, mockingbird.” Before she was two, she could identify several bird species after one or two sightings, much to my surprise. This gave me insight about what could be meaningful in my new book for one- to five-year-olds. Their curiosity and sponge-like ability to learn makes it so much fun to include new vocabulary and knowledge about their world. Rather than keep all the words short and simple, I think it’s a good idea to stretch children a bit by giving them some challenges in pronunciation. They can understand a great deal by context and illustration. This gives the adult reader a great way to talk about the story and bond with the child – the special time that encourages a love of reading. Our little Sydney enjoys looking through her books alone, too, after we have read them together and she is familiar with the contents and pictures.

My current book is underway, with every page influenced by Sydney’s discoveries in the natural world. She has registered her reactions as clearly as if she had written them, so she is a reliable “ghostwriter,” representing her toddler generation. These babies of the 21st century are different in many ways from those of just a few decades ago, but their zeal for everything in sight begins as soon as they open their eyes each day. Just as with all the babies ever born, they want to know; all we have to do is tell the stories. Sydney and I will be working on HELLO MORNING, and I’ll post news of our progress on the new book in the months to come.

Story Seeds

Posted on August 15, 2014 by DianeSh

Stories grow from the seeds of words. When I think of reading, though, I think in terms of more than words on pages. When I think of the broader meaning of “reading,” my writing is enhanced by these abstract ways of applying the idea of reading.

To me, reading is reading nature, reading people, reading everything in my environment, using all my senses. This began in early childhood, when my parents and grandparents filled our homes with what they read in the outside world, with all the experiences we shared. They brought nature, art and music indoors so that we were constantly surrounded and enveloped in a lush, sensorial climate. When they read to me or I read to myself, I could better envision the descriptions through experience, and I felt the need to translate and share my feelings in my own ways. This was how my stories were born. Now I’m always writing as I walk, see, hear, smell, feel – in other words, as I read my world.

Below are some photos of bird nests and other bits of nature collected from around our garden, walks, and travel, and brought inside to decorate tabletops and mantel. Many pieces of our furniture and art have nature themes. Framed family photos of generations, including the house in Germany where my maternal grandfather was born, and handwritten letters, give me stories and voices that told them to me. My hope is that you will read the world, and that your children will read it with you so that they will write it for their children. Story seeds are everywhere.