Saturday, November 16, 2013

Happy Thanksgiving!



Happy Thanksgiving!


Happy Thanksgiving!  Who are you thankful for this year? Spouses, family and friends traditionally head the list of most folks. But there is one more person for whom we should all give thanks.

Sarah Hale was a housewife in the nineteenth century when women were considered “chattel” in a marriage. Chattel is property, the same as a horse, a house or a piece of furniture.  Women (and children) had very few rights and were considered second-class citizens.  Most could not vote, own property or decide the fate of their own children. 

Sarah had grown up on a small farm in New Hampshire. Her father was a disabled veteran of the Revolutionary War. She taught school to help out. One day, a lamb followed one of her students to school. She wrote a poem about it called “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” 

Sarah’s marriage was very happy, but her husband died young and she was left with five small children.  She took a job making hats to support her family and continued to write poetry and stories at night. She became the editor of a new magazine for women and published articles and stories by Edgar Allan Poe, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Harriet Beecher Stowe and Charles Dickens.
 
All this should have been enough for any one woman, but Sarah was not satisfied with the world. Every month in her magazine she wrote editorials advocating education for girls, colleges for women, female doctors and for safe working conditions for all women. She despised slavery but was not allowed to write politically in her magazine.

That didn’t stop Sarah from getting things done. She took to heart the old adage that “the pen is mightier than the sword.” She published her articles and she wrote letters, thousands of them. When Sarah fixed on an issue, she picked up her pen and started writing to anyone she thought would be able to help. 

Sarah really loved Thanksgiving. It was an annual holiday in New Hampshire and the northeastern United States, patterned after the first thanksgiving celebration of the pilgrims. But it wasn’t a holiday in all the states and Sarah thought it should be. So she picked up her pen.

She started writing regularly to politicians throughout the states. She asked the readers of her magazine to write too, and housewives all over the country responded. They were pretty successful too. One by one, states began to declare a Thanksgiving holiday. But Sarah wasn’t satisfied. She wanted it to be a national holiday when everyone in the entire country would, on the same day, paused to give thanks.
So she wrote to the president, President Zachary Taylor to be precise. He said no. She waited and wrote to the next president, Millard Fillmore. Again, the answer was negative. So she wrote to Presidents Franklin Pierce and James Buchanan in turn. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if everyone stopped on the fourth Thursday in November to give thanks? No luck.
         
Then came the Civil War. The country was torn apart. Sarah wrote to the man trying to pull it together.  And finally, on October 3, 1863, Abraham Lincoln declared the fourth Thursday of November to be a national day of thanksgiving.

With a strong will and a ready pen, Sarah Hale helped establish a beloved holiday. One person can change the world, a lesson for us all. So this holiday, after you pick up that turkey leg, pick up your pen and write a letter about something you care about. Send it to someone who can help and then sit back and give thanks.

Historic Details from Thank you, Sarah by Laurie Halse Anderson.

           

Friday, November 1, 2013

Sweet Medicine



Sweet Medicine

From the moment the policeman directed me, “First to your right, second on your left, sharp right again and you’re there,” I was. My grandmother’s voice led me down past the park and cherry trees to Number 17 Cherry Tree Lane. I had come to Nana’s summer bungalow planning frolics in the waves, but now I was strolling along the streets of London with Jane and Michael and the incredible Mary Poppins.

I had always been what you might call a “deep reader.” I didn’t just read a book, I inhabited it. When the wind changed and Mary Poppins blew into the life of Jane and Michael, she blew into mine too. I watched her slide up the banister into the nursery and unpack her incredible carpet bag. 

“What’s a carpet bag?” I asked Nana.

“Let’s find out,” she answered. Nana was never one to give a story away. We had shared many reading adventures. I was nine and sick in bed yet again. I had lived a vagabond life, moving often with my family and sometimes without them. Nana and books were home to me.

Together, we jumped into the sidewalk painting with Bert and Mary and rode the carousel, Nana astride a black stallion and me on a spotted pony. Raspberry jam-cakes sounded delicious. We found out that tea meant more than a hot drink to soothe my sore throat, and that a good laugh could raise your spirits to the ceiling. When Nana tipped a teaspoonful of yucky medicine down my throat, I imagined strawberry ice and lime-juice cordial.  Nana, like Mary, might have thinking more of rum punch. 

We both loved the bird woman. Nana’s neighbor kept pigeons and we pictured them sitting on our shoulders and pecking at our toes. We imagined it tickled. We didn’t know what a tuppence was, but we thought we might have enough to buy a bag or two. When the wind changed, and Mary left, Nana and I waved farewell; we knew we could meet Mary again just by opening her book and diving in.  

Books have always been sweet medicine for me. When I am troubled or stressed, I often think about how characters in my favorite books solved problems with wit, pluck or humor and wonder whether I might do the same. When I am sad, a happy book cheers me up. When I am angry, a restful story soothes me. Some books take me a thirty minute vacation – just enough to invigorate my tired soul. 

Every year, teachers read aloud to their students just for the joy of it. Oh yes, we spend many hours teaching phonics, comprehension and fluency, but our real goal is to build a love of reading into each child. When you love reading, you read, and when you read, you learn phonics, comprehension and become fluent.  

Think back to your school days. Do you remember a special novel that your teacher shared that sticks with you today?  My daughter still remembers her second grade teacher reading James and the Giant Peach. She went on to read all of the Roald Dahl books just because her teacher showed so much joy when she read it. How many times has your child held up a book and stated, “My teacher read this!” and then decided to read it again?  How many times have you fallen into a book with your child and entered a wonder land together?   

Nana left us when I was fifteen, but her love of story has continued to feed and comfort me. When I read the books we shared or when I read aloud to children, I feel her holding my hand and warming my spirit and I sip the sweet medicine only love can give.

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