February Books

I am sitting in the sun in my chilly hotel in Norfolk, VA (which is pronounced by the citizenry as Norfick) waiting for my last meeting of this conference, which starts in about four minutes. But I will wait until the last second because it is cold in that room, and warm here in a soft seat in the sun!

This month, again, only five books read. Four nonfiction, and I just today at lunchtime finished my only fiction read of the month.

So I will start with the book last read and work my way forward. Anila's Journey, by Mary Finn, is a book inspired by a painting the author saw. It is a lovely book which proceeds bath and forward through the time of Anila's young life--she is about 14 or 15 years old. Anila's own mother was only about 15 years old when she was born; her father was from Ireland and stationed in India with the British India Company, where he was a writer or scrivener--now, apparently, a scrivener is a writing program, but it used to be an occupation, before cameras and typewriters--this was a person who would write or draw information on behalf of an employer. Anila, like her father, is able to draw very well, and can write in both English and Bangla. Anila's journey is both a physical journey (down the river in a boat) and a mental and emotional journey (to find herself and her missing father). My favorite quote from this book: "Don't begin a tale in your head that hasn't been told yet." Isn't that great advice to those of us worriers--isn't that what we do? Begin a tale (of woe) before it has been told? This book was a good read.

When: the scientific secrets of perfect timing by Daniel H Pink--I loved this book, which I have had checked out for about four months and am in no hurry to return it! I don't have it with me, and I didn't record any quotes from it, but it is suggesting the importance of timing in so many things in our lives. It also talks about the importance of doing things in synchronization with other people. The examples he uses are rowing and choral singing. I loved these parts of the book. Well, I loved it all. Each chapter has a follow-up with suggestions of ways to use good timing in each area discussed in your own life. Really a worthwhile read.

Mrs. Funnybones by Twinkle Khanna is classed as nonfiction. Think Erma Bombeck, only as a housewife in Mumbai, India, and you have this book. Humor housewife nonfiction--the gentle art of poking fun at yourself--isn't a genre that is as popular as it once was. I think Erma Bombeck hit her peak as a published author when I was a teenager. Twinkle Khanna is kind of Bollywood royalty. Her huband is Akshay Kumar; her mother is Dimple Kapadia. So her housewifely experiences are perhaps not the norm for the majority of Mumbai women. However, it is a funny book in the same way that Erma Bombeck's books were funny. Just a more modern take on that genre. I am not going to say "Oh, you must read this book!" but it is a quick and fun read if that is what you are looking for.

Archaeology from Space: How the future shapes our past by Sarah Parcak: I have been reading this book for months! I checked it out for Patrick, because one of his assigned essays for his master's degree was on this topic. It was really interesting, if a bit over my head (ahaha! space is definitely over my head!) and I read it slowly over probably four months, but finished it in February. Here is my favorite quote, which I put in my reading spreadsheet, so I have it here in Virginia: from Chapter 10, The Challenge. Good paragraph "Understanding how and why our diversity is essential to our survival has become that much more important in a fractured world, where more people push against economic immigrants, refugees, and those with different religious or cultural traditions. As a result, everywhere I travel, there is a lack of hope, a general sense of heaviness. / But we are in fact all related, maybe twentieth cousins, but cousins nonetheless, an assertion backed by DNA and computational research...This understanding of our interrelatedness and interconnectedness can only come by studying the past..." Also interesting was the chapter on GlobalXplorer, about a crowd sourcing venture into mapping Peru,. Right now, they are on hiatus, kind of refining their process, but if you want to help with mapping, that will be an option again soon. Just google GlobalXplorer.

Accidental brothers: The story of twins exchanged at birth and the power of nature and nurture by Dr. Nancy L. Segal discusses the two sets of twins born in Colombia in which a twin was accidentally exchanged. So, two sets of identical twins were born; there was a switch, and each family raised what they thought was a set of fraternal twins. This was fascinating!! It was entirely serendipity, how they met--if a series of events and haircuts and stuff had not happened just exactly as they did, odds were that these brothers would have never reconnected with each other. It is so cool that their reaction to it all has been that where once they were two sets of two brothers, now they are one set of four brothers. Such welcoming in both of the two families. Here is the NY Times article for those who are curious but aren't sure they want to read the book: https://www.nytimes.com/2015/07/12/magazine/the-mixed-up-brothers-of-bogota.html

Putting the fun in funeral

Well, funerals aren't exactly fun, but it was fun to spend time with my brother Bruce and his wife Sara while driving to and from our cousin Phil's funeral today.



Phil is 15 years older than me, having been born in 1942. He died a few weeks after suffering a stroke. Sally, his wife, described how the stroke left him without being able to see well. I thought of my dad, whose stroke left him unable to see well, and I was kind of happy for Phil that he didn't have to deal with the frustrating vision for over two decades like my dad did. Although, I was kind of unhappy for Phil because he hadn't hit 80 yet. To me, old doesn't start until you hit 80.

This funeral was more just an open mike event, since the actual funeral took place in Kingman, AZ, where Phil and Sally moved about five years ago to escape the cold. Also, several of their children live in AZ, so that was a draw, too. Sally read a life story written by their daughter Amy, and a letter from our cousin Ron Hancock in Raymond. I had also written a letter, which apparently Sally planned to read, but she misplaced it, and hoped I would get up and say what I said in the letter. After the funeral in AZ, she had told me that my letter was read there, which made me quickly locate it to see what I said, and see if it was okay!

I guess it was. This is what I wrote:

Dearest Sally,
Mary texted a bunch of us with Jenifer’s news about Phil. I am so sorry to hear about his stroke in January, and so sorry to hear that he is not in good shape as a result of it. I am so thankful for you and Phil in my life. Phil was such a fun older cousin to us little Conrad kids! I loved the way he would take us around to show us the sights, going out on the mountain to look down at the city lights, and taking us to what was to me an amazing theatre (the likes of which I had never seen in small town southern Alberta) to watch 2001: A Space Odyssey when I was only ten. I honestly didn’t like the movie much, but I loved the experience, being there with my siblings and my grown-up cousin! Then I remember being a bit worried when I heard about you—who could be good enough for my wonderful cousin? And then you were so awesome! You two made a great team, and Scott and Sheila were great kids to add to the family tree! Not to mention the entire crew who would come along. I appreciated your friendship and support when I got older, when I got married, as a new mother to step children, something that you and Phil understood. In short—I surely do love both of you. I am so thankful to be able to look back and reflect on my life and see that Phil and Sally Hancock were an important part of it. Please give Phil my love and a hug, and do the same to yourself. Praying for you and your family in this difficult time.

My brother Bruce doesn't remember this, so it is possible that he was not there, and Phil just took C, A and I to 2001: A Space Odyssey. Maybe it happened a couple of years later than I thought? What Bruce remembers about Phil is going out with him in his work truck to pick up sawdust from builders, which he was paid to dispose of, and then he would sell the sawdust to people who owned--rabbits, was it? So he got paid twice for the same work, which Bruce thought was rather clever.

That made me remember going to Phil's work when he worked for a high-end lighting store, and going to see the lights of the city in a whole different way than the other way he took us to see lights! And I remember "helping" when Phil and Sally were getting ready to move into their first house a couple of blocks from his parents' house. (I am not sure how helpful I was--I probably played with Sally's children Scott and Sheila, and that was probably the most helpful thing I did!)

Some fun and poignant stories that I want to remember from today:

1. Nathan talked about his dad coming to be a speaker in seminary when they were inviting people who immigrated from different countries, and his dad represented Canada. And what did he show up wearing? A bright yellow suit! Nathan thought he would die of embarrassment. At home he said, "Dad, why did you wear that bright yellow suit?" Phil said, "Well, a year from now, nobody is going to remember a thing I said, but they will remember the guy in the bright yellow suit." A year later, when the kids on seminary council were planning an event, someone said, "Remember last year? That guy who was one of the speakers and he wore a bright yellow suit?"

2. Cimberlee (Kimberly is the pronunciation. Her mother did some creative spelling!) Rhodes, the daughter of Phil's sister Frances, told her mom's adoption story. Uncle Loren and Aunt Phyllis had a stillborn son in 1946 who they named Thomas Charles. They wanted another baby, a brother for Phil, and I guess that adopting a baby was different back then. The paperwork was something that they did at the orphanage. They took young Phil, almost five years old, with them. While they were busy with the paperwork, Phil was walking around looking at the babies. When he saw one little 6 week old baby, he went and told his parents that he had found their baby. They said, "But Philip, this is a baby girl, and we were going to get you a brother." But Philip insisted that this was their baby. He stood by her and held her hand and said that he was not going home without their baby. So, they went home with a baby girl, Frances.

This story has been so important to Frances. Growing up knowing that her brother KNEW and recognized her as his sister helped her to feel that she was in the right family for her. One time when she was angry at her mom, she threatened to find her "real mother", her daughter said, and then she felt so terrible, because she knew that Aunt Phyllis was her real mother. However, upon growing older, her children talked to her about finding her birth family for health reasons.

She did find them--she had three younger siblings, but her birth mother had already died. Her daughters said that Frances cried and cried about finding the siblings--she wanted to meet them, and yet she was so worried that her brother Phil and her sister Martha (born several years after her adoption) would be hurt. She didn't want them to feel that she would ever want to replace them. She was afraid to tell them about it, even. But Martha stepped in and said, with tears running down her cheeks, that Frances asked her, Martha, to come to her house and be with her when her two birth sisters came to see her. So the two sisters were together to meet the two sisters.

Apparently the young girl who was Frances's birth mother had been abandoned by her baby's father. She began dating another young man who wanted to marry her--but only if, after having the baby, she would give it up and never speak of it again. And so that is what happened. It was never spoken of. So the birth siblings were very, very shocked about finding out they had an older sister!!

Frances has always been close to her big brother Phil, and feels so grateful for the love and acceptance that he showed to her as a baby. He chose her! She loves that.

Sadly, I did not make my mother proud today. I did not ONCE think to pull out my phone/camera and take any pictures!! That was remiss of me! 

Oh!! The coffin!! Debby Phillips and I LOVED the coffin. Here is a picture of the outside, but the inside was what was amazing. (This is Amy's picture of her dad's coffin. Since I took no pictures.)

To go with the pine look, the inside and around Phil's body was all native American Pueblo or Sioux designs. I did want to take a picture of that because it was so pretty, and made a lovely frame for Phil's presence, but I dislike pictures of bodies. If he had been absent, I would have taken a picture of it! Phil served his mission among the Pueblo and Sioux. He loved Native Americans, and was proud to be one of few white guys who can speak their languages fluently. 

Please just tell me!

A student employee found this in the feed to the copy machine:

You can tell that this is a corner of a part, and not a score, because there is just one line of music. And it is page 1. But fortuitously, there is the composer's name, David Gyula! We wondered--was this the patron's own music, or did they destroy something of the library's?

The back side gives a clue, via a viola clef, that it is a part to a piece of viola music.

I  searched by composer, looking for only items for viola that included individual parts. Here is the list of possible items that this might be a part of--not bad, only 9 individual items, if you include second copies of two items:

My student went to the PIVA room and pulled all the possibilities and brought them back to search. Her luck is pretty good, apparently, because when she opened the third possibility, it looked like this:

It was a perfect match to our little puzzle piece. Unfortunately, there was Mass Wreckage! All the pages are torn apart, there is tearing throughout. A book repair person's nightmare.

WHY??? And also WHY NOT just fess up? Just take responsibility already, someone's child! I am assuming they put this fragile, well-used paper into the copier feed, which was not a good plan, and it resulted in a mess. (They should have used the flatbed scanner, which is sitting right beside the copier!) But--not a word did they utter to a soul.

The music went back to the shelf, with the destroyed part hidden carefully in the pocket. Someone else could have checked it out, and then got home to discover the music was ruined.

I am glad that didn't happen! We found it. Luckily, this is one of the pieces for which we have two copies. I do not think this one is worth fixing because the damage is ubiquitous, even though this picture makes it hard to see. Like, those pages are not connected.

If the person had confessed to the damage, I would have been "Oh well." I would not have charged them, because this music is either 1967 or 1971, we have another copy, it had been checked out many times and probably was pretty fragile before they made the mistake in putting it through the feed mechanism. And I could have introduced them to the scanner, and how it is a MUCH better choice for sheet music. Like, you don't put sheet music through a feed mechanism unless it is a single sheet of normal sized paper.

But alas, there was no confession. I could offer no forgiveness. The offender received no education in order to do better in the future. Maybe they will have a guilty conscience for twenty years! I don't know. But I wish they had found the courage to speak up.

The Work of Love OR Hope in Tomorrow

I have been in search of some music for about a month now.  I was asked to put together a musical number for our ward Relief Society anniversary celebration in March, and I got it into my head that we should sing a certain song that I had once sung before. (We being the people who are normally in Primary--that was what was asked.)

In Raymond, in 1985, I was singing in a group of mothers under the direction of Janelle Van Orman. Janelle was a Utah native, married to a Canadian, and living in Raymond, where she still lives. (I know this because I called her on Monday. Looking for this music.)  We jokingly called our group "the Mamatones" which is honestly a terrible name for singers, right, because it sounds like "the monotones." I think Janelle came up with the name, because she was a great kidder, but when I talked to her on the phone on Monday, she did not remember that name. (I felt like her rememberer is not in tip-top shape, though. Which made me a little bit sad. But she is about 15 years older than me or so.)

So. Before I called Janelle, I tried the library catalog and google and WorldCat and just about any other way of searching I could think of.  But all I had were the words--I could not remember the name of the song, or the composer, or the lyricist.  These were the words I remembered:

Faith in God, hope in tomorrow.
Charity for those in need.
Lifting hearts of those who sorrow.

May I share with you my sister?
I've a blanket I could lend.

And then I couldn't remember anything else until the end, which I remembered as:

For as you serve the least of these, you have done it unto me.
Thus spake the Lord, at Galilee.
And so abide these precious three: faith, hope and charity.
The purest form of piety.
The work of love, the mission of Relief Society.

Now, I have to report that when we learned this song, I did not like it one bit. I thought it was ugly and stupid. I was singing it, but I was not feeling it.

There are a bunch of solos in the song, and Janelle gave me one, and it was "May I share with you my sister? I've a blanket I could lend." Which is probably why I remember that part.

However, the song became meaningful to me, enough so that I think about it often, and have done so for the past 35 years. That year that Nancy was born, 1985, was a hard year. We were so absolutely broke. We had no money. Bruce had no job. We were living in a house that my parents bought, that we were supposed to be buying from them, but we couldn't afford anything. It was terrible and humiliating and awful. But the house needed the roof repaired, and my dad told Bruce to get it priced out and buy the materials, and we were raising the roof at the same time because of space considerations.

Our old baby, David, was not sleeping yet. He finally slept through the night for the first time in his life two weeks before Nancy was born. She was a week late, so if she had been on time, it would have only been one week. I literally prayed, poured out my heart asking if he could please, please sleep. I was so tired I could not imagine having the strength to have a baby.

My low blood pressure was doing its thing, and I would grow faint and have to sit down and put my head down all the time to keep from falling over.

Just before Nancy was born, Kelli landed in the hospital with a mangled food because of riding double on a bike with a friend. David went missing while naked when our house was under construction (we found him again, obviously--he had gone down the street to sit in a little toy car a half a block away) so that my mom decided it wasn't safe for him, and she took him and Abra home with her for awhile.

And then Nancy was born and she was so cute and wonderful and we loved her to pieces!

And a few weeks later, with our roof free of shingles but no new shingles in place, the skies decided to defy the weather outlook and release torrents of rain. I left the new baby in her bassinet in her room, and the three older kids in the living room, and went out on the roof with Bruce, with thunder clapping and lightning flashing overhead, and tried to put tarps in place while the wind was whipping around us like crazy.

We didn't hear the children scream. The wind and thunder were too noisy. Suddenly, Kelli was climbing out onto the roof with us, and I about had a heart attack! I hurried her back inside.

She had come to get me because I didn't hear them screaming, and the ceiling in the living room had fallen down. Kelli had been near the doorway, listening for the baby. David and Abbi were on the couch. The ceiling tiles and the insulation (I have forgotten the word. Not fibreglass, but those little pellets. Which in this case was also full of cat poop and mouse skeletons. It was lovely.)--I remembered the word. Vermiculite. Interesting about the vermin remains in the vermiculite.

So then we had to clean that up. And the tarps didn't work. And the rain was pouring into our house EVERYWHERE except in our bedroom. We had to move all the clothes for all six of us into that one room, and all the things that couldn't get wet. It was wall to wall furniture. Kelli and Abbi slept in the living room on the couch after we got that mess cleaned up, but their bedrooms, upstairs, were in a ruined state, so they couldn't sleep up there.

It was such a hard time! And we would have family prayer, and I would just cry. Well, I cried every day. And it rained all day, every day, for that whole summer of 1985! Crops were ruined in many places in Alberta. We were all cooped up in a house that was a literally disaster area, with buckets in every room except the one. There was nowhere to play because of the mess we were in. And I wished and WISHED that someone would invite the children over to play--but I get that when you are cooped up all the time, extra kids is not exactly on the list of must-dos. We did sometimes get to go over to Uncle Bruce and Aunt Judy's house, or Aunt Rita's, or Aunt Celia's. Thank goodness! I do not know how we could have survived that summer without our family close by!

And then I had to find a job because we just couldn't go on, and Bruce couldn't find a job, and someone had to work. So I got a job in the High School, but then I had to leave my baby. I was so lucky to have Eleanor Johansen across the street, and she was a total and complete blessing to our family!

In the midst of all this, singing with the women's chorus gave me an hour of joy once a week.  And then we sang this song, and it ended up really resounding with me. Because, despite all the horrible things we were going through, I still had faith in God. Like, I believed in God. I believed that Jesus is our savior. I believed the scriptures were true. But...I was so down. So unhappy. Feeling so lost.  And that song helped me to realize that what was missing was hope! I had not been able to figure out what the difference was between faith and hope, but the song taught me: Faith in God, Hope in Tomorrow! Once I realized what was missing, I started being able to get it back again!

So, when I knew that we were going to be looking back at Relief Society past in this event in March, I thought about this song, and it seemed like the right thing to sing. But I couldn't find it! Finally, after Sister Mower asked on Sunday if it was going to work out for us to do it, I knew I needed to pin it down this week.

So I texted my cousin Janet in Raymond to see if she had Janelle's phone number, and she did, but it was a land line number, so I waited to call her at work on Monday because I can't hear very well on cell phones. Last week, I had already put in a help ticket at the Church History Library to see if someone there could help me figure out the song.

So today, I was like, this is it! I have to find the song today, or choose something different. I even found a something different to choose. I hoped to get an email from Janelle saying she had found it, but that didn't happen. At about eleven, my student Adam took a call, and I could hear half of the conversation, enough for me to figure out that it was the Church History Library calling our desk to ask for our help finding the song I asked them to find!!

I went out and said, "Adam, we can't help them, because that is MY question. I sent it to them because I have exhausted our resources. I can't find it here." So Adam told the caller that. So I was very discouraged. I left to take Josie to work later in the afternoon, and I thought, that's it. If they can't find it, I am going to have to give up.

I got back to my office, and the phone rang. And it was a guy from the Church History Library--and he had found the song! He said that he was clueless, the girl who had called Adam was clueless--nobody knew how to find it. So he asked the older women who are serving missions there, and someone among them remembered that it was a song from a musical called "Because of Elizabeth."

I had no clue! I thought it was a stand-alone song! I had been looking in Relief Society Prize Winning Songs and things like that. But it was a song from a musical. So, in 1978, they put a bunch of statues up in Nauvoo in a garden, which is called the Monument to Women or something like that. And this musical was written to be performed outdoors for the dedication of that monument. This was a Belle Spafford thing--thanks, Grandma Spafford! (Clarence's grandma.)

Then, it enjoyed a long performance run at the Promised Valley Playhouse in Salt Lake City. The library guy, Jeff, was telling me about how "This was really a thing back then! We've got books and scores and videos and cassettes and programs...you guys must have some of these things!" And we did--but none of them had the contents notes, so there was no way to associate this particular song, which is actually called "The Work of Love," unless you knew it was a part of the musical.

So--we are going to sing it! It is a very meaningful song to me, with its associations with that very difficult time of my life, and how I learned the importance of having "Hope in tomorrow." Nice miracle today. (And I am still, every day, grateful for the miracle of Patrick's truck selling for a good price with wonderful timing! I feel so blessed!)

A pretty great day

It was the first of this year's Black History Month Concerts, and it was so good!! Concert time, noon, was the same time as Dr. Stallings' class about Spanish poetry, and so he used Afro-Caribbean poetry mixed in with Afro-Caribbean music, and made attendance at the concert required, since it fell during class time. And that accounts for 89 of the people who were there. The rest of the 232 attendees were on their own. So that was exciting! I had printed the programs (I made too few: 100) over Monday and Tuesday, and of course, by Wednesday morning they were completely wrong! Or at least partially wrong! There were some last minute musician changes, and that caused some last minute program changes. (The program as it actually happened is here.)The Stallings' flew in their son Stephen from Oregon so that they would have a drummer!!!!! That is dedication for you!! (Also, they get to see their son, so bonus.) Greg sent me the script, but I am not sure he sent it to Stephen, who had a part in it where he explains about clave to the audience. I actually don't think anyone but me had seen the script--the two narrators had not seen it. I went and printed out a bunch of copies and handed them around, but I don't think Stephen actually looked at it, because when the narrator said that Stephen Stallings would explain clave--he was totally shocked and unprepared. But he did it! His dad stepped in to get the audience participating. It was good. We only lacked a visibly black performer, because Greg tried but none of his contacts worked out. So, I saw a sweet girl who I asked to pray, so we had a visibly black pray-er.

I just wish that I had said what I should have said. Something about the Afro-Caribbean situation. Not this, but something. Like, that the first African in the Caribbean was in 1492, and that by the time there were slaves in the US of A (1619) they had been on the islands in the Caribbean for generations. And many had mixed in with the natives and the Europeans. Really interesting--so, in the Caribbean and Central and South America, slavery was still awful but better than in the US. Because when a white man caused a black woman to become a mother, the child born assumed the status of its father. This is very different from what happened in the US, where sometimes a slave was the literal half-brother of its master and other equally (to me) shocking relationships. (I remember reading various William Faulkner books for English classes and being just APPALLED. Like, so incomprehensible to me!)

Anyways!! The concert was great, and gave me the courage to face another few hours of doing academic bibliographic researching in SPANISH again. I have been making headway, but wow, it is so hard doing academic work in a language you are not fluent in.

Then, this evening I had to go to the Copyright Office's Film Festival Academy Awards and present the award for best musical adaptation. I was one of 8 judges. If you want to listen to the entries, they are here, at least for now. I may need to save them before they take them down! I had Patrick and Josie and Janet all listen to the entries, and the one that all four of us scored the lowest is the one that won!!! Ahahahaha!! Claudine was also a judge and she told me she was glad that one won because "it sounded the most like film music." And, I think she is probably right--but I (and by I, I include my other three listeners) was judging them as a composition, not as film music. There is a difference.

But still! That was my day today! Pretty fun, actually!

January Books

I am going to copy Susanne and do a post about my reading each month. That is a much better idea than doing it at the end of the year, really.

This month, I have only read five books.

1. The particular sadness of lemon cake by Aimee Bender. I think this might have been a book from Bridget's reading list? Or Susanne's? I am not sure. Our library didn't have it, so I put an ILL request in for it (which is a free service at BYU, and isn't that awesome and amazing? I will answer that--it is. When I worked in the public library, now almost 20 years ago, it cost the patron $8 per book. Probably more now.) This was an interesting book--the girl, Rose, can taste the emotions of the people who cook the food. Her brother's odd talent is that he blends in with his surroundings. Literally. So much so that he kind of disappears. Rose learns that her grandfather always wore a strap of fabric across his nose because he could smell too much about the lives of those around him. Huh.

2. The girl with seven names: escape from North Korea by Hyeonseo Lee. Wow. So interesting. Mind boggling. When this girl leaves North Korea, she, like most of the leavers, isn't leaving because of disagreeing politically with the Kims--she leaves because China is just across the river, and she knows of people who have been there (including her father) and so she just sneaks across, but once she is there, she realizes that going back isn't going to be that easy. The things that happen to her--she very nearly becomes a victim of human trafficking. She alienates people because she is so close-mouthed about herself. If she gets caught in China, she will get sent back. If she gets sent back, it will be prison and brainwashing and the repercussions will extend to her family. That she is finally able to help her mother and brother leave North Korea, too, is a miracle. But when you are out, it isn't "over." Fitting in to the outer world is very strange and difficult.

3. The girl who could not dream by Sarah Beth Durst. In this junior fiction book, the girl can't dream unless she drinks one of the dream potions her parents mix and sell in their secret dream store under their regular book store. But when she dreams, things in her dream come to life.

4. Hand to mouth: living in bootstrap America by Linda Tirado. I have been there, living this life where when one big thing goes wrong, and then a bunch of small things go wrong, you find yourself in poverty and that is not a fun place to be. She makes some great points--like, people get so steamed up about welfare and good stamps and stuff like that--she says, just call them transfer payments instead. Like, the few dollars that feed people who are down on their luck is small potatoes compared to the billions of dollars that have been paid to bail out banks, for example. Money is given to the wealthy all the time, called by different names--but it is the poor who are menaces. Well, I recommend reading it, if you want to know more. She tells it better, although with a lot of profanity.

5. The Jubilee Singers and their Songs by J.B. T. Marsh, who was the leader of the group back in the 1870s-80s. After the emancipation of the slaves, Black people in Tennessee wasted no time in founding Fisk College to teach their people. The Jubilee Singers were created to travel and sing to raise money to build a new building for Fisk. They went on several trips, throughout the US and Canada, and then to England. Their second trip took them to England and then the continent. Their third trip was around the world and lasted six years. Amazing. They were treated so poorly in America and so well everywhere else. Their original songbook is also included in the book--that was my motivation to read it, because we are singing these songs at Hymn Sing in February.

So, I read two fiction and three non-fiction books. This month, non-fiction was my favorite genre. Hard to pick only one favorite.