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Salafism, often referred to as ‘Wahhabism’, is widely regarded as a fundamentalist interpretation of Islam that fuels Jihadism and subjugates women. Some even lump ISIS and Salafism together—casting suspicion upon the thousands of Muslims who identify as Salafi in the West. After gaining unprecedented access to Salafi women’s groups in London, I discovered the realities behind the myths.
The Switch Witch and the Magic of Switchcraft is actually a beautiful gift set that includes a Switch Witch doll and a storybook centered on the Switch Witch character.
The seemingly unassailable rise of the MOOC – the Massive Open On-Line Course – has many universities worried. Offering access to millions of potential students, it seems like the solution to so many of the problems that beset higher education. Fees are low, or even non-existent; anyone can sign up; staff time is strictly limited as even grading is done by peers or automated multiple-choice questionnaires. In an era of ever-rising tuition fees and of concerns about the barriers that stop the less well-off from applying to good universities, the MOOC can seem like a panacea.
Alex Field‘s talents as an author, publisher and speaker, her love of Christmas pudding, and her overt enthusiasm for Jane Austen all cleverly amalgamate in the latest of her series, Mr Darcy and the Christmas Pudding. Having previously featured her beloved Pride and Prejudice characters in Mr Darcy and Mr Darcy the Dancing Duck, Alex […]
One hundred years ago today, far from the erupting battlefields of Europe, a small German force in the city of Tsingtau (Qingdao), Germany’s most important possession in China, was preparing for an impending siege. The small fishing village of Qingdao and the surrounding area had been reluctantly leased to the German Empire by the Chinese government for 99 years in 1898, and German colonists soon set about transforming this minor outpost into a vibrant city boasting many of the comforts of home, including the forerunner of the now-famous Tsingtao Brewery. By 1914, Qingdao had over 50,000 residents and was the primary trading port in the region. Given its further role as the base for the Far East Fleet of the Imperial German Navy, however, Qingdao was unable to avoid becoming caught up in the faraway European war.
The forces that besieged Qingdao in the autumn of 1914 were composed of troops from Britain and Japan, the latter entering the war against Germany in accord with the Anglo-Japanese Alliance. The Alliance had been agreed in 1902 amid growing anxiety in Britain regarding its interests in East Asia, and rapidly modernizing Japan was seen as a useful ally in the region. For Japanese leaders, the signing of such an agreement with the most powerful empire of the day was seen as a major diplomatic accomplishment and an acknowledgement of Japan’s arrival as one of the world’s great powers. More immediately, the Alliance effectively guaranteed the neutrality of third parties in Japan’s looming war with Russia, and Japan’s victory in the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-05 sent shockwaves across the globe as the first defeat of a great European empire by a non-Western country in a conventional modern war.
Samurai!: Armor from the Ann and Gabriel Barbier-Mueller Collection, Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, MA. By Lorianne DiSabato. CC-BY-NC-ND-3.0 via Flickr.
In Britain, Japan’s victory was celebrated as a confirmation of the strength of its Asian ally, and represented the peak of a fascination with Japan in Britain that marked the first decade of the twentieth century. This culminated in the 1910 Japan-British Exhibition in London, which saw over eight million visitors pass through during its six-month tenure. In contrast, before the 1890s, Japan had been portrayed in Britain primarily as a relatively backward yet culturally interesting nation, with artists and intellectuals displaying considerable interest in Japanese art and literature. Japan’s importance as a military force was first recognized during the Sino-Japanese War of 1894-95, and especially from the time of the Russo-Japanese War, Japan’s military prowess was popularly attributed to a supposedly ancient warrior spirit that was embodied in ‘bushido’, or the ‘way of the samurai’.
The ‘bushido’ ideal was popularized around the world especially through the prominent Japanese educator Nitobe Inazo’s (1862-1933) book Bushido: The Soul of Japan, which was originally published in English in 1900 and achieved global bestseller status around the time of the Russo-Japanese War (a Japanese translation first appeared in 1908). The British public took a positive view towards the ‘national spirit’ of its ally, and many saw Japan as a model for curing perceived social ills. Fabian Socialists such as Beatrice Webb (1858-1943) and Oliver Lodge (1851-1940) lauded the supposed collectivism of ‘bushido’, while Alfred Stead (1877-1933) and other promoters of the Efficiency Movement celebrated Japan’s rapid modernization. For his part, H.G. Wells 1905 novel A Modern Utopia included a ‘voluntary nobility’ called ‘samurai,’ who guided society from atop a governing structure that he compared to Plato’s ideal republic. At the same time, British writers lamented the supposed decline of European chivalry from an earlier ideal, contrasting it with the Japanese who had seemingly managed to turn their ‘knightly code’ into a national ethic followed by citizens of all social classes.
The ‘bushido boom’ in Britain was not mere Orientalization of a distant society, however, but was strongly influenced by contemporary Japanese discourse on the subject. The term ‘bushido’ only came into widespread use around 1900, and even a decade earlier most Japanese would have been bemused by the notion of a national ethic based on the former samurai class. Rather than being an ancient tradition, the modern ‘way of the samurai’ developed from a search for identity among Japanese intellectuals at the end of the nineteenth century. This process saw an increasing shift away from both Chinese and European thought towards supposedly native ideals, and the former samurai class provided a useful foundation. The construction of an ethic based on the ‘feudal’ samurai was given apparent legitimacy by the popularity of idealized chivalry and knighthood in nineteenth-century Europe, with the notion that English ‘gentlemanship’ was rooted in that nation’s ‘feudal knighthood’ proving especially influential. This early ‘bushido’ discourse profited from the nationalistic fervor following Japan’s victory over China in 1895, and the concept increasingly came to be portrayed as a unique and ancient martial ethic. At the same time, those theories that had drawn inspiration from European models came to be ignored, with one prominent Japanese promoter of ‘bushido’ deriding European chivalry as ‘mere woman-worship’.
In the first years of the twentieth century, the Anglo-Japanese Alliance contributed greatly to the positive reception in Britain of theories positing a Japanese ‘martial race’, and the fate of ‘bushido’ in the UK demonstrated the effect of geopolitics on theories of ‘national characteristics’. By 1914, British attitudes had begun to change amid increasing concern regarding Japan’s growing assertiveness. Even the Anglo-Japanese operation that finally captured Qingdao in November was marked by British distrust of Japanese aims in China, a sentiment that was strengthened by Japan’s excessive demands on China the following year. Following the war, Japan’s reluctance to return the captured territory to China caused British opposition to Japan’s China policy to increase, leading to the end of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance in 1923. The two countries subsequently drifted even further apart, and by the 1930s, ‘bushido’ was popularly described in Britain as an ethic of treachery and cruelty, only regaining its positive status after 1945 through samurai films and other popular culture as Japan and Britain again became firm allies in the Cold War.
Headline image credit: Former German Governor’s Residence in Qingdao, by Brücke-Osteuropa. Public domain via Wikimedia Commons.
Dia de los Muertos (“Day of the Dead”) is a holiday celebration which is held from October 31 to November 2, not only observed throughout Mexico but also in other cultures around the world, including most Latin American countries. This popular tradition is all about the boundaries between life and death, and how people honour and celebrate their deceased loved ones as a way to reconnect with them.
On special occasions the girls’ parents told them of THE SUGAR PLUM TREE and they awoke to small candy treats or TREASURE waiting under their beds.
It’s this TRADITION, of POETRY IN ACTION, the girls now hope to pass on to your family.
Inspired by Eugene Field’s (1850-1895) original The Sugar Plum Tree poem, here is a deliciously sweet bedtime book from Katherine James that takes young readers across the Lollipop Sea to the Garden of Shut Eye Town where the Sugar Plum Tree grows.
The Duke of Wellington always has a traffic cone on his head. At least, he does when he is in Glasgow. Let me explain: outside the city’s Gallery of Modern Art on Queen Street, there is an equestrian statue of the celebrated general of the Napoleonic Wars. It was sculpted in 1840-4 by the Franco-Italian artist, Carlo Marochetti (1805-1867), who in his day was a dominant figure in the world of commemorative sculpture. Amongst his works is the statue of Richard the Lionheart, who has sat on his mount and held aloft his sword outside the Houses of Parliament since 1860.
Yet Glasgow’s lofty monument has been a magnet for pranksters – ever since the 1980s, according to the BBC – who regularly scale the pedestal, Copenhagen’s (the horse’s) flanks and then, clinging onto the Iron Duke himself, crown him with an orange traffic cone. This has caused some controversy: the police warn that the acts of intrepid, late-night climbers (who, to be frank, may also have enjoyed the hospitality of the local hostelries) is an act of vandalism and is downright dangerous. The government-funded agency that oversees the care of the country’s historic buildings, Historic Scotland, acknowledges that embellishing Wellington with a modern piece of traffic paraphernalia is now a ‘longstanding tradition’, but emphasises that the statue is A-listed and so needs to be protected from damage – and there has indeed been damage: on different occasions, the general has lost a spur and his sword. Others argue that the ‘coning’ of Wellington is a worthy expression of the people’s sense of humour and that it is as much a part of the cityscape as its historic buildings and monuments. And indeed the statue has become iconic – not because it is a likeness of the Duke of Wellington, but because the general has a cone on his head: postcards proudly depicting this symbol of Glaswegian humour are easy to find.
This controversy sprang to mind when I was first putting together a proposal for writing a Very Short Introduction on the Napoleonic Wars. One of the reviewers very helpfully suggested that the book might consider a chapter on the conflict in historical memory and commemoration. When I came to write this, the final chapter, I considered opening it with an account of the ‘coning’ of the Duke of Wellington, but in the end I felt that such irreverence and jocularity sat rather uneasily with the content of the rest of the book, which tells a tale of aggression, international collapse, and human suffering. Yet the fact that the Duke still sits, as ever, with a garish point on his head – gravity making it lean at a jaunty angle – did make me wonder about how far the Napoleonic Wars (including, by extension, the French Revolutionary Wars from which they emerged – collectively the wars lasted from 1792 to 1815) have left a legacy that is embedded, visibly or otherwise, in our European cityscapes.
This might well be more obvious on the continent than in the British Isles, since there was a direct impact as armies rampaged across Europe – and there were therefore more sites clearly associated with Napoleonic conquest, European resistance to it, and later commemoration of the conflict. In Paris, the very same Marochetti was responsible for one of the reliefs on the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, the one depicting the Battle of Jemappes (one of the French Revolution’s early victories over the Austrians in 1792). The Arc was completed under the July Monarchy (1830-48), which worked hard to appropriate the Napoleonic legacy for its own political purposes. The same regime nearly awarded Marochetti the commission to create Napoleon’s tomb in the Church of the Invalides when his body was repatriated from Saint Helena. The sculptor, in fact, was producing models for this work as he was busy on Glasgow’s Wellington statue (giving the latter a pedigree that surely reinforces Historic Scotland’s mild-mannered point). Yet British towns and cities are also embedded with places that are connected with the French Wars – as barracks, as headquarters, as places of exile and refuge, as naval dockyards, as depots for PoWs, as sites of popular mobilization. Sometimes the associations are long-forgotten, sometimes they are commemorated. The conflict is remembered in the monuments that ask us not to forget the carnage and in the individuals who are commemorated in stone and bronze. These may, like Glasgow’s Iron Duke, have become so much part of our urban environment that they are almost unnoticed unless they have a cone on their head, but the traces and memory of the French Wars in Britain’s towns and cities… now there’s a project!
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Image credit: Statue of Wellington, mounted. Outside the Gallery of Modern Art, Queen Street, Glasgow, Scotland [Author: Green Lane, Creative Commons Licence via Wikimedia Commons]
On December 6th, Swiss children are confronted with a stern St. Nicholas and his golden book, where all their good and bad deeds have been noted all year. They memorize small poems and songs to welcome him.
He carries a switch for small infractions, and a strong side kick (Schmutzli) to put you in his sack and haul you away if you've been very "bad" (this was always a great success in teen and preteen School Samichlaus celebrations in my youth)
A quick sketch in honor of St. Nicholas, I will work on it and put it back up later. Have a nice day, make sure to eat some nuts and oranges to celebrate.
0 Comments on Samichlaus 1 as of 12/6/2012 12:47:00 PM
The Olympics have torch bearers who run through the streets, flaming torch held high, expressing sublime joy or intense nobility as they run. Marathon participants run for a variety of reasons, many of which express that same joy or nobility. Ordinary family members don’t do much running at all, unless one counts errands and an extracurricular shuttle service.
Throughout my growing up years, carrying a torch meant something other than its current connotation. We carried a torch for a movie star or the girl/boy at school. We carried the torch of freedom in our citizenship and moral fiber. It’s a wonder the town didn’t burn to the ground with all of those flames being held up for all to see.
Few of us got to see an Olympic torch during the fifties. Even our own Student Olympics during elementary school didn’t have a torch. Television brought the Olympic Games to average households every four years during the sixties, which is where I first saw them. Of course, the opening ceremonies, with torch-bearer and Olympic Flame weren’t as long or elaborate then as they are now. Drama and spectacle arrived during the early eighties. Leave it to Hollywood.
All of this brings us to carrying the family torch. Each family has an invisible one, though the flames may be for different purposes. For some that torch stands for pride of place within society. For others it represents the family triumph over poverty and disadvantage. Torches for those prideful of family traditions of church, home, and military honor cut across all strata of society. These are all family torches; the ones that children take from their parents, along the line of ancestral heritage.
Torches smolder at times. They can exhibit rebellion over family roots as much as the opposite. They can glow with remembered suffering from a historical past before bursting into raging flame. While each is sparked by one or more family aspect, only an individual can carry one and that for personal reasons.
People can find a family torch inside themselves, if they look for it. They can discover the personal reason for raising an arm to support that tapered torch. At some point, they must either acknowledge acceptance of “duty” or reject it and seek another.
Each of us has a choice as to which torch we carry for our family. Considering how broad the definition has become for “family,” we should marvel at how many torches one person can juggle at any given time. The reasons and purposes of torches have broadened as well.
At the end of the day, the person needs to ask herself, “Which torch did I choose today?” and “Should I choose to bear that flaming burden tomorrow?”
The Olympics have torch bearers who run through the streets, flaming torch held high, expressing sublime joy or intense nobility as they run. Marathon participants run for a variety of reasons, many of which express that same joy or nobility. Ordinary family members don’t do much running at all, unless one counts errands and an extracurricular shuttle service.
Throughout my growing up years, carrying a torch meant something other than its current connotation. We carried a torch for a movie star or the girl/boy at school. We carried the torch of freedom in our citizenship and moral fiber. It’s a wonder the town didn’t burn to the ground with all of those flames being held up for all to see.
Few of us got to see an Olympic torch during the fifties. Even our own Student Olympics during elementary school didn’t have a torch. Television brought the Olympic Games to average households every four years during the sixties, which is where I first saw them. Of course, the opening ceremonies, with torch-bearer and Olympic Flame weren’t as long or elaborate then as they are now. Drama and spectacle arrived during the early eighties. Leave it to Hollywood.
All of this brings us to carrying the family torch. Each family has an invisible one, though the flames may be for different purposes. For some that torch stands for pride of place within society. For others it represents the family triumph over poverty and disadvantage. Torches for those prideful of family traditions of church, home, and military honor cut across all strata of society. These are all family torches; the ones that children take from their parents, along the line of ancestral heritage.
Torches smolder at times. They can exhibit rebellion over family roots as much as the opposite. They can glow with remembered suffering from a historical past before bursting into raging flame. While each is sparked by one or more family aspect, only an individual can carry one and that for personal reasons.
People can find a family torch inside themselves, if they look for it. They can discover the personal reason for raising an arm to support that tapered torch. At some point, they must either acknowledge acceptance of “duty” or reject it and seek another.
Each of us has a choice as to which torch we carry for our family. Considering how broad the definition has become for “family,” we should marvel at how many torches one person can juggle at any given time. The reasons and purposes of torches have broadened as well.
At the end of the day, the person needs to ask herself, “Which torch did I choose today?” and “Should I choose to bear that flaming burden tomorrow?”
What to expect: Thanksgiving, Fall, Family, Tradition
Although Transcendentalist author Louisa May Alcott is primarily known as the creator of Jo March, the determined heroine in her classic novel Little Women, she penned over thirty books in her lifetime. Her short story An Old-Fashioned Thanksgiving is a heartwarming selection for the holiday season. When the good-natured Barrett family are beginning to make preparations for their Thanksgiving celebration, Mrs. Barrett is called away suddenly to attend to her ailing mother. She puts her eldest daughter Tilly in charge of cooking the feast in her absence. Tilly undertakes this colossal challenge with confidence and the help of her siblings, but fails to pay attention when stuffing the turkey with catnip and neglects to add sugar and salt to the plum pudding. As her little sister Prue is prettily setting the table, her brothers discover a bear coming toward the house. Wielding axes and rifles out the door, the boys are shocked to find Tilly’s sweetheart in disguise. Disaster averted, Mrs. Barrett returns with cousins and aunts and uncles in tow and the happy news that their Grandma is well. The entire family savors the delicious dinner, despite its few shortcomings, and praise Tilly and her siblings for pulling off a Thanksgiving they will always remember. The Barrett family has much to be thankful for- their family and friends, good health, and love and laughter. Old-fashioned or not, you’ll enjoy reading this delightful tale with your family.
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Nicki Richesin is the editor of four anthologies,What I Would Tell Her: 28 Devoted Dads on Bringing Up, Holding On To, and Letting Go of Their Daughters; Because I Love Her: 34 Women Writers Reflect on the Mother-Daughter Bond; Crush: 26 Real-Life Tales of First Love; and The May Queen: Women on Life, Work, and Pulling it all Together in your Thirties. Her anthologies have been excerpted and praised in The New York Times, the San Francisco Chronicle, The Boston Globe, Redbook, Add a Comment
A weekend or two ago, I visited my first Sugar Shack (or cabane a sucre). I always heard about this Quebecois tradition, but never quite managed to make the time to experience it for myself. So I and a few friends (and half of Montreal, it seemed! It was crowded.) went to Sucrerie de la Montagne in Regaud, Quebec on a bright, coolish, spring Sunday afternoon. What was the experience like? Photos and brief commentary below.
Below: Outside the main building where the banquet halls are to eat are located.
Below: Buckets on trees. Note. Snow on ground and noooo leaves. Arg!
Below: Things you do while waiting to eat…
Below: Inside the main banquet hall you….
Below: The main course…
Below: After all the maple sugar-laden food, wine & song, life looked like this…
Just kidding. : ) A fun time was had by all. I cut loose and played the wooden spoons. A lot. Must have been the maple wine (was it maple…? Everything was MAPLE!).
0 Comments on Sugar Shacking! as of 4/13/2011 8:51:00 AM
How'd our favourite holiday come and go so fast?! We had an awesome Halloween this year, the kind that lasts from the moment you wake up until you fall into bed exhausted at the end of it. We covered the kids in spooky rub-on tattoos, gave scary books to friends, made tons of delicious food (and gorged on candy too), dressed up and trick-or-treated, hung out with various fun folks, and still made it home in time to watch The Walking Dead.
Here's our eldest, who decided after much indecision to be a vampire this year:
If you think THAT'S scary, you should have seen her when she wanted to be a zombie at age three. Terrifying stuff. From this year's costume we learned that even child-sized fangs are too big for little 6-year-olds...she lasted about five minutes before ditching them for being too uncomfortable.
Colum was our resident zombie this year:
That's the same expression on his face as when he has to get up early for work.
And here's our toddler, the bat to accompany his sister's vampire:
2 Comments on Halloween 2010 - pics, overview and general rambling..., last added: 11/2/2010
Few people love scary books as much as we do. With two websites dedicated to horror in literature and a personal library that's terrifying in size as well as subject matter, I guess that's a little obvious. We read them, collect them and write about them. Our big kid writes and illustrates them in her spare time.
The only thing we like MORE than the books themselves is sharing them with other people, which is why we've fallen instantly in love with All Hallow's Read, a newly thought-up tradition of giving people scary books for Halloween.
Author Neil Gaiman came up with this awesome plan recently when it occurred to him that there just aren't enough traditions that involve giving books. He posted about it here on his blog, and has since managed to put together an official All Hallow's Read website.
We hope all you book and/or horror lovers out there will join in to spread the word and give someone a spooky book this year! If you need suggestions, don't hesitate to ask! Happy Halloween!
1 Comments on A tradition we can get behind!, last added: 10/31/2010
Growing up, I had a lot of girl friends (or, more accurately, friends who were girls). As a consequence, I became quite good at hula hoop, hopscotch, jump rope and various hand clapping games.
When I saw a certain cell phone hawking robot on TV playing jump rope with some children and singing, “My cousin Sally, sittin’ on…” I asked my wife if she knew that rhyme and she said, “No, I always did, ‘Cinderella, dressed in yella…’” to which I responded…
Went downstairs to kiss a fella’
Made a mistake,
Kissed a snake,
How many doctors will it take?
1, 2, 3, 4…
I realized these rhymes are not the kind you find in books, but they endure in an oral tradition that many people think is extinct. Here are some of my faves that I have never read, but remember anyhow because the rhyme and rhythm is burned deep in my brain. The first was a great elimination hand slap game similar to hot potato, the last person in the circle when the rhyme gets to “Ker-plop” is out.
Down by the banks of the Hanky Panky,
Where the bullfrog jumps from bank to banky,
Eep, Op, over the top,
East side, West side, KER-plop!
This next hand clap song is a little racy and always caused a little tittering when it was sung.
Miss Suzy had a steamboat, the steamboat had a bell, (Ding! Ding!)
Miss Suzy went to heaven, the steamboat went to…
Hello, operator, please give me number nine,
And if you disconnect me,
I’ll kick your old…
Behind the ‘frigerator, there was a piece of glass,
Miss Suzy slipped upon it, and broke her little…
Ask me no more questions, I’ll tell you no more lies,
The boys are in the bathroom, zipping up their…
Flies are in the meadow, the bees are in the park,
Miss Suzy and her boyfriend are kissing in the Dark!
One reason our custom kids books are written in rhyme is that it is more fun to read aloud. Another benefit of rhyme is that it is easier to remember and to guess which words come next as your little one attempts to read the book “all by themselves”. Maybe, like me with ‘Miss Suzy’, they’ll even remember the texts for years to come!
On this Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, it’s hard not to think about Tradition. Queue Tevya from Fiddler on the Roof. Traditions and nonfiction go hand in hand. Sharing stories of our ancestors, learning more about our culture, our rules of law and how they differ are all part of nonfiction at its best: the sharing of knowledge and the exchange of ideas.
At my kids summer camp there is a fabulous storyteller named Chuck Stead who for years has kept all of the kids and adults alike riveted with his true stories of his childhood. Chuck’s stories are engaging and funny but they are also based in fact.
This summer of 2008 he told a story about his summer of 1964 in the Ramapo Mountains of New York. He was about 11 or 12 and the Beatles were on American radio for the first time. His sister had her first dance party and a girl whispered in his ear that she liked him. Heads from the very young to the very old were nodding and smiling in recognition. It was a great story we could all related to and enjoy on some level. The first thing my son said when it was finished was, “Do you think that was really true?” He wanted it to be true; knowing it was, at least at its core, made it that much better.
“For real?” is a common kid/teenager question because they really want to know. They like to know what the rules are and, if possible, why, so they can analyze them for themselves. One of my manuscripts focuses on this idea from the perspective of the American legal system. It’s a funny kid friendly explanation of contract law, believe it or not, how people can make deals and what the rules are to make them legal (still available to any interested editor, by the way). My son is absolutely fascinated by this. It was important to him to understand the rules. He memorized many of the overall points and then used his newfound knowledge to begin brokering solid deals over the school lunch table. Scholar of legal theory or part time hustler? Both have a strong tradition.
Being well read has definitely served my kids when it comes to dealing with their diverse group of friends. They've wanted to understand more about the headdress of their Sikh friends, the strict school their Japanese friends attend all day on Saturday, and just how much curry their Sri Lankan friend thinks is a "not too spicy" amount. Questions and curiosities about other people’s traditions are often more easily answered by turning to nonfiction books. Sometimes questions have seemed too personal to ask, but they felt comfortable reading the books I brought home about religions around the world and the cultures of kids in different countries. At least it's a good start. We still have been known to guess wrong about who will eat the pork dumplings.
So tonight, grab a crispy slice of apple and dip it in some honey. Share a family story—yours, mine, and ours.
0 Comments on Tradition as of 9/30/2008 12:02:00 PM
By the time you read this post I will be off on holiday for a few days of rest and relaxation. One of the books I’m intending to pick up during my time off is Sioned Davies’s translation of The Mabinogion, a collection of Welsh medieval tales, which OUP published last year. With this in mind, I thought I would today bring you a short extract from Davies’s introduction to the text. Here, she talks about The Mabinogion in relation to the oral tradition of story-telling.
Joseph Calderaro is turning 14. What can possibly happen on his birthday to bum him out? Well...starting the day off with burnt PopTarts is a sign. Then with 10 minutes left in social studies, Mrs. Peroutka drops the bomb in the form of the assignment "Tracing Your Past: A Heritage Essay". The essay is to be 1500 words long, and here it is May already. But the word count is not Joseph's biggest problem. He's adopted. What the heck does he know about his heritage.
Joseph thinks that maybe his mother's famous birthday dinner will save his spirits a bit. The eggplant Parmesan does go down nicely, but once the presents come out there is more trouble. Joseph's dad gives him a corno. You know...the Italian gold horn that keeps away the malocchio? Aside from the fact that no self respecting 14-year-old is going to walk around with that kind of gold chain, Joseph just doesn't know how to break it to his parents that he's not Italian...he's Korean. At least that is how he feels at that moment.
Joseph goes on to explore his past without the knowledge of his parents. Along the way, a new Korean family moves into town, and Joseph's parents nudge him over to try and help him out with his identity. But when Joseph is with Yongsu and his family, he doesn't even feel Korean.
So where does this leave Joseph? If he's not really Korean, and not really Italian, what is he?
Rose Kent does a bang-up job of finding the voice of a 14-year-old boy. Joseph's struggles with his parents and his identity are equal measure growing pains and adoption pains. Books about adopted kids are always tricky, because the fact of the matter is, every adoptee feels a bit different. In my own family, my father and his brother and sister were all adopted, and they all had very different reactions to finding out and toward the idea of a search for birth parents. Kent lets readers in on not only the world of adoption, but quite a bit of information about Italian and Korean culture. Joseph is such a great character and is so easy to relate to that readers will cheer for him as he finds his way.
In Mexico, I think nothing is more honored and adored than the Virgen de Guadalupe or, as I know her, Tonantzin. Her image is everywhere. Statues, candles, blankets, sarapes, scarves, murals, roadside shrines - her peaceful and radiant countenance blesses you. She lives in homes, tattoos, in the marketplace, in song, everywhere, she touches everything. Even one of the most popular singers in Mexico wrote a song for her! In fact, singers of all types - rock bands, mariachis, the pop stars, the rancheros, EVERYONE loves the Virgencita Morena, the Goddess of the Americas.
She was the image on the banners and flags of Father Manuel Hidalgo and his followers in the Mexican Revolution. She is entrenched so deeply into our culture and ideology that she’s like an old and very beloved friend. We call her little mother. She’s our collective mother, the mother of a conquered but not defeated nation, the mother who fights for us, protects us and loves us no matter who or what we are and become. We live and breathe Guadalupe. In every family, someone, boy or girl is named Guadalupe and carries that name with pride.
The Catholic Church has it's story of the Virgen de Guadalupe and Juan Diego, we indigenous people have another. Somehow, like so much in Mexico the two things blended and we have Catholic dogma mixed with indigenous belief. Tonantzin wouldn't be erased and she lives stronger than ever in our hearts and minds.
Every year on her day, December 12th - thousands of people gather at her shrine on Tepeyac to give her honor, to pay homage, to dance prayers for her, to sing Las Manañitas to her and to show their devotion. Indigenous people from all over Mexico leave their villages and walk or crawl up to the sierra de Tepeyac in an ancient pilgrimage. The actual holy ground is a little hill behind the Basilica. This hill was sacred to Tonantzin and consecrated to Her by the indigenous people of Mexico long before the conquest. The pilgrimage was happening in pre-Columbian times as well.
As far back as I can remember my life was dominated by the Guadalupe. In the sala (living room) my grandmother Lupe’s house (her name was Maria Guadalupe) in the place of honor on the wall was a huge, framed print of the Virgen de Guadalupe standing on the hill of Tepeyac with Juan Diego kneeling at her feet, tilma open and filled with roses. It was a beautiful print with a soft washed from age look to it. You could clearly see the nopales (cacti) that were growing on the hillside. Every day my grandmother would put fresh flowers in front of that print. “Flores para la virgen”, she would tell me, “Flowers for the Virgen”. I learned to cut fresh roses and other flowers from the garden for vases throughout the house, keeping only the best and showiest to put in front of the print. Just like my grandmother, I’d say a little prayer to her as I left her her flowers. She was as real to me as my sisters were and I talked to her far more freely. La Lupita was my confidant, my protector, my dear little mother.
At church, my grandmother was a member of a society called Las Guadalupanas and they were devotees of her. Every morning, my grandmother Lupe would don her lacy mantilla and head off for mass where she’d pray to the Virgen de Guadalupe. See, she’s everywhere and in everything.
In Aztec culture, Guadalupe was Tonantzin, the mother of all, Mother Earth, The Goddess of Sustenance, Honored Grandmother, Snake, Aztec Goddess of the Earth. She brought the corn, Mother of the Corn. Even then She was All and Everything. She represented mothers, fertility, the moon, the sacred number 7. In fact, she was sometimes known as 7 Serpent. She was always there and she was always our little mother.
Corn is sacred to Tonantzin. The flowers we know as poinsettias were called Cuetlaxochitl were also very sacred to her and they grew on Tepeyac in wintertime as tall as ten feet high. Tunas (cactus fruit or prickly pear) are also especially sacred to Tonantzin growing as they do on the cacti that grows on her sacred and holy ground. Filled with seeds inside and a rich, juicy red fruit, the tunas represent both fertility and the womb, the blood of women and the sweetness of life. Tomatoes are another sacred fruit to Her. On my altar, I often put flor de noche Buena (another word for poinsettias meaning flower of the good night), tunas, chiles, cacao beans and tomatoes. The colors red, white and green, the colors of the Mexican flag are sacred to Her as well.
Early tomorrow morning, the morning of the 12th at 2a.m. at the Placita Olvera (Olvera Street) in Los Angeles, mariachis, devotees of the Virgen de Guadalupe, Aztec dancers, folklorico dancers, deer dancers, musicians, priests, nuns, and many more will start paying homage to Her. We will sing Las Mananitas, the traditional birthday song, we will pray and dance. Aztec dancers will dance at Catholic masses everywhere and they will do the prayer dance Tonantzin first. They will dance various variations of Tonantzin and give Her honor. In Mexico, on a much larger scale, celebrities, the elite, the politicians, Zapatistas, narcotrafficantes, men, women and children will all pay homage to our beloved Virgen de Guadalupe. We will give thanks to her for all we’ve received from her merciful hands, we will pray for the sick, the prisoners, the homeless, the helpless and we know that She is mercy, kindness, acceptance and love. She commands a tremendous devotion from the people that love her just by being Guadalupe. I believe she has given me much – my life, my children, my grandchildren, the food I eat. She is the goddess of the harvest, she represents the mother in me and in all women. She simply is and so I say Tlaxocamatl Tonantzin, thank you virgen de Guadalupe for all you have given. Tlaxocamatl Tonantzin. Ometeotl.
From the City of the Queen of the Angels, desde la ciudad de Nuestra Reina de los Angeles,
Atonatiuh Eloxochitl Mar y Sol Datura Flower otherwise know as Gina MarySol Ruiz Who is on her way to dance for the Virgen de Guadalupe and one for her Grandmother Lupe too.
0 Comments on Tlaxocamatl Tonantzin as of 1/1/1900
It rained all last night and off and on throughout the day. The grandkids and I were cheated out of our walk but we're happy to have the rain here in sometimes too sunny California. My Grandma Lupe's long-standing tradition was always to make either caldo de rez (beef and vegetable soup) or caldo de pollo (chicken soup) on the first rainy day. It's a great tradition and I've done a darned good job in keeping it. My children always knew the first rainy day meant soup and some kind of baking and now my grandchildren are learning. Traditions are important to me.
It's Saturday. If it had been a Saturday when I was growing up, I'd have been lying under piles of blankets smelling the morning baking my grandmother was doing, smelling chiles roasting, hearing my grandfather banging out tortillas with his big rolling pin. If I had been at my mom's it would have been cartoons, cold cereal and a blanket on the couch. In my house now, Saturdays mean the grandkids are here. Cartoons? Once in a great while. I do work in animation... But mostly, Saturdays - rainy ones mean cuddling on the bean bags and reading stories. Today we read the first chapter of The Wind in the Willows. Isn't that a great book?
After reading, we piled into the car at the first break in the rain and headed to the Mexican market to get groceries for soup. I meant to do chicken but ended up wanting beef instead. I had a great time teaching my granddaughter Jasmine how to pick out the right vegetables. We had so much fun smelling herbs, squeezing lemons, looking at tomatoes, discussing chiles and laughing at the funny sounds of words in Spanish, English and Nahuatl. Words like loroco, flor de calabaza, tomatl, tomate, tomato. She has a good sense of what we need and she's only four. She knows that we want the juiciest, darkest red tomatoes for salsa, the firmer Romas for Spanish rice and things like salad. She knows the difference between the smell of oregano and thyme, can tell you what we use it for and that spearmint tea will take away a tummy ache. She's steeped in tradition and in her culture and that makes me happy to know that things like my grandmother's recipes won't be lost.
We bought chamorros de rez (beef shanks), soup bones, loroco, mexican squash, chayote or chayotl squash, squash flowers, fresh thyme, fresh oregano, chiles of four different varieties, lemons, new potatoes white and purple, tomatoes, carrots, white Mexican corn on the cob, celery, cabbage, cilantro, garlic and onions. We bought fresh Mexican white cheese (queso fresco) that crumbly mild almost ricotta-like wheel of cheese that is my favorite and Monterey Jack. We also bought huge pink and white marshmallows and a big pumpkin.
At home again, we set the soup bones and chamorros to mingle with fresh thyme, cilantro, oregano, a head of garlic and two quartered onions in boiling salted water while we read more about our friends Toad, Mole and the rest. I got in some crocheting while the grandkids napped and thought about next weeks Poetry Friday (yikes I'm hosting), Robert's Snow and the upcoming Cybil Awards. I have the honor of featuring four illustrators on both Cuentecitos and AmoXcalli for Robert's Snow - Blogging for A Cure organized by Jules and Eisha of Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast. Those two are the most organized people I've run into in a while! I also have the honor of being a panelist again for graphic novels with the 2007 Cybil Awards. I'm going to be a busy girl!
Several hours later, we had a great beefy stock going. We pulled out the herbs, garlic, meat and bones and strained out the stock. We then added quarted potatoes in their skins and the carrots chopped into chunks. We let that get halfway done, then added chopped celery, chunks of chayote squash and fresh Mexican white corn on the cob and while that was cooking we sliced into paper thin wheels, the zucchini and Mexican squash which we carefully laid on top to steam along with a quartered cabbage. We put the lid on the pot and let that simmer for five minutes just long enough for the cabbage to wilt and change color.
I had made fresh roasted salsa earlier along with squash flower and loroco quesadillas and Spanish rice. We cut quesadillas into little crispy triangles oozing the mix of cheeses with little green and yellow flowers cascading out and arranged those on a plate with a little bowl of salsa in the middle. I stirred the meat back into the soup and served it out into each bowl making sure everyone got an ear of corn. The traditional way is to scoop out a spoonful of rice in the middle of the bowl then serve the soup right over it. We sat down to squeeze lemon over the hot soup and rice, nibbled quesadillas along with the soup and most of us scooped the salsa right into the soup as well. For dessert I had made hot Mexican chocolate with cinnamon covered by the huge marshmallows in pink and white and the fresh pumpkin empanadas that are my son Albert's favorites. My grandchildren are sleeping now full of stories, food and tradition.
Aren't rainy days wonderful?
4 Comments on Rainy Day Reading, Contemplating and Cooking, last added: 9/28/2007
Alkelda the Gleeful said, on 9/27/2007 10:39:00 PM
I am so hungry now after reading your food descriptions. I really appreciate food descriptions in books-- Wind in the Willows is one of my favorites for food lists.
Gina MarySol Ruiz said, on 9/27/2007 11:20:00 PM
Brian Jacques has great ones too in his Redwall.
Kelly Fineman said, on 9/28/2007 4:50:00 AM
Gina -- I'll stop back to look for the Poetry Friday post, but here's my link for today (as I'll be out for a while): http://kellyrfineman.livejournal.com/237874.html
I'm in with Amy Lowell.
TadMack said, on 9/28/2007 7:19:00 AM
THIS makes me HUNGRY. I love rainy California days, and hope to drag some of the lovely California traditions of freshly made tortilla soup into this chilly Scotland landscape. Lovely post... makes me homesick.
Here it is, 4:30 in the afternoon and I've just now had a moment to sit down and blog. It's been another one of those whirlwind days that seem to be the norm lately!
So, let me begin by saying "I loathe traffic"!! I long for the days when I was a young girl and I walked to the store each day with my mom. You see, my mom didn't know how to drive. She still doesn't, and she has found her way in life without a vehicle. When I was a little girl, I would walk with my mom to "Johnny's" market each day to purchase fresh food for dinner every night. Sometimes I would bring my dolly buggy along. Other times, my mom would let me bring a friend. They loved walking with my mom and me to the store. They actually considered it a treat. We would do our little bit of shopping and carry it home in brown paper bags. Mom always had her purse locked on to one arm and a grocery bag or two balanced on her hips. When I was old enough and strong enough, she would let me carry a bag too.
In comparison, when I go to the grocery store now, I fill up the entire back of my car with, what's probably, excessive amounts of "stuff". I drive everywhere and I buy too much. I've been feeling excessive for some time now, but recently, I just can't seem to shake that unhumbling, almost embarrased feeling I get when I study my own excessive consumerism. Funny thing is, I have so much less than most everyone I know. Well, less in the way of material property and luxurious trips, anyway. Nevertheless, I have this great personal desire to pull back. To live simpler and to abide by a stricter budget.
Looking back over the course of my married life, Gary and I have had our share of terrible lean times and financial hardships. Especially when the kids were toddlers and we lived in Northwest Arkansas. But when I think back to those times, they are the sweetest and most heart-warming times of my life. The struggles and trials aren't what stand out. I remember laughter and closeness and picnics. What more do we, as a human race, need? Do we really NEED jewels, stainless steel appliances, cars that are almost as big as the house that I grew up in, designer label purses and jeans and shoes, and so on and so on and so on....
I want off the merry-go-round. I don't ever want to forget how to smell a storm or listen for the first cricket of the season. Very few things can compare to that first bite of a tart and crunchy Fried Green Tomato. I don't want to lose my desire to dig or my love of the soil. I never, ever, not for one second, want to forget the smell of my newborn babies heads, or the squells of laughter that would overtake them as toddlers while running and reaching to catch fireflies.
These are the things that real and true and gritty life is all about. Love, faith, hope, God, family, smells, storms, trials, brown paper bags, good times, bad times and Fried Green Tomatoes. This is where my truth and my heart is and I intend to keep it this way.
As usual, here is where I include my relentless marketing plug for my newest print listed in My Etsy Shop.
This ACEO is a tribute to the traditional Hispanic families that I grew up around. They so often held tight to their history and priorities.
Jolene: Thanks for understanding my need and desire to include my familiarity to Hispanics in my collage art. I truly appreciate your awareness!!
Beautiful Mexican Girls Of Los Angeles
Thank you so very much for reading through my daily rants and writings. Here's to a calmer tomorrow
Until Tomorrow: Kim Garden Painter Art gnarly-dolls Kim's Kandid Kamera
5 Comments on I WANT OFF THE MERRY-GO-ROUND, last added: 5/17/2007
I am so amazed by the things that we have in common! LOL! My mother didn't drive either, so we walked everywhere, yes, even grocery shopping. And, don't you just love fried green tomatoes? What a treat, and, trip down memory lane.
Only one way off the Merry-Go-Round: Take a leap of faith and pray for a soft landing. ;)
~jolene said, on 5/16/2007 9:13:00 PM
Kim, the words you shared today really touched me. Beautiful post. I broke away from that excessive consumerism when we moved to Newport Beach - where it is just the opposite! I love living with less materialism.
LOVE today's ACEO -- another beautiful tribute to our wonderful Hispanic friends and loved ones.
peace.
Sam I Am said, on 5/16/2007 11:06:00 PM
wow kim...i look around and think the same thing!! I think its california living! People here just seem to have sooo much more than they really need... I look around at what i have..and man.. do i lack in material items.. but ya know what?? We have a strong family..and i think that speaks volumes over fancy cars, homes and dining at topnotch restaurants!! xoxox sam
Marie said, on 5/16/2007 11:31:00 PM
This is my favourite post yet. I love these words and sentiments. I feel the same way about life. Simple is sometimes the most rewarding and best way to live it. All the other stuff just clutters up what is, in all it's simplicity, a thing of great beauty. Who needs all that icing when the cake is perfectly delicious all on it's very own!
BlueJude said, on 5/17/2007 8:53:00 AM
What a beautiful post! Yes, sometimes we have to remember there are more important things in life than all the material stuff. That is what makes life truly worthwhile! AND I really like the new ACEO! Cheers Kim!
It's been quite a busy morning so far. I've taken my morning walk, answered all of my emails, posted a picture on my new photo blog and collected all of my "accessories" to make iced tea.
For all of you who follow my blog, I'm sure you know by now that my daughter is a "foodie" and we cook and dabble in the kitchen on a daily basis. Most of our meals are prepared at home, as I grew up with home cooking as well. My mom is a good ol' southern cook, and I inherited her love for cooking, and evidentally, I've passed it on to my daughter. Although I must admit, I've taken my beloved southern recipes and tweaked them to make them healthier.
Well, with all this southern cooking going on, you'd think that I would have made iced tea a few times in my life, wouldn't you? Truth is, I have never made iced tea. My mom made it every summer when I was growing up, but I didn't drink it. I have since learned to like tea, and I drink plenty of the hot stuff in the winter. So today, for the first time ever, I am going to make "two big jugs of iced tea". And...as usual, I will tweak my mom's version to suit our tastes. We like mint tea, and that is what I intend to make. Mom always made one "jug" of sugared tea and one "jug" of unsugared tea. My dad liked it sweet and he chose the sugared tea. Mom served the unsweetened tea to guests and allowed them to sweeten it to their tastes. I will do this as well. I prefer my mint tea unsweetened, but others like it sweet. We don't use much sugar around here, so Splenda or Nutra-Sweet will be our choices.
Now, I'm off to boil two big pots of water and start my days project. Wish me luck!!
In honor of today's Iced Tea endeavor, I have listed an ACEO print entitled: "Afternoon Tea in Tucson", which can be found in my Etsy shop.
Afternoon Tea In Tucson
Until Tomorrow: Kim Garden Painter Art gnarly-dolls
One nice tea you can make into iced tea is Rooiboos (red tea) you steep it for ages and it doesn't get bitter or need to be sweetened.
Lovely stuff. :)
Kelly said, on 5/4/2007 4:52:00 PM
Kim, I love your work. It is very vibrant and dreamlike. You have such a distict style that is all your own :)
saffron said, on 5/4/2007 9:28:00 PM
I love the tea stuff! I was so happy earlier this week to have moved on from hot tea to iced! But now today I'm freezing and it's back to the hot!
I'm also here to let you know that you've been tagged by myself :)
Please visit my blog to find the rules.
Thanks and have fun! -saffron http://poppycatsaffron.blogspot.com/
Marie said, on 5/4/2007 11:53:00 PM
Oh, that's so cute. I love it! I like Bigelow teas myself, especially the Constant Commennt one, decaf. We can't get them over here though, more's the pity! I also love Iced Tea. We used to make sun tea. I don't think the Brit's really cotton to iced tea though. They think us North Americans are a bit nuts! The mint does sound delicious though! I may have to try that myself. I have a ton of mint growing in my garden!
artandghosts said, on 5/5/2007 9:28:00 AM
hehe, i love how poised she looks with that teapot!
...and whilst you are busy cooking, i have been forced to choose somebody to tag! so i chose you, yet i see it has already happened to you, just like it happened to me, twice!
i will bestow you with the '7 little known facts' instead of 10, to try and save you some headspace!
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Your post has given me a lot to think about.
Thinking is always good, even when you don’t have answers. I’m glad that you could find something to take away with you.
Claudsy