The Armenian genocide and the Holocaust took place decades ago, but the novelist William Faulkner was right when he said that “the past is never dead. It’s not even past.” It had been hoped that “Never again!” might be more than a slogan, but in April 1994, the Rwandan genocide began and was soon in full cry.

The post An ‘in-spite-of’ joy appeared first on OUPblog.

Sometimes we’re lucky enough to fleetingly meet a someone who changes us, bursts heart open, adds three feet to your height and shows you where your forgotten wings are buried. And it’s mutual. The following (and the rest of the song which I need to illustrate) are for you Brian Tappin ~ roaring lion, gentle angel, boy I miss you right now, dude! xx

Marvelous Cornelius: Hurricane Katrina and the Spirit of New Orleans

Written by Phil Bildner
Illustrated by John Parra
Chronicle Books      8/04/2015
978-1-4521-2578-7
44 pages     Age 3—5

“In New Orleans, there lived a man who saw the streets as his calling, and he swept them clean. He danced up one avenue and down another and everyone danced along—The old ladies whistled and whirled. The old men hooted and hollered. The barbers, bead twirlers, and beignet bakers bounded behind that one-man parade. But then came the rising Mississippi—and a storm bigger than anyone had seen before. Phil Bildner and John Parra tell the inspirational story of a humble man, and the heroic difference he made in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina.” [inside jacket]

Review
Marvelous Cornelius, the person, embodies the best of us. Day-to-day he performed his job—one many would consider unglamorous—with dignity, enthusiasm, and a spirit of giving to those he served. People responded positively to this larger-than-life man. Kids enjoyed his spirited antics. When disaster struck in the name of Hurricane Katrina, this French Quarter-New Orléans resident went to work cleaning up his city with the same joyousness as before, only this time, the residents responded not only with enjoyment to see their local “hero,” but pitched in following his lead. Together—including many volunteers from outside of New Orléans—Marvelous Cornelius led his neighbors in cleaning up their beloved city. Just as he did on his daily job, Marvelous Cornelius helped keep New Orléans clean, for he was a garbage man by trade; garbage man extraordinaire.

With the use of many writing techniques—alliteration, repetition, and exaggeration—author Bildner keeps the story lively. Children will enjoy Cornelius Washington’s story of how an ordinary citizen can help keep their city or town upbeat, their neighbors friendly and joyous, and their streets clean, making for a wonderful place to live.

At times, the illustrations  portray Marvelous Cornelius as a literal giant emphasizing his larger-than-life persona. He becomes more realistic when portrayed with the residents he served. I would have liked to have seen a more multicultural representation of the residents of New Orléans, though artist Parra may have decided to show a true representation of the resident’s Cornelius Washington actually served. Of note: the illustrations do show a multicultural people once the city is swept clean of the “gumbo of mush and mud.”

The art is a delight with its rustic feel and animations of Cornelius “Tango-ing up Toulouse” and “Samba-ing down St. Peter.” I loved the changing text size and font when Marvelous Cornelius sang out his familiar calls:

“WOO! WOO! WOOOOO! WOO! WOO! WOOOOO!”
“RAT-A-TAT-TAT RAT-A-TAT-TAT
“HOOTIE HOO! HOOTIE HOOOOO! SHOWTIME!”

At story’s end, the author writes more about New Orléans, its people, and Hurricane Katrina (which brought major devastation to this coastal city). Bildner also delves into his writing style, saying his use of alliteration, repetition, and exaggeration helped him write Cornelius Washington’s story as a folktale, similar to that of John Henry. Together with artist Parra, Bildner has succeeded in writing a story every child should read and will most definitely enjoy. Teachers can find many lessons in Mr. Washington’s story of an average person who rose to heroic heights simply by doing his best every day.

MARVELOUS CORNELIUS: HURRICANE KATRINA AND THE SPIRIT OF NEW ORLEANS. Text copyright © 2015 by Phil Bildner. Illustrations copyright © 2015 by John Parra. Reproduced by permission of the publisher, Chronicle Books, San Francisco, CA.

Purchase Marvelous Cornelius: Hurricane Katrina and the Spirit of New Orleans at Amazon—Book Depository—iTunes Books—Chronicle Books.

Learn more about Marvelous Cornelius: Hurricane Katrina and the Spirit of New Orleans HERE.
Find a Common Core-Aligned Teacher’s Guide HERE.

Read more about Katrina’s Children HERE.
Watch the full length video Katrina’s Children free HERE.

Meet the author, Phil Bildner, at his website:  http://philbildner.com/
Meet the illustrator, John Parra, at his website:  http://www.johnparraart.com/
Find more picture books at the Chronicle Books website:  http://www.chroniclebooks.com/

Copyright © 2015 by Sue Morris/Kid Lit Reviews. All Rights Reserved

Full Disclosure: Marvelous Cornelius: Hurricane Katrina and the Spirit of New Orleans, by Phil Bildner & John Parra, and received from Chronicle Books, is in exchange NOT for a positive review, but for an HONEST review. The opinions expressed are my own and no one else’s. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

Sometimes we’re lucky enough to fleetingly meet a someone who changes us, bursts heart open, adds three feet to your height and shows you where your forgotten wings are buried. And it’s mutual. The following (and the rest of the song which I need to illustrate) are for you Brian Tappin ~ roaring lion, gentle angel, boy I miss you right now, dude! xx

As I came to the end of the Sweet Easter collection yesterday, doubt started to overwhelm me. It had already begun creeping into the space of my heart, but yesterday I was submerged and left bobbing for some kind of clarity. Did I do ok? Was this strong enough?? Is it what my agent wanted??? Will it sell????

The art licensing realm is quite different than what I'm accustomed to. I had a system to my art, always got great feedback, and I thought I knew what I was meant to do! I thought "I'm going to paint fantasy, and that's that. That's me! It's what I do!". I am learning, quickly, that nothing, NOTHING, is "That's that.". EVERYTHING is changing, all....the.....time.

That includes my art. What I'm accustomed to is, as my friend put it best, being comfortable. Art for licensing is stretching me so thin that I'm being redefined, challenged, pulled out of my box. I am usually the one teaching my students to get outside of their comfort zone, and to get outside of the "box" we choose to place ourselves in. Time to take a big bite out of my own teaching! I'm comfortable with my subject matter, my compositions, and techniques. I'm not playing anymore.
This has led to doubt. I feel helpless, lost, without faith, no trust, and begin to think I just don't have what it takes. But doubt is a LIE. It's the biggest lie out there that you'll ever find. It just takes a grain of doubt to bring your entire soul down. At least...that's usually how it rolls with me. That doubt must, I repeat, must be replaced by JOY.

Elderflush and Stan Motion

They dance like tomorrow’s birdsong
– times one hundred.

Hands meet briefly
making wings.

~~~~~

From the series:
PORTRAITS and SCENES from the ANCIENT REGION of HAIRINESS. Here there is much JOY, MIRTH…and HAPPINESS SOARS HIGHER than PieQuills, because LOVE is given to ALL, from tiny, tiny onwards…

Hi, everybody! Yep, it’s time. Back by popular demand (and to remind myself, in addition to all of you), it’s the New Year’s Eve Ritual. Here’s how it goes:

Years ago a friend of mine told me about his Korean mother-in-law’s tradition for New Year’s Eve.  Her theory was that you want to go into the new year the way you want the rest of the year to go. If you want abundance, ease, order, fun, etc., these are among the things you do:

• Fill your car with gas.
• Fill your cupboards and refrigerator with groceries.
• Put money in your pocket.
• Catch up on your bookkeeping/bills.
• Clean your house.
• Catch up on your laundry and ironing.
• Clear out any old clothes in your closet that don’t fit or that you don’t absolutely love anymore, and give them away so someone else can start enjoying them right now.
• Catch up on your beauty routine (get a fresh haircut or color your hair, do your nails, shave/wax, etc.)
• Eat the kind of food that you love.
• Pick an event for yourself on New Year’s Eve that symbolizes the kinds of things you want to do more of in the coming year.

That’s just the base list to get you started.  The fun is in adding your own items year by year.  Maybe you want to spend the day reading, to make sure you read more books in 2015.  Or maybe you want to see a great movie.  Or spend time with your loved ones.  Or get more sleep!  Pick something you’ve been meaning to move to the top of your list for the coming year, then treat yourself to it right away.  We all need to practice being sweeter to ourselves.  The day leading into the new year seems like an excellent time to start.

Enjoy your fresh start!  And Happy 2015 everyone!

This video has been around for a while, but every now and then I love to watch it again and see if it still gets me all misty-eyed as soon as the violins come in. Yes, it does. And by the end I’m always in full-on happy tears. See if it doesn’t do the same for you:

You may ask me, what has dancing got to do with funeral?  I will tell you that when you go to the funeral of your old dancing instructor you can think of almost nothing else. Such was the case with the service I went to this week.  It was for my dear Ethel Friel Barker.

It all began when I was in about third grade.  My older sister was taking dance and gymnastics and so I wanted to too!  My younger sister followed along after.  Each week we would tromp down her stairs in our leotards, set our dollar on her piano and begin our lesson.

Bring on the tap shoes!  What fun we had learning those dances.  The costumes came next.  Many times they were made by our mothers.  I remember the rumba costume the most.  The top was all gold sequins sewn on to satin.  The bottom was an open skirt that showed off your dancing legs!  haha!… a pair of green satin shorts underneath..and nothing skimpy!…then there were the ruffles of satin colors on the trailing skirt. I remember Ethel teaching us all how to shimmy.  We all laughed!

Each year Ethel would travel to New York to Dance Caravan.  She would learn all the dances and come back and teach them to all her students.  She had students of all ages from the tiniest little ones to the high school kids.  I remember two boys who learned a Russian dance.  Their dance number was mixed with gymnastic moves.

Besides the lessons,  Ethel would arrange for us to have shows.. at no extra cost to us. We traveled to girls homes, boys homes, a home for the mentally challenged.. and then even some Christmas shows for the American Legion.  As shy as we were, it helped us to learn how to be in front of people.  We learned about different people and the situations they live in.

When we got to high school, Ethel helped us with our gymnastic routines.  She rented out the Grange Hall, lugged all her black mats over and we tumbled and practiced for our meets.  All for that same one dollar bill on her piano.

Our lessons continued through high school and we occasionally went to see her for a class… just for fun.  My last class was when I was pregnant with my first daughter.  I remember going slow… I did a limber over… and then felt my daughter kick! That was the end of that!  ha!

Many friends gathered for the memorial service.  My sisters sat next to me and three other friends, all in the same row.  When the minister asked us to read something, I watched as ALL of us dug into our purses for our glasses.  Ethel would have laughed at that sight!  We all laughed and cried.

When the service was over and we sat at our tables for a small lunch, we talked and talked about our dances, our costumes and Ethel.  Before everyone left, we spread the word through out the room that anyone who wanted to, could participate in the performance of the Waltz Clog!  This was the dance that Ethel taught every student. ( My sisters and I do it periodically, even now for fun).

The people gathered… most dressed in black and white.  We almost looked like we were in costume.  .. and then we began.  We sang the tune as we stumbled though the dance moves laughing!  Our last steps were always … just as Ethel taught us,  ”step cut the pie” with our feet.

What a wonderful remembrance. What a wonderful person she was!  We will always celebrate Ethel!

This brings me to this thought.  I have been thinking about it a lot in the last few weeks since I know four people who have died recently. There are many people who live life helping others. It’s such a wonderful thing.  They give and give and give until it’s time for heaven. Their memorial services are happy sad, but often joy filled.  Others take and take and take until their last day. Those services are sad. … almost tragic.

I prefer happy! I like the thought of people dancing at my funeral. .. and singing loud!

Here are three pictures of our Ethel!  She lives on in our hearts always!

Kristin shares her message of joy on a TED talk.  Click here to see her presentation.

It’s been said that, “When you look at your life, the greatest happiness [es] are family happiness [es].” One of the questions, for me, is whether that statement is true or not.

I’ve had many happy moments in my life with and without family members in attendance. I tend to focus on how one quantifies happiness.

Does extreme happiness always have to be accompanied by tears, for instance? Or, is such a deep emotion as true happiness so overpowering that expression of any kind is beyond the ability of the one experiencing it?

What about a lack of happiness? I’ve seen occasions when great sorrow, not happiness, was what took over when family arrived. Where does a person draw the line of family involvement in one’s personal happiness?

Here’s another example of relevant questions. How many degrees of happiness does a person feel and does everyone feel the same degrees of that emotion and label them the same way? I don’t think anyone has a definitive answer to either of these questions simply because each person’s emotional thermometer registers feelings differently based on personal experience.

When you realize how genuinely moved a person is to meet you, does that evoke great happiness, sweet satisfaction, or deep humility coupled with gratitude. If humility, does that constitute a portion of happiness? If you feel satisfaction only, does that mean that conceit has crept into your thermometer?

You see how complicated emotional definitions and signals are? What if you feel nothing at all except seeming boredom when someone exhibits excitement at shaking your hand and talking with you face-to-face? After all, this could be a cousin that you’ve never met before.

Does your lack of emotion mean that you really don’t want to know any more family, that you’re too important to worry about those on the fringe of the family, or that you’re just a jerk?

Or, could it mean, as it does with me, that caution and trust issues rule your actions and responses during first meetings?

Circumstances dictate our responses to events in our lives. The exact experience also contributes to those responses, as well as the circumstances immediately preceding an event.

For instance, many years ago, when I was teaching in an elementary school, I’d gone outside during recess. I needed some quiet time without children’s voices in my ears or designs on my next thought. I spent my ten minutes breathing in the scent of blooming forsythia and tulips in nearby private yards, listening to birds announcing their romantic intentions, and generally decompressing. The afternoon sun warmed my face and hands, clean air wafted past my nose, and a sense of rightness filled me.

On my way back to the classroom, a curious sensation flooded my body. I stopped walking. I closed my eyes and felt my whole body fill with blinding light from the inside. I could see it, behind my eyelids, flooding through me. Such a wave of pure joy washed over me that there were no words, no other sensations, no sound. All else in the world fell away, leaving me held within this personal lightshow.

It ended, and I nearly cried. I felt in that instant the most amazing happiness. I’ve yearned for another taste of it ever since. I wait for the day I can feel that sensation, that joy, again. Where it came from, or why it came, I have no idea. I don’t care.

I only know that that one blazing event taught me more about joy than a lifetime of other experiences. Nothing can compare to it. I wish everyone could have their own instant of pure joy that they can aspire to feel it again.

Gotta love it when people find their place in the world.  This guy is obviously doing what he should with…

Image via Wikipedia

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