the bee hive chronicles

books.kids.love.other suff

Category: books (Page 2 of 3)

#33 – *FRAUD*

October 19, 2019 /

Bee Hive has been through a lot. And not quite back on its feet. But, things have been hopeful. New website – new beginning.

After being so focused on keeping the doors open – it did not occur to me that someone would ever actually do any harm – consciously – to the store. Would ever try to steal from it or cause financial chaos. It just wasn’t on my radar. In my mind, I thought the whole world knew that Bee Hive was in the process of rebuilding. Working to get stronger. That every little detail, interaction, transaction – positive or negative – truly mattered.

I was not on my guard. Did not listen to the voice inside my head that was saying – This is fishy.

Instead, I was choosing to believe that things were turning around and this sale was a result of a lot of hard work. Things were turning around. And, this person was truly interested in supporting a small independent kids’ book store in New Mexico.

Even though he is in California. And ordering very random, expensive textbooks from me through an email exchange.

It was a large sale. Certainly way more then an average day in September for Bee Hive. He paid with a credit card, via email, for a few textbooks – several hundred dollars each – and had me priority ship them to him.

I did what he requested. Feeling a little weirded out about it – but super grateful, nonetheless, along the way.

It wasn’t until after the books had been sent and received by him – that I got the notice.

There had been a chargeback. The Bee Hive was accused by the cardholder of fraudulent activity. The sale was reversed and the money was taken out of the Bee Hive account.

I was confused. I read the email quite a few times trying to understand. And then I felt like I had been physically assaulted. And, I had a hard time breathing for a bit.

The Bee Hive was accused by the cardholder of fraudulent activity. The sale was reversed and the money was taken out of the Bee Hive account.

But, then I knew. Exactly.

The story from here gets tedious and uncomfortable, but briefly, I contested the chargeback using the email exchanges – including him giving me the credit card number – and tracking information that the package had been mailed and received. My rebuttal was refused. The name and email did not match the name and email on the account.

Aren’t businesses protected from fraudulent activity? I asked (cried)

NO. And, in fact, I took a verbal lashing from my merchant services company about all the ways I had screwed up.

Because…this was all my fault…

And then there was another chargeback for the shipping charges. Different credit card used for that charge.

And the fees from the merchant services company for the chargebacks. And the fees for the Bee Hive account being overdrawn, because of the lack of funds in it due to the chargebacks.

And so – after a long few day of utter despair – I sat down on my floor at home (house was empty), and surrendered.

I am done. I can’t do this anymore. I get it…Bee Hive has run its course. It is over.

And then in the midst of my breakdown – I got clear.

No way. After everything, no way is this a**hole going to be the reason the Bee Hive goes down.

You know?

The only way I can get any money back is if I go after the guy myself. And, I don’t have the resources or council or, frankly, the energy or time, to do what that takes.

I filed a police report. And, wrote the guy strongly requesting that going forward, he leave small businesses alone. Please.

Honestly, I don’t know if Bee Hive is long for this world.

I am sort of looking at this as going either one of two ways:

This is the straw that breaks the camel’s back: Bee Hive can’t catch up financially after this, and everything else, and it is over.

Or:

This is an important lesson for me, of the necessary caution I need to use from here on out, in order to continue on for several years to come.

Time will tell…

 

 

 

#32 – Onward…

July 11, 2019 /

What does it take to save, and then sustain, a struggling, community-based small business?

Two different business lawyers.

One crew of five UNM Anderson School of Management graduate students and a tenured associate business professor.

Meetings with the City of Santa Fe mayor. Business Development representatives. Guadalupe District small business owners. Historical Board. City Council.

Countless conversations persuading landlord, business loan representatives, credit card companies, suppliers….to, please… just…hold on…

A GoFundMe Campaign
(That literally kept the store running for much of this year. Thank you again and again to everyone who so generously supported Bee Hive with monetary and moral support ❤️)

Except…

Both lawyers – vanished.
(Pro bono, so certainly under no obligation to stick around)

Crew of business students – graduated. Bee Hive was their final thesis project. They crunched numbers and produced statistics – and then…the project was over.

City of Santa Fe: Here’s a meeting room. You figure it out.

Everyone who is looking to be paid – still talking to them.

Superman did not swoop in.

At the end of the day. Saving the Bee Hive was no one’s problem…but my own.

And so…

It made sense that what needed to happen had to be outside of the little white house on Montezuma Avenue. Outside of the transitioning – parking challenged – construction zone – very, very quiet – Guadalupe District.

“Superman did not swoop in.

At the end of the day. Saving the Bee Hive was no one’s problem…but my own.”

I realized that who I needed to turn to were other booksellers. People who are killing it in the industry.

And somehow…

I found those people.

They’re in Canada.

I was checking out websites of bookstores I think are particularly awesome, and I came across one that seemed kind of perfect. I called the number of the company that designed the site – thinking they were just webdesign.

Instead, I stumbled upon this network of incredibly experienced, very, very smart, and hugely supportive booksellers who designed the software that, I feel, will help Bee Hive reach out past the white house on Montezuma Avenue.

After many, many weeks of number crunching, strategizing, mulling – and then – inventory transferring, learning, training, designing – Bee Hive has, literally, been transformed.

What is now the presence of Bee Hive on the internet – is not just a pretty face – although, I believe, it is quite pretty. It is a resource in which any book at all (not just kids’ books) – as long as Bee Hive can get it – and our distributors are far and wide – can be ordered. If we don’t have it in store – then you can order it online and have it either shipped, or it can be picked up at Bee Hive. And, of course, you are able to see all the inventory that is in stock, and hold a book via the website to be picked up later. You can also sign up for an independent audio book service; schools can order any and all of their books through the Bee Hive website – always tax exempt and 15% off. Book subscription services are available; as well as purchasing gift certificates, and signing up for writing workshops.

This is what shook out of many sleepless nights, explored avenues, and knowing – that there was an answer.

I am hopeful that Bee Hive will be able to contribute to our community in a broader way by offering easy, discounted book ordering for schools; and super accessible information about our free community-focused events, as well as simple sign-up for writing workshops. And outside of our community, we will be able to reach people by offering awesome subscription services – curated books by genre that are sent out each month. And for everyone – book ordering made super easy. You can shop online at midnight – and still support your local bookstore.

Bee Hive is, and always has been, here for you — but we’ve needed to meet you half-way, so now, we’re even coming to you.

The idea is to turn it around so to be at a Beginning, of sorts. Rather, than facing the End.

I hope this website becomes your go-to when you’re in search of a book. That’s exactly what its made for.

Please check out and explore Bee Hive’s beautiful new site:

http://www.beehivekidsbooks.com

May it become a bookmark on your toolbar….

xox

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

#30 – “What is a record store?”

February 27, 2019 /

The other day, while driving, we passed a kid walking down the street with headphones on. My son, Cash, declared, “I want a Walkman.”

“To play discs or cassettes?” I asked.

“Cassettes,” he replied
(To get an idea of my 8-year-old son’s precocious interest in music, please see: The Bee Hive Chronicles #6 – The Rock History Schooling of a 7-year-old – http://www.thebeehivechronicles.com/6-the-rock-history-schooling-of-a-7-year-old/ )

“What are cassettes?” Olive asked

I then went on to explain what cassettes were. And how you buy them in record stores. Same as records or cds.

The next question just about left me speechless…

“What is a record store?”

My younger self – the one that spent many, many, many hours of her adolescent and young adult life flipping through bins and bins of records, cassettes, and cds in record stores in San Francisco, Los Angeles, New York, Portland and any town or city I happened to be in between – would have thought you were joking if you would have told her that some day her daughter would ask the question – “What is a record store?”

And so, I have given this a lot of thought.

Of course, I am partially to blame for my daughter’s lack of knowledge (Cash was up on record stores) of what a record store is. Both my kids’ deep interest in music has so effortlessly been accommodated by the ease of Apple Music and Spotify. Whatever they are curious about or whatever I want to play for them, so simple to access. Playlists created with a simple tap (Oh – the sweet toil of making a mixed tape! Such a labor of love….). That I have failed to educate them on what my own music hunting experience was up until not that, relatively, long ago.

“My younger self….would have thought you were joking if you would have told her that some day her daughter would ask the question – “What is a record store?”

As I fight to sustain my business, an independent book store, it is a bitter pill to swallow – one that feels a bit like foreshadowing – to realize that record stores are not as common as they once were. That the experience of your heart stopping from excitement when you discover, as you thumb through records or flip through plastic-encased cassettes or cds, an obscure album  by your favorite band or a single you didn’t know existed by a musician you love – that that experience is something totally different now. That experience now – is a little less dimensional. And without that connection to discovery. Connection to the music-lovers flipping next to you. Connection to the committed diehards who run and work in record stores. And, and this is a big one,  without the delicious anticipation. The anticipation of getting to where ever it is that you will play that precious record or cassette or cd – for the first time.

I feel that Olive has the same awe and obsession and attachment to book stores as, perhaps, I did for record stores. She literally goes into the Bee Hive and just smells the books. Opens them up and breathes in. Though she is eleven, she studies the illustrations of each picture book she hasn’t seen before. She will sit in a corner and get completely lost in the magic of chapter books for hours. And then – she goes home and compiles the list of which books she is going to read when and where, and in what order.

What I would love, is for her to not have to  experience her kids asking her one day – “What is a book store?”

But is it inevitable?

I don’t believe so.

I truly don’t.

I have faith.

Faith that we are aware enough as a species to not allow books to become charming relics that hipsters use to decorate their houses with. But, rather, we will hold on tight and they will continue to delight us. Teach us. Nurture us. Connect us….

And book stores will remain the places we go to in order to be around the people. Our people. The ones that open books and breath deeply. The ones that go away with that sweet anticipation of the moment they will get to start reading. The ones who may not have been delighted by a story the same way you were, but respect your perspective nonetheless. The ones that just – get it.

A quote – by a poet that I love so much – has been lately playing over and over in my head a lot. And so, I have claimed it as my mantra…

“Do not go gentle into that good night
Rage, rage against the dying of the light”
— Dylan Thomas

For the sake of my future grandchildren and all the beautiful moments, life-changing connections, and profound experiences that I want for them –

I will never stop raging.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

#28 – Gratitude (part three)

October 9, 2018 /

The media has been feeding us an endless stream of really challenging news, for a long time.

And it feels as if there may be no end in sight.

So, once again – to balance things out – a random list of things that are pretty great…

The swath of neon brilliance that blankets the earth for a brief period of time every fall, is enough to make you breathe a great big sigh of grateful disbelief.  Mother Nature is an incredibly benevolent magician to provide us with this show, and the light that it casts, year after year.

Recently, we were on a raspberry picking expedition in wondrous (see above) northern New Mexico. On the drive home – windblown, an excellent soundtrack on, books in their laps, bellies full of berries, a riot of scenic color outside the window – Olive made an indiscernible sound. Cash and I both asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she answered, with a serene smile on her face. “I’m just happy.”
A pause.
“Me, too,” said Cash
“Meee, too.” I concurred
At the end of the day, aren’t joyful humans, decent humans? Just fill our kids up with simple things: awesome music, good stories, fresh food, and adventures. Perhaps keep them away from all they don’t need to know, in the moment, for as long as possible. Keep the anticipation. The magic. The gratitude. The wonder of it all – alive as long as possible. Simple tools. And maybe the only ones our kids need in order to lead us into a hopeful future.

“At the end of the day, aren’t joyful humans, decent humans? Just fill our kids up with simple things: awesome music, good stories, fresh food, and adventures.”

The other day, a man wandered into the Bee Hive. It was during a particularly rough patch in current events. He asked me, “Are there kids’ books that teach children to be decent humans?”
It caught me off guard a bit. “Um.” I looked around the store. All I saw were golden tomes of acceptance. Courage. Perspective. Compassion. Decency.
“I believe so.”
“God, I hope so.”
And off he went.
I’ve given it a lot of thought since that encounter. And I truly believe that kids’ books – for all different age ranges – are where it’s at. The good ones – and there are countless – are full of characters of all different ethnic and socio-economic backgrounds, family situations, mental and physical health conditions, gender and sexual orientations, and in various stages of the awkward, challenging, confusing adolescence process. These sensitive, broad-ranging, wide-scoped stories are preparing our kids to be all-accepting, open-hearted, compassionate, non-judgemental individuals.

There is this song by Jim Morrison that I sort of happened upon. It is a rich, twangy, melodic instrumental that landed in my Spotify song library. Every time it comes on – its joyful string perfection. It came on in the car recently and Cash sighed – “I love this song.”
“Me too.”
“Where did you find it?” he asked
“I don’t remember. But its a pretty good score, right?”
“So good.”
Those little, unexpected gifts that find their way into your life – songs, people, a quote, an experience. You’re not sure how or where or when. But you do know that your life is so much more lovely since they arrived. And you can’t quite remember what you did without them.

Gouda goat cheese shredded onto a slice of fresh, crusty bread – put under the broiler so that the cheese gets melt-y and crispy, but the bread stays soft
= pure gratitude.

#26 – Olive’s Happy Place

August 2, 2018 /

Now that my daughter, Olive, has figured out how to access the Public Library’s computer system from home – it is not uncommon for us to go by the library on a daily basis for her to run in and grab her reserved books. There have been times that I’ve suggested we skip it and go another day.

“But, Mommy. The library is my Happy Place.”

“Well, actually…the Bee Hive is my Happy Place. The Library is my second Happy Place.”

Right.

How the heck can I argue with that?

And, honestly, those are two of my Happiest – indoor – Places too. Bee Hive being first of course.

When I was in college I spent hours in The Stacks. Hiding away among the cool, countless shelves of  books – I think I did homework? It is perhaps the reason I was an English major – just so I’d have a reason to be absorbed by the library. I then later worked in the library. And always was the first to volunteer to shelve. I much rather interact with the books then my fellow students. The books offered comfort and flow. The fellow students – not really at all.

I am aware on a constant basis that the Bee Hive is a Happy Place for potentially many people – primarily of the kid variety.

When parents are trying to get their kids to leave and maybe the kids aren’t ready to  – they are in a state of complete absorption – and maybe the kids get upset and refuse to leave using their own abilities, so maybe the parents have to pick up the kids and physically drag them out of the store. And it may be that the kids are screaming. That has maybe happened once or twice.

Who wants to ever leave a Happy Place? A place where you feel totally comfortable and present.

I totally get it though. They have found a Happy Place. And who wants to ever leave a Happy Place? A place where you feel totally comfortable and present.

I have moments when the Bee Hive is a source of complete and utter anxiety. How am I going to pay the rent? How will I cover the taxes? Is that check going to clear? It is often in the depth of the night that this anxiety comes on. And then, the next morning I walk in the store, I breath in the smell of the books and am embraced by the bright energy. I immediately feel at ease in my Happy Place, and I know – all will be okay.

Because Happy Places carry the responsibility of not letting their people down. Of being around the corner when you need them to be. Of providing sanctuary and relief from the rest of the world. Happy Places aren’t allowed to go away.

Olive is very much her own person. But she and I definitely share Happy Places in common. And I am in full support of having specified Happy Places – even if that means taking daily trips to the Public Library. That Olive has places where she feels at ease and joyful and totally present is a huge blessing.

We gotta fight for the Happy Places.

Without them – there would just be a bunch of ordinary places.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

#24 – Poof!

May 31, 2018 /

Slippery.

It runs through your fingers and there is no grabbing a hold of it. And somehow – I’m not sure how – it only continues to get more so.

And so. I feel as if there is no fighting it. The years are not getting any slower. More methodical. Or luxurious in their passing.

In some ways, I feel as if I can do and be an awful lot in the eyes of my kids. I can have super human strength. Make something yummy out of not much. Conjure up comfort with a song. Make them feel loved and seen and heard, perhaps, when no one else can.

But. Damn it.

I can not slow time.

As much as I wish I could stop it like Super Man can stop speeding locomotives. I can not.

The years are not getting any slower. More methodical. Or luxurious in their passing.

Cash and Olive are bigger and older than they ever have been. Their elementary school years are relentlessly dissolving.  And as much as I try for it not to – it pains me.

And so.

I do what I can to keep the time I am with them full and present and…calm.

I try to savor and hear every word they say, knowing that it is possible, that very soon – they won’t want to tell me anything. We are engrossed in the magic of the classics – I am literally trying to get in as many as we can before they start to shun Heidi and Anne for romance and spy novels. I watch Camp Kikiwaka with them because they love it – and I find it totally amusing (Disney series – Netflix – summer camp), and I rather sit next to them on the couch, eating popcorn, then get laundry done any day. We shoot hoops, take walks, and watch for sunsets, full moons, and moving clouds.

And I try to not get ahead of myself. I try to not be anxious about what’s coming. I try to trust that Harry Potter and Laura Ingalls and Peter Hatcher and the Penderwicks and countless other upstanding, badass, beautiful role-models they have saturated themselves with day after day, have been serving them well.

And I keep them close for now.

Working to wrap my brain around the fact that they are their own strong, creative, thoughtful people who I can not keep contained. And when they fly away – they will do amazing good for all that they touch.

I will, of course, be here with popcorn and songs and open arms…

Always.

 

#23 – Magic

May 6, 2018 /

My memory of The Secret Garden from reading it as a kid is foggy. I know I was enchanted by it, but in a dark – sort of over-grown garden in early 20th Century England sort of way. I have not revisited it since. It is a book that I’ve had on my list to read with Olive and Cash and I figured I’d rediscover it as they experienced it for the first time.

And so, not too long ago – we read together The Secret Garden…

It is a simple story about a not very pleasant ten-year-old girl who goes to live with her wealthy uncle at his Downton Abbey-sized home in England after her parent’s fall victim to a cholera epidemic where they lived in India. After a pretty rough transitional period, she finds love, freedom, and companionship she hadn’t experienced with her neglectful parents who left her to be raised by servants and nannies.  Along the way she discovers her 12-year-old cousin, who has been shut up in a room in the enormous house. After Colin’s mother died ten years ago – his bereaved father couldn’t deal with his young son who reminded him too much of the wife he was very much in love with, so he left him to the care of doctors and maids. Colin does not walk, and believes he is sickly, and not going to make it past childhood. Mary also makes friends with the awesome sprite-like Dickon – the maid’s maid brother who is literally followed by animals – a la Disney’s Snow White. The three of them – Mary, Dickon, and Colin secretly transform the garden that was Colin’s mother’s favorite place and locked up for ten years, into a lush, lovely sanctuary once again. Oh – and Colin walks for the first time. Ever.

All of this is magic enough. But it doesn’t quite cover the actual magic that is The Secret Garden.

To back up a little…As Mary and Colin spend more and more time together and they both become stronger and more aware, and more like children, really – they discover that Colin’s illness and inability to walk and imminent death – does not at all have to be the reality. They figure out that they can actually create a different world. One where Colin is healthy and joyful and out of the confines of the room he has spent the last ten years in. They start to believe in the power of their state of mind and what they believe.

“Of course, there must be lots of Magic in the world,” said Colin wisely one day, “but people don’t know what it is like or how to make it. Perhaps the beginning is just to say nice things are going to happen until you make them happen.”

“Every morning and evening and as often in the day-time as I can remember I am going to say, ‘Magic is in me! Magic is making me well! I am going to be as strong as Dickon, as strong as Dickon!”

Eventually, Colin’s father returns from his endless travels and discovers his son is vibrant and walking. And that the secret garden is blossoming again. He too, is transformed by the magic.

It is all quite mystical. And lovely. And effective. Olive and Cash were totally hooked. They – and I – were mesmerized by both Mary and Colin’s progression from unpleasant, unloved, sad kids, to kids who – with the help of strong, kind Dickon and going from being shut-ins to being surrounded by fresh air and the wonders of the outdoors – totally turned their health and perspectives, and experiences around in order to become robust, positive, wise individuals.

The aspect that I appreciate most about The Secret Garden, and why it is a classic still read regularly over 100 years after it was originally published – is the magic. Yes, the Magic of the power of thought that is mentioned in the book, but also the magic of it all. The magic of the friendship between the kids. The magic of all that is transformed and brought back to vibrancy – the garden and Colin and Mary – with love. The magic of Dickon and his trail of animals. The magic of them all being willing to believe. The magic of literature. The magic of reading. The beautiful magic that is often only found in kids’ stories. The magic that Olive and Cash experienced through Mary, Colin, and Dickon. This is magic that is becoming harder and harder to find.

The Sunday we finished The Secret Garden, we discovered my car was dead in our driveway. Huge stress and inconvenience. I needed to get it from out of the driveway to a mechanic. So plans were made to have it towed the next day.

I woke up that morning and started saying to myself with much conviction – I AM LUCKY.  I AM LUCKY. I AM LUCKY.  After getting the kids to school, I, by chance – even though the car was scheduled to be towed, got in my car and tried to turn it on. It started! I was lucky!

When I told Olive and Cash after school what happened, we wholeheartedly agreed.

It was definitely magic….

✨✨✨✨

 

 

 

 

 

 

# 21 – Censorship v #Me Too

March 1, 2018 /

The pervasive, tentacles of the #Me Too Movement have found and firmly wrapped themselves around kids’ book publishing. Though it has come to light that no male “dominated” industry, such as publishing of any kind certainly is, has been left unscathed, it is still incredibly unsettling. And as a kids’ book store owner – it has left me utterly conflicted.

Which is the lesser of two giant evils – censorship or wiping known predators from your shelves?

Jay Asher, author of 13 Reasons Why,  was the first Young Adult author to be exposed. He was expelled from The Society of Children’s Book Authors and Illustrators for violating the harassment code. David Diaz – award-winning children’s book illustrator was also kicked out of the organization for the same reason. James Dashner, author of the Maze Runner series, among many others, came next – he lost his literary agent and has been dropped by Random House due to the allegations made against him. And now… Sherman Alexie is being investigated for several accusations of harassment by Native women.

Which is the lesser of two giant evils – censorship or wiping known predators from your shelves?

There was a time when I wouldn’t carry Orson Scott Card’s – the author of Ender’s Games –  books because of his unabashed homophobic views (a byproduct of his Mormon faith).  But after being asked for them over and over and realizing how truly beloved he is as a science fiction writer, I came to the realization that my disgust of his beliefs had to stay out of what my customers could and could not get at my store. Clearly what I was doing was censorship based on my own views. I had to shut down my opinions, respect the freedom of thought and belief that I am so grateful for,  and open my shelves to what could introduce an amazing world to burgeoning science fiction fans.

What about authors and illustrators who don’t just have views I don’t agree with, but who have actually used their status and position to disempower, bully, objectify, threaten, harass women? – Me. My sister. My friends. My daughter – all our daughters – in the future. My niece – in the future. My customers. My beloved, beautiful posse. My tribe. – What do I do with them?

I don’t know what the ultimate fate of these authors and illustrators will be. Do I really want to support them by selling their books? I really don’t.

Is it censorship? Maybe.

Is it taking a stand? I believe so.

A small one. And one of many that will have to be taken before we even start to see the end of these far-reaching tentacles.

 

#15 – The Colorful Symphony

November 11, 2017 /

The other day as I was driving around town I was struck by the neon-yellow of the Cottonwood trees against the marble-blue vividness of the autumn sky. Though the colors are a yearly occurrence, it’s as if the juxtapositions are a new experience every time. And the stunning contrasts never fail to take my breath away.

Lately, Cash, Olive, and I have been fully captivated by the brilliant, whimsical world of The Phantom Tollbooth. The pages teem with pearls. So much so, that as we read I’ve needed to stop along the way to tag a beautiful, or provoking, or just super clever line or paragraph. We’ve proceeded to read with a pad of sticky memos and now it’s not just me who is pausing along the way to mark something, but Cash and Olive as well.

“Speak Fitly or Be Silent Wisely.”

“I never knew words could be so confusing,” said Milo.
“Only when you use a lot to say a little,” answered Tock.

“Being lost is not a matter of not knowing where you are; it’s a matter of not knowing where you aren’t.”

And then Milo, Tock, and the Humbug experience The Colorful Symphony. A grand orchestra with at least a thousand musicians fanned out before them. Violins, cellos, piccolo, flutes, clarinets, horns, trumpets, percussionists, bass fiddles, and much more – all played. But…
“I don’t hear any music,” said Milo
“That’s right,” said Alec; “you don’t listen to this concert—you watch it.”

And so with Chroma, their conductor, guiding them by molding “the air like handfuls of soft clay”, the musicians “played” the sunset. As the last colors faded, one by one the instruments stopped – …”until only the bass fiddles, in their somber slow movement, were left to play the night and a single set of silver bells brightened the constellations.” Milo then learned that the symphony performed without stopping and had since the beginning of time. And without them the world would look like “an enormous coloring book that hadn’t been used.”

As the last colors faded, one by one the instruments stopped – …”until only the bass fiddles, in their somber slow movement, were left to play the night and a single set of silver bells brightened the constellations.”

“What a pleasure to lead  my violins in a serenade of spring green or hear my trumpets blare out the blue sea and then watch the oboes tint it all in warm yellow sunshine.”

Yes. That.

I wonder about the November neon-yellow Cottonwood trees. And the deepest sky-blue sky ever. How would Chroma conduct those? What section of his orchestra would perform them into existence? What about the rich, earthy hues of the high desert? Or the amber color of my kids’ eyes? The perfect white puffiness of the clouds? The act of music composing these things into dimension makes beautiful sense.

Mr. Juster has gifted us with a complex, multi-sensory, gorgeously rich perspective of the world around us. I can’t wait to watch as The Colorful Symphony plays the first dusting of snow; and bare, ice-tipped branches. The riot of pinks of the spring blossoms and purples of the lilacs. The bold, bright happy summer skies. What about shocking gray lightning storms? Or the radiating beams of a full moon? All beautiful, beautiful music.

I am not musical. But Olive and Cash are. As their skills grow, I am pretty sure they will become proud members of The Colorful Symphony. Perhaps even conducting their own scenes into exquisite detail – sunrises painted on the horizon by way of strings, woodwinds, brass, keyboards – and knowing Cash – a ton of percussion.

 

 

#14 – The True Hero

October 19, 2017 /

It was exactly a year from the day, that we finished the first Harry Potter book, to the day we finished the last. What a fantastic, beautiful, magical ride its been.

And what an ending! Ohmygosh, Olive, Cash, and I were on the edge of our seats. It was so exciting, I was practically yelling as I was reading the pages of the final show-down. So good.

Anyone who’s read the Harry Potter series or knows anything about it, is familiar with Molly Weasley. The matriarch of the large Weasley clan and a surrogate mother to Harry via his close friendship with Ron and his romantic attachment to Ginny – the only daughter of the seven siblings. Molly’s role in the series is very much the maternal figure who constantly worries about the various dangers her family and Harry are always in. She is also the knitter of the ubiquitous Christmas sweaters, as well as the cook and host for her very consistent stream of house guests. Mrs. Weasley does enough mothering to make up for the absence of all the other mothers in Harry Potter world.

Molly Weasley is also pure-blood witch.

*Spoiler alert! From here on, if you haven’t read the series and you plan to, you might want to stop reading. I’d hate to ruin the end for you…*

The on-the-edge-of-your-seat scene that the seven-book-takes-a-year-to-read-series eventually boils down to, finally gives Molly her beautiful hybrid mother/witch glory.

It is all out war. The good guys vs. the bad guys. Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange, his loyal, super-nasty first lieutenant are fighting side-by-side – Voldemort fighting Harry and three Hogwarts faculty members, aka wizards, Bellatrix fighting Hermione, Ginny, and Luna Lovegood. Bellatrix throws out a killing curse that misses Ginny only by inches. Harry sees and changes course from Voldemort to go after Bellatrix, when he is knocked sideways.

“NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!”

Mrs. Weasley steps in and goes at Bellatrix with so much badass, mother-energy power, that the whole war stops – Voldemort, Harry, everyone quits fighting to watch the two witches battle to take each other down. People try to step in to help Molly, but she yells, “No! Get back! She is mine!”

Mrs. Weasley ends up polishing off Bellatrix and basically paves the way for Harry to than polish off Voldemort. It ends the same way it all began, with a mother’s love so strong, that it saves the life of her child.

It was very empowering reading, shouting really, that scene. With all that we’ve been witnessing about women being and feeling threatened, disempowered, intimidated, fearful, shamed, blamed, and on and on, by bad, bad guys, who maybe think they are as powerful as wizards, but aren’t even close – it was a good reminder. Not only do we need to love our kids fiercely. We need to be examples for them too. They need to see us in all our badass glory protecting ourselves, them, justice, and the fight for good. We need to show them it is ok to stand up for ourselves, each other, and all that is right.

Yes, knit your kids sweaters, worry about them, bake them cookies. But also, fight like hell. And let them watch.

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