The Importance of Heroes

       This year I put up some framed 8 X 10s in my classroom. Seven pictures of seven of my heroes. (I have more, but I have limited wall space.)

        And they are:

John Reynolds Gardiner

      If you have not read his book--Stone Fox--a children's book that is only about 100 pages, you should run out right now and borrow it from the library or buy it. Every year I use it, I cry (even though I swear I won't cry this time). He spoke once to a group of teachers and confessed that when he sent it to his editor, there were 138 mistakes (spelling/grammatical). That proves to me that the power of the story is victorious over everything else.


Mae Jemison

        Mae Jemison was the first African American woman into space, which is incredibly impressive all by itself, but I look up to her more because of the little girl she used to be. One of her teachers (kindergarten? first grade?) asked the students what they wanted to be when they grew up. Mae said, "I want to be a doctor." Her teacher said, "Don't you mean nurse instead of a doctor? Don't you want to be a nurse instead?" Mae matter-of-factly replied, "No, I want to be a doctor."


       She became a doctor...and then an astronaut. So there!



         My other on-the-wall heroes are: Nikki Grimes, Jackie Robinson, Anne Lamott, Emily Dickinson and Jesse Owens. (I had trouble narrowing them down to seven and had to make sure all of them were appropriate for children. Otherwise Vince Gilligan would certainly have a place on the wall, but there is no way I could explain the exquisite beauty of Breaking Bad to eight-year olds. No way.) 

      As I'm writing this, I realize how many of my heroes are nose-thumbers. Perhaps not John Reynolds Gardiner, and I don't know about Nikki Grimes, but I imagine Anne Lamott has thumbed her nose at someone at some point in her life, and although he never did it in public, I'm hoping Jackie Robinson mentally made some gesture with a finger or thumb. I'm impressed with Jesse Owens' athletic accomplishments (they're wicked impressive, after all), but the nose he thumbed--aimed at Hitler--is what makes me look up to him in such awe.

     I'm going to ask you the same question I'm asking of my students: Who are your heroes?

The World According to Verna

        I had the privilege of interviewing Verna Simms on Saturday. Verna is 93; last year, she published her first novel, Water Under the Bridge. Is she content with just one book? Absolutely not. Verna says her next book will be her memoir.

         How did the inequality that women faced affect Verna? Watch this short (a minute or so long) video clip to find out...

          Is Verna plagued by writer's block? Click on the video below to find out.

           Who is Verna's mentor, when it comes to authors? Watch the next video clip...

       
What came first for Verna, the plot or the characters? Find out when you view the next clip.

         I wondered what inspired Verna to write this book. Most women her age would be sitting in a rocking chair and knitting. In the video below, Verna explains what drove her to write her novel.

              What does Verna tell her internal critic? Find it out by watching the clip.

          What do Amazon customers say about Verna's novel? Here is one review: 

Water Under the Bridge, by Verna Simms, has a host of compelling characters. Readers will love some of them, and a few they will hate. The story is set in the 1930s when women had neither a voice nor choice. Main character, feisty preteen, Amelia Hall takes readers on her family's unforgettable journey. The characters come to life on the page. They will stay with me long after closing the book, which I did today. What an adrenaline rush and climactic ending. Rousing applause for this book!

       I confess, I went to Verna's house with a resolve to not buy a book. My bookcase is bursting at the seams, I have a stack of books to read, and so on and so on. I left that afternoon with a book in my hand and a few bucks poorer--Verna was that compelling and that gifted of a salesperson. 

      Be persistent and don't give up. Be productive. And be a book-buyer--purchase Verna's book.

      

Sioux-on-a-Stick Visits Val

         On Friday I made a pilgrimage. Driving for almost three hours (one way) was worth it, because I was treated with a dee-luxe tour of all the infamous sites that make up Val-land.

      First, we jump-started our blood circulation by wrestling with riding the Gator.  As you can see from the photo, Val did not trust me enough to let me sit in the driver's seat. (That was very wise of Val. Very wise indeed.)

Next, we visited the dead-mouse-smelling post office. Apparently the postal employees had gotten wind that two suspicious characters were on the rampage, because they closed up the post office--early--before we could storm the place.  We got to walk in and take a whiff, but I was unable to interrogate them on what exactly was causing the odor.

By then, we were parched, so we had a spot of tea and some scones...'cause Sioux and Val are such the tea type...Crisp white linens, some violin music in the background and even some watercress sandwiches--what a lovely treat.

Next, the moment I had waited for for years...the chance to actually see the driveway that belongs to Val's mom. It's frowned upon to stare too long at this sacred ground, and furthermore, it's illegal to park on the driveway (unless, of course, you have filled out an application at least six months in advance), so I had to cloak myself in a grass and gravel camouflage suit and bellycrawl onto the property, just so I could snap this photograph. (The driveway is in the background; in the foreground is Sioux-on-a-Stick and Val-in-a-Recliner.)

        Next, we headed to Val's classroom. Unfortunately, the school district security guard was alerted before we could take more than one picture. However, this is a glimpse into her window; the tangle of computer wires that Val and The Pony successfully untangled are just out of view, on the left.

We finished up with more to drink...this time, some elixir from the gods. When the gas station employees got wind that it was one of Val's daily tours ($16.95 for adults and $29.95 for children under 12 because who wants to hang around a bunch of young kids in the summer; a $10 fee for each photo taken with Val-on-a-Recliner is required), they cleared the area so we could take advantage of the photo opp. Most of the time, if two such menacing females would be spied stalking around--suspicious women taking pictures--the police would be alerted. (Actually, we did see a police cruiser at two of the tour sites. I am sure they were not checking out we-who-could-be-terrorists. They were probably there to control the crowds that always create traffic jams when Val makes an appearance in town.)

 

I could not afford the five-figure fee Val charges to take a picture of her basement lair, where all the magic happens. After all, I'm just a poor third grade teacher who has years to go before she sleeps.  But bouyed by the precious elixir that flows from that dispenser (a 17-cent discount on the sodas for Val tour members), I headed back on my three-hour trip home...elated and exhausted.

Old Writers...Old Friends

       Today I am off to interview an old writer--an author in her nineties. (So, when you say you're too old to write a novel and get it published, she did it just recently. So there!)


            I'm hoping that a little of her energy and spunk will land on me...


       I am also going to be visiting someone who is such a worthy opponent (when it comes to all things Seinfeld, songs from our era, and lit-trah-ture), it makes our constant sparring a delight At least it's delightful for me. For her, it's probably a pain in the rear to deal with my pesky  pokes. It would be like Arnold Schwarzenegger arm wrestling Don Knotts--when Don Knotts was still alive, of course. Me, I'm racking my brain and digging into the recesses of my memory when I try to trip her up on some Seinfeld trivia or try to stump her with a one-hit wonder. And she? She has it all on the tip of her tongue--her victories come effortless.  She is also a writer but she's been balking about writing a book. A collection of her stories would have us all clamoring to buy it. Because of her reluctance, I'm bringing my electric cattle prod...




       One of those stories--either the interview or the story about my visit with someone who seems like they've been my friend for a long time--will be posted on Monday.


        ...And until then, head over to read Jean Whatley. What? You don't know her? You don't follow her? You should. Read this post. You'll do a little time-traveling of your own--I imagine--as you take a bittersweet journey into the past.

Taking a Risk

          Reading Mary Horner's recent post--about taking a risk and sharing with students/the audience--made me think of writers who share themselves in their writing.


         Some of my favorite authors--Anne Lamott, Augusten Burroughs, Rick Bragg, Mary Karr--are writers who share ...everything. They're brutal. They cut themselves open and lay bare their bones--all the skeletons in their closets come clattering out.


          In May I joined a dozen or so other St. Louis writers for the Listen to Your Mother show. We got up on stage and shared our lives. Some of what we shared made people laugh, and other stories made the audience cry. Almost always I lead with my funny bone, but this time, I didn't.




https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a5yGkJP7Sy8


          If you click on the link above, you'll be able to see me in all six minutes of my splendor. However, consider yourself forewarned. The photographer was ill on the day of the show, and so some of the videos got screwed up. In real life, people often mistake me for Halle Berry, so when you see someone who looks quite different from that, understand: the camera guy had problems...  

        Speaking of risk (again)--I'm friends with some writers who willingly share all sorts of things on paper, and yet when it comes time to share their writing with a live, breathing audience, they hesitate balk. These are writers whose talents are wickedly amazing ...and yet many people miss out on enjoying their gifts because of their reluctance to share at book signings and other events.


        Was there a time when you shared with an audience/family member/friend and the results were encouraging? Perhaps if my shy writer friends hear stories that ended up on a positive note, they might share the next time they get a chance...


       

Never Too Late

        Enough cheesecake, chocolate-covered pretzels, fruit, wine and cheese and crackers to feed an army...People crammed into a bookstore like they were thirteen-year olds waiting for Justin Bieber to relieve himself in an alley...Two editors-extraordinaire and one bookstore owner (along with her "bartender" husband)...A hundred or so of readers and writers...Put all of those together and you come up with a winning combination.   


     A book launch for two collections, Not Your Mother's Book...On Family and Not Your Mother's Book...On Being a Mom was held this week, hosted by Robin Theiss at her shop, Stl Books. Dianna Graveman and Linda O'Connell, after completing months and months (and years) of editing work, were finally able to let their breath out and celebrate.


     One of the writers who was part of the celebration was Verna Simms. Verna's 93, still kickin' as an author, and just recently had a novel published. She was having such a good time at the book signing, she had to be taken out in handcuffs convinced it was getting late before she agreed to head home.


     So, if you're assuming you're too old to write a book, think of Verna. If you're figuring you don't have a chance of getting published, think of Verna. If you're sure you're past your prime, think of Verna...
    
      And reach out towards your goals.