tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6604531621259428142024-02-18T23:01:52.507-06:00Gals - Very Smart GalsGals - Very Smart Galshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16990972719050405870noreply@blogger.comBlogger530125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660453162125942814.post-27554841461403635572022-08-13T08:11:00.010-05:002022-08-14T07:38:22.833-05:00<p><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #800180; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">100 Things I Want To Tell My Children And Grandchildren, #43</span></b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Be kind. </span></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; display: inline; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; display: inline;"><b style="color: #666666; text-align: right;"><span style="color: #800180;">This photo is in memory and </span><span style="color: #800180;">honor of my</span></b><span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; display: inline;"><b style="color: #666666; text-align: right;"><span style="color: #800180;">beautiful, youngest sister Honey. I miss you. </span></b></div></div></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #800180;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(128, 1, 128);"><b><br /></b></span></span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: left;"><b style="caret-color: rgb(102, 102, 102); color: #800180; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; text-align: right;"></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgzLhLjd_zFSnbTsBR-8dww_ZHWpo_s_HJ_SUOdQwuzP3jhh1sYpM8sXQcCghTjI5quwQ66KoyFbu8LI-bBldf4VpDxGBpME841dicoUc5h_84Xj4Kh5xSHWQfRf81L1d4lP3EdgJkyymmPEtl4iJHdqJwrM6JCJwiElY1ZYj3ip8-VwbH74rv-AsWZsQ" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><b style="caret-color: rgb(102, 102, 102); color: #800180; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; text-align: right;"></b><img alt="" data-original-height="526" data-original-width="404" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgzLhLjd_zFSnbTsBR-8dww_ZHWpo_s_HJ_SUOdQwuzP3jhh1sYpM8sXQcCghTjI5quwQ66KoyFbu8LI-bBldf4VpDxGBpME841dicoUc5h_84Xj4Kh5xSHWQfRf81L1d4lP3EdgJkyymmPEtl4iJHdqJwrM6JCJwiElY1ZYj3ip8-VwbH74rv-AsWZsQ" width="184" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgzLhLjd_zFSnbTsBR-8dww_ZHWpo_s_HJ_SUOdQwuzP3jhh1sYpM8sXQcCghTjI5quwQ66KoyFbu8LI-bBldf4VpDxGBpME841dicoUc5h_84Xj4Kh5xSHWQfRf81L1d4lP3EdgJkyymmPEtl4iJHdqJwrM6JCJwiElY1ZYj3ip8-VwbH74rv-AsWZsQ" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><b style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></b></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">My husband of 32 years, who has undergone three open-heart surgeries and had numerous strokes leaving him somewhat physically and cognitively disabled, recently fell and broke his nose and badly cut his face, leading to four middle-of-the-night emergency room visits (due to uncontrolled bleeding), and a week-long stay in the hospital. Despite being the one injured, </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">my amazing spouse</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">was accepting and non-complaining, as usual. I, on the other hand, was terrified, exhausted, angry, and questioning the quality of my life.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Then I saw that one of my grandchildren had posted a very touching, unexpected TikTok tribute to me featuring every text I’d ever sent her - dozens of words of advice, encouragement, warnings, etc. Words I never knew she even read or paid attention to. My granddaughter's kindness and acknowledgment instantly transported me from a very dark place, and made me realize how powerful a simple act of kindness can be. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">We know so little about each other’s lives and what people are going through, and each of us has the opportunity to offer some small kindness that can transform a life or just brighten someone's day. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Be kind. </span><o:p></o:p></p></div>Gals - Very Smart Galshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16990972719050405870noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660453162125942814.post-1081031620232001042022-08-13T07:56:00.005-05:002022-08-15T17:03:43.644-05:00<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Cluster Critiques 8-13-22</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b> </b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><i></i></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh0RUNfI8cWNA2vOSr8mIsGmUl20hDvUyR67n3Rm0LzfEnJc2ldBb2sBAbsxyDk94_J9Pm5vZNJPSOZ4MxD1MjW2kgDMthdwiGvGGf2dO0ZgJma9tilZzMCbx_xzgMwbrtyWayIUqOeAnbZ5gTw6gFY55XCbxgDyCbDQw9UG08yFXGX2GSLCdaPGQMLPQ" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="263" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh0RUNfI8cWNA2vOSr8mIsGmUl20hDvUyR67n3Rm0LzfEnJc2ldBb2sBAbsxyDk94_J9Pm5vZNJPSOZ4MxD1MjW2kgDMthdwiGvGGf2dO0ZgJma9tilZzMCbx_xzgMwbrtyWayIUqOeAnbZ5gTw6gFY55XCbxgDyCbDQw9UG08yFXGX2GSLCdaPGQMLPQ=w211-h320" width="211" /></a></i></b></div><b><span style="color: #800180;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">Last Dance on the Starlight Pier: A Novel</span></i><span style="font-size: large;"> by Sarah Bird</span></span></b><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Texas Author Sarah Bird is not just an exceptional writer, she’s also a keen chronicler of unnoticed or forgotten histories. For example, in <i>Daughter of a Daughter of a Queen</i>, she gave us the beautifully fictionalized, yet true story of an African American slave woman, Cathy Williams, who, disguised as a man served as a Union soldier in the Civil War.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">In Bird’s new book <i>Last Dance on the Starlight Pier</i>, she takes us into the outwardly glamourous, inwardly gritty world of depression-era dance marathons and vaudeville, the wildly popular entertainment mediums during that period. Bird also primarily sets the story in Galveston, which during Prohibition was the center of illegal gambling and boozing, replete with Mafia rule. An important backdrop to the story is the election of Franklin D. Roosevelt as President of the US, a watershed moment in American history. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Main character Evie Grace Devlin, raised in the seedy business of vaudeville and in the red light district of “Vinegar Hill” in Houston, is exploited by her self-absorbed mother, but is a survivor fighting to escape her heritage. Despite training to become a nurse, through a twist of fate she joins a troupe of marathon dancers scraping out a living dancing almost nonstop to distract depressed and desperate families from the harsh realities of the Great Depression. The marathon dancers and the Galveston mob team up for a grand dance marathon event at the aging Starlight Pier Ballroom jutting out over Galveston Bay, but things go terribly wrong. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgvrrXlj3dnf0Xf1fDDz8nYpe9feNVfeZplIvRDLaY2XLC6mLMZlv6JxFMBVfYo6o5JGGBtnb6eyh3cq3nnDGy7PtZBTDLUEdYcRuVHOQCo8rCNHybFmg18UGT1MOe9qdAKhkY1Hvoa21uO2b1pGubO1qnPPKH5mdRSG0cizyIJZ8cYxC-aaCmMuk0jew" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="387" data-original-width="660" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgvrrXlj3dnf0Xf1fDDz8nYpe9feNVfeZplIvRDLaY2XLC6mLMZlv6JxFMBVfYo6o5JGGBtnb6eyh3cq3nnDGy7PtZBTDLUEdYcRuVHOQCo8rCNHybFmg18UGT1MOe9qdAKhkY1Hvoa21uO2b1pGubO1qnPPKH5mdRSG0cizyIJZ8cYxC-aaCmMuk0jew=w320-h189" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Bird lures us in with this ripe setting and vivid characters, then stuns us with an unexpected and courageous twist involving Evie and her charming, handsome love-interest Zave, the heart-throb of the dance marathon scene. <i>Last Dance on the Starlight Pier </i>is a time-machine that will transport you to a unique and intriguing era. It will also make you a partner to the story. You'll swoon over Zave, pull for Evie Grace, see the lighted pier against the Galveston sunset, and feel the desperation and faith of the families living through the depression. And as you read the last few pages you’ll be a little sad knowing both the era and the story are coming to an end. Read <i>Last Dance on the Starlight Pier. </i></span><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Photo is of a depression-era Galveston dance marathon)</span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><i> </i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #800180; font-size: large;"><i>Moonflower Murders: A Novel</i> by Anthony Horowitz</span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgwL-UE90v9d0Tziw5zUzDEgXDGe1EnRlQ5LdyY8D-fY2KDVP1NKJeoHwml6T7fLx9HKncDIT9h23hzJZ917-11zh3JKgKZ9qOeYaht3Qsc3VWz4R7jEcQtFsNVFnfkqBcxyUmDFfXv1ETiXX9_QQNGdO2kIspae9IFoi7ptkp4QNlzPtgCC1tXY-nnOg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="265" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgwL-UE90v9d0Tziw5zUzDEgXDGe1EnRlQ5LdyY8D-fY2KDVP1NKJeoHwml6T7fLx9HKncDIT9h23hzJZ917-11zh3JKgKZ9qOeYaht3Qsc3VWz4R7jEcQtFsNVFnfkqBcxyUmDFfXv1ETiXX9_QQNGdO2kIspae9IFoi7ptkp4QNlzPtgCC1tXY-nnOg" width="159" /></a></b></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Make sure you’re wearing your patience if you plan on reading this clever murder mystery within a murder mystery. But don’t try to solve it as that will only distract from a fun story and good writing. Just let it flow over you and wait for the big, albeit extended, reveal. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">The story starts in Crete where retired book publisher Susan Ryland is approached by the owners of a Suffolk hotel, Pauline and Lawrence Trehernes. The Trehernes daughter, Cecily, disappeared shortly after disclosing she discovered, through a book Susan had published, that the wrong man was convicted of a murder committed years ago at the hotel. The Trehernes hire Susan to return to Suffolk to try to find out what happened to their daughter, and who the real murderer is. And thus begins a circuitous, and sometime challenging plot. But the story is good and the characters are colorful, so we hang on for the ride, and a payoff that is finally well delivered. <i>Moonflower Murders<b> </b></i>is very “Agatha Christie,” which is a good thing.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><i> </i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><i></i></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj82BImUbTb6fhloRE4CnZ4A3tzYOjnHEaXHSTUJ90ArSvuY35sr-RrKiSzAzcs1c5NuusKhO6YED7nh113oneG1dpOYvoAba2ARDp15s-cUas5P-CHWVV23PCo0JMaqTr13AoOir4Ap1bIC8iRbv5CQr6p9YGpk5vQy2UAi_JDF-GmtwX-PjAZd-SaDA" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="475" data-original-width="313" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj82BImUbTb6fhloRE4CnZ4A3tzYOjnHEaXHSTUJ90ArSvuY35sr-RrKiSzAzcs1c5NuusKhO6YED7nh113oneG1dpOYvoAba2ARDp15s-cUas5P-CHWVV23PCo0JMaqTr13AoOir4Ap1bIC8iRbv5CQr6p9YGpk5vQy2UAi_JDF-GmtwX-PjAZd-SaDA" width="158" /></a></i></b></div><b><span style="color: #800180;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">Freezing Order: A True Story of Russian Money Laundering, State-Sponsored Murder, and Surviving Vladimir Putin's Wrath</span></i><span style="font-size: large;"> by Bill Browder</span></span></b><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Bill Browder hates Vladimir Putin like American democrats hate Donald Trump. Browder’s first book, <i>Red Notice,</i>which I loved, was about his significant investment ventures into the perestroika-driven privatization of Russian businesses in the 1990’s. The Russian oligarchs who own controlling interest in most Russian businesses didn’t like British or American investors poking their noses into the way they did business, which according to Browder was criminal. They began legally challenging and illegally threatening Browder and his family. Browder’s attorney Sergei Magnitsky, defending the challenges to Browder’s Russian investments, and investigating Russian tax fraud, ended up in a Russian Gulag, and, according to Browder, was beaten to death to cover up the fraud. One result was the 2012 Magnitsky Act, American legislation that allows for travel bans, asset seizures and visa freezes on human rights violators, and has sense been adopted by 30 countries. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i>Freezing Order</i> continues the story of how Russian oligarchs’ (and other politically-powerful individuals) ill-gotten assets are still sheltered in America, and which, Browder explains is why Putin has spent so much effort to control American politics. Both <i>Red Notice</i>, and now <i>Freezing Order</i> are true-life espionage stories with a contemporary relevance, and I recommend you read both. Oh yes, and both are well-written, which always matters.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #800180; font-size: large;"><i>This Is Going to Hurt: Secret Diaries of a Young Doctor,</i> by Adam Kay</span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgIlEUk2UJemGoJBdcKW9bJtRGz_mYOtq_TmKFq5QkwTcev8QgTBb8JthOrFI615J63HhDd8NJfa4K6v5qLGWa4Lmr7hcu6IfTkli94u7cisSbYmRD4LW-JZB8VaLM0nbTSeRYKRVA03_bovtRGmHPBGoegNzVYNBakLCtLdP-_6Ldy9Q3n7mJ8zpjJCQ" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="475" data-original-width="294" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgIlEUk2UJemGoJBdcKW9bJtRGz_mYOtq_TmKFq5QkwTcev8QgTBb8JthOrFI615J63HhDd8NJfa4K6v5qLGWa4Lmr7hcu6IfTkli94u7cisSbYmRD4LW-JZB8VaLM0nbTSeRYKRVA03_bovtRGmHPBGoegNzVYNBakLCtLdP-_6Ldy9Q3n7mJ8zpjJCQ" width="149" /></a></b></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">This extremely popular book by a Junior Doctor working in the British National Health Service (socialized medicine), was hilarious and fast-moving, but harshly at the expense of all the patients, nurses and pretty much everyone the author came in contact with during his internship. If you despise the medical establishment, socialized or privatized, you’ll love this book, which picks apart the knowledge and role of doctors, nurses and hospitals, and basically equates it all to a science held together with super glue and bailing wire. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Kay is often quoted saying, <i><span style="color: #181818;">“The hours are terrible, the pay is terrible, the conditions are terrible; you’re underappreciated, unsupported, disrespected and frequently physically endangered, “But there’s no better job in the world.”</span></i> This <span style="color: #181818;">book certainly provides story after story supporting the first part of that quote. Unfortunately it gives zero stories to support the last part, and sure enough, after a particularly traumatic medical experience (no spoiler here) Kay resigns to become a writer/comedian.</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i>This Is Going to Hurt<b> </b></i>was entertaining, in the sense that we must laugh at horror to keep from crying, but I couldn’t help but (1) feel bad for the people whose misfortune fueled Dr. Kay’s humor, (2) wonder why we should rely on the judgement of doctors living on too little sleep, (3) believe a medical diagnosis gleaned from 30-seconds of googling, and (4) wonder why anyone would want to work in the medical horror-show portrayed by Dr. Kay. I need to believe more in medical science, not less. Reading <i>This Is Going to Hurt<b> </b></i>didn’t help. Meh. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b> </b></p>Gals - Very Smart Galshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16990972719050405870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660453162125942814.post-7533513168263835242022-04-24T16:16:00.011-05:002022-08-13T08:20:02.090-05:00<p><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></b></span></p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><div style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: large;"><b><b><span>100 Things I Want To Tell My Children And Grandchildren, #42</span></b><span style="font-weight: 400;"> </span></b></span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><span><span style="color: #800180;">This photo is in memory and </span><span style="color: #800180;">honor of my </span></span></b><b style="color: #800180; font-family: inherit;"><span>beautiful, eldest sister, Gloria. I miss you.</span></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="color: #800180;"><b><span><br /></span></b></span></p></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizybr95K_568UFs7S-Uu0qSiOGS4ZzYs3AupbfjfwqblGL9ipD4tX05O32zTHI6WnUvfKDmXcymxddNoKehA_cE3xABTuLoXepjgFT6t8vGCLOOycJvlUsk9TwMl7Ciwhwd_DnJdqNatZPu2qT-_9sPU-E3wIlBXRRKkUjr2xjKOhr3a8PsolZVl3SzQ/s960/Bautiful%20Gloria.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="894" data-original-width="960" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizybr95K_568UFs7S-Uu0qSiOGS4ZzYs3AupbfjfwqblGL9ipD4tX05O32zTHI6WnUvfKDmXcymxddNoKehA_cE3xABTuLoXepjgFT6t8vGCLOOycJvlUsk9TwMl7Ciwhwd_DnJdqNatZPu2qT-_9sPU-E3wIlBXRRKkUjr2xjKOhr3a8PsolZVl3SzQ/s320/Bautiful%20Gloria.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizybr95K_568UFs7S-Uu0qSiOGS4ZzYs3AupbfjfwqblGL9ipD4tX05O32zTHI6WnUvfKDmXcymxddNoKehA_cE3xABTuLoXepjgFT6t8vGCLOOycJvlUsk9TwMl7Ciwhwd_DnJdqNatZPu2qT-_9sPU-E3wIlBXRRKkUjr2xjKOhr3a8PsolZVl3SzQ/s960/Bautiful%20Gloria.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></div></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span>You are going to make mistakes. Sometimes dozens a day. </span></b><b><span>That’s doesn’t mean you don’t make good decisions too. </span></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">No one ever told me I was going to make mistakes in life, but that most would probably be OK. So, I’ve always sort of felt like a failure. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It wasn’t until last night (more years into my life than I want to admit), in the middle of one of my almost daily self-flagellations, I realized I don’t <u>just </u>make a lot of bad decisions and mistakes, I also make a lot of good decisions.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">All in all, looking through my also perpetually positive (or maybe rationalization) lens, I’m a terrifically successful (and very fortunate) person!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So, just yesterday, here are the good and bad decisions I made - and I challenge you to do the same:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Bad Decisions<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Worked more than half of a Saturday<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Ate a too-high carb breakfast, and ate it too fast<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Spent too much money on a manicure and pedicure<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Didn’t assert myself to get the manicurist I really wanted, and settled for a less-skilled person<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Didn’t exercise<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Didn’t shower<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Ate too much for dinner and ate too fast<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Ate a high-calorie dessert<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Spent too much money on groceries<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Good Decisions<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Stepped up to help a client with a tricky problem<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Got ahead of schedule on another deadline project<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Made my hubby’s favorite breakfast<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Treated myself to a relaxing manicure and pedicure<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Spent some quality time with my hubby - doing some things with him I don’t particularly enjoy, but which he does<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Ate healthy sushi for dinner rather than something higher-calorie<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Purchased some expensive but high-quality groceries<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Treated myself to a favorite dessert<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Didn’t spend too much of my day obsessing over my children’s and grandchildren’s wellbeing<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">So I just want to let my kids and grandkids know it’s OK to make bad decisions and mistakes (as long as they aren’t life-threatening or hurt someone else). Try not to beat yourself up too much. Just try to make the good decisions list longer than the bad decisions list, and learn from your mistakes. </span></b><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Gals - Very Smart Galshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16990972719050405870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660453162125942814.post-71566723886156924882022-04-24T16:11:00.010-05:002022-08-14T08:46:19.335-05:00<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;">Cluster Critiques 4-25-22</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><i> </i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><i></i></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtmIpyB4tQ99z3ojKL9i2me5VSWdWQ7vUTdzOLG5JLKN_NFrPhxmCkXEuMLUJrf1I1MklR34QP8Mlh3aG6LAJOEQrEH3JvQ2OlGs7BVPlajHpG9qk0Kj9L8fWi64CT4SiL89HYKIxAf4It1Ea84g33tvhNC54QDeMx-TVJ8-UzgF7z-8Rc23r7PBHcGw/s450/Vilin%20Cover.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="296" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtmIpyB4tQ99z3ojKL9i2me5VSWdWQ7vUTdzOLG5JLKN_NFrPhxmCkXEuMLUJrf1I1MklR34QP8Mlh3aG6LAJOEQrEH3JvQ2OlGs7BVPlajHpG9qk0Kj9L8fWi64CT4SiL89HYKIxAf4It1Ea84g33tvhNC54QDeMx-TVJ8-UzgF7z-8Rc23r7PBHcGw/s320/Vilin%20Cover.jpeg" width="210" /></a></i></b></div><b><i><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;">The Violin Conspiracy</span></i><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"> by Brendan Slocumb</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i>The Violin Conspiracy</i> is a better than average mystery about a celebrated concert musician, Ray McMillian, whose violin is stolen. What makes this book interesting is how the author uses the violin and the other characters (yes, the violin is a character in this book) to make what could be a simple “who-done-it” into a pretty entertaining story. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Ray always wanted to be a professional musician, but that didn’t fit well within his family-culture, and that story, and the story of the violin, where it came from, and how the violin’s history is interwoven into Ray’s family's history, is enjoyable. I won’t divulge more about that because I don’t want to ruin the mystery. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">One complaint - Slocumb relentlessly portrays Ray’s mother and one other character in the book as horrible people with not a single redeeming feature. Authors, please stop giving us one-note characters!! People are not all bad or all good, they are complicated damn it!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">OK, got that off my chest. <i>The Violin Conspiracy</i> isn’t a literary triumph or award winner, but it tells an interesting story, is an unusual mystery, and has a better than average ending. Read it. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #800180;"><i>The Boys: A Memoir of Hollywood and Family</i> by Ron Howard and Clint Howard</span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVRJtvq-v32hsMiEgKGdfhU9IL9ANR7FR1tywLU40Cs-fg3HC1JX_SZvPHoXMSVWYzlIQIXSa77VWYzpeZUW5C-Ueas7yH4mbhQ5Gtr3Rrdz1GB7RsN8XzEXOAnBNV8Vn0q8ZRsN80xBONDCsgM0d0aRVk_ZiuJIlBcBDaw_Fb9IMlrl6OWZLjbp9nOA/s400/The%20Boys%20Cover.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="264" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVRJtvq-v32hsMiEgKGdfhU9IL9ANR7FR1tywLU40Cs-fg3HC1JX_SZvPHoXMSVWYzlIQIXSa77VWYzpeZUW5C-Ueas7yH4mbhQ5Gtr3Rrdz1GB7RsN8XzEXOAnBNV8Vn0q8ZRsN80xBONDCsgM0d0aRVk_ZiuJIlBcBDaw_Fb9IMlrl6OWZLjbp9nOA/s320/The%20Boys%20Cover.jpg" width="211" /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: left;"> </span></a></b></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Who isn’t intrigued with Ron Howard’s history - a little red-haired boy growing up in idyllic Mayberry, USA. Oh wait, that’s Opie, the character played by Ron Howard on <i>The Andy Griffith Show</i>, which aired between 1960 and 1968. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Oh, you weren’t born until after 1968? Well then, maybe you remember Ron as Richie Cunningham in <i>Happy Days</i> (1974-1984). </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">No? How about these movies, <i>Cocoon </i>(2 academy awards)<i>, Parenthood, Apollo 13 </i>(2 academy awards)<i>, A Beautiful Mind </i>(4 academy awards)<i>, The Da Vinci Code, Rush, In the Heart of the Sea, Solo: A Star Wars Story, </i>and many more blockbusters,<i> </i>all of which he directed, and some of which he produced and/or wrote. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Ron Howard has led an illustrious career, starting when he was five years old, and is still going strong. But this book isn’t so much about his career as it is about his astonishingly “normal” family and home life (mom and dad were not very successful actors) and how that all functioned around his constant work-schedule. It is also about his very close relationship with his less-famous, yet surprisingly interesting younger brother Clint, who although never directed or produced movies or won any awards, played characters in 126 movies and 75 TV shows. Clint’s most prominent roles were in 1967-1969 in the very popular TV series <i>Gentle Ben,</i> and the made for TV <i>The Red Pony</i>, in which he starred with Henry Fonda and Mareen O’Hara. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">This book was entertaining to me because I could relate to Ron Howard’s TV and movie history, and because it gave a glimpse into his family and professional life, from both his and his brother’s perspective. If you are not big on bio’s skip this one, but if you admire Ron Howard and like to read bio's, you’ll enjoy <i>The Boys.</i><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><i></i></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOIaNjmbJla5-0qzm3O3kCwqvRaCNfk1ELihTwRfLoiamNJpAyU6nwldUaKuH0LbbG-TdbEDGrXjc_rmey5ltl_GaFlJPYOLX7zwlqQc7h41GW1lwrJ23PFl09H9JS3AdWyiq5GWkqESIxv9XzUcgeWc7Mf1go3pscTX_H9d83oFGix9WBsGyPbIqFXA/s400/Moon%20Low%20Cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="267" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOIaNjmbJla5-0qzm3O3kCwqvRaCNfk1ELihTwRfLoiamNJpAyU6nwldUaKuH0LbbG-TdbEDGrXjc_rmey5ltl_GaFlJPYOLX7zwlqQc7h41GW1lwrJ23PFl09H9JS3AdWyiq5GWkqESIxv9XzUcgeWc7Mf1go3pscTX_H9d83oFGix9WBsGyPbIqFXA/s320/Moon%20Low%20Cover.jpg" width="214" /></a></i></b></div><b><i><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;">When the Moon Is Low: A Novel</span></i><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"> by Nadia Hashimi</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">All during, and for weeks after I finished reading this book I grew teary-eyed every time I saw the American flag, and said to myself probably once a day, “Thank God all of my family members live in America.” <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">So horrifying is this story of one family’s escape from a newly Taliban-captured Kabul, Afghanistan it was painful to read. The mom, Fereiba, and her arranged-marriage husband Mahmoud, have a happy, modest but comfortable life in Kabul as educators. Then everything changes. Targeted by the Taliban, the dad is taken into captivity and an unknown fate, and Fereiba and her three children set out on an almost unbelievable and dangerous journey to join family in London. Preyed upon by human-traffickers, the family becomes separated and are faced with bottomless challenges and despair. Fereiba and her young teenage son, Saleem, end up separated and alone in different countries, trying to survive - neither having any idea if their loved ones are alive, or even where they are. I couldn’t help but relate this to families torn apart by immigration to our own country.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">The contrast between the author’s incredibly exquisite narrative, and the horrific story she tells, was one of the most unforgettable things about this lovely and agonizing book. The other was the indelible family love it portrays, and which resonated so clearly for me. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Treat yourself to this beautiful book, but go into it knowing it is a scary, painful story about a very different culture trying to survive in what feels like a very different world.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #800180;"><i>Pancho Villa’s Saddle at the Cadillac Bar</i> by Wanda Garner Cash</span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTSm5Sajfxo9UQt2WnXC8HhBN8TrDB834LgclI-UhoYjP0wtJBNhSnp4uPofgvY5ZTpCYUS5wMz-38yoXeBhiC9PemnJqluVBVJnccUkZToT90vGaOc9GQW5J4qncmmjyhGPYI14yRK0f3ZK_yZcwVuSLAzOFVGXjKroXXaMPMZ-GacUGCKJZyP_RXnA/s475/Pancho's%20Saddle%20Cover.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="475" data-original-width="307" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTSm5Sajfxo9UQt2WnXC8HhBN8TrDB834LgclI-UhoYjP0wtJBNhSnp4uPofgvY5ZTpCYUS5wMz-38yoXeBhiC9PemnJqluVBVJnccUkZToT90vGaOc9GQW5J4qncmmjyhGPYI14yRK0f3ZK_yZcwVuSLAzOFVGXjKroXXaMPMZ-GacUGCKJZyP_RXnA/s320/Pancho's%20Saddle%20Cover.jpg" width="207" /></a></b></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Laredo, TX was an especially prosperous, bustling community during most of the 1900’s and the <i>Cadillac Bar</i> just across the border in Nuevo Laredo, a very popular “see and be seen” Texas destination. Or so says Wanda Garner Cash, author of <i>Pancho Villa’s Saddle at the Cadillac Bar, </i>and based on her book, and much I’ve learned and heard since reading her book, it was. Actually, although I wasn’t in Laredo or the Cadillac Bar<i> </i>during the height of their popularity, I’m happy to say I did enjoy several fun weekends during the late 1990’s at the beautiful La Pasada hotel in Laredo, cocktails and dinners at the Cadillac Bar, and hours of shopping at Marti’s, and Russell Deutsch Jewelry in Nuevo Laredo.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">The story starts in 1924 when Garner Cash’s grandfather, “Mayo” Bessan and his very young new bride came to Laredo and brought with them the ambiance, food and drink recipes from famed New Orleans eating and drinking establishments, many of which had recently become shuttered by Prohibition. Over the years, the Cadillac Bar became a favored meetup for “jet-setting” movie and sports stars as well as bus-loads of Austin Junior Leaguers. People flocked there from all over the US. One of the attractions of the restaurant, other than the famous Ramos Gin Fizz, was Pancho Villa’s Saddle, which now resides in Wanda Garner Cash’s living room! <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><em><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-style: normal; padding: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><em><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-style: normal; padding: 0in;">A crushing 1954 flood nearly destroyed the </span></em>Cadillac Bar, but the author’s father rebuilt it to its previous glory, eventually turning it over to the long-time employees to run in 1979. Then in the 2000’s when drug cartel violence broke out in the area, tourists all but stopped traveling to Laredo and the Cadillac Bar limped along until it closed in 2010. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">There are so many great stories in this little book, and recipes in the back, so I recommend you add it to your collection or check it out of your fav library. I might not have read this book had it not been a book club selection - and I’m so glad it was, and I did. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><i></i></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiak0Jw6DIj2ZHy_IcifH40kgVfT_N0-oiQADMPbBfP40neISSMTVHg6LdHfWZZTvXdF7ZzCJ-C2QNIvsNZZqkU04vx8uFqiySFPf7MqpZQcjP9b9-lTSSZntzYAxuCq1rNR-jWns_ZCLDzWF1EDSK2ACPor_HalxAztuzUEiKIc9imXPlxPOlusEU_eg/s1216/Fuzz%20Cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1216" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiak0Jw6DIj2ZHy_IcifH40kgVfT_N0-oiQADMPbBfP40neISSMTVHg6LdHfWZZTvXdF7ZzCJ-C2QNIvsNZZqkU04vx8uFqiySFPf7MqpZQcjP9b9-lTSSZntzYAxuCq1rNR-jWns_ZCLDzWF1EDSK2ACPor_HalxAztuzUEiKIc9imXPlxPOlusEU_eg/s320/Fuzz%20Cover.jpg" width="211" /></a></i></b></div><b><i><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;">Fuzz: When Nature Breaks the Law</span></i><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;">, by Mary Roach</span></b><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">I always look forward to Mary Roach’s next whacky book. She’s written about what happens to bodies post-death, <i>Stiff</i>, little known facts about the military, <i>Grunt, </i>what life in space might be like, <i>Packing for Mars</i>, sex and science, <i>Bonk, </i>and my personal favorite, <i>Gulp: Adventures in the Alimentary Canal.</i> Hey, it’s not just me, she has 423,451 rating on goodreads.com!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">So now with <i>Fuzz, </i>we learn about law-breaking animals and killer-nature, and how us Homo Sapiens-types are challenged to deal with them. From the >1,900 moose killed on highways and train tracks to the thousands of bear home invasions, and hundreds of people killed all over the world by wild tigers, elephants, snakes etc. Did you know more than 100 people are killed by falling trees each year? <i>Fuzz </i>is about the crossroads of human behavior and wildlife biology, and there are an astonishing number of people out there trying to get a handle on it all - “animal-attack forensics investigators, human-elephant conflict specialists, bear managers, and ‘danger tree’ faller blasters.”<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">The best part is that Roach (despite her unfortunate last name) is a super fun and funny writer. Sort of the Bill Bryson of kooky topics. Read it if you love learning about new weird things. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b> </b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #800180;"><i>The Lincoln Highway</i>, by Amor Towles</span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3N2_2LrdEVHXiH1r5_v1dUg-R1aekGX281tWW6I-j4OhfoYowRTtTIARLo73zJ8ZRxeM549ygYhDBvXi4t2N1-0K0iKRv9V28U9FrYAs-yYsfBPBjtxbsUKcuBZWTFlTm8_Qgagx-Fq0H8eowuboUmv5g10xqEblcRKo9UJx87QyrnA3YsEwpFtWtaQ/s475/Lincoln%20Highway%20Cover.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="475" data-original-width="314" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3N2_2LrdEVHXiH1r5_v1dUg-R1aekGX281tWW6I-j4OhfoYowRTtTIARLo73zJ8ZRxeM549ygYhDBvXi4t2N1-0K0iKRv9V28U9FrYAs-yYsfBPBjtxbsUKcuBZWTFlTm8_Qgagx-Fq0H8eowuboUmv5g10xqEblcRKo9UJx87QyrnA3YsEwpFtWtaQ/s320/Lincoln%20Highway%20Cover.jpg" width="212" /><b style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: left;"><i> </i></b></a></b></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">I wanted so desperately to love this new book by Amor Towles. How could I not? His <i>Gentleman in Moscow</i> and <i>Rules of Civility</i> are two of my all-time favorite books. I just kept trying, but found my mind wandering each time I tried, and I’m sort of freaking out about it. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Emmett is an 18-year-old boy recently released from prison for accidentally killing a bully in a fistfight. His dad has just died and his mom ran away from home years ago. So, with a trail of postcards from his mom, from along the Lincoln Highway (the first trans-American highway from NYC to Lincoln Park in San Francisco<span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">)</span>, Emmett decides he and his 8-year-old brother Billy should head out west to find her. However, the trip gets sidetracked by a colorful (and to me annoying) cast of characters I just couldn’t seem to care about. I wanted Emmett and Billy to find their mother, and was angry with all the other characters slowing them down. Then Emmett and Billy finally got back on the road for San Francisco, and the book ended without them finding their mom. So, I was disappointed.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Everyone and their dogs seem to love this book so you may too! Maybe I’ll try it again later.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><i></i></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ondEjeQK3OBExMkMESjGbkniD7q3-YbHK25yXRsvri0gVwnNd0kKjHJ1b13ssSw3AaXRhgJKUpvXoyOoyUGwSPiLi7GkEFdutsek4tGE7Gn2w2j7tymSgXhSTRb9R2rpApqb2paNzlBKKyQEeRVaiOkzorqQ-tcfGqyrDSmTdAIxQ81Q3b-NMjco2g/s400/Light%20Years%20Cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="267" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ondEjeQK3OBExMkMESjGbkniD7q3-YbHK25yXRsvri0gVwnNd0kKjHJ1b13ssSw3AaXRhgJKUpvXoyOoyUGwSPiLi7GkEFdutsek4tGE7Gn2w2j7tymSgXhSTRb9R2rpApqb2paNzlBKKyQEeRVaiOkzorqQ-tcfGqyrDSmTdAIxQ81Q3b-NMjco2g/s320/Light%20Years%20Cover.jpg" width="214" /></a></i></b></div><b><i><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;">The Light Years</span></i><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;">, by Chris Rush</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">This book was exhausting and depressing. It was also a beautifully written kaleidoscope of a story. I loved it. I hated it.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Raised in a well-to-do family on the east coast by one of those self-loathing fathers who can only tolerate their nothingness by bringing everyone down with them, and a mother who has completely cast out her feelings because that is the only way she can get up and face the world each day, it’s no wonder Chris Rush and his siblings end up being a bunch of druggies pin-balling from one disaster to another. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">I was so angry at everyone in this book, I wanted to scream at them, “Stop rationalizing your stupidity and get your shit together.” But I guess when you have no role model for having shit together, at least you have an excuse. Druggies posing as profits though, that burned my butter.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Chris Rush goes from what seems like the bottom to an even unimagined deeper bottom in each new chapter of the book. Doing acid at the age of 12, to getting thrown own of school for selling drugs at 14, to living on drugs on the side of a mountain at 18, to selling more drugs and getting beat to hell by hardened criminals, and on and on.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">I alternately wanted to beat Rush over the head with his book, and to cradle him in my arms and thank him for his beautiful life’s narrative. Mostly, I’m just glad he survived.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Read it, but know it’s harsh, hard, ugly, and lovely.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Gals - Very Smart Galshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16990972719050405870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660453162125942814.post-58063231473327965712022-02-06T11:41:00.033-06:002022-02-09T08:02:31.829-06:00<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #800180; font-size: x-large;">Cluster Critiques</span><o:p></o:p></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i> </i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #800180;"><i></i></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #800180;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgktEV94hiFR_vWw3GZiy0nEhGr4WDKHhaQjfQKAdpKZ_LI94jj_bdWb1GEGh2_HjkFI4nIAhV0C6Ky9rkLv6N-b5pbhV1cMOmf0b1QRR9iy8l2zqLg8WDWX-E0zIIO2Dp5fAp_QkA3xH7-5IHsc38nKvEF1KivmDiscYEABE8rscCi-cGFQkzph0Wscw=s400" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="260" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgktEV94hiFR_vWw3GZiy0nEhGr4WDKHhaQjfQKAdpKZ_LI94jj_bdWb1GEGh2_HjkFI4nIAhV0C6Ky9rkLv6N-b5pbhV1cMOmf0b1QRR9iy8l2zqLg8WDWX-E0zIIO2Dp5fAp_QkA3xH7-5IHsc38nKvEF1KivmDiscYEABE8rscCi-cGFQkzph0Wscw=w208-h320" width="208" /></a></i></span></b></div><b><span style="color: #800180;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">Aquanaut, </span></i></span></b><b><span style="color: #800180; font-size: large;">by Rick Stanton</span></b><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #800180;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">In mid-December when one of my book clubs was collecting recommendations from members for best books of 2021, I received an email from Tracy LaQuey Parker recommending <i>Aquanaut, </i>which is about the rescue of the 12 young soccer team members and their coach from the Tham Luang cave in Thailand, written by Rick Stanton, one of two British cave divers who conducted the rescue. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Tracy said, “I was just messaging with Rick Stanton last night. He and Ron Howard had just watched Howard’s movie about the rescue, <span style="color: #800180;"><a href="https://deadline.com/2020/11/ron-howard-thai-cave-rescue-film-thirteen-lives-australia-1234622531/"><span style="text-decoration: none;">‘</span><span>Thirteen Lives</span></a>,</span>’ and said the diving scenes were really good, and that Viggo Mortensen did a good job playing him.” Tracy had met Stanton at the Telluride Film Festival. (Stanton and Tracy are pictured below in Telluride). </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">I pre-ordered the audible version of <i>Aquanaut</i> and made that our 2022 holiday road trip book. Not only was the story of the rescues enthralling, but Stanton fills in with his many other hair-raising stories of cave diving rescues around the world. <i>“When there is an incident in a difficult underwater cave that is beyond the reach of most cave divers, I’m typically called directly to help,”</i> says Stanton.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgRA80kJ_ePQgOYPHfSEe8qOrmkYxpV2uuU6TXy94JjMRGixdl7v1SZlVEllR1T8Q9BOZCgB59ntoR3Z8DP_qFa0lNzpGTNs3mYwuVxEiEmWcqEWpnq8E8uQGe_r-toYPLZTN7G1KlZ30Okf9diqjPqTBB2GzoWl9aX6t4kV6pjI3N_UYOqo123o1qnaw=s2726" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2726" data-original-width="2697" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgRA80kJ_ePQgOYPHfSEe8qOrmkYxpV2uuU6TXy94JjMRGixdl7v1SZlVEllR1T8Q9BOZCgB59ntoR3Z8DP_qFa0lNzpGTNs3mYwuVxEiEmWcqEWpnq8E8uQGe_r-toYPLZTN7G1KlZ30Okf9diqjPqTBB2GzoWl9aX6t4kV6pjI3N_UYOqo123o1qnaw=w198-h200" width="198" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgRA80kJ_ePQgOYPHfSEe8qOrmkYxpV2uuU6TXy94JjMRGixdl7v1SZlVEllR1T8Q9BOZCgB59ntoR3Z8DP_qFa0lNzpGTNs3mYwuVxEiEmWcqEWpnq8E8uQGe_r-toYPLZTN7G1KlZ30Okf9diqjPqTBB2GzoWl9aX6t4kV6pjI3N_UYOqo123o1qnaw=s2726" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">I’m a sucker for death-defying tales and uncommon topics - like the perils of cave diving - but it was the author’s character which came out vividly in this book that caught my attention. He so unapologetically lives life on his terms, (even dissing Elon Musk’s awkward attempts to help with the rescue), and he is very precise and passionate about the ethics and accuracy of his craft. I couldn’t relate to much else about him, but I found his focus intriguing.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Despite the fact that I knew the kids would be rescued from the cave, Stanton’s telling of the rescue made me feel the story could tragically change with one judgement error or an unforeseen problem, and that made me feel like I was in the story, which for me is such an important hallmark of a good book. Read or listen to <i>Aquanaut. </i>You can also view the exceptional documentary, <i>The Rescue,</i> on Disney+.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b> </b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #800180;"><i>The Martian</i>, by Andy Weir</span><o:p></o:p></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b> </b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">It had been years since I read <i>The Martian </i>by Andy Weir, but I enjoyed his more recent book, <i>Hail Mary</i> so much that I thought I’d enjoy re-reading <i>The Martian</i>. I didn’t. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">You are probably familiar with <i>The Martian</i> from the movie starring Matt Damon, and is about an astronaut stranded on Mars. I’m not sure if Andy Weir’s writing is best in small doses, or if it was Wil Wheaton’s (of Star Trek fame) over-animated reading of the Audible version, but everything about the book began to grate on my nerves about half way through. Both books are good, but if you’ve a low-tolerance for writing “sameness” (same tone, pace, characters, vocabulary, phrasing, etc), which I apparently do, I recommend you just read Weir’s <i>Hail Mary</i> and walk away. I wish I had. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">I hate it when authors disappoint me, and what a terrifying prospect that must be for them. The terror of disappointing their readers!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b> <o:p></o:p></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #800180;"><i></i></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #800180;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgKNurfiFQmMyT9VzjAvMNgCPTTbR6TZyQE6micIh3VZs4vdcxfYpIfL4ZgRiLbBIoisGOLC-RXuKgPk8oEr0s-9M-Y5-EG2RBPhPaOb0uffwOctqxpwfAb2D4xXykDO7euVWU-qyxfbjc6gqW3rg4MaPLkAlI0FE0DptqA1YuthJj6XGqmD4TgU11zWQ=s400" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="262" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgKNurfiFQmMyT9VzjAvMNgCPTTbR6TZyQE6micIh3VZs4vdcxfYpIfL4ZgRiLbBIoisGOLC-RXuKgPk8oEr0s-9M-Y5-EG2RBPhPaOb0uffwOctqxpwfAb2D4xXykDO7euVWU-qyxfbjc6gqW3rg4MaPLkAlI0FE0DptqA1YuthJj6XGqmD4TgU11zWQ=s320" width="210" /></a></i></span></b></div><b><span style="color: #800180;"><i><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">On Killing: The Psychological Cost of Learning to Kill in War and Society</span></i><span style="font-size: medium;">, by Lt. Col. Dave Grossman</span></span><o:p></o:p></b><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b> </b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">One of my sons is intrigued by military history – a topic for which I have no stomach because I cannot seem to reconcile killing over philosophical differences. Don’t get me wrong, I am extremely appreciative of the military personnel who have and continue to work behind the scenes to keep my family safe and our country the home of democracy. But when my son told me he was reading a book by an ex-military person who had dedicated much of his life to investigating how soldiers are able to kill (or not), and that his research indicated that up until Vietnam, comparatively few soldiers actually killed, or even pulled the triggers of their guns – I knew I had to know more on this topic.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Apparently soldiers, especially during the Civil War, which has the most recent documentation pre-WWI, were so reluctant to kill enemy soldiers across from them in battle they would fake rifle recoil, rather than admit their fear of killing another person, and/or purposely aim above the heads of enemy soldiers rather than kill them. Grossman, the author, quotes almost unbelievable “kill-ratios” (the huge number of bullets expended in relation to the number of few enemy killed) – not just in the Civil War, but also in WWI, WWII and Korea. This was a big problem for the military, which finally figured out that training soldiers to shoot at bulls-eye type targets was their mistake. So they changed their training to use targets shaped like humans – to better desensitize soldiers to shooting at other soldiers - and adopted many other protocols and psychological techniques, and when they did that, beginning with the Vietnam war, the kill-ratio was vastly improved (if one can conscientiously claim that to be an improvement). </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The information presented in<i> On Killing</i> is controversial, and significantly based on challenged research by <span style="color: #800180;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/S.L.A._Marshall">Brigadier General S.L.A. Marshall</a> </span>(see below excerpt from Marshall's Wikipedia page.)</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">"His most famous work was Men Against Fire: The Problem of Battle Command, which claimed fewer than 25% of men in combat actually fired their weapons at the enemy. While the data used to support this has been challenged, his conclusion that a significant number of soldiers do not fire their weapons in combat has been verified by multiple studies performed by other armies, going back to the 18th century."<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Grossman also touches on the psychologically impact on soldiers returning from the Vietnam war to an unappreciative country, talks about PTSD, and suggests that video games' desensitize killing, but those discussions were much more superficial and thus more of a distraction than informative.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">I'm sure there are many books about what goes on in the mind of a soldier (or anyone) when called on or faced with the need to kill another human, but this is the first I've read, and it provided such a different perspective and gave me more context for my own personal struggles with the issue of war. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b> <o:p></o:p></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #800180;"><i>Billy Summers,</i> by Stephen King</span><o:p></o:p></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b> </b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">I listen to Stephen King books mostly because my hubby loves him, and I admit I have a few Stephen King favorites myself (<i>The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordan</i> and <i>Full Dark – No Stars<b>), </b></i>and <i>Billy Summers</i> started off <span class="apple-converted-space">with promising potential – rich characters, vivid descriptions, deep thoughts.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i>Billy Summers </i>is a master assassin, researching his job methodically, plotting every nano-second, covering every possible contingency, and although we know he’s a killer, we like Billy because he only kills despicable villains. We like him because he’s writing a book about himself and it’s a good story. Clever huh? A book within a book. We also like Billy because he’s retiring. This hit is his last, and we’re so happy for him. And then everything changes, and not for the better. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Billy sort of accidentally rescues a girl who has been raped and left for dead. And then, well, I really don’t know because I metaphorically slept through the last 250 pages of the book. I vaguely recall it turning into the story of a young girl with daddy issues falling for an older man struggling to retain his "macho," wrapped in a superficial, convoluted story line. Oh Stephen, Et tu! <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b> </b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #800180;"><i></i></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #800180;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_JZ2uCwZlJEvqw7eSsELmkhCYQjNFyeRZBkLpAmlpB2YLw-WpoL-MYCl8MLwUnawWqrFsUgGwC-mDak3cnbiWMusmGPs3BmOJSGYqmyX7Z2F-IPOxQwwBx4vSvqKJ3NNgTr-f2FAsE015IApRvKVWHrqkdiCyfSNvG8N4A5HKHUX0cfhCs6f2q6yFzQ=s400" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="264" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_JZ2uCwZlJEvqw7eSsELmkhCYQjNFyeRZBkLpAmlpB2YLw-WpoL-MYCl8MLwUnawWqrFsUgGwC-mDak3cnbiWMusmGPs3BmOJSGYqmyX7Z2F-IPOxQwwBx4vSvqKJ3NNgTr-f2FAsE015IApRvKVWHrqkdiCyfSNvG8N4A5HKHUX0cfhCs6f2q6yFzQ=s320" width="211" /></a></i></span></b></div><b><span style="color: #800180;"><i><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Vanderbilt: The Rise and Fall of an American Dynasty,</span></i><span style="font-size: medium;"> by Anderson Cooper and Katherine Howe</span></span><o:p></o:p></b><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b> </b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">I vividly recall meeting a woman 25-or so years ago who, when I asked what she did for a living said, “I manage my assets.” I must have had a blank expression on my face when I replied, “Oh, that’s nice.” I had no idea what she meant. At that time I didn’t have any assets. The bank owned my house and car, and I had little savings. It wasn’t until much later in my life that I came to realize that people who inherit or earn large sums of money become burdened with the not so simple task of hanging onto that money. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b> </b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">The Vanderbilt “Dynasty,” the topic of this biography by CNN journalist and Vanderbilt heir Anderson Cooper (his mom was Gloria Vanderbilt), was created by Cornelius “Commodore” Vanderbilt, an American business magnate who built his wealth in railroads and shipping and is considered the second richest man in American history EVER (depending on the source/adjusted to current time). For those who must know John D, Rockefeller is the undisputed #1 richest man in American history. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">If you can get past the conspicuous consumption and entitlement issues revealed in this well-penned biography, there are some fun and interesting stories about what jaw-dropping American wealth looked like during the first half of the 20th Century. The Vanderbilt’s and other aristocratic American families threw lavish “one-upmanship” parties costing more than $6,000,000, had ambitions as shallow as “dressing well” and “spending money beautifully,” and literally got away with murder. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span>But the sad undercurrent of Anderson’s book is that money can’t buy you love or fix everything. A long line of Vanderbilt’s </span>failed miserably at managing their assets, and by the time the dynasty reached Cooper’s end of the lineage, there was literally nothing left. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b> </b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Some people are offended by the wealth of the Vanderbilt’s (Musk’s, Bezos’, Gates’, Zuckerberg’s, Buffet’s etc.), but I question what gives us the right to say how much money is OK, and how much is too much. America was founded on the principle that people have the right to make money. Our constitution was created by a bunch of small business owners who didn't want to pay taxes to the King of England. Capitalism is woven into the fabric of the American DNA.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">If you’re a wealth voyeur, smug socialist, or just like biographies, you will probably enjoy this book. I did.<b><o:p></o:p></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b> </b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #800180;"><i></i></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #800180;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEihp49f4t2KtDaMrNuh7rj_bFnzfwjgrPYkDbXTkYkChDkuOvRQhMdadow9hpPJxz0g9HUSJ2pfut5t9Zhbfxnt6hw3AQeHNmTFmwXuk2nNtoxK_uTa9NwMozo-VTcC6khszAAJJuO8LCcNDoBAUrbWsHEIanYBG7uiqNPUZQdA5WvbYZ0xJ78WdZO6sA=s400" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="303" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEihp49f4t2KtDaMrNuh7rj_bFnzfwjgrPYkDbXTkYkChDkuOvRQhMdadow9hpPJxz0g9HUSJ2pfut5t9Zhbfxnt6hw3AQeHNmTFmwXuk2nNtoxK_uTa9NwMozo-VTcC6khszAAJJuO8LCcNDoBAUrbWsHEIanYBG7uiqNPUZQdA5WvbYZ0xJ78WdZO6sA=s320" width="242" /></a></i></span></b></div><b><span style="color: #800180;"><i><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Dolly Parton, Songteller: My Life in Lyrics,</span></i><span style="font-size: medium;"> by Dolly Parton</span></span><o:p></o:p></b><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b> </b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">I’m pretty sure Dolly Parton has a better chance being elected President of the United States than Kamala Harris, or any woman, but not as good a chance as practically anyone with a penis. Wow, I’ll catch some flak for that statement, but here’s my real point. Everyone loves Dolly Parton, because she has the courage to be her unique self without offending anyone, and that is indeed an incredibly rare and valuable human attribute.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">In <i>Songteller </i>Parton through long, live interviews (this is not a traditional written memoir) gives us a glimpse into the milestones of her life. I say glimpse and milestones because Dolly skips over periods of her life, touching lightly on her childhood, how she writes (one of the more interesting aspects of this book), and her beginnings in and progression through the music industry. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">In fact, you can learn more about Dolly on her <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dolly_Parton" style="color: #954f72;">Wiki page</a>, so don’t go into this biography thinking you’ll discover the “real” Dolly. She’d be the first to admit there’s not much real about her other than her personality and character. But you’ll enjoy the ride anyway because we all love listening to Dolly Parton sing, talk, laugh, anything really. One thing that jumped out at me was how much time she spent talking about her relationship with country music icon, Porter Wagner who recruited her into the Grand Ole Opry. Dolly said again and again they were just business partners and close friends – which of course made me think there’s much more to that story, and maybe the flawless Dolly is human after all. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i>Songteller </i>overflows with what we love most about Dolly Parton – her beautiful singing, endearing colloquialisms, and pure, unique Dolly-ism. Listen to the audible version. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #800180;"><i></i></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #800180;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg3rvC0x8JBkYjM7fIJv05hSLay2dgF-5LibNjSigZs7gx5R53LYxdSM3Nos6ZSvGdC2p2_YARD-J1oVYramywYlboernKFxuWiIyaEybApeROPDx8AgW0I0sZIMod_f3WJkFCtn1HbT3F3nUtEGkzvl5RPJCk7wIqkUSr7PK5XELMKxNE94NVGZlb5sA=s500" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="329" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg3rvC0x8JBkYjM7fIJv05hSLay2dgF-5LibNjSigZs7gx5R53LYxdSM3Nos6ZSvGdC2p2_YARD-J1oVYramywYlboernKFxuWiIyaEybApeROPDx8AgW0I0sZIMod_f3WJkFCtn1HbT3F3nUtEGkzvl5RPJCk7wIqkUSr7PK5XELMKxNE94NVGZlb5sA=s320" width="211" /></a></i></span></b></div><b><span style="color: #800180;"><i><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Empire of Pain: The Secret History of the Sackler Dynasty, </span></i><span style="font-size: medium;">by Patrick Radden Keefe</span></span><o:p></o:p></b><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b> </b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">We all embrace and tell the story we can live with, justifying questionable decisions and actions so we can sleep at night. Where is the line in the sand that differentiates justification and abomination? Well, that’s why we have congress to create the rules, the supreme court to further define those rules, and why attorney’s make a lot of money. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i>Empire of Pain </i>is about a family of ambitious brothers, the Sacklers, who according to their story, built their massive wealth on relieving people’s pain, or, according to author Patrick Keef’s story, a greedy family’s unconscionable capitalization on pain-killer addiction . </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">According to Keef, and hundreds of successful lawsuits, by aggressively marketing OxyContin, despite knowing how addictive and dangerous the drug was, the Sacklers and their company, Purdue Pharma, are responsible for half a million Americans deaths from overdoses and the tragedies of millions more addicted to the drug. The Sacklers claim they created quality of life for many more millions who suffer from pain.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">I couldn’t help reflecting on the impacts of alcohol and cigarettes, which have over centuries, killed many more people, and yet I can think of no particular, singular family to which the responsibility of those deaths have been pinned. Rather, over the past 50 years American regulatory agencies have advised us “Smoking may be hazardous to your health” and “Don't drink and drive.” I have to wonder if our nation’s more recent access to mass communication has changed substance abuse from a medical and/or moral issue into a lynch mob solution. I’m not saying let the Sacklers off the hook, I’m saying why not prosecute/persecute equally - and the FDA sure needs to be held accountable! They approved the distribution of OxyContin. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">In addition to a good bit of history about the drug industry, and the inspiring (yet sordid) story of how the Sacklers scrabbled their way from poverty to extreme wealth, this book is an interesting, behind the curtain look at the prestige Sackler family members enjoyed in the society and art world, who also embraced the story that served them, accepting millions of dollars and art donations from the Sacklers. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i>Empire of Pain</i> is less about the sketchy underbelly of the pharmaceutical industry, and more about one major player, the Sacklers, who unlike many drug cartel kingpins relieved of their wealth and serving prison sentences, are vacationing in the Maldives and still have most of the $13,000,000,000 they made off the backs of people with OxyContin addiction<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Gals - Very Smart Galshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16990972719050405870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660453162125942814.post-45050891560597964352022-02-06T11:13:00.003-06:002022-04-30T08:08:27.403-05:00<p><span style="color: #800180; font-size: large;"> <b style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">100 Things I Want To Tell My Children And Grandchildren, #41</span></b></span></p><p><b style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhostFpPDfRgNVDXy7VmgTGxldVzjwG3sjJ8O57KsEwimMBOm1bTR_X510cQzTiZp9owhtdhj2ZrWj5hkwWqp1ceWkviQdogASX4-972W0N8UGZ8ge1Fzgz3NwSNxmThuEC3r2N4X7Jv2On7XR7E11vKjUOkD0mS3i3tpT0bLJ0NJMCvEujjuMgAVNVIQ=s1700" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1195" data-original-width="1700" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhostFpPDfRgNVDXy7VmgTGxldVzjwG3sjJ8O57KsEwimMBOm1bTR_X510cQzTiZp9owhtdhj2ZrWj5hkwWqp1ceWkviQdogASX4-972W0N8UGZ8ge1Fzgz3NwSNxmThuEC3r2N4X7Jv2On7XR7E11vKjUOkD0mS3i3tpT0bLJ0NJMCvEujjuMgAVNVIQ=w640-h450" width="640" /></a></span></b></div><b style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />(This photo, just sent to me by a niece, and which I'd never seen before, made me miss my sisters and mom so much, L-R, Dorothy, Mom, Gloria, me and Honey)</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #800180;">10 Things You Should Know About Someone Before You Consider Marrying Them</span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #800180;"><br /></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">1.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></b><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> <b>Do they have a history of substance abuse?<o:p></o:p></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Maybe you already know the answer to this question and are in denial because you love them. Regardless, a relationship/marriage will suffer from, and may not survive substance abuse, because addiction is almost always stronger than anything, including love. If you don’t know, ask his/her friends/family. Ask them to please be honest and frank with you because they are not going to want to say anything bad about someone they care about. If there is the slightest pause before they answer you, or if they laugh it off, you probably already have your answer. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 0.25in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-left: 0.25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">2.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></b><!--[endif]--><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Is there a history of physical and/or psychological abuse with them or in their family? <o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Children learn from their parents, and if physical/psychological abuse is common in the home, the child may also adopt those behaviors. If the person you are considering marrying has already “blown-up” with you, or been abusive with you – even if it was just one time, that behavior will probably escalate under the pressures of bills, work, children and marriage. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 0.25in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-left: 0.25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">3.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></b><!--[endif]--><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> Are they financially irresponsible? <o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Financial problems are the #1 cause of marital discord. If the person you are considering marrying has demonstrated financial irresponsibility, frequently runs out of money, tends to borrow money from you or others, misses paying bills, or has any significant debt, this is a pattern that will probably not change, and will most assuredly cause problems in a marriage. Even if you are financially responsible and make a good living, is your spouse going to have low self-esteem because of their lack of ability to contribute equally to the financial demands of a household, or resent you for your financial acuity – or are you going to resent them?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 22.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-left: 0.25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">4.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></b><!--[endif]--><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Do they take responsibility for their mistakes?<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">People who blame everything that goes wrong in their life on someone/something else will never improve on or learn from their poor decision-making and behaviors. Not only will negativity dominate their life, it will dominate yours as well, which is a huge drain on a relationship.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 0.25in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-left: 0.25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">5.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></b><!--[endif]--><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> Do they and/or their family have a history of discord? <o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">I’ve seen so many families fall apart when assets are at stake. We never seem to learn that money comes and goes (mostly goes) and NEVER really buys happiness. In strong families, family members are the only people in the world who will “take a bullet” for you. Some families have nothing but toxic, hateful relationships, and you do not want to become a part of that. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 22.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-left: 0.25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">6.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></b><!--[endif]--><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Do they have serious hereditary medical problems?<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">It’s kind to think health shouldn’t matter, but is it kind to subject your progeny to devastating medical problems? At least consider getting a DNA test to rule out the probability of serious inherited medical problems, or perhaps adopting children or getting a healthy sperm/egg donor if there are genetic propensities and you want to have children.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 0.25in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-left: 0.25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">7.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></b><!--[endif]--><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Are they industrious and reasonably ambitious?<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Do they willingly and reliable work/create? It’s not so much about how much money someone makes, as long as what they make adequately supports a lifestyle that is comfortable to you both, but if the person you are considering marrying hates working, consistently complains about having to work, misses work, and changes jobs frequently, they are probably never going to have a healthy sense of personal accomplishment and/or self-esteem, which will negatively affect the marriage and/or relationship. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 0.25in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-left: 0.25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">8.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></b><!--[endif]--><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Do they have a healthy self-esteem? <o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">I’m not sure what constitutes a “healthy” self-esteem, but I do know when people have low-self-esteem they tend to try to bring everyone around them down to lessen the contrast between their worth and the worth of others. Furthermore, people with low self-esteem look for affirmation where ever they can – sometime in very damaging ways – infidelity being a prime way. Low self-esteem also often leads to substance abuse, which may provide temporary, albeit further damaging relief.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 0.25in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 8pt;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-left: 0.25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">9.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></b><!--[endif]--><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Do they ask/expect you to give up things that are important to you?<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">If you feel pushed into giving up something in a relationship, you will eventually resent it. Same goes the other way around. If you expect your partner to give up things they love, they will eventually resent that expectation. Resentment is a hard thing to get around in relationships.<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 0.25in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 8pt;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-left: 0.25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">10.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>What are their expectations about marriage, sex, children, work, finances, where to live, vacations, holidays, family…. EVERYTHING!</b> Talk over everything, and if you feel the slightest pain over anything you hear, you better talk it over extensively because marriage magnifies every possible problem. <b><o:p></o:p></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 0.25in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 8pt;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Not that there’s anything wrong with marriage. It can be a supportive, comfortable, exciting, enjoyable partnership. But eventually you’re not going to have sex every day, or you’re going to pick up too many pairs of underwear off the bathroom floor, or your partner is going to tell you they hate your mother, and when you arrive at that point in your relationship, sensitive, deal-breaking issues become serious. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 8pt;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Talk it all over now. Live with someone for at least two years, then make a list of pros on one side of the page and cons on the other, and make an intelligent, honest decision – because you will live with the consequences. <b><o:p></o:p></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><style class="WebKit-mso-list-quirks-style">
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</style>Gals - Very Smart Galshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16990972719050405870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660453162125942814.post-11829981895397789892021-09-06T15:37:00.007-05:002021-09-16T20:33:43.466-05:00<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i><b></b></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #800180; font-size: x-large;">Cluster Critiques</span><o:p></o:p></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><br /></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN1NSkmYjWUcQqIWgCfU6idEpQUvsm9wyfinRvB1wNNP7ul6NJIcA2e2uwQlvCFHbmN1DwuoBLbBoECHZ_uV9ee2BVEVDMWivAezjnv8FMODI36bm8Xez8F2CmR4yW6LIZUeIAH0rmSRbx/s453/Hail+Mary.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="453" data-original-width="300" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN1NSkmYjWUcQqIWgCfU6idEpQUvsm9wyfinRvB1wNNP7ul6NJIcA2e2uwQlvCFHbmN1DwuoBLbBoECHZ_uV9ee2BVEVDMWivAezjnv8FMODI36bm8Xez8F2CmR4yW6LIZUeIAH0rmSRbx/s320/Hail+Mary.jpg" width="212" /></a></b></i></div><i><b><span style="color: #800180; font-size: large;">Project Hail Mary</span></b></i><b><span style="color: #800180; font-size: large;">, by Andy Weir</span><o:p></o:p></b><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i>Project Hail Mary</i> is a fun syfy novel with gobs of futuristic technology, quantum physics and space aeronautics narrative, if you like that sort of thing, which I do, as long as it is science-based, logical and doesn’t exploit irrational human fears of space monsters. Main character, Ryland Grace, a burned out subatomic particles researcher turned junior high science teacher, wakes up in a space ship with no idea how he got there or why. Eventually, he and we grow to understand he’s on a “hail Mary” mission to save the world from a bacteria that is consuming our sun’s energy. Weir is so precise in his science and clever in his plots and dialogue that we (well some of us anyway) love riding with him on his space adventures. Even if you didn’t read his other blockbuster novel, <i>The Martian</i>, I’ll bet you saw and enjoyed the movie. In <i>Project</i> <i>Hail Mary</i>, Ryland meets and befriends a spider-like robot from another civilization similarly devastated by the bacteria eating the sun, resulting in some incongruous, sweet relationship moments between Ryland and his new buddy “Rocky” the robot. I don’t read just any syfy, but Andy Weir is top gun in that genre in my opinion. So, if you’re syfy-curious, start with <i>Project Hail Mary</i> or <i>The Martian.</i><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p><b><span style="color: #800180; font-size: large;"> </span></b></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #800180; font-size: large;"><i>A Question of Color, </i>by Sara Smith-Beattie</span></b><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">This book is an interesting and partly true late 19<sup>th</sup> century saga of a young half-Black, half-White man, John, and his half-black half-American Indian wife, Susan, trying to make a life together in the rural south, just a decade past the abolition of slavery and when interracial marriage was still illegal. John poses as American Indian descent to avoid arrest for his marriage to Susan, and they wrestle daily with the challenges of their race, their deception, and another even more threatening secret (no spoiler). Written completely in Ebonics, I was intrigued and even charmed by the unfamiliar language. I was also reminded of how small-town country life, regardless of how different it feels superficially to my big city existence, still reflects the universal dynamics and politics of any society of any size, any place in the world - those being, "my religion and my culture are right, and yours are wrong, we are wise, you are ignorant, we are entitled you are not." The story told in this book is simple, the circumstances are absolutely not, but the human spirit is courageous and John and Susan’s love gets them through seemingly insurmountable challenges. This is not a life-changing or particularly cerebral or well written book, but for whatever reason it kept my attention and I’m glad I read it.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span class="bc-text"><b><span style="color: #800180; font-size: large;"><i>The Push: A Novel,</i> by Ashley Audrain</span></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNVwGf9JMNV_k4Wt0KAULNn1Ap8089gcz0O3iOTTC7tVYI6nZUjdxXTLkKGppgbzJk433v8yeMcI_wXCjuR0vfQJRI5k0AZTKvX01_fzGjy0vKtqT97S9lEjR6dVbXhajATNTg-qiJkyq8/s475/Push.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="475" data-original-width="315" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNVwGf9JMNV_k4Wt0KAULNn1Ap8089gcz0O3iOTTC7tVYI6nZUjdxXTLkKGppgbzJk433v8yeMcI_wXCjuR0vfQJRI5k0AZTKvX01_fzGjy0vKtqT97S9lEjR6dVbXhajATNTg-qiJkyq8/w133-h200/Push.jpg" width="133" /></a></div><b><o:p></o:p></b><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Blyth, a new mom suspects from the beginning there’s something wrong with her young daughter Violet, and soon learns in the most painful way possible for a parent, that Violet is mentally unhinged, conniving, murderous, and brilliant at hiding her persona from everyone but her mom. Motherhood at best is tough. For Blyth, it was a never-ending nightmare of fear and self-doubt perpetrated by her precious little daughter Violet.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">This is a well-written psychological thriller, which you’ll only enjoy if you have an exceptional capacity to separate reality from fantasy, to enable you to appreciate good writing and a provocative storyline. If not, you’ll want to skip this dark story. It occurs to me, as I see <i>The Push</i> reaching best-seller level, this book<span class="bc-text"><i> </i>could potentially slow down the universal birth-rate, due to prospective parents, who after reading <i>The Push, </i>fear they might spawn another little Violet. Pretty creepy book, but I personally loved it.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span class="bc-text"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #800180; font-size: large;"><i></i></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #800180; font-size: large;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2TCTuXsa2_BbLltTkgSBaCv9N4iI_qV3Ozj2xzyvn5ABD7j-4fvKhwhdSIRhEupHkbNDZfngxOgEZXqJzAAo4_-bIJX1EOi7HjVcIwTBSfi2hzX33BGsP6MwlD-hRiw3CopkIUR0LhNmI/s256/Kevin.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="256" data-original-width="170" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2TCTuXsa2_BbLltTkgSBaCv9N4iI_qV3Ozj2xzyvn5ABD7j-4fvKhwhdSIRhEupHkbNDZfngxOgEZXqJzAAo4_-bIJX1EOi7HjVcIwTBSfi2hzX33BGsP6MwlD-hRiw3CopkIUR0LhNmI/w133-h200/Kevin.jpg" width="133" /></a></i></span></b></div><b><span style="color: #800180; font-size: large;"><i>We Need to Talk About Kevin: A Novel</i>, by Lionel Shriver</span><o:p></o:p></b><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Speaking of depressing, sad, and absolutely horrifying parenting, <i>The Push </i>is a day at the beach compared to <i>We Need to Talk About Kevin. </i>Furthermore, although Ashley Audrain’s writing was superb, Lionel Shriver’s writing is so piercing and mesmerizing, you almost, but not quite, forget how creepy the story is. Whereas Blyth in <i>The Push </i>was excited to start a family, Eva, the mom in <i>We Need to Talk About Kevin, </i>who tells her story through a series of letters to her clueless husband, really wasn’t, which makes one question whether Kevin, who is so incredibly evil, and like Violet, committed to making the mom’s life a living hell, was the victim of a “bad seed” or influenced by his mom’s disdain for parenting (the old nature/nurture debate). Did Kevin’s incredible evilness evolve because his mom never liked him, or did his mom never like him because he was so evil? There seems no bottom nor limit of imagination in Kevin’s evil-ness – especially towards his mom. From a very young age he psychologically tortures his mom, even when she visits him when he is a teen serving a prison sentence for horrific crimes I’ll not mention here (no spoiler). Like a bloody wreck on the highway, I couldn’t look away, and the writing is exceptional.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6WtWjz5kPHUug-vqun2Be157Nl3oqOvGdDyOmXzhFHpkygWEQeXoGR4WUc0L8hkQ6XjZ0IDcp0nPL-7_Kh_alP0auDghXB0nD8pkJqf9sBuvuMNnYSUKyTEyQdvrun25KxKIsywdxZWyV/s453/Eyeballs.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="453" data-original-width="300" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6WtWjz5kPHUug-vqun2Be157Nl3oqOvGdDyOmXzhFHpkygWEQeXoGR4WUc0L8hkQ6XjZ0IDcp0nPL-7_Kh_alP0auDghXB0nD8pkJqf9sBuvuMNnYSUKyTEyQdvrun25KxKIsywdxZWyV/w133-h200/Eyeballs.jpg" width="133" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><i><br /><span style="color: #800180; font-size: large;">Will My Cat Eat My Eyeballs?: Big Questions from Tiny Mortals,</span></i><span style="color: #800180; font-size: large;"> by Caitlin Doughty</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Well at this point you’re probably wondering if I have an obsession with the morose but actually I just have an insatiable curiosity, including things people tend to not talk about, like what happens to our body after we die. My favorite book on this topic is <i>Stiff</i> by Mary Roach. The difference between <i>Stiff </i>and <i>Will My Cat Eat My Eyeballs </i>is that Mary Roach is a highly respected researcher of many topics (sex, the afterlife, life on Mars, and the alimentary canal, I know bizarre stuff, right?), and Caitlin Doughty is a mortician with a wicked sense of humor and pretty good writing skills who likes to answer cute questions from elementary school children, like “Will my cat eat my eyeballs if I die in my house and no one is there?” This is a silly, simple but entertaining book that will reveal, in addition to the “eyeballs” question (yes, you can trust “Fluffy”), why the dead sometimes make weird noises, grow longer hair and fingernails, and other icky dead-people minutia. I can’t say run out and buy this book, but if you, like me, are obsessed with weird topics, read Mary Roach’s books instead. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #800180; font-size: large;"><i>The Wreckage of My Presence: Essays,</i> by Casey Wilson</span><o:p></o:p></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">One of my book club members recommended this as an easy, fun beach read, and it was. Casey Wilson, an American actress and screenwriter may be best known for spending a relatively brief stint on Saturday Night Live, but also starred as Penny Hartz in the ABC comedy series Happy Endings for which she was twice nominated to the Critics' Choice Television Award for Best Supporting Actress in a Comedy Series. I found her to be very readable, funny, entertaining and intelligent, and I enjoyed her book. If you want to read about Saturday Night Live, there are better books out there, like <i>Live From New York</i>, by James Andrew Miller, but Casey’s book is about much more than SNL. It’s about following your passion and dreams, overcoming adversity, living life on your terms when you can, and muddling through otherwise. If you like biographies, you’ll enjoy the wreckage of Casey Wilson’s presence.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: large;"><span class="bc-text"><b><i>While Justice Sleeps: A Novel, </i>by</b></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><b> </b></span><span class="bc-text"><b>Stacey Abrams</b></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB7ABnQyIdISUT8TsQ3YHJOq0akjXw-gy5Adyv5unR7gE77WRB-oKUo7f1y3uZ5c6wE3z3WS3-wSjf-2LdYIPTwmae4Dm_TBmFnQ3IYdy9A53Rt3FExsRV6Yolr65WeYDUS7La8wLj9XU6/s2000/Justice.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1333" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB7ABnQyIdISUT8TsQ3YHJOq0akjXw-gy5Adyv5unR7gE77WRB-oKUo7f1y3uZ5c6wE3z3WS3-wSjf-2LdYIPTwmae4Dm_TBmFnQ3IYdy9A53Rt3FExsRV6Yolr65WeYDUS7La8wLj9XU6/w133-h200/Justice.jpg" width="133" /></a></div><p class="bc-list-item" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><i><o:p></o:p></i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">So many people recommended this book to me that I probably had too high expectations. But enjoying a book, food, music or just about anything is highly contingent upon your mental predisposition, so, maybe my mind just wasn’t a fertile field for <i>While Justice Sleeps</i>. I didn’t really like it. Author Stacey Abrams is a well-known former George state legislator and voting rights activist who is likely to run for governor of Georgia in 2022. She’s also a prolific writer of romance/spy-type novels, some of which have enjoyed success, such as <i>Rules of Engagement</i>. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i>While Justice Sleeps</i> is described as a “legal thriller about a Supreme Court justice whose descent into a coma plunges the court, and the country, into turmoil.” The plot includes a proposed merger between a U.S. biotech company and an Indian genetics firm - both keen to dabble in sketchy genetic manipulation, and a Supreme Court poised to decide their fate, and a corrupt president, and one of the Justice's bazaar plot to use his law clerk to uncover the culprits. Although I found the core of the plot somewhat clever, and the writing good enough, I was put off by the author lumping all the characters into one of two roles, good or bad. People just aren’t all good or all bad and portraying them as such doesn’t feel authentic, so I’ll just say, if you want to read a pretty good international thriller and aren’t fussy about pigeonholed characters, you’ll probably like <i>While Justice </i><i>Sleeps</i>. </p><p class="bc-list-item" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span class="bc-text"><b><i><br /><span style="color: #800180; font-size: large;">The Vanishing Half: A Novel,</span></i><span style="color: #800180; font-size: large;"> by</span></b></span><span style="color: #800180; font-size: large;"><span class="apple-converted-space"><b> </b></span><span class="bc-text"><b>Brit Bennett</b></span></span><b><o:p></o:p></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_dbB9AveSfDjcYPCs0rKjmU8dnPGo7NlzkSAkOKWhhdOCOtHikoeA67xPfgj_vHkaJ8COj9zuiqx6SHoMtOVw_mWV3AoSdIsFoV5wci_1l84tu1AbzQXYI85s6OjqdPlO0lqvv-pCq4IJ/s475/Vanishing.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="475" data-original-width="315" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_dbB9AveSfDjcYPCs0rKjmU8dnPGo7NlzkSAkOKWhhdOCOtHikoeA67xPfgj_vHkaJ8COj9zuiqx6SHoMtOVw_mWV3AoSdIsFoV5wci_1l84tu1AbzQXYI85s6OjqdPlO0lqvv-pCq4IJ/w133-h200/Vanishing.jpg" width="133" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;">When I read about the tension created when races and cultures clash, I can’t help but exclaim, “Why does it even matter,” and it angers and frustrates me. Of course it is all very complicated, but I think it ties back to our seemingly genetic obsession to be “right” - I’m right, you’re not, and of course fear and ignorance. I don’t think I have experienced the prejudice of race or color, but I have experienced the prejudice of culture, age, gender, education, and geographic origin, and I know what that does to your spirit. So I’m never very comfortable reading about how we judge anyone different than us. However, if reading about prejudice doesn’t agitate you like it does me, I think you will enjoy <i>The Vanishing Half, which </i>is about two very close sisters who grew up in a small Black community, but are considered different from their Black neighbors because of the paleness of their skin. Both sisters leave to pursue lives in the proverbial “anywhere but here,” but when they subsequently go their separate ways, one sister chooses to continue to live as a Black woman, and the other presents herself in her community and marriage family as White. When their paths cross again in an interesting but barely believable situation, a dynamic story line, rich with relatable characters unfolds. <i>The Vanishing Half </i>didn't rock my world. I just thought it was OK.</span><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Gals - Very Smart Galshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16990972719050405870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660453162125942814.post-69267318676203196692021-09-06T15:16:00.005-05:002021-09-07T12:26:20.510-05:00<p><span style="color: #800180; font-size: large;"> <b style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">100 Things I Want To Tell My Children And Grandchildren, #40</span></b><b style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">All you will ever have is whatever you are willing to settle for.</span></b><b style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>I used to think I didn’t have things and/or life circumstances I wanted because it was someone else’s fault. Like, if I wanted a nicer car, I couldn't because my job didn’t pay me enough. It was my bosses fault. What are the things you want and tell yourself you can’t have because someone/something is keeping you from having them? </span>For sure we can’t control everything in our lives, but it’s a cheap excuse to blame others and not take responsibility for what we do or do not have.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.25in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b><span>One of my favorite photos of my kiddos.</span></b><span><br /></span><span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGwkbDfWFepn9C9f053JQJE7GUTOcscKBs_AK_LjkQ1iy8d2V8KVA4eBYiXWvkuXvuNW5AvITjvhjxhi9OcbhfGUaNBkZmIxeZ-F4hwRFwdvMX2gJOT5V0arGbaUjm5SU33qglswGpXLNL/s2048/IMG_5234.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: times;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1677" data-original-width="2048" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGwkbDfWFepn9C9f053JQJE7GUTOcscKBs_AK_LjkQ1iy8d2V8KVA4eBYiXWvkuXvuNW5AvITjvhjxhi9OcbhfGUaNBkZmIxeZ-F4hwRFwdvMX2gJOT5V0arGbaUjm5SU33qglswGpXLNL/s320/IMG_5234.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>Want a nicer car? Get a better job. Can’t get a better job, get a better education. </span>I’m not an expert, but I’m smart enough to know know from my own personal experience that we rationalize not putting forth the effort to solve our own problems by blaming others.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: times;">So make a list of what you need and want, and what YOU must do to get what you need and want. Stop lying to yourself that you can’t have what you want because of someone else. The truth is you’ve not committed to do what it takes to have those things. <b><span>All you will ever have is </span></b><b><span>whatever</span></b><b><span> you are willing to settle for.</span></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.25in;"><b><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.25in;"><b><span style="font-family: times;"><span>I also want to say you may learn that what you thought would make you happy, may not, but </span></span></b><b><span style="font-family: times;">being honest with yourself, working to </span></b><b><span style="font-family: times;">improve yourself, and increasing your self-esteem will always make you a happier, better person.</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Gals - Very Smart Galshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16990972719050405870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660453162125942814.post-89640722223587107822021-05-16T19:47:00.004-05:002021-05-17T17:09:38.442-05:00<p><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: #800180; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">100 Things I Want To Tell My Children And Grandchildren, #39</span></b><span style="color: #800180; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;">Listen to that annoying little voice in the back of your head, the one you don’t want to hear. That’s your smart voice.</span></span></b><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">We don’t make bad decisions because we don’t know what to do. We make bad decisions because we don’t want to do what we know we should do. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Every bad decision I’ve made in my life came as the result of a bad rationalization. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">So, listen to that annoying little voice in the back of your head, the one you don’t want to hear. That’s your smart voice.</span></b><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><b style="caret-color: rgb(128, 1, 128); color: #800180; font-family: -webkit-standard;">In appreciation for the view from my home office/living room.</b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><b style="caret-color: rgb(128, 1, 128); color: #800180; font-family: -webkit-standard;"><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='615' height='511' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzSuBrlYuUt4SKtvzd490kvi8qFtzMr82wuczs-tH7flD0-3MQKrnyrUej47PvtCYtgxT4Pa6JpdF_TWTqbTg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><p></p>Gals - Very Smart Galshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16990972719050405870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660453162125942814.post-33750090753702413852021-05-16T19:41:00.014-05:002021-06-03T14:39:32.559-05:00<p><span style="color: #800180; font-size: x-large;"> <b style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Best Non-Fiction Read In 2020 </span></b></span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></i></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgArCr8Xg4k9lIbw3Fx0BtX5zXbt9RFNL9cmtdouxHn07TQqmFvR5iw6DlJYv6FvKU-NBmacy8gsYKoXH_FUdkWD5AT3fqe2fXl51BosgYhyphenhyphenO4eOyRsYYrmrfxhGJ5MxGuLiBA9qWPdSObF/s320/Sea+Stories+Cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgArCr8Xg4k9lIbw3Fx0BtX5zXbt9RFNL9cmtdouxHn07TQqmFvR5iw6DlJYv6FvKU-NBmacy8gsYKoXH_FUdkWD5AT3fqe2fXl51BosgYhyphenhyphenO4eOyRsYYrmrfxhGJ5MxGuLiBA9qWPdSObF/s0/Sea+Stories+Cover.jpg" /></a></span></i></span></div><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /><a href="https://verysmartgals.blogspot.com/2020/06/cluster-critiques.html">Catch and Kill: Lies, Spies and a Conspiracy to Protect Predators</a>, </span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">by Ronan Farrow</span></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://verysmartgals.blogspot.com/2020/01/cluster-critiques.html">Sea Stories: My Life in Special </a></span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://verysmartgals.blogspot.com/2020/01/cluster-critiques.html">Operations</a>, by William H. McRaven<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://verysmartgals.blogspot.com/2020/11/cluster-critiques.html">The Education of an Idealist: A Memoir,</a></span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://verysmartgals.blogspot.com/2020/11/cluster-critiques.html"> </a>by Samantha Power<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://verysmartgals.blogspot.com/2020/06/cluster-critiques.html">The Splendid and the Vile: A Saga of Churchill, Family, and Defiance During the Blitz</a>,</span></span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> by Erik Larson</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #800180;">Best Fiction </span></span></b><b style="caret-color: rgb(128, 1, 128); color: #800180;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Read In </span></b><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #800180;">2020 </span></span></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGj-bTYnhh5D3O_wQ2n7ZD25t4AsOtDDQw2xx3mxm_UTdOZT07MPT3ZqwCZ8M51YLjzf41C1-FyNQRi1Ti9Tq1LVyrslg0a9c0XlM3oyQJMnhfi7gltuukkra95KZTUxw40Es4vsRghD3L/s320/Long+Way+Cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGj-bTYnhh5D3O_wQ2n7ZD25t4AsOtDDQw2xx3mxm_UTdOZT07MPT3ZqwCZ8M51YLjzf41C1-FyNQRi1Ti9Tq1LVyrslg0a9c0XlM3oyQJMnhfi7gltuukkra95KZTUxw40Es4vsRghD3L/w200-h320/Long+Way+Cover.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://verysmartgals.blogspot.com/2020/11/cluster-critiques.html">A Long Way Home</a>,</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> by Myra McIlvain<br /><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://verysmartgals.blogspot.com/2020/01/cluster-critiques.html">Before We were Yours: A Novel</a>,</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> by Lisa Wingate<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://verysmartgals.blogspot.com/2020/11/cluster-critiques.html">The End of October: A novel</a>,</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> by Lawrence Wright<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><a href="https://verysmartgals.blogspot.com/2020/07/cluster-critiques.html">The Guest List: A Novel,</a></span></span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"> by Lucy Foley</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>Gals - Very Smart Galshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16990972719050405870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660453162125942814.post-73841839379669108982021-05-16T19:16:00.021-05:002022-08-23T07:29:17.854-05:00<h3 style="break-after: avoid; font-family: "Calibri Light", sans-serif; font-weight: normal; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; letter-spacing: -0.75pt;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: x-large;">Cluster Critiques</span><span style="color: #1f3763; font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></h3><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i> </i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><i></i></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-5it14_jiHI31UHJwcK4U0tagTcfn7I_AAnGhqXnIfx-Uc69UGmToh4TzolrzfnOK6CgXJ1OJgr1Bb56v6UYDWckCzIxfmZJlVH6R7I3DnDJN6YO_J5Y_7qu7hUiG8Gxi7LQ6kO-9aRjX/s499/AllI+Every+Wanted.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="324" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-5it14_jiHI31UHJwcK4U0tagTcfn7I_AAnGhqXnIfx-Uc69UGmToh4TzolrzfnOK6CgXJ1OJgr1Bb56v6UYDWckCzIxfmZJlVH6R7I3DnDJN6YO_J5Y_7qu7hUiG8Gxi7LQ6kO-9aRjX/s320/AllI+Every+Wanted.jpg" /></a></i></b></div><b><span style="color: #444444;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">All I Ever Wanted: A Rock ‘n’ Roll Memoir, </span></i><span style="font-size: medium;">by Kathy Valentine</span></span></b><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444;">Music has been a bright thread woven in and out of my life’s tapestry, but for guitar player, singer, song writer, band member of the Go-Go’s, and Rock and Roll Hall of Fam-er Kathy Valentine, it was</span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444;"> all she ever wanted.</span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444;"> </span><span style="color: #444444;"> Valentine was raised in Austin by a mom of that generation who, in backlash to their parents 1950’s vice-grip morality, encouraged free-will in their children. </span><span style="color: #444444;">Valentine's memoir, </span><i style="color: #444444;">All I Ever Wanted, </i><span style="color: #444444;">provides the resulting, mostly cringeworthy, yet interesting and well-written story of her unguided grope through a way-too brief childhood, and her adult grind from band to band, eventually finding her nirvana and fame writing songs and playing guitar - filling the spaces in between with drugs and alcohol. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="color: #444444;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444;">On the eve of adulthood Valentine joined the Go-Go's who became the first all-female band to play instruments themselves, write their own songs, and have a number one album, <i>Beauty and the Beat</i> which included "<i>We Got the Beat</i>" and "<i>Our Lips Are Sealed</i>." Unfortunately traveling the world as a celebrity and hanging out with the likes of the Rolling Stones, the Police, Rod Stewart, John Belushi and Rob Lowe magnified rather than fixed Valentine’s addictions. And then there was the devastating blow of the breakup of the Go-Go’s in 1985. Fortunately, grit honed on 30 years of survival steered Valentine back to her center – writing and playing music.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444;">It stands to reason a person capable of codifying life to song stanzas could write a kick ass book – which is exactly what Valentine does in </span><i style="color: #444444;">All I Ever Wanted.</i><span style="color: #444444;"> I look forward to what might spill out of her next.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="color: #444444;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444;"><b>Footnote:</b> I recommend the audio book, as the music sound track is mesmerizing!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="color: #444444;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #444444;"><i>The Four Winds: A Novel, </i>by Kristin Hannah</span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoQiMnUxbs8bqaBSvbZnV5RtqRNkH-Re7sDLEPVc4e0dM8LSGRlYaautUD2bYMNqdj7VXQ5IefZJZftX28fZysf97dMuVs4wBEaBJPEi6XLe749QMzRMgXjOMTR48pBa2rv6YZ2l8jJ7Mc/s475/4+Winds.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444;"><img border="0" data-original-height="475" data-original-width="313" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoQiMnUxbs8bqaBSvbZnV5RtqRNkH-Re7sDLEPVc4e0dM8LSGRlYaautUD2bYMNqdj7VXQ5IefZJZftX28fZysf97dMuVs4wBEaBJPEi6XLe749QMzRMgXjOMTR48pBa2rv6YZ2l8jJ7Mc/s320/4+Winds.jpg" /></span></a></b></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444;">Elsa Wolcott, born in the panhandle of Texas on the 1920’s runway to the drought and great depression suffered heart-breaking discrimination and disdain by everyone in her life. Her parents and sisters didn’t like her because she was too thin, unattractive, “she’ll never get a husband,” and sickly. Then when she becomes pregnant by the first man to pay attention to her and must marry into his family, she is resented by her Italian husband and his parents because her pregnancy derailed her child's father's college plans, and also by his parents because she’s not-Italian. Then her eldest daughter grows to resent her when the dad abandons them. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444;">When the draught peaks and Elsa takes her teen daughter and young son to California to look for migrant labor, conditions become even worse. There’s more discrimination, this time from Californians resentful of the migration of so many drought-demolished farming families. “Get out of here you filthy Okie” was a common derogatory misnomer. The poverty they experienced was gut-wrenching. They lived in a horrific tent-city, surrounded by despair and starving families, walked miles each day to work for large farms that enslaved their workers by crediting against their wages for food from the company store, and by brutally breaking up efforts to unionize.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444;">Although Hanna’s fans seem to enjoy reading about pitiful, victimized female characters living in horrible situations – and for sure Hanna has made a good living writing about them, I like my female characters with more grit and an occasional happy day. The writing is exceptional and the characters are vivid, I just couldn’t get past pitiful Elsa and the relentless sadness of this story.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #444444;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #444444;"><i></i></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYn0fnJFIXpECMAtZHazGmANCIwrP_IwdI5snLNGy2e3mRsk4ieAdKVr9VEn21iJI_PR2-MstMDQcyibZt3-b8ZqkUGpxMUGyHn5q333s8qtCjMsZURimU6qN_qKIfD18eciNrSrR-K_3N/s293/Breath.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444;"><img border="0" data-original-height="293" data-original-width="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYn0fnJFIXpECMAtZHazGmANCIwrP_IwdI5snLNGy2e3mRsk4ieAdKVr9VEn21iJI_PR2-MstMDQcyibZt3-b8ZqkUGpxMUGyHn5q333s8qtCjMsZURimU6qN_qKIfD18eciNrSrR-K_3N/s0/Breath.jpg" /></span></a></i></b></div><b><span style="color: #444444;"><i><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Breath: The New Science of a Lost Art</span></i><span style="font-size: medium;">, by James Nestor</span></span></b><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444;"><i>In Breath: The New Science of a Lost Art,</i><b> </b>author James Nestor explores the science of breathing. I was fascinated by this book while reading it, and for a couple of days after, but haven’t given it much thought since because, well, breathing is involuntary, and I have too many other more pressing things to think about. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="color: #444444;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444;">Nestor interviews practitioners of Pranayama, a breathing technique that can “supercharge” your body, Sudarshan Kriya, a “purifying” yoga breathing technique, and Tummo, breathing that, among other things, enables one to become so warm one can melt the snow around themselves. He also consults with archeologists who theorize that as generations of hunter-gatherers (meat-eaters) transitioned to agrarian diets (soft veggies) our jaws weakened and decreased in size causing us to be more prone to mouth breathing – which apparently is a very bad thing. Nestor participates in a really weird experiment to prove this point, breathing only through his mouth for 10 days, resulting in higher blood pressure, sleep apnea, loss of appetite, and a bad mood.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444;">Also according to Nestor, and a lot of other sources, adjusting we way we breath can significantly increase athletic performance, keep us from snoring, and cure all sorts of maladies. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444;"> </span><span style="color: #444444;">If you have the interest and headspace to change the way you breath, have a go at this book. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #444444;"><i><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">The Code-Breaker: Jennifer Doudna, Gene Editing, and the Future of the Human Race</span></i><span style="font-size: medium;">, by Walter Isaacson</span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIEKJqzB7V0sZ3tfvi55yDoRKKDlbiZp_aAQ7bLfIjz7g-8XRxUK8IhRROIptGPwYE0_7e5D5A9KcsLUqfK4orWzR8V-YdCpAs8IKhzN6dSA9F_2dwaOqv3DOgRGcXh6wJvo7ZRK457Wdh/s380/Code+Breaker.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444;"><img border="0" data-original-height="380" data-original-width="250" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIEKJqzB7V0sZ3tfvi55yDoRKKDlbiZp_aAQ7bLfIjz7g-8XRxUK8IhRROIptGPwYE0_7e5D5A9KcsLUqfK4orWzR8V-YdCpAs8IKhzN6dSA9F_2dwaOqv3DOgRGcXh6wJvo7ZRK457Wdh/s320/Code+Breaker.png" /></span></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></p><span style="color: #444444; font-size: medium;">Walter Isaacson, author of <i>The Code-Breaker </i>as well as several other personal favorites of mine, <i>Jobs, Leonardo da Vinci, Einstein, and The Innovators</i>, can write no wrong, but I was attracted to <i>Code-Breaker </i>because it is focused on Isaacson’s first female subject, Jennifer Doudna, and on genetic editing, a topic that has intrigued me for a long time.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444;">Doudna, an American, and Emmanuelle Charpentier, </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444;">Frenchwoman, </span><span style="color: #444444;">are two of seven women to win the Nobel Award in Chemistry in its 100-year history, and are credited with discovering the CRISPR-CAS9 genome editing tool, called “one of the most significant discoveries in the history of biology,” and critical to many medical opportunities (some very controversial), but most recently as relates to manipulating viruses, such as COVID-19.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="color: #444444;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444;">Doudna, currently the Li Ka Shing Chancellor's Chair Professor in the Department of Chemistry and the Department of Molecular and Cell Biology at the University of California, Berkeley, grew up in Hilo, Hawaii. She was encouraged by the intellectual pursuits of her academia parents, and when she was in the sixth grade her dad left a copy of James Watson's <i>The Double Helix</i> on her bed, setting her path into molecular biology. In 2016, she was runner up for <i>Time Magazine</i>’s Most Influential Person of the Year.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="color: #444444;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444;">In reference to the “very controversial” comment above, much of this book is dedicated to the ethics of tinkering with genes, sometimes called “Controlled Evolution,” which opens the door to genetic enhancement, such as a higher IQ, athletic prowess, and even changing skin color, but which could also be used to edit out devastating inheritable diseases. What is OK or not when it comes to gene tampering? There’s even the concept that frailties/faults could be the creator of exceptional abilities. Isaacson poses this question. If Steve Jobs hadn’t been such an ass hole, would he have had the capacity to also change the world through technology? <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="color: #444444;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444;">Another issue prevalent in this book is the espionage and competitiveness between biomedical engineers jockeying feverishly to be the first to discover and patent the next big biomedical widget.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="color: #444444;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444;">If you love learning about the mechanics of scientific discovery, the heroinic work of <span>Jennifer Doudna, and the evolution of the science that gave us the COVID-19 vaccine, you’ll love this book. I sure did.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="color: #444444;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #444444;"><i></i></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></i></b></div><b><span style="color: #444444;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_bScCQ1lQALVRi6bCBOUF-EFW2TF_wbj2ll62dvaWnwcdjKn-bxkqHxm81XBDM7Zsl-e3DWsDwxeTCer1bFcDenYL3_erXJZoCyktsLvlePNjHG-EJd9iiWpqHvQbvnJg8NjmvIEDvm_t/s235/shopping.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="235" data-original-width="153" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_bScCQ1lQALVRi6bCBOUF-EFW2TF_wbj2ll62dvaWnwcdjKn-bxkqHxm81XBDM7Zsl-e3DWsDwxeTCer1bFcDenYL3_erXJZoCyktsLvlePNjHG-EJd9iiWpqHvQbvnJg8NjmvIEDvm_t/w208-h320/shopping.jpeg" width="208" /></a></div><br />Greenlights</span></i><span style="font-size: medium;">, by Matthew McConaughey</span></span></b><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444;">I’m one of the few who didn‘t much like this book. It felt like “the gospel according to Matthew,” and another way for him to say “look at me.” </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444;">Maybe I should have read it instead of listening to the audible version, which as he read it sounded like he was acting, and therefore, to me felt unauthentic.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="color: #444444;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444;">Don’t get me wrong, I respect McConaughey's acting skills and he’s certainly eye candy (although unattractively skinny of late). My favorites of his movies are “A Time to Kill,” “Reign of Fire,” and “U-571.” <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="color: #444444;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444;">McConaughey doesn’t need my approval, but for me, <i>Greenlights </i>was not all right, not all right, not all right.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="color: #444444;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><i><span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9p1sbG5xGJZXvk6kB6QHl7nsKq4gaHp63GhKIvo6gr5-iz7LHr7PGCDOab9nYy5xmLAA-VvDtyEDTipYVAWh-Obp5uU3qXCHSrgpREYj-Keuf7vOlqauYb3khrWXF-7D9ITw2A2MlTeD6/s450/Glass+Hotel.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="292" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9p1sbG5xGJZXvk6kB6QHl7nsKq4gaHp63GhKIvo6gr5-iz7LHr7PGCDOab9nYy5xmLAA-VvDtyEDTipYVAWh-Obp5uU3qXCHSrgpREYj-Keuf7vOlqauYb3khrWXF-7D9ITw2A2MlTeD6/s320/Glass+Hotel.jpeg" /></span></a></div><b><span style="color: #444444; font-size: medium;"><i>The Glass Hotel: A Novel</i>, by Emily St. John Mandel</span></b><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span>Here’s a summary of </span><i>The Glass Hotel</i><span> because honestly, although </span>Emily St. John Mandel writes beautifully (<i>Station Eleven</i> is particularly exquisite), I couldn’t make any sense of this book and had a hard time finishing it. Lots of people loved it, and maybe you will too.<span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #444444;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i><span><span style="color: #444444;">Vincent is a bartender at the Hotel Caiette, a five-star lodging on the northernmost tip of Vancouver Island. On the night she meets Jonathan Alkaitis, a hooded figure scrawls a message on the lobby’s glass wall:<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>Why don’t you swallow broken glass. High above Manhattan, a greater crime is committed: Alkaitis is running an international Ponzi scheme, moving imaginary sums of money through clients’ accounts. When the financial empire collapses, it obliterates countless fortunes and devastates lives. Vincent, who had been posing as Jonathan’s wife, walks away into the night. Years later, a victim of the fraud is hired to investigate a strange occurrence: a woman has seemingly vanished from the deck of a container ship between ports of call.</span><br /><br /></span></i><b><o:p></o:p></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b> </b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Gals - Very Smart Galshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16990972719050405870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660453162125942814.post-39977987735608484292021-05-16T18:58:00.007-05:002021-09-06T11:23:00.088-05:00<p><span style="color: #800180; font-size: x-large;"> <b style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">What I’m Reading</span></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVXoGu8JR_JDOvGO88S7Cf0QrRtZCLFLu-OqI7GDu0gdyuFEPfOuoJJiO5KKPe_7AE6MsAE3DgAH-pf2qZBDuAXealD_ojwTq3dQOCzxV0J2sT9mxiCkeQGmeVzok2zXwnBWuGYa_jN-qy/s453/Hail+Mary.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="453" data-original-width="300" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVXoGu8JR_JDOvGO88S7Cf0QrRtZCLFLu-OqI7GDu0gdyuFEPfOuoJJiO5KKPe_7AE6MsAE3DgAH-pf2qZBDuAXealD_ojwTq3dQOCzxV0J2sT9mxiCkeQGmeVzok2zXwnBWuGYa_jN-qy/w213-h320/Hail+Mary.jpg" width="213" /></a></i></div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span class="bc-text"><i><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span class="bc-text"><i><br /></i></span></p><span>Project Hail Mary</span></i></span><span><span>, by</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="bc-text">Andy Weir</span></span></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span><span><i><span>A Question of Color, </span></i><span>by </span></span></span>Sara Smith-Beattie</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span class="bc-text"><i>We Need to Talk About Kevin: A Novel</i></span>, by<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><span>Lionel Shriver</span></span></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in;"><span class="bc-text" style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in;"><span class="bc-text" style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><i>The Reversal</i>, by Michael Connelly</span></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /><i>Will My Cat Eat My Eyeballs?,</i> by Caitlin Doughty<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><i><span>Me and White Supremacy, </span></i><span>by Layla F. Saad<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span class="bc-text"><i>Why We Sleep</i>, by</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="bc-text">Matthew Walker</span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in;"><span class="bc-text" style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="bc-text"><i>Archaeology from Space</i>, by</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="bc-text">Sarah Parcak</span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span class="bc-text" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p>Gals - Very Smart Galshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16990972719050405870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660453162125942814.post-12411001843524399222020-11-01T07:44:00.004-06:002020-11-04T08:11:39.789-06:00100 Things I Want To Tell My Children And Grandchildren, #38<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsHia6eTI36A8ugCPiK8K7ugYbPeEbLNQpMI2rU_oXRoE2mRrmmR8gsZB6ikh5rHGuO_eH5nSwrKvMqkb0C-J9v-6xrMoxBm058J8ILeBfHwdqBrq8H45w0YfI0NZ0OP5WN-AHHdsgkZLu/s371/550625_4239434718347_1404702290_n.jpeg" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="355" data-original-width="371" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsHia6eTI36A8ugCPiK8K7ugYbPeEbLNQpMI2rU_oXRoE2mRrmmR8gsZB6ikh5rHGuO_eH5nSwrKvMqkb0C-J9v-6xrMoxBm058J8ILeBfHwdqBrq8H45w0YfI0NZ0OP5WN-AHHdsgkZLu/w320-h306/550625_4239434718347_1404702290_n.jpeg" width="320" /></a></p><b style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Be thankful for what you have.</span></span></b><div><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Yesterday, for the first time in my life, I admitted I was depressed. My mom always said, “ Never say you are depressed.” Her philosophy being, if you don’t say it, you can’t be it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This #38 started out as my take on “Things you think will make you happy, but probably won’t”. Recent poor decisions I’ve made were weighing on me, but when I tried to write about them yesterday I ended up with the literary version of mixing all your paint colors together – a gray-brown ick. By the end of my day I was not just anxious about my questionable decision-making, but also my writing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Finally at 4 pm I gave up, and my husband and I retreated to the terrace for our daily cocktail and cards. After a prolonged period of mental hand-wringing I hesitantly said to my husband, “Today was very depressing for me. I tried so hard to express my feelings in my blog post, but the words just wouldn’t come, and nothing I tried to say came out right”. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">My stoic husband, who for 40 years of his adult life had a photographic memory and could carry a conversation on any topic, but who for the last 10 years, due to numerous strokes, has struggled to find words and can barely speak, looked me in the eyes and said, “That’s what every day is like for me”.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">At that moment, I’m not sure I’ve ever felt more ashamed and embarrassed, and I knew immediately what I needed to say to my children and grandchildren, and even more so to myself.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Be thankful for what you have.</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></b></p></div>Gals - Very Smart Galshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16990972719050405870noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660453162125942814.post-2713257432058250112020-11-01T07:38:00.008-06:002020-11-02T14:53:25.556-06:00Cluster Critiques<div class="separator"><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><span style="font-family: times;"><b><i></i></b></span><div><b style="font-family: times;"><i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUfnw1l9blnyQbeQxLRq-NKDHi7qCAleBh4YMJ_OsgS5Io_B1HJpj9mQZeFaPDkvaw7aQPQMvAFY-Gzbk5ShZ3-V9wdQJ1Y6SLEnZ6CmIoaZlmd9s4n05QBalHtsm8qHQDokXzYZLrLSX9/s475/Long+Way+Cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="475" data-original-width="297" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUfnw1l9blnyQbeQxLRq-NKDHi7qCAleBh4YMJ_OsgS5Io_B1HJpj9mQZeFaPDkvaw7aQPQMvAFY-Gzbk5ShZ3-V9wdQJ1Y6SLEnZ6CmIoaZlmd9s4n05QBalHtsm8qHQDokXzYZLrLSX9/w200-h320/Long+Way+Cover.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;">A Long Way Home</span></i></b><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> by Myra McIlvain</span></span></div><div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">Imagine your husband will spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair because you chose to drive drunk. Your now disabled husband makes you pay for that mistake every day through verbal and emotional abuse. You’ve been trying for years to think of a guilt-free escape from the marriage. Now imagine you are in the World Trade Center on 9/11, and as the Trade Center collapses, you spontaneously decide to fake your death, knowing your husband will receive the benefits of your life-insurance. That’s how the central character in McIlvain’s book, </span><i style="font-family: times;">A Long Way Home,</i><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><span style="font-family: times;">begins her journey – not to the new life she imagined, but rather to a life even further complicated by deception.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">McIlvain, a master story-teller, plausibly twines this tasty tale about, Meredith Haggerty, a corporate executive in NYC who uses 9/11 to escape to Mexico. But as so often happens in real life, fate intercedes when Meredith meets a priest and ends up teaching English in a small American border community that is fraught with the complexities and dangers of poverty and illegal immigration. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span style="font-family: times;"><span><i>A Long Way Home</i> intrigues us with forbidden romance, danger, a glimpse into the unique challenges experienced by many Latin families, and a whopper of an ending. Does Meredith really escape her obsessed husband. Has she simply traded one brand of sorrow for another? Can Meredith, or any of us for that matter really define our fates? Or are we all</span></span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: times;">just </span><span style="font-family: times;">pawns in the game of life?</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b><i></i></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkIvLXPNyPwasI0Ul6vkg3JzXYwPeBPN6bN_Cey-9arRGOFVuWfl6Iw0LVwmmfSuYhxtBnS9OIcyiNDaOVU1TidHi7VmLTnBxzAzoz9ymvCTbuOT23U-y3nsCiee3w4ahjfSYVXXYpkSj4/s318/End+of+October+Cover.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="318" data-original-width="318" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkIvLXPNyPwasI0Ul6vkg3JzXYwPeBPN6bN_Cey-9arRGOFVuWfl6Iw0LVwmmfSuYhxtBnS9OIcyiNDaOVU1TidHi7VmLTnBxzAzoz9ymvCTbuOT23U-y3nsCiee3w4ahjfSYVXXYpkSj4/w200-h200/End+of+October+Cover.jpg" width="200" /></a></i></b></span></div><span style="font-family: times;"><b><i><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">The End of October: A novel</span></i><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></b><span style="font-size: medium;">by </span><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Lawrence Wright</span></b></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">So, did God come to Austin author Lawrence Wright in a dream one night and say<b> </b>“Lawrence, here’s a tip”. If not, either Wright is psychic or incredibly lucky, as <i>The End of October, </i>which is a book about a pandemic, was published within weeks of America’s acknowledgement of the reality of COVID. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I’ve read several of Wright’s other books, <i>The Looming Tower</i>, which is about 9/11 and won a Pulitzer, <i>Going Clear</i>, about Scientology, and <i>God Bless Texas, </i>so I knew Wright was an amazing journalist. But reading about a fictional pandemic in the middle of a real pandemic was super spooky, and incongruously enjoyable.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">The story is about an American microbiologist, Henry Parsons who at the request of the World Health Organization visits the beginnings of a pandemic in a prison in Indonesia. Soon and quickly, due to the spread of the pandemic, and as Parsons spends months trying to get back home to his family, the world begins to crumble in chillingly familiar ways. Schools are closed, the stock market disintegrates, jobs disappear, violence and disorder prevail, and governments implode. Nothing is normal.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">If Wright had published this book, and I’d read it in 2019, I’d have been mildly horrified or amused. But by the time I read it in May, when the actual horror of COVID was very real, it felt prophetic and sickeningly believable. So, Lawrence can you please let God know he’s made his point?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><b><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></b></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span class="bc-text"><b><i></i></b></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1en76VKQL83mpPXh623msVAQG0PGHUiegc6-vtOl-6adog7MqGaLRIG2gTsHVFncXwoJ8E6bBQh1qyRIXyrxUwruWGYwbS_ZB4Oi-HIqWbY7UFGfHu55JEXw_sEGgh-j95ZicWsyDn1hW/s450/camino+Winds+Cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="296" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1en76VKQL83mpPXh623msVAQG0PGHUiegc6-vtOl-6adog7MqGaLRIG2gTsHVFncXwoJ8E6bBQh1qyRIXyrxUwruWGYwbS_ZB4Oi-HIqWbY7UFGfHu55JEXw_sEGgh-j95ZicWsyDn1hW/w131-h200/camino+Winds+Cover.jpg" width="131" /></a></i></b></span></div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Camino Winds</i> by</b><span class="apple-converted-space"><b> </b></span><span class="bc-text"><b>John Grisham</b></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span class="bc-text"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I gave up on John Grisham years ago when I felt he was becoming predictable and formulaic, but decided to take a chance on <i>Camino Winds</i><b> </b>in a recent desperate search for a road trip book. </span></span></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span class="bc-text"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span class="bc-text"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Hopefully Grisham wrote this book to capitalize on his fans' loyalty, and to make some money. To think he wrote it because it was a story he enjoyed telling would add insult to injury. It was as close to bad as mediocre can get.</span></span></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span class="bc-text"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span class="bc-text"><b><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><i></i></span></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvoFX8EKNg_BDTFNGiVo8hTfPk_XNVu6hNa91bSbnRdfzRaJtjJnp9PNzkgqN8ujVNiv7Rcqrld4uhTOXZ7pymTNPQX4PUyEnlP2vSzjYRKI0dp9CLqpIR1mo8pjOYUZpzfQvuZOPEdxzg/s400/Idealist+Cover.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="265" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvoFX8EKNg_BDTFNGiVo8hTfPk_XNVu6hNa91bSbnRdfzRaJtjJnp9PNzkgqN8ujVNiv7Rcqrld4uhTOXZ7pymTNPQX4PUyEnlP2vSzjYRKI0dp9CLqpIR1mo8pjOYUZpzfQvuZOPEdxzg/w133-h200/Idealist+Cover.jpg" width="133" /></a></i></span></b></div><b><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><i>The Education of an Idealist: A Memoir</i> by Samantha Power</span></b><p></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span class="bc-text"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><i>The Education of an Idealist</i> is for all the idealist out there, like Barrack Obama, many of my friends, and me. And thank goodness for idealists. Otherwise this would be a boring, right brain, very out of balance - or should I say, even more out of balance - world.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span class="bc-text"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span class="bc-text"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Infamously known as the Obama campaign foreign policy advisory who referred in the press to Hillary Clinton as a “monster” and was subsequently ousted, Power eventually returned to the Obama Presidential staff, serving in several positions, including the American Ambassador to the United Nations. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span class="bc-text"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span class="bc-text"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><i>The Education of an Idealist</i> is a lot about Power’s inspiring commitment to human rights, but it is also about how Power arrived at her idealism, her upbringing Ireland, and eventual immigration to America to embrace American ideals, and about how she managed to grow up, get educated, and gain credibility as an immigrant, diplomat, woman, mother, and yes, idealist.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span class="bc-text"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span class="bc-text"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I suspect Power’s story may be “idealized” (sorry), but as an armchair policy wonk, I relished her engrossing stories of world strife, intrigue, victories, defeats, much of it turning in her hands. What a life! Oh yes, and as one would expect of the almost perfect Samantha, she’s a wonderful writer. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span class="bc-text"><b><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><i></i></span></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz-xsf8Fi7XD_nqrAyhq6QjfYVmnbyquXjdjxuevWq3w4kyxnih3iZqyH3fPckumS6xN6SjgDw-RweDOQvaaRnJ8O_xpj7ZXo0sIqTl4UD2aOQDCC_iFL83TPjPaXbIIKCZ7h3Hp95neny/s318/Left+Wild+Cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="318" data-original-width="318" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz-xsf8Fi7XD_nqrAyhq6QjfYVmnbyquXjdjxuevWq3w4kyxnih3iZqyH3fPckumS6xN6SjgDw-RweDOQvaaRnJ8O_xpj7ZXo0sIqTl4UD2aOQDCC_iFL83TPjPaXbIIKCZ7h3Hp95neny/w200-h200/Left+Wild+Cover.jpg" width="200" /></a></i></span></b></div><b><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><i><br />All Things Left Wild</i> by James Wade</span></b></div><div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span class="bc-text"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">New York City financial analyst and book club member, Suzanne Franks sent me a text saying I should read <i>All Things Left Wild</i> by Austin author James Wade. Without even looking first to see what the book was about I bought and cued it up for an upcoming road trip. Much to my surprise it was a western mystery – two words I’m not sure I’ve ever even seen together!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span class="bc-text"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span class="bc-text"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">It didn’t take long for me to discover the reason for Suzanne’s recommendation. About 50 pages in, I was hooked into a unique, well-told story, and deeply-mined characters. The setting may have been late 1800’s in the southwest, and the story launched with a failed horse rustling attempt, but because the story focus is the complexities of family and human relationships, it could have been set anywhere, anytime and been just as successful. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span class="bc-text"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span class="bc-text"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Caleb Bentley is on the run with his brother, chased by the rancher whose horses they tried to steal. As the chase plays out, the characters learn about themselves and each other, and we see ourselves and humanity in them and develop empathy and emotional commitment – the key to any good story. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span class="bc-text"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span class="bc-text"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">My only negative comment is that the characters occasionally seemed a little too one-sided– too good, too bad – but I forgave that when they were visceral and the writing was tasty (as it mostly was). </span></span></p><p class="bc-list-item" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><b><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><i></i></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1OdYxcf1y_QEEEAW6R1tvsw5-_lE_8frv59WeE5b-Su5rS_WRBKnZHbSeJEp5C1cyyFjSf1tp4VZyZs_D4uZ0ZnyXDcUSyMv-zWzlXMRSCasQTMknE-Rg6weLEI0FXVNebLl8dKQxzn1p/s475/Everyone+Cover.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="475" data-original-width="317" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1OdYxcf1y_QEEEAW6R1tvsw5-_lE_8frv59WeE5b-Su5rS_WRBKnZHbSeJEp5C1cyyFjSf1tp4VZyZs_D4uZ0ZnyXDcUSyMv-zWzlXMRSCasQTMknE-Rg6weLEI0FXVNebLl8dKQxzn1p/w134-h200/Everyone+Cover.jpg" width="134" /></a></i></span></b></div><b><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><i><br />Everyone Knows You Go Home</i> by Natalia Sylvester</span></b></div><div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I have a hard time embracing book topics I don’t believe in, like extraterrestrial beings, or as in Natalia Sylvester’s book, ghost. Actually, although there is a ghost prominent in this book, it isn’t about ghost, it’s about a family’s illegal immigration from Mexico, and how that is played out in several generations’ history and lives – as told by a ghost. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The ghost is Omar, the deceased father of Isabel’s soon to be husband, Martin. Omar appears to Isabel on her and Martin’s wedding day, asking for her help to repair his relationship with Martin and his mother Elda, who’d he’d abandoned when Martin was young. It wasn’t the ghost that bothered me so much. It was the lack of story “payoff”. I kept waiting for something to be revealed on page 25, page 50, page 100 – something to compel me to keep reading – a nibble, some clues as to where we were headed – but it just never came, and I sort of gave up. Others who finished the book said the payoff came at the very end, but unfortunately, the narrative wasn’t quite interesting enough to keep my attention. Maybe you’ll like it.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p></div>Gals - Very Smart Galshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16990972719050405870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660453162125942814.post-6255971819327642422020-07-26T14:11:00.001-05:002020-07-27T05:36:20.469-05:00In memory of Jane Dixon Swan who died of COVID-19 yesterday, July 25, 2020<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMFuFEcrm1nM-3HB9SMzuKJqFRtC4porHheZY0fcPQtyZP0PndNnPgf7weKFdrj87g2cPBt0XwDjuH_aOYVOM9lHjb1ukNiDdCvTSzF8fswUMwNpua8MTvbZ69cWREC0MjYb9wvP9pgldZ/s1600/Jane.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMFuFEcrm1nM-3HB9SMzuKJqFRtC4porHheZY0fcPQtyZP0PndNnPgf7weKFdrj87g2cPBt0XwDjuH_aOYVOM9lHjb1ukNiDdCvTSzF8fswUMwNpua8MTvbZ69cWREC0MjYb9wvP9pgldZ/s1600/Jane.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="150" data-original-width="200" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMFuFEcrm1nM-3HB9SMzuKJqFRtC4porHheZY0fcPQtyZP0PndNnPgf7weKFdrj87g2cPBt0XwDjuH_aOYVOM9lHjb1ukNiDdCvTSzF8fswUMwNpua8MTvbZ69cWREC0MjYb9wvP9pgldZ/s400/Jane.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">I don’t remember Jane Dixon Swan not being in my young life.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> She was a great friend and person, and although we sort of lost track of each other after high school, we reunited several years ago - and it was as if we'd never been apart - forever </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">friends.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">I remember marathon, all summer-long games of Monopoly with Jane and her brother Gary, and when we got bored with Monopoly we’d go to the draw, a dry creek bed just a few hundred yards behind their house on the edge of our little 1,200-person hometown. We’d build forts and play "house" all day long. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">I want to also take a moment to remember Jane’s wonderful mother Inga, who was such a lovely person. She was from Sweden, and I can still hear her calling out to Jane and Gary, with her Swedish accent, “Yane!” Yary!” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Jane went on to become a teacher and eventually retired as the librarian in Fredericksburg. She was also a grandmother, and last I spoke with her she was loving that wonderful adventure. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Jane was always a great, easy-going girl and woman and I am very saddened by her death and can't imagine the anxiety her family went through with Jane's COVID, and the grief over the death of their mother, grandmother and sister. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Rest in Peace Jane. You were loved by many, and will be missed.</span><br />
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Gals - Very Smart Galshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16990972719050405870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660453162125942814.post-65617113591538895872020-07-26T14:00:00.001-05:002020-08-01T06:39:29.210-05:00100 Things I Want To Tell My Children And Grandchildren, #37<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
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<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">When times are hard, be your best self, not your worst.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">I’ve been so angry, tense and scared the last six months – especially the last three months. Just this week, when I tried to turn left across traffic into a gas station and realized, because of a road divider I couldn’t, I screamed “f**k”, and pounded my hand on my steering wheel. My outburst felt irrationally violent, and of late, common. Composing myself, I said to my husband, “I think I’ve said f**k more in the last three month than in the total of my entire life”. Due to numerous strokes, he never says much, but as my constant companion, is forced to witness my more and more frequent anger, and it made me wonder if my kids and grandkids are similarly lashing out at their loved ones in anger and fear during this horribly harsh time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">So starting today, I’m going to make one small change in my newly acquired, ugly COVID behavior. Each time I want to say f**k. I’m going to think of something I am thankful for – and it can’t always be my husband, kids, grandkids and friends and our health. I’m going to be thankful for my car, a bed to sleep in, good coffee, butter, the view from my home office, books, a beautiful sky, clean water, chocolate, soap, clients, my computer. When you start thinking about all the things you have and take for granted, the list becomes endless. Just making this list made me feel blessed and humble.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Being an adult (even an old one), doesn’t mean you know it all and stop making mistakes. So, what I learned today and what I want to say to my kids and grandkids, is when times are hard, be your best self, not your worst.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Gals - Very Smart Galshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16990972719050405870noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660453162125942814.post-69261949189744518032020-07-26T13:48:00.000-05:002020-07-27T10:40:24.354-05:00Cluster Critiques<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
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With a voracious appetite for learning and a predilection for exceptional writing, my reading compass always spins towards nonfiction and books circulating in the literary mosh pit . That seems to have changed with the onset of COVID-19. I’m stumbling through books I would have previously devoured, like an Andy Warhol biography and Samantha Power’s account of becoming a journalist and eventually President Obama’s US Ambassador to the UN. And of late, I’ve struggled to enjoy some of my favorite writers, like Ann Patchett and Eric Larson. It feels like waking up one day and not being able to stand the taste of chocolate – but then lots of things I couldn’t have imagined have been happening over the past few months. I’ve found myself reading more “escape” books – mysteries, psychological thrillers, and horror. </div>
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<b><span style="color: #674ea7;">Has your taste in books changed with COVID-19? If yes, how?</span><o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b><i>The Guest List: A Novel</i> by Lucy Foley<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Imagine a fairytale wedding in an ancient castle on a mystical island off the northern coast of Ireland. The bride and groom are the picture of physical beauty, romance and business success. Perfect, right? Well, yes, but in the case of <i>The Guest List,</i> it's a perfect nesting-ground for calamity. With almost too many colorful characters shackled together by unforgivable secrets, human frailty, poisonous revenge plots, and yes, murder, Foley artfully spins a tale that metaphorically keeps you on the edge of your seat, guessing and re-guessing who the killer is and who will die. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The bride receives an anonymous note warning her not to marry her “prince charming”. But from whom? And why? She should toss the note, but she doesn’t and it tightens like a noose around her neck, on the very day she should be the happiest. The maid of honor (sister of the bride) is in nonstop meltdown, the best man and groomsmen digress into obnoxious, juvenile school-days behaviors, the setting and occasion leech-out the worst in everyone, and the owners of the island and castle are hiding something sinister. The tension builds as Foley masterfully see-saws back and forth between the moment of the murder and the buildup in the days before, and it is all terrifically entertaining. Furthermore, the ending is brilliant and completely unexpected. Read it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i>If It Bleeds</i> by Stephen King<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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In <i>If It Bleeds,</i> which is a collection of four novellas, Stephen King characteristically mines the human condition – work, love, death, fear – rubbing our noses in our own frailties, turning ordinary people and issues – cell phones, bullying, media manipulation, untethered ambition - into VERY disturbing stories. Whether it's subtle or macabre horror, King’s special skill is making us see ourselves in his characters, and making us believe that very scary things can happen to us. What can I say, it’s Stephen King. It’s good, but if you're not a huge Stephen King fan, skip it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i>Fair Warning</i> by Michael Connelly<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Michael Connelly is one of the few series writers I continue to read because he never disappoints. Some of his books are better than others, but they all are at least pretty good. <i>Fair Warning</i> is one of his best, and features Jack McEvoy, a reporter for a consumer protection website who makes the mistake of a one-night-stand with the wrong gal, who turns up dead – making McEvoy a suspect in her death. Barely evading arrest for her murder, McEvoy is driven to discover the real killer. What begins as a cyberstalking inquiry quickly leads into an intriguing plot involving the black market for DNA (think about that for a minute), and the unbelievable lack of FDA regulation over DNA testing, all of which eventually leads to the capture and conviction of a serial murderer. <i>Fair Warning</i> is a better than average mystery. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Gals - Very Smart Galshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16990972719050405870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660453162125942814.post-24083356340275724092020-06-14T18:56:00.000-05:002020-06-15T08:46:23.089-05:00100 Things I Want To Tell My Children And Grandchildren, #36<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">We’re going to be OK.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">As I sit here at my computer reflecting on our world over the first six months of 2020 – the COVID-19 pandemic, the political, religious, and social divisions that are tearing our world apart, I feel guilt and fear. Guilt because I know I am partially to blame for why we are where we are right now, and afraid because I fear I’ll die before we can fix it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">But those feelings are fleeting, because this isn’t our first rodeo. Earth, America and I have seen rock bottom before and survived, and we will do it again.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">My personal grit was inherited from my mom and dad. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG5pqRQjuG3cDMDeSSVrvZyT1sDpYlYAvKUqMRKkN-NpaqLcQmYKtN7pbJV-U6Y5K2gZpfUsSc7wxQt954GXu_hAtqd3y6HHTubge9DKTUqkqA7Or4dTX9bS69lkr8uhqQQziR0f2ZRuOT/s1600/dad%2527s+grocery.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1111" data-original-width="1600" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG5pqRQjuG3cDMDeSSVrvZyT1sDpYlYAvKUqMRKkN-NpaqLcQmYKtN7pbJV-U6Y5K2gZpfUsSc7wxQt954GXu_hAtqd3y6HHTubge9DKTUqkqA7Or4dTX9bS69lkr8uhqQQziR0f2ZRuOT/s400/dad%2527s+grocery.jpeg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Way before I came along my Dad was a very successful businessman in Oklahoma, but lost it all during the depression. The story goes he gave everything he had to the starving families in Chickasha, Oklahoma. And when he had no more to give, he packed up and moved to Dallas where he open a grocery store (pictured), then to west Texas to become a successful contractor building roads to the oil fields to supply fuel needed during WW II. When my Dad died, there were more than 100 funeral sprays from people all over Texas, and so many “covered dishes” there weren’t enough surfaces in our house to hold them all. In a little town with less than 1,200 people, that speaks to how respected and liked my dad was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">When my mom’s father deserted her and her mother, and her mother was subsequently committed to a mental institution in San Antonio, my mom was raised by her grandmother on a farm north of Dallas. When her grandmother died, as a young teen, mom (pictured) went to live with her uncle, a Judge in Dallas, where she met my dad. She dropped out of school and moved to west Texas with my Dad, where over a period of 29 years, they married (twice, with a short-lived divorce in between), had five kids, and went broke and recovered several times. Mom went back to high school at the age of 40, after having five kids, and completed her college degree – something few west Texas women did back then.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_J5H43e_mO0E5NqHbLXCt08ANlRQj7bx_Fr7MhwqDvXpTGfCYUdVEP7-jVt94zc7-9zL237IKAkhmaIuiNOyQvd63VVbbrO0NTfbVS8dZew2n6i0IWLUxm9iI5epa8o9YPBFvHZK1E3cf/s1600/willie+%25235.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="485" data-original-width="397" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_J5H43e_mO0E5NqHbLXCt08ANlRQj7bx_Fr7MhwqDvXpTGfCYUdVEP7-jVt94zc7-9zL237IKAkhmaIuiNOyQvd63VVbbrO0NTfbVS8dZew2n6i0IWLUxm9iI5epa8o9YPBFvHZK1E3cf/s320/willie+%25235.jpeg" width="260" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">When my dad died mom had to sell everything to pay off all the loans owned for large construction equipment, leaving us nothing. We lived in a tiny little house on less than $300 a month, which we wouldn’t have had if mom hadn’t completed her college degree and become a teacher. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">My low point came when the father of my children and I divorced. I though marriage and love were forever, and I thought I’d never recover, but I did. We all did. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Our nation and world have grit too. We’ve recovered from civil wars and world wars lasting decades, cancer, many financial devastations, and other pandemics. 911 banded us together as a nation to fight a common enemy, and the COVID-19 pandemic could have had the same effect, but instead it became politicized. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">It seems everything has become so much more politicized and emotional since the elections of Barack Obama and Donald Trump. I've never see so much anger and hatred. We seem on the verge of another civil war, but the battle lines won't be geographic, they'll be political. I believe we are being manipulated through social media, to incite hate, fear and division, and to break down the American bond, to overpower us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">But just as my mom and dad rose above their challenges, I rose above mine, and our nation and world have risen above many, but not all their challenges, America MUST wake up to the fact that “United we stand, Divided we fall”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">It may take a while, and more pain and suffering, but we’re going to be OK.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Gals - Very Smart Galshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16990972719050405870noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660453162125942814.post-20660742840157899062020-06-14T18:55:00.000-05:002020-06-15T08:15:45.894-05:00Cluster Critiques<br />
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<b><i>Catch and Kill: Lies, Spies and a Conspiracy to Protect Predators </i>by Ronan Farrow<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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When a potentially damaging indiscretion occurs with a celebrity or public figure, “fixers” execute what is called “catch and kill”. Catch/pay off parties to the activity, and kill/legally (or illegally) stop the possibility of public disclosure. Ronan Farrow’s book is primarily about Hollywood producer Harvey Weinstein’s decades-long, serial rape and sexual harassment of young actresses dependent upon his perceived make-or-break power. <o:p></o:p></div>
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As a reporter for NBC, Farrow pursued a years-long campaign to bring Weinstein to justice, and probably also to enhance his journalistic career. This book is pretty much the blow-by-blow (no pun intended) of his efforts, which ends with Weinstein’s fall from his throne. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Farrow’s own family’s scandals involving his father, Woody Allen’s alleged sexual abuse of his adopted daughter are an underlying thread running through this expose. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Despite Weinstein’s hideous proclivities being common knowledge in the industry, NBC foot-dragging and despicable (but entertaining) legal, investigative and PR hanky-panky shielded him far too long. Seems the only people who didn’t know about Weinstein’s predatory and illegal activities were his friends Meryl Streep and Hillary Clinton. I can't help but wonder if they were exploiting his power for their own purposes and just looking the other way. If so, that’s troubling too. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Farrow throws in the revolting Matt Lauer story, which according to NBC staff-gossip, everyone knew about – everyone including, Tom Brokaw. Katie Couric, Hoda Kotb and others. No one was innocent. Good book.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i>The Cuckoo's Calling</i> by Robert Galbraith (aka JK Rowling)</b></div>
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Are our standards different for genre writing then literary fiction? Does the added burden of crafting a mystery or plotting a thriller suck all the creativity out a writer? I’ve slogged through so many mediocre (yet extremely popular) genre books, desperately searching for the magic combination of writing and plot excellence. Of course, when Patricia Highsmith is your benchmark, you’re a pretty harsh critic. What does this have to do with <i>The Cuckoo's Calling</i>. Everything, because I feel like I’ve discovered a new provider of literary mysteries.<i> </i><br />
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Subtitled “A Strike Novel” in reference to the main character of <i>The Cuckoo's Calling,</i> Cormoran Strike, a British war veteran turned private detective. In Strike, Galbraith smartly creates the lovable roque gals like me are such a sucker for. He’s lost his leg to a land mine in Afghanistan, can’t pay his bills, his long-time girlfriend has broken his heart, and he’s sleeping on a cot in his office. Sounds like several of my X’s.</div>
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Cuckoo is a super model who’s fall from the balcony of her London penthouse is ruled a suicide by the police – that is until her brother hires Strike to investigate her death. Galbraith plunges Strike into the world of money, high fashion, rock and roll and all their trapping, traps and players – where nothing and no one are as they seem. We know what’s going on and who did what, and then we don’t, essential elements of a good mystery, taking us right up to the final few pages with a better than average surprise ending. If you have a taste for lovable screw-ups, you’ll enjoy Cormoran Strike, and if you like a well-penned mystery, you’ll enjoy <i>The Cuckoo’s Calling.</i><o:p></o:p><br />
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<b><i>The Splendid and the Vile: A Saga of Churchill, Family, and Defiance During the Blitz</i> by Erik Larson<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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I didn’t know I was interested in Winston Churchill’s extended family and his various ministerial minions. But then Erik Larson, author of some of the best non-fiction ever written <i>Devil in the White City, Isaac’s Storm, Dead Wake, </i>and<i> In The Garden of Beast, </i>could write about peanut butter and make it spellbinding. His latest, <i>The Splendid and the Vile, </i>set in the early days of WWII, is about Winston Churchill’s wife, and his son and four daughters and their spouses, all of who, like we, have flaws, and yet compose a sweetly close family. It is also about Churchill’s peculiar, though brilliant leadership style conducted within his tight circle of war advisors. For example, he often had conversations and meetings while he sat in his bathtub, or while walking around naked, puffing on his cigar and swigging from his bottomless glass of scotch whisky. This book is also about his desperate struggle to lure America into WW II for relief and support during Adolph Hitler’s relentless, cruel bombing of England - the Blitz. As I read this book in the middle, end of, beginning (not sure) of the COVID-19 pandemic it made me appreciate that things could be worse, and sadly I suspect they will be. If you love history, you’ll be charmed. If not, move on.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i>The Jetsetters by Amanda Eyre Ward</i></b></div>
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When asked how she dreamed up <i>The Jetsetters,</i> author Eyre Ward’s first and best-seller novel, she said, “One morning I was sitting in my kitchen while my kids were eating Lucky Charms … and a small voice in my mind said, Amanda, you do not belong in a Texas kitchen in a worn-out, pink bathrobe. You belong on a cruise ship balcony, gazing out at a foreign sea!” <o:p></o:p></div>
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Dad, a bully, with the circumstances of his death leaves a smear of guilt on the entire family - inspiring a check-list of mild neurosis in the now grown kids – unsettled homosexuality, a failed acting career, and obesity. Mom, writes a saucy romance story, enters it in a writing contest, and wins the first place prize, a cruise for four. She then gently browbeats her three children into coming along. <i>The Jetsetters</i> packs up family disfunction and takes it on a Mediterranean cruise, providing a unique, fun setting for drama, conflict and humor. Mom just wants her kids to rise above their issues, love her, love each other, and love themselves. But can salt air fix that? <o:p></o:p></div>
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Ward’s writing skills keep the narrative crisp and surprising, and the characters and their issues keep us turning pages. If you’re looking for a light read about people with more flaws than you, but don’t want the burden of heavy emotion and mental aerobics, here’s your book.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<b><i>Say Nothing: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland</i> by Patrick Radden Keefe<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Many a sad story has been written about the extended (1960-1998) Catholic vs Protestant “Troubles’ in Northern Ireland. But as is often the case, in the hands of the right writer, even the most exploited and explored historic accounts can take on new life, Such is the case of <i>Say Nothing.</i> The story author Keefe weaves begins with, and frequently reflects back on the “disappearing” of Jean McConville, a young mother in Belfast suspected of conspiring for the wrong side in a neighborhood where taking sides means everything. But the book is substantially the depressing tale of two sisters, Dolours and Marian Price, born into the militant Irish Republic Army (IRA) and suspected in the death of McConville. The account of their horrific, extended incarceration and martyrdom for other related militant activities are simultaneously inspiring and repugnant. Deftly told, <i>Say Nothing</i> is not only an alluring, albeit uncomfortable history lesson, but also feels eerily like a cautionary tale of what happens when religious zealotry turns a nation, neighbors and even families against each other. If you are interested in the history of the Troubles of Northern Ireland, read it. Otherwise, you can check this one off your list.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<b><i>Full Disclosure</i> by Stormy Daniels</b></div>
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When we judge people we are asking for trouble, whether it is racial and religious prejudice, homophobia, condemnation of adult prostitution, women who make their living dancing in adult clubs and/or performing in pornography. Like a pretty wise guy once said, “Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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In her surprisingly interesting, humorous and well-penned book, <i>Full Disclosure, </i>author and pornographic actress, writer and director Stormy Daniels, reveals her difficult childhood, and eventual adult life in the world of “porn” and “titty-dancing” (to use her unvarnished terms), even confirming - spoiler-alert - there’s nothing real about pornography – it’s monotonous, industrial, and since she’s one of the first women in porn to rise to the level of writer/director/producer, very lucrative. Daniels seems a funny, smart, gal who doesn’t apologize for who she is, and her book, mostly received positive reviews. Yes, she slept with Donald Trump, and talks about it briefly in her book, but is candid in saying it was mutually opportunistic (and pretty gross). Let she who has not slept with someone she wished she hadn’t cast the first stone. You won’t be sorry if you read <i>Full Disclosure</i>.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Gals - Very Smart Galshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16990972719050405870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660453162125942814.post-29801826877251440992020-01-19T19:02:00.000-06:002020-01-20T17:09:38.904-06:00100 Things I Want To Tell My Children And Grandchildren, #35<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Books Can Change Your Life<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">I’m probably doing something terribly illegal here, but when I saw the article in today’s <i>New York Times, The Book That Changed My Life, </i></span><span style="font-family: "times";">I read every single one of the stories and was so glad. </span><span style="font-family: "times";"> </span><span style="font-family: "times";">I was also reminded of the book that changed my life, and</span><span style="font-family: "times";"> </span><span style="font-family: "times";">I knew I wanted “Books Can Change Your Life” to be my #34 of the <i>100 </i></span><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Things I Want To Tell My Children And Grandchildren</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "times";">.</span></i> </div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">The World’s Great Religions </span></i></b><span style="font-family: "times";">was one of those coffee table <i>Time-Life</i> books so popular during the 50’s, the size and heft of a bag of cement and chocked full of colorful pictures. It talked about the ten or so most highly practiced religions of the world, and as a six-year-old I remember thinking, “Where are the Baptists?” I had no idea that come Sunday morning everyone in the world didn’t put on their best garb, grab the covered dish out of the oven, and head over to their Methodist or Baptist Church for Sunday school then church.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">But in the book there were dark-skinned women in iridescent saris, cows being worshiped, rooms full of prostrate praying men and no women, cathedrals draped in gold, men with curls instead of sideburns, and statues with many arms and one foot in the air as though dancing. Who were these people? And who were Allah, Buddha and Shiva? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">In addition to attending the Methodist Church in my little home town, when doing sleep-overs with friends I also went to their churches - Baptist, Church of Christ, Pentecostal, and Christian. Not sure why, but my Catholic buddies were never allowed to bring me along and I really wanted to go. All that getting down on your knees and the pageantry seemed so glamorous and exciting. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">The common thread of all the services I attended was “We’re right, they’re wrong and they’ll go to hell for it, and you’ll go to hell if you’re not good, but even if you’re not good, but you’re sorry, you’ll be OK”. And there seemed to be a conspicuous lack of scientific proof for any of the various beliefs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">Significantly due to </span><i><span style="font-family: "times";">The World’s Great Religions</span></i><span style="font-family: times;">, I grew to believe that if 8-billion people couldn’t agree, it was beyond me to reconcile. So my religion is just this: Be nice and help others when you can. </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">What book changed your life?<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Click on "Read More" below for</span></b><b><span style="font-family: "times";"> “<i>The Book That Changed My Life</i>”</span></b><b><span style="font-family: "times";"> from the <i>New York Times</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">The Book That Changed My Life</span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: "times";">, </span></b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">New York Times</span></i><span style="font-family: "times";">, January 19, 2020.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Middlemarch<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">George Eliot’s “Middlemarch” has changed my life, and changed me, in countless subtle ways. I first read it at 25, when an older and wiser friend told me that a woman we both cordially loathed was “just like Rosamond Vincy” in the novel. On first reading, I hated the book. But I trusted my friend’s judgment, so I tried again a few years later.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">On the second reading I was hooked. My error the first time around was to read “Middlemarch” as one would a typical novel. But “Middlemarch” isn’t really about plot and dialogue. It’s all about character, as mediated through the wise and compassionate (but sharply astute) voice of the omniscient narrator. The book shows us that we cannot live without other people, and that we cannot live with other people unless we recognize their flaws and foibles in ourselves. And each of us makes the world a better place by honoring our duties to other people and being humble about our own importance in the grander scheme of things.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">I go back to “Middlemarch” every year, and have done so for 25 years. Rereading the book makes me a better, kinder and less judgmental person. And there is nothing more important than that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Heather MacIvor, Windsor, Ontario<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Mastering the Art of French Cooking<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">As a lifelong reader will I choose Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice”? Philip Roth’s “Goodbye, Columbus”? Wonderful as these were, they were not life-transforming.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">No, I must go back 55 years. I was 21, newly married, living in a strange city with a great first job, when I was horrified to find myself pregnant. My firm fired me — this was 1964 — but my immediate supervisor sent me off with a great book as a peace offering: “Mastering the Art of French Cooking,” by Simone Beck, Louisette Bertholle and Julia Child.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">Bored, scared and friendless, I cringed the first time I reached into a chicken carcass to remove the giblets, but I bravely made my way through this cooking bible, concocting hollandaise, puff pastry, beef Wellington and the like.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">My cooking today reflects an interest in somewhat healthier food. After all, one cannot live on boeuf bourguignon alone. But I learned so many techniques, and opened our family’s eyes or rather their taste buds to so many new foods, that my husband recently joked, “I don’t know which you would find more devastating, to never read another book or never read another recipe.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Beth Krugman, New York<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Go, Dog. Go!<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">“Go, Dog. Go!” — that epic by P.D. Eastman — has it all: Drama — where are those dogs going? Humor — dogs on scooters, flying helicopters and driving cars! Existential angst — why doesn’t he like her hat? It’s multicultural — blue dogs and red dogs and green dogs! It’s a love story — why yes, he does end up liking her hat!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">From “Go, Dog. Go!” — my first book way back in prekindergarten — it was only a short skip to the poems of William Butler Yeats; “The Myth of Sisyphus,” by Albert Camus; the guerrilla ontology of Robert Anton Wilson; and the 10,000 mostly nonfiction books in my home library on Irish history, African-American history, my Pagan spiritual path, world religions and metaphysical matters, the Middle East, quantum physics, the Beatles and rock music, yadda yadda yadda.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">O.K., maybe that wasn’t a short hop. But my love of reading — as a way to have adventures, explore life, lives and ideas, and satiate my curiosity about the world — began with dogs driving fast cars. I still reread “Go, Dog. Go!” to this day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Rick de Yampert, Palm Coast, Fla.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">The Color Purple<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">The day that I first picked up Alice Walker’s “The Color Purple” I had no idea that it would fundamentally change my life. As a teenager, I had so many questions, feelings and beliefs competing for my attention, and I felt broken, alone … defective, if you will. I was adrift, trying to determine why I never found God in a church. Why I like people instead of a specific gender. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">And then I met a motley cast of characters just as lonely and hopeless as I felt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">The characters in Ms. Walker’s story spoke to me in ways I never imagined a work of fiction could. I felt my soul resonate at Shug’s words that God is all that ever was and will be, that we should notice the color purple in a field, and the idea that God lives inside of us. It eased my mind and let me know that there were kindred spirits in this world. I simply had to seek them out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Wendy Gianfrancesco, Scottdale, Pa.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Atlas Shrugged<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">When I first read “Atlas Shrugged” for a high school assignment, I was so impressed with Ayn Rand’s philosophy of strength, independence and forging through life on one’s own that I reread the book a few more times in the next few years. The final time I was a young mother and as I read, I realized that there were no children in Rand’s cast of characters, no old people; no one was sick or disabled. Where were they? How were they supposed to manage on their own?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">That’s when I became a Democrat, even a socialist. It finally dawned on me that total self-reliance is fine, as long as you’re young, healthy and strong. But no one gets through this life on her own. It takes a village to support a community, to raise and educate children, to care for the sick and elderly. Who wants to live in a world where the weak are thrust aside and forgotten? Rand’s philosophy could never be mine. Her words allowed me to crystallize my own thinking. I grew up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Barbara Lipkin, Naperville, Ill.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">On Beyond Zebra<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">At age 7 (I’m 70 now), I had my mind blown by Dr. Seuss’ “On Beyond Zebra.” Turning the page from the end of the regular alphabet to the 27th letter, “yuzz,” I was surprised, enchanted and immediately freed from the limits of penmanship and reading circles. Every new letter (“floob,” “zatz” and more!) was a delight and a possibility. Who knew you could break the rules like that?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">It was satori in the second grade. I remembered that moment whenever I was raising my kids. And now, when I write, paint and play with my grandkids, I keep in mind that electrifying gift to be sure that I don’t put any obstacles in the way of exercising our imaginations.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Harold M. Heft, Princeton, N.J.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">The Meditations<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">“The Meditations,” by Marcus Aurelius, is the only self-help book you will ever need. The Roman emperor’s thoughts to himself emphasize the fleeting nature of life and put everything into perspective. Should I take this job or that one, move to this city or that? In 100 years, will it matter?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">The book forces us to contemplate our part in the today and our minuscule part in the future, and demands of us to consider what is truly important. If a Roman emperor had this humility, we can.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Vincent Delorenzo, London<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">The Feminine Mystique<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">When I was in college in 1965, a friend gave me a copy of “The Feminine Mystique,” by Betty Friedan. As a young girl growing up in the 1950s, I was of two minds: On the one hand, I loved school, especially math, loved competing in sports, wanted to make something of myself. On the other hand, I also fantasized about the romantic stories from books and movies and women’s magazines of love and marriage and homemaking. As a student at a women’s college, I was only just beginning to realize how much in conflict those two futures were.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">The book laid it all out for me, put into words what I had only sensed. Whether the choices I made were different as a result of reading the book, I’ll never know, but I do know I understood better the choices available to me and the implications of those choices. I became a lifelong feminist.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Dorothy Brooks, Punta Gorda, Fla.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">The Stranger<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">I was only 11 or 12. My mother belonged to a Great Books reading discussion group and handed me, without any preamble, a copy of “The Stranger,” Albert Camus’s existential musing about the meaninglessness and randomness of life. In promulgating this bleak and enervating perspective, Monsieur Camus was inarguably on to something. But, Mom, geez: 11 is too young for a kid to be let in on that!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Jerome Perzigian, New York<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Catch-22<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">“Catch-22,” by Joseph Heller, changed my life, or, more accurately, my outlook on it. I was 13 in 1963, a little warmonger who gobbled up books about P.O.W. camp escapes and Air Force derring-do. Mistaking “Catch-22” for the latter category, I picked it up and was … puzzled. The humor was offbeat and circular. No one seemed at all interested in defeating the enemy. Illogic and cynicism — an alien emotion to me at that age — reigned. The officers in command were venal idiots indifferent to the fate of the men they sent into combat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">Somehow Joseph Heller managed to make this morality- and sanity-free spectacle funny and riveting. Yossarian was my first and greatest antihero. I wanted to be him. By the time I finished the book I was a different person, with a strange sense of humor that marked me as an oddball among my peers and a sensibility that would be perfectly attuned to the murderous absurdity of the Vietnam War just over the horizon. No book I’ve read since, and there have been thousands, has had such a profound effect on me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Gerald Howard, Tuxedo Park, N.Y.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">When Breath Becomes Air<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">Through heaving sobs, I managed to finish the last page of “When Breath Becomes Air,” by Dr. Paul Kalanithi, a devastating memoir detailing his lung cancer diagnosis. He learned to die with the same grace that he lived his life. Oh, the unfairness of it all!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">In our death-averse American culture, I’m the first to put my hands up to my ears at the mention of death. I refuse to think about the reality of aging parents or the end of a cherished relationship. Dr. Kalanithi forces me to confront death in its most intimate form and grapple with my underlying anxiety about getting too attached to the things I love, knowing they will end. Now I ask: In a world built on planning and waiting for the future, am I living in the present? How do I love more deeply, even though it will hurt more when it’s over?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">While I will never be comfortable with death, I no longer shy away from the fact it exists and that life has meaning, no matter how soon it is taken from us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Asya Rozental, Boston<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">A Gentleman in Moscow<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">One book that changed my outlook on life was “A Gentleman in Moscow,” by Amor Towles. It made me realize how a beautiful, full life could be lived by virtue of the relationships one has, no matter how dire the circumstances. The main character, Count Alexander, while forcibly confined to the Metropol Hotel in Moscow, manages to find love and deep friendships that sustain him. He finds long-lasting romantic love with a beautiful actress, Anna, and paternal love with Nina (whom he meets when she is a child) and subsequently with her daughter, Sofia. He enjoys the enduring and loyal friendship of Mishka and some hotel staff.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">This tightknit group forms what is, for the count, his entire world. He does not grieve. He makes the most out of every hour of every day. I believe that this book teaches us an invaluable lesson about how to live a full life and how to appreciate the good people around us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Sue Kohl, Pacific Palisades, Calif.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Eloise<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">“Eloise,” by Kay Thompson and illustrated by Hilary Knight, changed the way I view family. My mom has been reading the series to me since I was 3 years old and now reads it to both me (now 9) and my little sister, Clover. I love how it’s about a girl growing up in New York, just like we are, who loves the city and her life. She’s funny, daring, and doesn’t always obey the rules. But in the end she shows everyone that she has a good heart. She wants everyone to smile and enjoy themselves.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">Even though her mother isn’t around, her nanny is her family. It shows that family can be found and created even in a place as big as New York.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Daisy Brown, New York<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Select One book? Impossible.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">In the course of my 68 years I have been influenced by books as diverse and poignant as “The Little Prince” to the memoirs of Elie Wiesel. I have taken things large and small from each book, and each became as much a part of me as my own life experiences. Some have had great impact on how I have conducted my life or colored how I look at the world around me and the people I meet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">However, it would be impossible to select one book above all the others that helped form my worldview. They are all a part of who I am, how I feel and think. In the most uninspiring book, you sometimes find a nugget of wisdom that clarifies a moment decades later. But there will never be just one book, and there are so many yet to be written!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Debe S. Jones, Covington, La.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Recollections of a Picture Dealer<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">In the mid-1990s I was a literature professor. Although I had some notions of art connoisseurship (my uncle Sylvan was a renowned print dealer), I’d never imagined myself as a merchant. Then I read Ambroise Vollard’s “Recollections of a Picture Dealer” (1936). Vollard had gone to Paris to study law, and he ended up becoming perhaps the most influential art dealer of all time. He exhibited the work of many major painters and published several important prints and books.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">Vollard shuns theory. His memoir is basically a rambling and highly entertaining collection of anecdotes — about artists, dealers, writers and collectors, famous and obscure. About vanity, magnanimity, stupidity and cunning. About Paris when it was still Paris. His portrayal of art dealing as a treasure hunt seduced me. The dealer roots out hidden masterpieces while avoiding fakes. He seeks overlooked artists whose work he can exhibit. And he hunts for the most elusive treasure of all: customers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">When I first read the book I was a university professor whose hobby was art and rare books. Several years later I’d become an art and rare book dealer whose hobby is teaching at a university. No regrets.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">William Cole, Sitges, Spain<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">The Violent Bear It Away<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">I read Flannery O’Connor’s “The Violent Bear It Away” my freshman year in college. Her vision of God’s grace, present even at moments of tragedy or cruelty, so moved me that I wrote a senior thesis on the subject. The idea of grace that is usually invisible to our judgmental eyes stayed with me, and when I became a foster mother, it reminded me daily that I knew nothing of what was truly contained in the lives of the parents whose children I was trying to love into well-being. My compassion for those struggling parents was critical to my ability to honor their place in their children’s lives, to trust that they, too, were trying their best.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">O’Connor was honest about the messiness of this endeavor, how grace can change us, or follow us unbidden; that, and her sense of humor, have kept “The Violent Bear It Away” and others of her stories as touchstones in my life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Alison Daley Stevenson, Waldoboro, Me.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Look Homeward, Angel<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">“Look Homeward, Angel,” by Thomas Wolfe, remains the most brilliant expression of contemporary human alienation ever written. Reading it also made me fall in love with language. I had no idea writing could be so provocative yet both moving and musical. So keenly attuned to the world yet forever disconnected from other people, Wolfe mirrored my anguish, gave me words for it. My careers have all been inspired by that novel: politics, writing and development of a multiplayer online video game.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Jonathan Baron, Staunton, Va.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Jonathan Livingston Seagull<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">“Jonathan Livingston Seagull,” by Richard Bach (1970), landed on my 12-year-old lap by chance, and it changed my life. In middle school, where bullies abound, pimples humiliate and friendships are elusive, Jonathan told me that “you have the freedom to be yourself, your true self, here and now, and nothing can stand in your way.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">At a time when everyone else strove to fit in, I strove to fit out. The more different I felt from the other girls, the more different I wanted to be. “We can lift ourselves out of ignorance, we can find ourselves as creatures of excellence and intelligence and skill,” so I studied more, I read more, I practiced the piano more. I rejected the popular and snubbed the shallow trends of the ’70s. I wanted to be different. I was Jonathan.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Valeria Volin, Glastonbury, Conn.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Be Here Now<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">The year was 1971, and I was working in a bookstore in Beverly Hills, Calif. One day Charlie Watts, drummer for the Rolling Stones, came into the store. I was 23 years old and a big fan. I boldly went up to him and suggested a popular title, “Notes to Myself,” by Hugh Prather. Catching my reading preference, Charlie picked up a book off the shelf and recommended it to me. It was “Be Here Now,” by Ram Dass.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">It was destined to be my mantra and bible, and that of my roommates, for many years. It kept us living in the moment, away from anxiety about the future in the times of the turbulent ’70s, and taught us how the power of communal positive attitude can sway events, and that there are larger factors at work in the universe. It is still a guide for me today.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Philip Bruno, New York<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Infinite Jest<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">In the autumn of 1988 I was a college sophomore studying abroad in Birmingham, England. I was lonely, homesick and questioning my decision when the phone rang. My parents were calling to tell me that one of my dearest high school friends had taken his own life. I was devastated, alone and furious that he could be so thoughtless, so selfish. I carried that anger for a decade.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">In 1997, like so many others, I was slogging my way through David Foster Wallace’s masterpiece, “Infinite Jest,” and came across his burning high-rise analogy to clinical depression and suicide: “It’s not desiring the fall: It’s terror of the flames.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">It was the literary equivalent of a punch to the solar plexus — the anger, the grudge that I had been holding toward my lost friend was struck from me to be replaced with shame and sadness and compassion for what he must have experienced. I hope he can forgive me my thoughtlessness, my selfishness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";"> “Infinite Jest” forever changed my view of addiction, depression and suicide. It made me a better, more empathetic human being.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Steve Sweere, Minneapolis<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">A Circle of Quiet<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">“A Circle of Quiet,” by Madeleine L’Engle, profoundly influenced the course of my life. Newly married in 1985, I picked the book up in my neighborhood bookstore, mostly because the beautiful cover caught my eye. L’Engle’s memoir describes her faith journey, her struggle for balance in her life, her love of family and the simple joys that enriched her spirit. This book introduced me to the then startling idea that God was alive in the commonplace, the quotidian events of life. With this book L’Engle sent me on a lifelong exploration of the spiritual dimensions of my life and instilled a reverence for stillness and simplicity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Kathleen Potter, Bradford, Mass.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Walden<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">As a grade-school girl, I pulled Henry David Thoreau’s “Walden” from the shelf of a small bookstore. A bit over my head for the most part, but not entirely. It was “The Ponds” that changed me. Thoreau’s power to observe, experience and articulate turned every droplet, glint and drone of water, light and life into a meditative epiphany.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">His words imparted a new stillness and focus to the mind of a very bright young girl who struggled well into adulthood with varying degrees of social dysfunction. When she would withdraw, head tucked with shame and confusion, those moments spent in a boat with Thoreau provided a touchstone. She could commune with a fine and compassionate mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">Like Thoreau’s water bugs and skaters navigating the pond, she learned to find her way, watch closely, move quietly, trust herself to find her place in the world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Monica E. Gomez, El Paso<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">The Road<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">I read “The Road,” by Cormac McCarthy, both before and after I became a parent. The experiences were starkly different. Sure, it’s a story filled with brutality, evil and depraved violence. But for me, reading it after I became a father, the book helped me realize the universality of all the fears I have as a parent — the anxiety of leaving my children in a world facing environmental catastrophe and my inadequacies in preparing them for the challenges of life. Weirdly, the story made me feel less alone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">I think about the father and son in the book, and I can call up McCarthy’s vivid scenes in my mind: the cold nights they spent huddled together next to the road; the sweet relief of finding refuge in an abandoned bunker filled with food and warmth; and the heartbreaking last scenes on the beach.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";"> “The Road” has a strange magic for me. Whenever I get to the end I am restored by the idea that we can, in fact, find people to trust, and although we are not always great parents, our children will see in us the thing that matters most — our devotion to them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Joseph Loscudo, Naperville, Ill.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">The Myth of Sisyphus and Other Essays<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">In 1964, when I was 14, my father handed me “The Myth of Sisyphus and Other Essays,” by Albert Camus, and said, “You might enjoy this.” I read that life is absurd and tried to understand how Sisyphus was, at the end of the day, happy each time he pushed that rock up the hill because the struggle itself is enough.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">To an adolescent in the mid-1960s with all its turmoil, Camus made so much sense to me — engagement and action in life are what gives it meaning. Throughout my life, in times of stress or grief, I open my $1.25 Vintage Book and look at the underlinings my young self made. Camus’s words bring me solace and perspective.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">But there has been one special quote that has forever been my lodestar: “A determined soul will always manage.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Leslie Morrison Faerstein, New York<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Little Women<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">I called Louisa May Alcott’s “Little Women” my personal bible after I read it for the first time as an 11-year-old. An introvert with an active imagination, I read voraciously and wrote short stories and poems, dreaming of an illustrious career that would allow me to see the world. I quickly found a kindred spirit in Jo March, who, like me, loved to read and write, and, most inspiringly, dreamed of a life of adventure beyond what was expected of women at the time. She let nothing and no one, not restricting societal conventions nor the boy next door, stand in her way. As I struggled with bodily insecurities and finding my place in the world, I saw in Jo the confidence that I felt lacking in myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">After my first tour of Orchard House, Alcott’s home where she wrote “Little Women,” I became a volunteer at their annual holiday program, where, by acting in skits alongside other girls my age, I found my voice. Additionally, I found a sisterhood of others who also grew up with “Little Women” as their guidebook, and following Alcott’s and Jo’s example, I became the “little woman” 11-year-old me hoped I would be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Caroline Dunbar, Northampton, Mass.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Wherever You Go, There You Are<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">“Wherever You Go, There You Are,” by Jon Kabat-Zinn, utterly transformed my relationship with my own mind. To befriend your own mind is to own a piece of yourself that no one and nothing can take from you. Life is always complex, multilayered, blissful and filled with anguish by turns. When I came to understand at an experiential level the deep truth that my life was shaped more by my responses to events than by the events themselves, I was able to access a kind of inner wisdom, peace and happiness that is beyond external conditions. I have continued to meditate, study and explore these ideas in daily life for the past 20 years, but that first book was the catalyst that set the whole process in motion for me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Susan Dreyer Leon, Springfield, Vt.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Concluding Unscientific Postscript to Philosophical Fragments<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">Long ago, when I was 21 years old, my father gave me a thick, dense-looking book. I had been a most inattentive and mediocre student — I am sure many of my teachers thought I, too, was thick and dense-looking. The book’s title was “Concluding Unscientific Postscript to Philosophical Fragments,” which was not only a terribly dull name but also suggested that the book was just an afterthought, and a very long one. But I read it, slowly, carefully, and it changed my life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">It was by Soren Kierkegaard, and among its purposes was pointing the reader inward, and insisting that nothing was of greater importance than individual existence — mine, yours. Kierkegaard was a solitary knight of faith who most eagerly wielded his sword before the puffed-up authorities in the church and academy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">The tedious title entirely belies the brilliance inside. On every page is evidence of a writer thinking wonderfully. The author was unknown outside his native Copenhagen; his book sold few copies and won no prizes. That was fine with him. Kierkegaard demonstrated that to change a world — or anyway my world — it was enough to sit alone in a room with a pen and paper, and think, and write.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Barth Landor, Chicago<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Fast Food Nation<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">Something most people do every day is eat, so it’s hard to think of a subject — other than air or water — that affects everyone’s life more than food. The 2001 book “Fast Food Nation,” by Eric Schlosser, caused a massive shift in my everyday habits as to what I eat, how I consider food ingredients and food production, and how I talk about food.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">Before reading the book, I picked up breakfast from McDonald’s on my way to work most weekdays. Since reading the book, fast food became a rarity in my life. I prepare food at home more often, read labels more thoroughly, seek organic and local food whenever possible, and strive to put more effort into considering the effects my food choices have on the environment, people and other creatures.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Debra Bullock, Oak Park, Ill.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Johnny Got His Gun<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">I was no more than 10 years old in the mid-1950s when I read “Johnny Got His Gun,” by Dalton Trumbo. My mother had given it to me — the only time she ever gave or recommended a book to me. It’s the story of Joe Bonham, lying in his hospital bed in agony and despair with his arms, legs and face blown off by an artillery shell, remembering his life before the Great War. Reading it then I was heartbroken, terrified and angry, and now more than 60 years later, remembering those passages in the book, I still am.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">My mother died 15 years ago, and I never asked her why she had given me that book. But it always seemed obvious. For my parents, the memories of World War II and the Holocaust were fresh, and there could be no thought of their son ever going to war. The antiwar message of Trumbo’s book is not subtle, and it pounded me like a sledgehammer. And whether it was his book and/or everything else I later learned and felt about war, the message took. I never did serve in the Army, and I never got a gun.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Michael Appel, Cambridge, Mass.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Scaredy Squirrel<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">In 2008, I was seriously considering selling my home and taking a motorcycle trip around the world. But I was struggling to answer the question of why. Why on earth would I desire to leave my friends, my home, my career for over a year of traveling alone? I had read an online article about health and safety in various parts of the world, and the article stated that you should probably be just fine, and then pithily added “unless you’re dumb enough to do it on a motorcycle.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">Then I came across “Scaredy Squirrel,” the first of these charming books by Mélanie Watt. I had bought one for a friend’s kid and decided I’d read it quickly one evening. And there was my answer: I needed to leave my nut tree. The book charmed me so much that I even put a sticker of Scaredy Squirrel on my motorcycle, and I spent 16 amazing months on the road.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">That little squirrel tipped the scales just enough to motivate me to commit to the trip. If I ever get to meet him, I’m going to give him a hug.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Scott W. Parker, Edmonton, Alberta<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Calling on Dragons<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">It was 1994. I was in the middle of third grade and being severely bullied. The teachers knew and turned a blind eye, and my parents didn’t believe me. The adults in my life had let me down. I was rapidly losing my ability to trust in anyone. But then the right book found me: Patricia C. Wrede’s “Calling on Dragons.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">The grown-ups in that book became my surrogate parents and best friends. Morwen the witch taught me to hold fast to my common sense and empathy, and Telemain the magician urged me to never give up my inquisitiveness or my love of words too big for a 9-year-old to wield with ease.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">“Calling on Dragons” gave me back my trust in adults when things so easily could have gone the other way. I grew up to become a librarian — a path I can trace directly back to my year living inside of “Calling on Dragons.” The books we read between the ages of 8 and 12 change us in indelible ways. Sometimes they save us, too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Kate Weber, Washington<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Welcome to the Monkey House<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">My life took a turn at age 17 when I discovered Kurt Vonnegut’s “Welcome to the Monkey House.” I had been raised in a strict fundamentalist household with a somber black-and-white perspective. Not only did Vonnegut throw open a window to varying shades of gray, but he also revealed brilliant colors with that wild and random prose of his. Suddenly, I was on a carnival ride of quirky characters and absurdity, finding myself somewhere between Taoism and slapstick. Vonnegut’s stories sent me off on more literary joy rides, to different authors and genres. I was happily and hopelessly hooked on the intoxication of the well-written word. Lucky me!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Kris Allen, Beulah, Colo.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">The Little Engine That Could<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">“I think I can” think of a book that has influenced how I think and act and look at the world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">When I was a child in the 1940s, the United States was in a world war. It was a stressful time, and uncertainty about the future colored each day. One Christmas morning, I unwrapped the first book I was to own, “The Little Engine That Could.” “Santa” must have known that the book’s message of courage, perseverance and kindness was just what was needed to reassure a little girl that all would be right in the end.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">I treasured the book, I read it to my primary grade students during my public school teaching career, and I still buy copies for the children in my circle of family and friends. I do not exaggerate when I say that this book is the reason that I have always loved to read. And, at this moment in time, its message could not be more relevant.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Gail Minthorn, Wilton, Conn.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Animal Farm<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">When I first read George Orwell’s “Animal Farm,” I was an eighth grader whose only knowledge of dictatorial government was the time my father made me cut the grass when I wanted to watch “Batman” on TV. “Animal Farm” gave me my first literary glimpse at human greed, cruelty and gullibility. I was aware that villains existed (I watched “Batman,” after all), but I was blissfully unaware of how an evil leader could manipulate an entire populace into believing he was their hero. George Orwell set me straight on that point.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">A brilliant critique of totalitarianism masquerading as a “fairy story,” the novel chronicles a revolution launched by the animals of Manor Farm against its cruel owner, Mr. Jones. The beasts — committed to the concept that “all animals are equal” — struggle to create an equitable government only to find their ideals subverted by the ambitious pig Napoleon, who utters the novel’s famous catchphrase, “All animals are equal but some animals are more equal than others.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">As I read that line for the first time a chill went down my spine, and I have not looked at politics or government the same way since.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">G. Wayne Dowdy, Memphis<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Being Mortal<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">Atul Gawande’s “Being Mortal” is perhaps the most profound and important book I have ever read. I read it at age 71 as my wife of 50 years was dying of cancer. Gawande, a brilliant writer as well as surgeon, begins with an obvious fact: Doctors are fixers and problem solvers; they want to save life or at least preserve it. The alternative: palliative care and hospice. When life is certain to end in the near term, comfort and dignity are more important than preserving life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">My wife and I embraced that idea as two courses of chemotherapy and surgery failed and ended all hope of her recovery. Gawande doesn’t so much recommend hospice as help us to understand why it’s a humane, life-asserting choice. The choice is, finally, ours.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">“Being Mortal” is accessible, engaging, enlightening and important.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Les Cohen, Reno, Nev.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">The Overstory<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">I read “The Overstory,” by Richard Powers, this past year and it changed the way I, at 62 years old, look at the natural world and the planet Earth, as well as its inhabitants. I will never look at a tree the same way again. The information I gleaned regarding the relationship between trees and the planet, their underground and “secret” life, will ever color the way I look at beautiful scenery or, in many cases, the devastation of the planet by human hands, or its natural devastation by nature’s hands.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">I have gained a new respect for persons who make sacrifices and life changes, and who rage against the dying of the planet by educating and haranguing the rest of us about the thoughtlessness with which we treat Earth. I observe the trees in my yard, engaged in miraculous natural and chemical workings, and wonder what’s happening under the ground, in the secret life I know nothing of.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Jane Vereen, Sioux City, Iowa<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">An Unknown Woman<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">I wandered into a bookstore in Newburyport, Mass., on a “sick day” from work I hated in 1986. Poking through the stacks, I alighted on “An Unknown Woman,” by Alice Koller, a memoir of her winter spent on Cape Cod deconstructing her life and personality. What was hers and what had society imposed upon her? How did she want to go forward in her life, living consciously? Alone, walking the beaches with her dog, Logos, she dismantled herself and her previous life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">By the time I had finished the book, I resolved to quit my job, get my pilot’s license and backpack in Europe before I embarked on a new career as an air traffic controller. It was the beginning of consciousness for me at the age of 26. I can’t stop thinking about that seemingly random sliver of luck.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Elle Pea, Rockland, Me.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Peace Like a River<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">I read Leif Enger’s “Peace Like a River” shortly after my grandmother passed away. She was a tough Irish broad with a deep spirituality and a bossy bark befitting a mother of nine. It was hard to envision a world without a larger-than-life figure like her. Then I read the “Be Jubilant, My Feet” chapter in Enger’s novel. It gave me the most tangible, connected sense of heaven I have ever had. It allowed me to picture Gram in the new, joyous world beyond the beyond that she always believed in. And because of Enger’s words, now I believe in it, too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Sara Carpi, Weston, Mass.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">The Diary of Anne Frank<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">When I was 9 years old, I read “The Diary of Anne Frank” and instantly fell in love with Anne’s spirit and feisty nature; I felt that we were friends, somehow. I wept not only for her death, but also because my father’s side of the family had served in the German military in World War II. I felt that, in some way, my family had some responsibility for her death. I vowed in that moment, with the passion that only a 9-year-old girl can muster, that if I’d been there, I would have been different. I would have stood up for what was right and fair and good. I would not have been afraid to risk myself to save Anne, and others like her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">I am 50 years old now. In a world filled with racism, homophobia and misogyny, I still wonder if I am I doing everything I can to stand up for my beliefs. I do not know if I have done enough, if I will ever do enough. I do know, however, that it is Anne Frank’s face that I see before me as I attempt to do this work, every single day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Kristina Dahl, Seattle<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">A Prayer for Owen Meany, Great Expectations<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">Often, it is the way books combine that affects us deeply. In a summer in my early 20s, I read for the first of many times John Irving’s “A Prayer for Owen Meany” and Charles Dickens’s “Great Expectations” in quick succession. At the time, I found myself quite lost in life — jobless, homeless, lovelorn — as whatever bootstraps I believed that I had pulled myself up by became unraveled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">Both novels are in a way criticisms of a novelistic view of life with heroes and clear choices. Both explain that while we tell stories to make meaning of our lives, too much faith in those stories — especially in the way they assign credit and blame — leaves us prey to our fundamental ignorance. They show that there is much good luck and bad luck in every life, and that the former should teach us humility, while the latter teaches us compassion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">By fall I had found myself teaching in a public high school, where I remain, having learned something important from those novels about my chosen occupation’s requirements for hope and understanding.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Thomas Fabian, Watertown, Mass.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Charlotte’s Web (and More)<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">At 15, homeless, using heroin and in a gang, I was lost, enraged, futureless. One thing provided me a vision for another way to live — or die, as the case may be. Books. My refuge at the time was Los Angeles’s Central Library. At night I’d sleep in abandoned cars or shuttered buildings. During the day, I strolled by shelves of paper and ink. I read Ray Bradbury’s science fiction opuses alongside African-American authors like James Baldwin, Claude Brown and Malcolm X. I read E.B. White’s “Charlotte’s Web” like 20 times. I became the weird homie who carried books to the ’hood under my arm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">Soon in jail cells or in juvenile hall, I wrote. Ramblings, mostly, but I did it. I’ve now been drug-free, crime-free and gang-free for 48 years. In that time, I’ve written 16 books, including my best-selling memoir, “Always Running: La Vida Loca, Gang Days in L.A.” I’m a walking, breathing testament that in books one can be reimagined, newly flowered, reborn.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Luis J. Rodriguez, Los Angeles<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Normal People<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">I recently broke up with a boyfriend of many years because we decided that we could no longer handle a long-distance relationship. Sally Rooney’s novel “Normal People” has helped me cope with this breakup by broadening my understanding of what it means to love another person. Before reading Rooney’s novel, I had always believed that we should make compromises and give up certain dreams to enable relationships with the people we love. Yet Marianne and Connell’s story taught me just the opposite: The best way of loving someone can also be by letting a person go. Enabling another person to pursue a dream without having to fit you into the picture can be the best and truest form of love.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">In the end, sometimes we have to accept that the people whom we care about most and learn the most from are not those with whom we end up. Sometimes, we need to be apart from them to benefit from all the gifts they can give and lessons they can teach. Love can be rewarding even when there is no happy ending.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Jane Stewart, New York<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Remembrance of Things Past<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">During the summer between my junior and senior years in college, working as a night clerk in a failing resort hotel, I made it through all seven volumes of Marcel Proust’s “Remembrance of Things Past,” inspired by a charismatic professor. These books not only opened up a world of wonder, peopled by a host of singular individuals, but also demonstrated for me, by Proust’s recreation of a life partially lived and partially imagined, that time and mortality can be transcended. Through memory, informed by creative intelligence and guided by the beacons of great works of art, Proust transmutes the banalities of everyday existence into dazzling beauty.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">This example of how it is possible to view one’s own time on earth has sustained me through a long life of no great distinction and brought me, contentedly, to, as Proust puts it, “the perilous summit” of my 85 years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">Robert A. Picken, Port Washington, N.Y.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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Gals - Very Smart Galshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16990972719050405870noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660453162125942814.post-79416163783752280772020-01-19T19:01:00.003-06:002020-01-20T17:29:23.257-06:00Cluster Critiques<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Sea Stories: My Life in Special </span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: "times";">Operations by William H. McRaven</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">Gal-friend of 35+ years Nan McRaven mentioned I should check out her brother Bill’s most recent book, <i>Sea Stories: My Life in Special </i>Operations, and it sounded like a title my husband might enjoy listening to. We were doing our annual “Tour de Family” holiday road trip to drop off/open gifts, and then on to a couple days lying around, eating, drinking and reading at the Hotel Saint George in Marfa, and needed a good audio book to listen to in the car.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">I knew William (Bill) McRaven, a four-star Navy Admiral in charge of the US Special Operations Command, had organized and overseen the execution of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Operation_Neptune_Spear" title="Operation Neptune Spear"><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none;">Operation Neptune Spear</span></a>, the raid that led to the death of Osama bin Laden in 2011, but I learned there were lots of other things about McRaven I didn’t know, like his involvement in the capture of Saddam Hussein and the rescue of Captain Richard Phillips (played by Tom Hanks in the movie, Captain Phillips).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">McRaven’s descriptions of Phillips rescue, the capture and interrogation of Hussein, and of the killing of bin Laden are thrilling, specific and well-told. His story about his SEAL training, which consisted of weeding out the weak, indecisive, and uncommitted, took up much of his book, but it also laid the foundation for McRaven’s military and life successes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times";">Sea Stories</span></i><span style="font-family: "times";"> was terrifically entertaining, not just because of the high-profile operations in which McRaven played leadership roles, but also because it was well-written, well-read (audible version) and because McRaven came across, aside from his amazing achievements, as a regular guy who uses profanity when called for, kicks back with a drink to relax, occasionally screws up, and even gets fired from a job.</span><span style="font-family: "times";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times";">Sea Stories</span></i><span style="font-family: "times";"> will end up being on, or at least near the top of, the best books I read in 2019. Read it.</span><span style="font-family: "times";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";"><i>A Texas Goes to Nirvana: Hairy Arm…I mean Hari Ommmm! b</i>y Kelly Jackson</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">I don’t recall how and when I met Kelly Jackson (Author/Yoga Guru/Horsegal) and her sister Sally (Actress/Scouting Agent for Speilberg), but I want to be them when I grow up. They have incredible attitudes and senses of humor, and that will get you further than anything I know. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">Kelly, the younger sister (sorry SalGal), is the author of <i>A Texan Goes To Nirvana </i>about a recently, divorced NYC woman, Wendy, who in a desperate attempt to gather her wits and make a living decides to go to an ashram in Kentucky to get certified to teach yoga. <i>But A Texan Goes To Nirvana </i>isn’t just a divorce-recovery thing. We get our first clue when the receptionist at the Ashram says to Wendy, “We very much look forward to eating you,” and it just gets better, with some espionage and romance thrown in the mix. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">This is a well-written, hilarious book with a fun storyline that you will truly enjoy! Read it.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Call Me God: The Untold Story of the DC Sniper</span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: "times";"> <i>Investigation </i>by Jim Clemente, Tim Clemente, and Peter McDonnell<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">I couldn’t imagine I would enjoy this book about the infamous DC sniper murders so much, but <i>Call Me God</i> is an excellent example of how good writing and production can elevate a story beyond its seeming potential. Over 23 days in 2002, two snipers randomly shot and killed 10 and critically injured another three in the DC area, leaving very few clues and escaping unseen. Although the reason for the carnage, and the snipers' insistence they be called “God” isn’t revealed until the end of the book, the pace of the story, pushed by killing nearly every 24 hours - the relentless clock ticking - along with the complexities and intricacies of the investigation (behavioral, ballistics and forensics), make this a fast-paced cliff-hanger you’ll have a hard time putting down. If you like true crime and law enforcement investigations you’ll enjoy <i>Call Me God.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">The Pioneers: The Heroic Story of the Settlers Who Brought the American Ideal West</span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: "times";"> by David McCullough</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">I have enjoyed David McCullough’s books, favorites being <i>The Path Between the Seas</i>, <i>The Great Bridge</i>, and <i>Johnstown Flood</i>, but I didn’t particularly enjoy <i>The Pioneers. </i></span><span style="font-family: "times";">It says it is about the expansion of the Northwest territory between 1787 to 1863, but seemed stuck pretty much on the story of the settling of Marietta, Ohio. I love and read a lot of history, but this book was frequently dry, the characters were hard to keep straight, and I my mind tended to wander. It also seemed strangely missing information about interactions with the native populations in the area. On the positive side, you do learn about several new characters who played pivotal role in the early settlements – and that was a somewhat interesting addition to the shallow and redundant stories and characters usually offered up in historical accounts. I can’t really recommend it.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Before We were Yours: A Novel</span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: "times";"> by Lisa Wingate<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times";">Before We were Yours</span></i><span style="font-family: "times";"> is a fictionalize story based on one of America’s most notorious real-life scandals - in which Georgia Tann, director of a Memphis-based adoption organization, kidnapped and sold children to wealthy families all over the country. Wingate’s story is told from the perspective of two main characters. In 1939, Rill is 12 years old and she and her four younger siblings who are dirt poor but happily living on a Mississippi shanty boat are torn apart when t kidnapped and taken to an orphanage to be sold to the highest bidder. The other character is Avery, born into wealth, but struggling to feel comfortable with the expectations of her family and social circle. When she accidentally stumbles into information that raises questions about the origins of her family members, and has a chance encounter with an elderly woman who claims to know her, she is compelled into a mystery of twist and turns. The stories of Rill and Avery overlap mysteriously and flawlessly, creating a fast-paced story that keeps the reader engaged. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">Wingate’s skill at imagining and creating very real feeling characters, and her skill at developing empathy for those characters is key to the drive of this story – characters who say things like: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">“I want a pain that has a beginning and an end, not one that goes on forever and cuts all the way to the bone,” and, “It’s funny how what you’re used to seems like it’s right even if it’s bad.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">In our discussion of<i> Before We were Yours</i> at my book club, some who read the hardcover felt it wasn’t that well written, but those who listened to the audible version felt it was beautifully written, which must be a tribute to the narrator of the audible version. Several also said <i>Before We were Yours</i> felt similar to <i>Where the Crawdads Sing</i>, so if you read <i>Crawdads</i> and loved it, you may enjoy <i>Before We were Yours</i> as well. I’m so partial to reading nonfiction, it takes an extraordinary story to impress me. <i>Before We were Yours </i>impressed me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Talking to Strangers: What We Should Know About the People We Don’t Know</span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: "times";"> by Malcolm Gladwell</span></b></div>
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I was beginning to think Malcom Gladwell had made so much money off <i>The Tipping Pont</i>, <i>Blink</i>, and <i>Outliers</i> he didn’t need or want to write again. I was wrong, but it took him six year to get back in the game with <i>Talking to Strangers</i>, which unlike his other writings, felt strangely grim. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Although full of interesting stories, I was confused by <i>Talking to Strangers</i>. I couldn’t figure out if Gladwell was making the point that people so desperately want to trust each other that they overlook horrible realities, or if he was saying we just misunderstand each other. He references examples of us not being circumspect enough, like Hitler fooling British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain into thinking he wasn’t doing anything wrong, Larry Nassar sexually abusing female gymnasts for years, and the guy who finally busted Bernie Madoff when everybody else still thought he was a great guy.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But then Gladwell says we base our relationships with strangers on what media tells us about them - like, cops kill black people and black people are criminals - with catastrophic outcomes. He delves deeply, and in length, about Sandra Bland, a Black woman, stopped by a cop near the campus of Prairie View A&M University. The interaction between Bland and the cop eventually disintegrates into a physical confrontation and the incarceration of Ms. Bland, who is found hanged in her jail cell the next morning. Gladwell’s conclusion, Sandra and the cop simply misunderstood each other. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Do we trust people too much, or not enough? I can’t say I really love the book. Also, since I listened to the audible version I had to listen to a Janelle Monáe song between chapters, which seemed to have special meaning to the book, but I couldn’t understand the lyrics of the song so it was just irritating. Gladwell’s storytelling was great as usual, but the point he was trying to make felt obtuse. Life’s too short and there ae too many good books out there. I’m sort of sorry I spent my time on this one. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEBgYPVUmQtLaf05bHFGlPVFccZiBiv1taL-fqrCTIq74umJyVRRUgOSY6OJzc2KxvVJhf79g-Y5mlmJybkkOWaNDYPXiqKsU6xG_DHN79RhAdOjDLbJBCZmE-OPADiP1F2Sn9Sz3HeMlV/s1600/Gutsy+Women+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="380" data-original-width="318" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEBgYPVUmQtLaf05bHFGlPVFccZiBiv1taL-fqrCTIq74umJyVRRUgOSY6OJzc2KxvVJhf79g-Y5mlmJybkkOWaNDYPXiqKsU6xG_DHN79RhAdOjDLbJBCZmE-OPADiP1F2Sn9Sz3HeMlV/s320/Gutsy+Women+Cover.jpg" width="267" /></a></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">The Book of Gutsy Women</span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: "times";"> by Hillary Rodham Clinton and Chelsea Clinton<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">The Clinton’s don’t put out anything but good books – interesting, detailed, well-written etc. but maybe I’ve read too many of them. In spite of the fact that <b><i>Gutsy Women</i></b> is not about Hillary or Chelsea, but rather about many of the world’s more obscure and amazing women, each story is prefaced with sort of pithy recounts of Hillary and Chelsea’s connections to those women. I found myself wanting to skip the introductions of the women by Hillary and Chelsea and go straight to the women’s stories. Also, I listened to the audio version of the book and the contrast between Hillary’s booming, almost Barbara Jordan-ish voice, compared to the young-ish and sometimes weirdly paced voice of Chelsea, was very close to annoying. I recommend you read the hardcover or paperback version. You will learn about some inspiring, diverse, gutsy women who exhibited extraordinary courage in the paths they took in life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Turned On: Science, Sex and Robots</span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: "times";"> by Kate Devlin</span></b></div>
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<b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOGEUq509SnYnRA1DpgOWm8FJax_sZn6VQc-91RhrZrz3Qo4zSdc_1R-N3AqY5K83LUvUFR6wYmUcG57opnCSWuwPIAHy0SetMjOe7J6oRgn-o0hw_7mh7PlviapordPh-avywhS0dANj9/s1600/Turned+on+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="250" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOGEUq509SnYnRA1DpgOWm8FJax_sZn6VQc-91RhrZrz3Qo4zSdc_1R-N3AqY5K83LUvUFR6wYmUcG57opnCSWuwPIAHy0SetMjOe7J6oRgn-o0hw_7mh7PlviapordPh-avywhS0dANj9/s320/Turned+on+Cover.jpg" width="199" /></a></b></div>
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I jumped head first (no pun intended) into <i>Turned On: Science, Sex and Robots</i> because I have an insatiable curiosity and was intrigued by the technology and history aspects of sex toys. It started off so well that within 50 pages I’d recommended it to several people. Devlin has a pretty sharp sense of humor, and has done her homework, spanning the history of sexual devices from ancient Greece to current day. And although it would be ridiculous to imagine sex devices haven’t been around forever, it was fun and funny to read about all the early sex toys. Eventually the author breeches the topic of sex robots, and some related issues I wouldn’t have even though of, like what is needed in a sex robot. Does it just need to be a penis or a place to put it, or does it need to appear human, alive, and include artificial intelligence, speech, logic, conversation? <o:p></o:p></div>
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And then there were the ethical issues associated with sex robots, such as child-sized robots and the impact on women. Would it encourage objectification, or worse, rape? Would robots used in porn and prostitution result in less sex trafficking and exploitation? Would you believe there are already sex doll brothels all around the world?<br />
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I have to admit that I lost interest about 2/3 way through when the author seemed to languish too much in the examination of the sociological issues and the people involved, and less in the potential capacities and future of the technology and devices themselves. I finished the book feeling not satisfied. Make of that what you want.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Gals - Very Smart Galshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16990972719050405870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660453162125942814.post-52209426440320481632020-01-19T19:01:00.002-06:002020-01-20T17:31:09.272-06:00What I’m Reading Now<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPI97pM09rQ-rsXA9NQs2hk-UmrRjbgKNDfrSeSl0Coi5CUySccTsg3OZBnie_LWaJRorvQFTvTpOTx_O06iz9zRHiSYnHpzk7IoOuBJah54H6XbHP2V9NxZpJtBz8KMbwj-fw1vClFntp/s1600/DUTCH.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="475" data-original-width="315" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPI97pM09rQ-rsXA9NQs2hk-UmrRjbgKNDfrSeSl0Coi5CUySccTsg3OZBnie_LWaJRorvQFTvTpOTx_O06iz9zRHiSYnHpzk7IoOuBJah54H6XbHP2V9NxZpJtBz8KMbwj-fw1vClFntp/s200/DUTCH.jpg" width="132" /></a></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">The Dutch House: A Novel by </span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: "times";">Ann </span></b><span style="font-family: "times";">Patchett (Also wrote the unsurpassed <i>Bel Canto) – </i>A glass mansion, a runaway mom, a distant father, and a mean stepmother. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Priced Out: The Economic and Ethical Costs of American Heath Care </span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: "times";">by Uwe E. Reinhardt and Paul Krugman</span></b><span style="font-family: "times";"> – Why America’s subpar medical system care cost so much, and what to do about it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Catch and Kill: Lies, Spies, and a Conspiracy to Protect Predators </span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: "times";">by Ronan Farrow</span></b><span style="font-family: "times";"> </span><span style="font-family: "times";">(Mia Farrow and Woody Allen’s Son) - Harvey Weinstein and Black Cube, the mysterious Israeli firm Weinstein hired to conduct blackmail intelligence to protect him from his crimes.</span><span style="font-family: "times";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGTyKAicR1QW_d6EZ_b-ZfDXSSsNvpp0JaaUAZYOjVpgrO4-wFO9F24CUcwwqPjsnfzIuwFMsGI6Qy_XVH2fb5CNYaPsY7OjtripFF7nw2Ba1puiiH0DtxAlz1M0PzBDyevBHzRtaqY7X0/s1600/Idealist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="265" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGTyKAicR1QW_d6EZ_b-ZfDXSSsNvpp0JaaUAZYOjVpgrO4-wFO9F24CUcwwqPjsnfzIuwFMsGI6Qy_XVH2fb5CNYaPsY7OjtripFF7nw2Ba1puiiH0DtxAlz1M0PzBDyevBHzRtaqY7X0/s200/Idealist.jpg" width="132" /></a></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">The Education of an Idealist: A Memoir</span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: "times";"> by Samantha Power</span></b><span style="font-family: "times";"> - A worldly, Irish-American transplant survives an overachieving mom and alcoholic dad to become US Ambassador to the United Nations under President Obama. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";"> <i>The Which Way Tree </i>by Elizabeth Crook</span></b><span style="font-family: "times";"> – In the Texas Hill Country during the Civil War, </span><span style="font-family: times;">a young woman tracks down the panther that attacked her family, horrible scared her face, and killed her mother. </span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">How to Change Your Mind: What the New Science of Psychedelics Teaches Us About Consciousness, Dying, Addiction, Depression, and Transcendence</span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: "times";"> by Michael Pollan – </span></b><span style="font-family: "times";">Revived clinical interest in psychedelics.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8bUW44mNvl4bwiScug4eNSw19GEYY3yxX6-H5c3oIDd-JqTkq-tKDZ93yBF3C1PePX8j21Ky1inCWUqx1UCAPccVqLBsu-uUqxI1daC_iyffT4llZYhDkzS2CS7FtzUS7EfD4fnZU0JGR/s1600/Say+Nothing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="475" data-original-width="313" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8bUW44mNvl4bwiScug4eNSw19GEYY3yxX6-H5c3oIDd-JqTkq-tKDZ93yBF3C1PePX8j21Ky1inCWUqx1UCAPccVqLBsu-uUqxI1daC_iyffT4llZYhDkzS2CS7FtzUS7EfD4fnZU0JGR/s200/Say+Nothing.jpg" width="131" /></a></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Say Nothing: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland</span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: "times";"> by Patrick Radden Kefe</span></b><span style="font-family: "times";"> – </span><span style="font-family: "times";">History of Northern Ireland, “the Troubles,” and the people who caused or were caught in the Troubles.</span></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: #141414; font-family: "times";">Enlightenment Now: The Case for Reason, Science, Humanism, and Progress </span></i></b><b><span style="color: #141414; font-family: "times";">by Steven Pinker</span></b><span style="font-family: "times";"> – Intellectualized optimism.</span><b><span style="color: #141414; font-family: "times";"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">King Leopold's Ghost: A Story of Greed, Terror, and Heroism in Colonial Africa</span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: "times";"> by Adam Hochschild</span></b><span style="font-family: "times";"> – The title says it well.</span><b><span style="font-family: "times";"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Conviction</span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: "times";"> by Denise Mena</span></b><span style="font-family: "times";"> – A sunken yacht, a murdered family, and an international conspiracy that gets personal.</span></div>
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Gals - Very Smart Galshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16990972719050405870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660453162125942814.post-17888407183226044152019-10-27T19:00:00.000-05:002020-01-19T10:18:44.288-06:00100 Things I Want to Tell My Children and Grandchildren, #34<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
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<b><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Famous/Quasi-Famous People I’ve Known or Met</span></span></b></div>
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<b><u><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Political</span></u></b><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><b>Ann Richards, Governor of Texas</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhKLqBwK1_NphnPbgJi3VnkuKtoFj3qALWu4IPp3_0pLaw0x2WP-uyrcTy2IpexItWuUAJKM9bD31sAQBSqr6ao4qH57ZnyJ-4BkijEB-m0o4KgEHMM_uMtLHTBsckQ-vERz5cf13t4hu0/s1600/In+the+Dome.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="513" data-original-width="769" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhKLqBwK1_NphnPbgJi3VnkuKtoFj3qALWu4IPp3_0pLaw0x2WP-uyrcTy2IpexItWuUAJKM9bD31sAQBSqr6ao4qH57ZnyJ-4BkijEB-m0o4KgEHMM_uMtLHTBsckQ-vERz5cf13t4hu0/s400/In+the+Dome.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">My memories of Ann are so rich and deep I hardly know where to begin. </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Perhaps the memory for which I am most proud, was the inaugural parade. About 25 Texas Women’s Political Caucus members and I were selling the “</span><b style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: times, "times new roman", serif;">A Woman’s Place is in the Dome” t-shirts </b><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">all along the parade route, and I looked up to see Ann walking down congress to the Capital with a huge procession of supporters alongside and behind her. She yelled out <b>“SueAnn, come here, come join me”. </b>Unfortunately, I had a box full of t-shirts I couldn’t abandon and couldn’t join her, but I was extremely proud of that moment. Proud of Ann for making it into the Governorship, proud of women being so powerfully represented, and proud of the small part I play in all that.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I was President of the Texas Women’s Political Caucus when Ann was appointed State Treasurer and when she ran and won the Texas Governor’s seat. Because of our relationship, my famous graphic designer husband designed several ads for her campaign. She loved to flirt with him, suggesting I should share, to which I jokingly responded that I’m sure we could work something out. This is to say I was fairly involved in her campaign, and was, in fact, a member of her Capital Committee, which was a sort of honorary steering committee. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">We held a fundraiser for her at the National Women’s Political Caucus annual conference in Minneapolis, and the turnout was so overwhelming that we literally had hotel security limiting the number of people who could enter the room because of fire regulations. I had so many women virtually throwing money at me to give to Ann that I began stuffing it into my bra. Later that night at dinner with Ann and a couple of other people, much to our amusement, after I thought I’d already given Ann all the funds we raised at the event, I kept feeling something scratching against my chest, and found another $700, which I pulled out of my bra and handed over to Ann. We laughed so hard. It was a heady time! </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And lastly, is the memory of Texas Women’s Political Caucus float in a parade just prior to Ann’s Election to Governor. The float consisted of an eight-foot-tall replica of the Texas Capital Dome, with a large “A Woman’s Place is in the Dome” sign. We put as many elected women officials as possible, as well as firewomen, policewomen, etc. on the float. And my 84 year old mom got to ride on that float. She was so proud and excited.</span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">First Lady Hillary Clinton, US Senator, Secretary of State</span></span></b></div>
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Although I promoted and supported Hillary Clinton in the bid for the Presidency, I didn’t meet her until June 2015, at a fundraiser at Suzanne and Marc Winkelman’s. Funny thing happened, when the special security checked my bag I forgot I had a knife in there - I joked and said us Texas girls always carry knives, but I don't think they were amused, and of course they made me remove it from my bag. They were probably keeping an eye on me the entire party too.<br />
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When I told Hillary my five-year-old (at the time) granddaughter asked me to ask her what's her favorite thing to do, despite a long line of people patiently waiting to be photographed with her, she replied, "Well you tell your little granddaughter that I love to swim, and I love to play with my dogs. But my most favorite thing to do is to play with my new little granddaughter Charlotte." America is the only industrialized nation yet to elect a woman President/top leader. What are we waiting for? Was Hillary Clinton perfect? No. Who is? If we wait for a woman candidate who is perfect, it will never happen. Are any of the male presidents or male presidential candidates perfect? No. Why do we hold women to a different standard? Women really need to cut each other a little more slack, and they need to stick together. Why? Because the female perspective is important. Not more important, just important.<br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><b>Betty Friedan, Iconic feminist, author of <i>The Feminine Mystique</i>, Co-founder of the National Women's Political Caucus, First President of the National Organization for Women (NOW)</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I had breakfast with Betty (just the two of us), during the 1991, 20th Anniversary of the National Women's Political Caucus in Washington DC, which I attended with my wheelchair-bound mother. Betty was at the center of the movement to, in her own words, “bring women into the mainstream of American society, in fully equal partnership with men." I’ve never quite understood why “equal” is so intimidating or annoying to some people. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><b>Helen Thomas, United Press Reporter, White House Press Corps</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Helen covered the White House during the administrations of ten U.S. presidents—from the start of the Kennedy administration to the second year of the Obama administration. Although I never met Helen Thomas, Ann Richards called me during her second (failed) run for Texas Governor, saying Helen called her saying, I had very admirably defended Ann during a DC women’s conference Helen had also attended. Ann was very appreciative, and I appreciated Helen passing along the complement to Ann.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">First Lady, Lady Bird Johnson</span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I had a couple of opportunities to meet Lady Bird Johnson. The first was when I was President of Keep Texas Beautiful and we had tea at her house, and presented her with an award. The second was when I was with the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center and she made a visit with her security guards (who I overhead complaining about her being grumpy). I felt very honored to be in the same room with her on both occasions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Sarah Weddington, Attorney, Roe Vs Wade, Youngest Person to Successfully Argue a Case Before the Supreme Court</b></span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib1-lFceo92_29MK8lYxuRuZkzNKZABHIeaCicO-t9FxEN-ZJyGodAzHfsucs9UW0-DQ5-5BmPXY2LjLL6bjz6-hphJPSHU4zY9xC4bno_6XkqxP3B3eZVr83WeYPRx_hWNuN4wK1_v_f_/s1600/Weddington.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="545" data-original-width="960" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib1-lFceo92_29MK8lYxuRuZkzNKZABHIeaCicO-t9FxEN-ZJyGodAzHfsucs9UW0-DQ5-5BmPXY2LjLL6bjz6-hphJPSHU4zY9xC4bno_6XkqxP3B3eZVr83WeYPRx_hWNuN4wK1_v_f_/s400/Weddington.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: "times";">I’ve known Sarah for a very long time due to our mutual involvement in the Texas Women’s Political Caucus, but it was great to have her as my very special guest at a Very Smart Gals Book Club meeting last year. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: 10pt;">(Book club members pictured with Sarah, white-haired, seated, include, L-R, Liz Arreaga, Founder of Mercury Mambo, Cathy Casey, VP Texas Monthly Magazine, Karen Kahan, Chief Program Officer, Anderson Charitable Foundation, Nancy Coplin, Former Chair, Austin Music Commission, and former music producer Austin Bergstrom Airport, Marcia Ball, International Music Icon, Lynn Meredith, Austin Philanthropist of the Year, Sarah Weddington, Attorney, Roe vs Wade, Myra McIlvain, Freelance writer/lecturer, author of “Stein House,” Shannon Sedwick, owner of Esther’s Follies, Austin Icon, Sarah Bird, world-renown, award-winning author, Me, grandmother, blogger, development consultant, Susan Dawson, ABJ’s “30 most impactful in last 30 years,” Ronda Rutledge, Executive Director, Sustainable Food Center, Tracy Firsching, teaches re-entry in TX Dept of Criminal Justice, The Honorable Orlinda Naranjo, Presiding Judge of the 419th District Court, Dr. Nan McRaven, Austin Community College District Board of Trustees, Melissa D’Antoni, creative catalyst, visionary, Fire Tree Studios, and Lulu Flores, former President, National Women’s Political Caucus.)</span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Geraldine Ferraro, First Female Candidate for Vice President (for a major American political party), and Member of the US House of Representatives</span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxFJjLYxOp9KUvbSWfrZsmesPwi5sH08AeHDQsQoZSsVT1e3J5RhPTRQKN5ZxaIPZhy6urkgZ99StYA21NAOoYNXJAQP4MzbOHYkAmecXTkgmWnI2YdPte-O8chLV2AHindSfXfQrnPlHc/s1600/Ferraro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxFJjLYxOp9KUvbSWfrZsmesPwi5sH08AeHDQsQoZSsVT1e3J5RhPTRQKN5ZxaIPZhy6urkgZ99StYA21NAOoYNXJAQP4MzbOHYkAmecXTkgmWnI2YdPte-O8chLV2AHindSfXfQrnPlHc/s1600/Ferraro.jpg" /></span></a><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I also met<b> </b>Geraldine Ferraro at the 1991, 20<sup>th</sup> Anniversary of the National Women's Political Caucus in Washington DC. I told her the story about <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">my showing my then teen daughter a photo of her on the cover of Time magazine and saying to her, “See, Jolene, you could be Vice President, or even President someday,” to which she replied, “So could you mom!” I told Geraldine that was an eye-opening moment for me. My next thought as I stared into my daughter’s magnificently evolved soul was, “No wonder it takes us so long. We expect the next generation to make the strides.” She seemed to appreciate my story and we shared a special moment. How magnificent it must have felt to her (and to many of the courageous women of my generation) to know she/they were making history.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Gloria Steinem, "Mother of Feminism," Co-founder of <i>Ms. Magazine,</i> National Women's Hall of Fame, Awardee of the Presidential Medal of Freedom</span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I met Gloria as we waited for taxis outside the 1991, 20<sup>th </sup>Anniversary of the National Women's Political Caucus in Washington DC. I told her how angry I was that Bill Clinton had just received a standing ovation (or was even invited) at the closing ceremony of the conference. I was still reeling and in tears that they’d announced a 10% increase in women elected to national office (over the past 20 years), as if that was something to be proud of. 10% in 20 years, I was devastated. Gloria assured me she’s been through many, many such disappointments, feeling disillusioned and discouraged. We talked about 30 minutes, and although our conversation didn’t really make me feel any better, it did validate my feelings of disappointment, standing in contrast to the satisfaction everyone else seem to experience with the 10% gain. </span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Lyndon B. Johnson, President of the United States</span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">One summer, when my mother was attending graduate school at UT and I was very young, and President Johnson was then the US Senator for Texas, my mom and I took a bus from the rooming house where we lived to the Paramount Theater to hear Senator Johnson speak. At the end of his speech, mom and I waited until the rush of people had cleared, and then we went up on the stage, and mom made a grand point of introducing me to Mr. Johnson. I remember with such clarity that this giant of a man, bent in half to gently hold and kiss my small, white-gloved hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><u><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Music</span><o:p></o:p></span></u></b></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>John Blasutta, Audio Engineer, Rolling Stones, ZZ Top, The Who</b>, <b>Blues Brothers, </b></span><b><span style="font-size: large;">and others</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Although he lives in Austin, John was a long-distance boyfriend for a couple of years (many years ago) because he was never home – traveling with all the top bands – some of which are mentioned above. I haven’t see or stayed in touch with John over the years, but suspect he’s still the fun, self-deprecating guy as always. John introduced me to so many people in the music industry who became friends, and provided many fun music-related experiences. I enjoyed the biggest concerts in the world from the sound engineer tower (best seats in the house), from front row seats (second best seats), and standing on the side of many concert stages, nestled in-between giant speakers, and attending fun after parties.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Paul Gongaware, Concerts West, Manager for Elvis Presley, Rolling Stones, Prince, Céline Dion, Katy Perry, Justin Bieber, </b></span><b><span style="font-size: large;">and others</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I met Paul through John Blasutta and although we were always just friends, I would go out to dinner with him when he was in town for a concert, and he always gave me backstage passes for his shows, which were fun. Paul had a wonderful sense of humor and was fun to hang out with.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEktpVZpz81zZ3Ra7fiCtADocUR9ntweOKLlCHh4DI5J-w7Fs3JWpI8vNhbprw2dhxW_2-1WDh9l2SIH0lE_A18c5epWeZXgTgz_DlZxzUgaB_xe_mfiNduQ1KKgpb6PAI1yUhUZWDPSU-/s1600/Joe+E.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="195" data-original-width="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEktpVZpz81zZ3Ra7fiCtADocUR9ntweOKLlCHh4DI5J-w7Fs3JWpI8vNhbprw2dhxW_2-1WDh9l2SIH0lE_A18c5epWeZXgTgz_DlZxzUgaB_xe_mfiNduQ1KKgpb6PAI1yUhUZWDPSU-/s1600/Joe+E.jpeg" /></span></a><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Joe Esposito, Manager for Elvis Presley, Michael Jackson, The Bee Gees, Karen Carpenter, John Denver, and others </span></b> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Joe and I also became friends through mutual friend Paul Gongaware. Joe was a very nice, humble guy, and briefly a boyfriend who I hung out with when he was in town for a concert. I remember Joe (now deceased) with fondness not just because he was really nice, but also because he took care of me one weekend when after flying to Dallas to see him and John Denver, I developed the flu. I was so sick I couldn’t even get out of bed, so he somehow found a doctor and got a prescription for me, nursed me for three days, then put me back on a plane to Austin. Sometime around 1980, I spent a week with him in California, during which time he drove me by all the stars houses and told me interesting stories about all the people he represented and encountered during his music career. Since he was Elvis’ best friend, he had some </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">especially</span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">good stories about him.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><b>Donald "Buddha" Miller, Manager, Jackson Browne</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Paul Gongaware asked me to take his friend Buddha Miller out to dinner in Austin when he was in town for a Jackson Browne concert, so we went to Fonda San Miguel, where Buddha taught me an interesting lesson. When wait staff brought our entrée before we’d finished our appetizer and drinks, he sent them away saying they should not rush us – and admonishing them gently. At the end of the meal he handed the waiter a $100 bill and said that if he would learn to be more “sensitive” to the customer’s needs and timing, he would always receive larger tips. I thought that was pretty classy. Oh, and he received a phone call from Jackson telling him to get Jackson's wife a "no limits" American Express card for her to use in Paris. HA!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Beyoncé’s Aunt</span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">On a<b> </b>beautiful spring day in 2001,<b> </b>expecting a tile installer to show up to install tile in our kitchen and dining rooms, I answered our front door to a beautiful African American woman, with a contagious smile, who, in my response to my “Hi, can I help you?”, said, “I’m here to install your tile floors". After I shook off my surprise (she was probably used to people’s reactions), I invited her in, and we chit chatted a bit. She told me she was from Houston and had been installing tile on contract for Home Depot for 4-5 years. She set about very professionally working on our floors, but when she heard Destiny’s Child singing on the TV, said, “Oh that’s my niece! I am so proud of her!” She explained she was Beyoncé’s mother’s sister, and when she said it, I knew she was telling the truth because she and Beyoncé’ looked almost exactly alike and because she knew things about the family that it didn’t seem anyone else would know, like other family members' names, other aunts/uncles, etc. So that’s my Bey Bey story! Not much, and I never saw her again and don’t even remember her name, but it was pretty cool at the time.<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Because I knew a good many people in the music business, I frequently received backstage passes to concerts in Austin and was invited to after parties, which is where I met Don Henley, Gen Frey and Joe Walsh. Don seemed genuinely interested in my impression of the concert, and very pleased when I told him how “into” the concert the audience was. We just talked for a while and it was pleasant. Gen Frey came up and interrupted our conversation and seemed grumpy and indifferent, which made me not think much of him (a general lack of courtesy). I also visited briefly with </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Joe Walsh, and </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Paul Gongaware told me later that Joe Walsh was disappointed I’d left early (I had work the next day), which was sort of flattering – just because he’s such a fabulous musician.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">One of the many concerts I attended (backstage) was a concert by The Who. My boyfriend at the time, John Blasutta was in Japan doing another concert, but had made arrangements for my backstage pass to The Who, and since he was flying back into Austin that night, had asked me to invite Roger and Peter (friends) to stay over and go skiing with us the next day. Unfortunately, Roger and Peter had to decline because they were flying out the next morning. They invited me to join them for a late dinner at The County Line, but I needed to get home and get to bed because I was flying to Houston for work the next day and couldn't go. Nevertheless, it was pretty cool talking to such music icons. I should have go to dinner with them!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQHGBYZh5UmE36OKbzJYstMGyMqM4-mf2SXWWACJ3-HoQhfHQWUr0JlxEGsmxByVZMZPcU3bKKCgwM_JamTJs_efkM8jcRHxqEE6xmnMAeqR7HwqhU7gMgo0QCb4QF9v1lhi1ilNEydKXn/s1600/Danny+Glover.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="275" data-original-width="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQHGBYZh5UmE36OKbzJYstMGyMqM4-mf2SXWWACJ3-HoQhfHQWUr0JlxEGsmxByVZMZPcU3bKKCgwM_JamTJs_efkM8jcRHxqEE6xmnMAeqR7HwqhU7gMgo0QCb4QF9v1lhi1ilNEydKXn/s1600/Danny+Glover.jpeg" /></span></a><b><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Danny Glover, Actor</span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">When Danny Glover was in Austin during the promotion of <i>Lonesome Dove</i>, there was a special event at the Driskill Hotel, which for some reason I was invited to. When I went up to shake Danny Glover’s hand, instead he picked me up and swung me around in a big bear hug. I had no idea why, but he was just so handsome and sweet, I couldn’t be mad – well, plus, he was Danny Glover!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Julie Andrews was staying in the same hotel with me in DC and it just so happened we ended up in the elevator together where she was very obviously hiding behind sunglasses and a scarf. I unfortunately spoke to her and mentioned how much I enjoy her in <i>Victor/Victoria. </i>Although courteous, I could immediately see she didn't want to have a conversation with me. So, I learned that when someone is trying not to be recognized, don’t recognize them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">“Iron Eyes Cody, The Crying Indian”</span></b><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Although “Iron Eyes” wasn’t even American Indian, he was Sicilian, he gained fame portraying an American Indian through the movie business, acting alongside many famous actors, including John Wayne, Steve McQueen, Richard Harris, etc. I met Iron Eyes through my involvement with Keep American Beautiful, founded by Lady Bird Johnson when she was first Lady, and who featured Iron Eyes in the famous “Crying Indian” anti-litter public service announcement, which showed Cody in costume, shedding a tear after trash is thrown from the window of a car and it lands at his feet. The announcer, William Conrad, says: "People start pollution; people can stop it." </span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Iron Eyes told me the story that when he and Lady Bird were filming the famous PSA, they argued because he insisted “Indians don't’ cry”. Of course, Lady Bird won that argument, and the rest is history. <b>You can watch the video below.</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Gals - Very Smart Galshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16990972719050405870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660453162125942814.post-58208388563791116622019-10-27T13:27:00.000-05:002020-01-19T10:17:25.078-06:00100 Things I Want to Tell My Children and Grandchildren, #33<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";"><span style="font-size: large;">Don’t get married until you’re older.</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> (Me at age 18, just a few months before my marriage, and much too young.)</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR1Hea2VZ3a0riKoWX6Cp49Nbsvn99LJibBpXN_H6x4Lq1E8AIH2kwPLUZqXfcjmlzkXDJCNX82O82MwfCzqJCD0yWaxOwYw-M6Hw3g6fF1T9v_dJb0VmhPrGQxIyFmHhqWEVnp31qHIDU/s1600/Age+18.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR1Hea2VZ3a0riKoWX6Cp49Nbsvn99LJibBpXN_H6x4Lq1E8AIH2kwPLUZqXfcjmlzkXDJCNX82O82MwfCzqJCD0yWaxOwYw-M6Hw3g6fF1T9v_dJb0VmhPrGQxIyFmHhqWEVnp31qHIDU/s320/Age+18.jpeg" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: "times";">My #33, “Don’t get married until you’re older,” is inspired by my grandchildren reaching the age where they have and/or will start thinking about marriage.<b> </b>As I pondered the issue of what to tell my grandkids about marriage, and whether what I say has any value, a vivid memory popped into my mind. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times";">It is 1978, and I’m sitting in my sister Dorothy’s car in front of our mother’s house. As I told her why I was unhappy in my marriage and wanted to leave my children’s father, and asked her what she thought I should do, I watched pain unfold across her face and tears fill her eyes, because she too had struggled with her marriage. Then after a minute heavy with both of our disappointments, failures and regrets, she said, “I can tell you what I think you should do, but it won’t matter. You will do what you want to”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">She was right. I wasn’t looking for advice, I was looking for validation. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times";">Having been married several times unsuccessfully I don’t know if that qualifies me to be a good advisor on marriage, or a horrible one, or both. If it were a business decision, we could simply compare the pros and cons, but it’s not, it’s a business decision made under the influence of the most potent mind-altering drug in the world, love. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times";"><b><span style="color: #a64d79;">Click on Read More Below to Continue</span><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">I say don’t get married until you’re older because by that time. You’re probably more financially secure, which is one of the two biggest challenges to marriage – money, and you’re probably secure in who you are and don’t need someone else to validate your ego, which is substantially about the second biggest challenge in marriage, sex. Sex and money are the two things that couples fight about the most.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">It often takes a while for couples to reach their shared level of financial comfort. I say shared because some people are happy with nothing, and some people are never happy, no matter how much they have. For example, I remember years ago being in a fancy bathroom in a fancy hotel, and feeling sorry for myself because I couldn’t afford to buy a fancier room in the fancy hotel. As I washed my hands I heard a maid who was cleaning the toilets singing in the most beautiful voice, and immediately felt so ashamed of myself. Here was this woman, probably making $10 an hour cleaning toilets, and she sounded so full of joy, and I was feeling sorry for myself because of a stupid hotel room. It’s not about how many zeros in your income, it’s about figuring out how to be happy regardless of how many zeros you have.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">The other thing couples fight about is sex – which is as much if not more about ego and self-esteem than orgasms. Libido drives our passion for sex to a certain extent, but it is also driven by the need to feel good about ourselves – are we pretty, handsome, macho, virile, hot, desirable, and our need to confirm that our partner is still attracted to us and loves us. It’s too simple to say men want sex and women want to be loved. Self-esteem is a powerful master. It makes us look for sex outside our marriage, it makes us lose weight and get in shape, it makes us decorate ourselves like preening birds to attract mates. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">On the positive side, many couples come out of financial and sex challenges battered but not beaten, and with counseling, patience, and forgiveness rediscover the friendship and respect that originally brought them together. That’s the sweet spot of marriage. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">We are the residual of our experiences, and admittedly, my experience with marriage was highly unsuccessful until I reached a very mature age. So, my advice is live together, raise kids, go through all the hardships challenges, heartbreaks (and joy), and if you both are willing to do what it takes to honor the relationship until you’re older, then marry your best friend. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">Of course, you’ll do what you want to do anyway. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Gals - Very Smart Galshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16990972719050405870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660453162125942814.post-42061931364100905792019-10-27T13:25:00.000-05:002019-10-29T17:12:35.140-05:00<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Cluster Critiques</span><o:p></o:p></b><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Waters Plantation</span></i></b><b><span style="letter-spacing: -0.75pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> by Myra Hargrave McIlvain</span></span></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Five Presidents </span></i></b><b><span style="font-size: medium;">by Clint Hill and Lisa McCubbin</span></b><br />
<b><i>The Moment of Lift </i></b><b>by Melinda Gates </b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Lady in the Lake </span></i></b><b><span style="font-size: medium;">by<i> </i>Laura Lippman</span></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">The Woman's Hour </span></i></b><b><span style="font-size: medium;">by<i> </i>Elaine Weiss</span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Waters Plantation</span></i></b><b><span style="letter-spacing: -0.75pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"> by Myra Hargrave McIlvain</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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I worry about reading and reviewing books written by friends. What if I don't’ like it? What if it isn’t well written. Then what do I do? <o:p></o:p></div>
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Apparently, I have a knack for picking friends who are great writers, because Very Smart Gals Book Club member and friend, Myra Hargrave McIlvain, author of <i>Waters Plantation,</i> and other award-winning books, like <i>Stein House and The Doctor’s Wife, </i>never disappoints. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Water Plantation </i>brings together some of the characters in her previous books, tying together the stories of the decades long progression of Texas settlers through the turmoils of Mexican rule, Civil War, and Reconstruction. German Immigrant Amelia Stein, who suffered the loss of family and was trapped in a loveless marriage during her life in historic Indianola, is reunited with the man she fell in love with in New Orleans, and secretly lost a child from, plantation owner, Al Waters. Al, a former slave owner who conceived a son with a Black slave and secretly raised that child as white, struggles painfully as his Harvard Medical schooled son, Toby, returns to Brenham intent on embracing his biracial origins in a community still struggling with racial prejudice and an active Ku Klux Klan. </div>
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McIlvain’s fictions of early Texas history include complicated, relatable characters, full of ambiguities, flaws, spirit and love - people trying to do the right things but not always succeeding – just like us, so, we care about them and feel for them. <i>Waters Plantation </i>is a beautifully told family saga, rich in texture with all the real-life ingredients that fill our everyday lives, and which filled the everyday lives of our Texas ancestors, and made Texas who and what it is today. </div>
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You will enjoy this Texas historical novel. Read it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9H1P1VYG-8ogBOTRIFl-xdLQQhe3Nekt5t2AGjWNOoIZgfKX6SaCl1o0_WA0YhEcmas8FFfkhxN_PtrQA7NWXJvB9fb7k8zpYobiYrtSfJBCAuzf7tzzUdA4mQQnaCu0CeXL5sxuFikhN/s1600/Five+Presidents.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="475" data-original-width="315" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9H1P1VYG-8ogBOTRIFl-xdLQQhe3Nekt5t2AGjWNOoIZgfKX6SaCl1o0_WA0YhEcmas8FFfkhxN_PtrQA7NWXJvB9fb7k8zpYobiYrtSfJBCAuzf7tzzUdA4mQQnaCu0CeXL5sxuFikhN/s320/Five+Presidents.jpg" width="212" /></a><b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Five Presidents: My Extraordinary Journey with Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson, Nixon, and Ford</span></i></b><b><span style="font-size: large;"> by Clint Hill and Lisa McCubbin</span><o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<i>Five Presidents</i> is an a-political, unsensationalized, personal, and unique, view into the lives of the American Presidents between the 1950’s and 1970’s - told from the perspective of the (not so) Secret Service Special Protective Detail for the Presidents during that time. Special Agent Clint Hill’s humbly told account is so full of history-making events (he was the agent that jumped on the back of the limo to protect Mrs. Kennedy seconds after John Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas), that it has, as one astute reviewer noted, a <i>Forrest Gump </i>feel to it. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Although I entered into this book mostly driven by a sort of perverse curiosity, I quickly found Mr. Hill’s apparent compassion, authenticity, and dedication quickly changed my interest to that of simply hearing a well-told story about interesting people in interesting circumstances and times – which is at the heart of any good book. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Read <i>Five Presidents</i> and learn unique information about the lives of some of our Presidents - like Eisenhower played golf and Kennedy swam every afternoon no matter what was going on in the world, and Johnson spent most of his Presidency at his Johnson City ranch. You will also learn about the quality, sacrifices, and dedication of at least one member of our Secret Service.<o:p></o:p></div>
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You will enjoy <i>Five Presidents.</i> Read it.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>The Moment of Lift: How Empowering Women Changes the World</i></b><b> by Melinda Gates <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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As I read <i>The Moment of Lift</i> I kept asking myself, “Why would a very wealthy woman with three small children at home, risk her life traveling to and staying in the most dangerous areas in the world?” But that’s what Melinda Gates has done and continues to do because she truly believes the biggest challenges our world faces cannot be solved without engaging the victims of those challenges – women and children. I was also sort of awestruck that Gates, a devout Catholic, would so publicly take on the issue of abortion and contraception, which is the primary focus of her book. I found that such a courageous thing for her to do. </div>
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Gates also points out what she and I believe is the only “women” bridge between liberal and conservative audiences – money – if we want to solve the world’s problems, we must solve women’s problems, because women control the money. Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn reached the same conclusion in their exceptional 2010 book, <i>Half the Sky,</i> saying, as they traveled country to country interviewing leaders, they were only successful at gaining audiences when they pointed out that women accounted for more than half of the GNP (Gross national product - a broad measure of a nation's total economic activity). It always boils down to money. Always.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Read it if you are interested in Melinda Gates, but don’t expect any epiphanies. <o:p></o:p>Although I was tremendously inspired and somewhat educated by Gates book, I didn’t finish it feeling like much had or would change as a result.</div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Lady in the Lake: A Novel </span></i></b><b><span style="font-size: large;">by<i> </i>Laura Lippman</span><o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWaAZZS9zbvF2IuX2fLiul6MRc6Vl33XbupymFr32xHBZp7_YvFOyCDQPSdn-wHcs47uJ5wNfjUB_yIZeb1F28JAnYNTgmDn6jLsC4dpPn_9Ug3omeRd91mBiCcqcSY-ZdRAkkTM7bWbi9/s1600/Lady+Lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="475" data-original-width="316" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWaAZZS9zbvF2IuX2fLiul6MRc6Vl33XbupymFr32xHBZp7_YvFOyCDQPSdn-wHcs47uJ5wNfjUB_yIZeb1F28JAnYNTgmDn6jLsC4dpPn_9Ug3omeRd91mBiCcqcSY-ZdRAkkTM7bWbi9/s320/Lady+Lake.jpg" width="212" /></a>This could have been a good book. I liked the premise: 1966 Baltimore, a wife and mother, Maddie, who seems to have it all decides she wants more, walks away from her comfortable suburban lifestyle and ventures into the gritty, inner-city looking to redefine her life. A young black woman, Cleo, born, raised and living a gritty, inner-city existence dies, and nobody seems to care, and her character, who appears post-death to narrate her story, likes it that way. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Maddie and Cleo are on an intriguing collision course, and there’s a dead woman in a lake somewhere waiting to be discovered, or so author Lippman would have us believe. Unfortunately, Maddie and Cleo’s stories don’t so much collide as occasionally catch a glimpse of each in a crowded subway, and the dead lady in the lake promise is pretty empty.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The fatal flaw with <i>Lady in the Lake</i> is that there’s not a single person in the book that you can like. Maddie is self-absorbed and superficial. Cleo is cynical and indifferent. The balance of the too many characters (if you want to call them that) were shallow and inconsequential. Furthermore, the story line requires the reader to accept without question ridiculous story lines – like Maddie becoming a top reporter for the Baltimore newspaper virtually overnight based on a super flimsy plot line. <o:p></o:p></div>
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As I wrote this review I kept thinking Lippman’s name sounded familiar, so I searched for her name in my blog, and sure enough, I’d read and reviewed another of her books, <i>And She Was Very Good</i>, saying, “The reader could conjure up some sympathy for Heloise (books main character) if she was even remotely likable ... the plot is so full of fluff I felt like I was in a pillow fight”. <o:p></o:p></div>
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If you haven’t already fallen victim to the extensive promotion of this book, save yourself the disappointment. There are just too many better choices out there. Don’t read it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">The Woman's Hour: The Great Fight to Win the Vote </span></i></b><b><span style="font-size: large;">by<i> </i>Elaine Weiss</span><i><o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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<i>The Woman's Hour</i> is the well-told and riveting account of the Tennessee battle to achieve the final state approval needed to ratify the 19<sup>th </sup>Amendment, the right for women to vote. So riveting in fact, that Steven Spielberg has purchased the rights for the movie. Weiss artfully builds the story to a crescendo making for some satisfying anticipation and intrigue - in spite of the fact that we already know the outcome - which in my mind makes for good writing. </div>
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Throughout the entire book, I felt humbled by the hard work and dedication women (and men) gave to suffrage, inspired by the intelligence and competency of the women (and men) involved in the campaign, humbled by the sacrifices they made, and appreciative of the generosity of the wealthy women (all men) who made ratification of the 19<sup>th</sup> amendment possible.<br />
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I also felt ashamed and embarrassed by the ignorance and malice of anti-arguments including, women’s supposed emotional instability and intellectual deficiencies, the danger to society of anything that distracted them from their domestic duties as wives and mothers, and the threat to the moral order should they sully themselves with politics.<br />
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Ironically, 100 years later, there's still a hefty segment of society opposed to women's equality. What it is about “equal” that is so intimidating and repugnant to some? Why is equality, regardless of gender, race or otherwise even an issue?<br />
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If you have any interests in the history of women't suffrage, this is a good book because it touches on all the history, and includes a suspenseful story about the final approval.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Gals - Very Smart Galshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16990972719050405870noreply@blogger.com1