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Title: red sled Written and illustrated by: Lita Judge Published by: Atheneum Books for Young Readers, 2011 Themes/Topics: sledding, animals, onomatopoeia Suitable for ages: 3-5 Fiction, 32 pages Opening: Scrinch, scrunch, scrinch, scrunch, scrinch, scrunch Synopsis: Almost wordless book of the nighttime animal … Continue reading →

Thank you to my daughter for videotaping this segment (and for giggling).

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By Michelle Rafferty

After a nice little afternoon in Central Park yesterday, I consulted the AIA Guide to New York City to read up on the history of the 840 acre playground (which, I learned, is larger than Monaco).  I share with you now my gleanings on how the park came to be the funky hybrid of leisure and active sport it is today, as well as my own thoughts on why parks prove we all really aren’t that different.

Long before its completion (which took 20 years and ten million cartloads of stone, earth, and topsoil) New Yorkers rich and poor alike flocked to Central Park “to promenade, to see and be seen.” Originating from William Cullen Bryant’s call for a large public “pleasure ground,” its design was “simple” and “picturesque”: trees and open space, individually designed bridges, rock outcroppings, footpaths, bridle paths, the revolutionary cross-town road, and carriage drives that were curved to prevent racing.

And these plans were closely followed until the early 20th century when the automobile and active sports arrived. Since then, the gravel paths were paved, and tennis courts, playgrounds, and even a hybrid ice-rink/swimming pool have been added. Today, the New York Road Runners sponsor races of all distances in the park every month and one can buy a VIP bleacher ticket to the New York City Marathon finish line (on the west side of the park) for $75. These innovations have all added up to a sort of paradox – bikers and intense rollerblade squads do countless loops around the park’s six mile perimeter, while inside people enjoy leisurely picnics, nature hikes, and Shakespeare.

For transplants like me, Central Park provides a sweet sense of irony. Take sledding for example. I went to college in Michigan, a state where snow sticks about 5 months out of the year; here, a snow day is a holiday. That’s why, when walking by Pilgrim Hill (“the grand dame of NYC sledding institutions“) yesterday afternoon, I felt so obliged to stop and join the commotion. If it weren’t for the high-rises hovering around us, the scene could have been anywhere. Contrary to what some might think, New Yorkers sled just like everyone else. I have photographic evidence to prove it! I’ve posted some pictures below so you can a) enjoy the beauty of a snow covered Central Park and b) see that parks everywhere are threaded together by one of humanity’s most basic instincts: if there’s snow and hill, we’ll find a creative way to get down.

NEW YORKERS, WE…

GO HEADFIRST,

GO BUTTFIRST,

AND WE TAKE

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By Kathy Jandric, mother of three, grandmother of 6 It was about 4:30 in the evening on a wintry December day and the temperature was 4 degrees. Often when it gets this cold in Minnesota, all we want to stay home, put some soup on the stove and keep warm. I had started a fire in [...]

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In an interview a few days ago, I talked about the buildings along Kingsway, and why I’m so torn between my default position of wanting to preserve what remains, but also being ready for the new to creep in. I said that for some reason few, if any, of the buildings along Kingsway have quite enough charm or character for people to bother fighting to keep them—there is no possibility of the strip becoming a heritage-based district like, say, Vancouver’s Main Street or Yaletown. And I think the reason has more to do with Kingsway’s age than anything else. Looking at photos in the archives, it’s clear that this old boulevard was lined with stores and services from very early on in Vancouver’s history. Many of them were built in the late 1800’s and very early 1900’s, and at that time, buildings weren’t intended to last for a century—they were basically wooden boxes with false fronts, erected with a this-will-do-for-now mentality, from what I can see. At that time people were moving along and settling wherever they found an opportunity, and so the goal was to get something up, not plan for the long haul. For this reason, many of these buildings would have fallen apart after a few decades, and so I suspect that many of them had crumbled by the 60’s and were replaced then, during a time of pretty uninspiring building design. The odd one that did survive is just an old square shell, with no real redeeming qualities aside from its age. The areas that went up in the 20’s, even, were built to last a little longer—by then Vancouver had been settled for some time and would have felt more permanent. I suspect poor Kingsway was simply born a little too early, and reborn a little too late. Soon we’ll see how it fares the third time around.

On closer inspection, my last Kingsway illustration, based on an early 40’s archive photo, turns out to be one block west of Knight Street, at the intersection of Clark. And in the middle of that block two of the buildings from that time remain—I suspect this is one of the structures in the distance at the far left side of the illustration in Volume Four. And, in case you’re wondering, the jag in the middle isn’t a slip of my wrist, it’s very much a feature of the building. In studying this drooping old brute tonight, I was left with one overriding question: what could it possibly be like upstairs?

The rest of the series can be found here…

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Last week I went over to the library archives to dig up some old photos for work, and couldn’t resist looking up Kingsway—and not only because I was so delighted by the original card catalog, with cards typed (on actual typewriters) sometime in the 1970’s. The edges of the cards are all soft with wear, and the drawers slide open so smoothly, and when they do the smell immediately conjures up images of the elementary school library and posters of Dewey Decimal. It’s fantastic. Anyway, I realized as soon as I started leafing through that this Kingsway series may take on a life of its own. The old photos abound, and each one is more amazing than the next. Dear old Kingsway, hold onto your rumpled hat—we’re about to dig up all your long-forgotten secrets.

This is the southeast corner of Kingsway & Knight, sometime in the early 1940’s. The scene out the window of House of Dosa is rather different today, which is unfortunate—but it’s a give and take, as I suspect old Howie couldn’t run across the street for South Indian cuisine either…

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Good old Kingsway has a specialty repair shop for everything: TVs, tools, vacuums—and this place, Y. Franks, repairs stoves. I don’t think I ever knew that before; I have seen the sign a thousand times, but had never read it. I love that it says “serving Vancouver 65 years” on the sign that was likely put up in 1982—they should stick a “+25” card above that part.

This place has some amazing antique stoves in the window that I would have loved to draw, but the problem is, the only way to really do so would be to stand in the middle of the street. Perhaps once the apocalypse comes I can go stand in the middle of Kingsway for an hour and draw stoves, but until then, I think the old thoroughfare has a pretty steady flow.

This old barber shop was striking quite a pose today, what with the sun hitting it just right, and the requisite hook-nosed eastern European barber working in perfect profile, right in view of the window. The only heartbreaking part was when I realized the bracket on the side window once held a barber’s pole—I suppose in many ways I’m starting this Kingsway tribute a little too late. But fantastic finds still abound on the haggard old boulevard: today I glanced down a little covered walkway between buildings to find a lovely old Airstream Bambi trailer, parked in an alley next to a backyard with a gate made from two old doors with bowling-pin-and-ball cutouts. Who knew?

It’s tempting to let this spin off into a second series: a set of self-portraits, before, during and after I go in and have my hair “styled” by this fellow…

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Kingsway cuts a diagonal swath through East Vancouver and South Burnaby, with pockets that have barely changed in decades, interspersed with nondescript stretches of buildings that it’s impossible to even assign a time period to. Lots of them may have gone up in the 50’s, but had horrible facelifts in the early 80’s, and nothing since. A lot of it is pretty depressing, really.

I have mixed feelings about the fact that Kingsway is about to change. I hate that Vancouver can be so heartless about tearing down anything old, but at the same time, the stretch near where I live is particularly barren. While there are a few nostalgia-inducing gems like crazy old Wally’s, for the most part it’s just downtrodden, and attracts an unseemly after-dark trade. And the problem with the gems that do exist is they all miss the mark a little like Wally’s does—it tries to trade on its former persona, but I’m afraid that vanished with the Packards and Studebakers that once graced its parking lot. There’s a secret magical formula that allows a joint like this to retain its original charm—and unfortunately Wally was not let in on it.

And so it is with a slightly heavy heart that I guiltily look forward to some of the impending changes on Kingsway. For my penance, I will document what I can as a series of drawings, so that it won’t be entirely forgotten. At least one thing is for certain: no matter what happens to the buildings along this strip, the crows will remain.

I generally don’t make a big fuss about my birthday, but this year we decided to go out for an over-the-top celebration. On Commercial Drive there is a olde-style supper club, it has been there for years, but it has a highly secretive air about it. The curtains are always pulled, and there’s no outward-facing advertising—not only are they not trying to attract foot traffic, but in fact they seem to be overtly dissuading it. The place feels private, and has an air of mystique, not only because of the pulled drapes but also because it is feels so out of place in its location (and decade). I had heard rumours that Federico himself gets up on stage and sings Sinatra, and I was intrigued, so I suggested that for my birthday we go and check the place out. Four of us got totally dressed up, way over the top, and off we went. I was expecting it to be a cheesefest, for sure, but I thought the entertainment factor would likely be in its lameness. I was so wrong.

Federico’s is another universe. He takes the stage, and he absolutely croons, singing everything from Brat Pack songs to Beatles, Guantanamera to the King, with a handful of deliciously corny medleys sprinkled in for good measure. And he’s into it, seriously into it—but with that glimmer in his eye that says he knows it’s cheese, but he loves it even more for that. The dance floor filled with the oddest grab-bag mix of people, some Asian couples that could be in a ballroom dance competition, some dressed-up hipster types, and a few suburban housewives in their best jeans. There is just one seating per night, so everyone is there for the long haul, and by the end all had given themselves over to Federico’s wiles. It was hilarious, far beyond my wildest dreams—I can’t recall the last time I laughed so hard. ‘Scusa me, but you see, back in old Napoli, that’s amore.

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So, I have learned something about myself in doing this project. While it may seem that I change up what I draw from day to day to keep things interesting for you, the viewer, in reality it boils down to one thing: I am extremely fickle. One day I will draw a car, and I will think, wow, I really do love drawing cars. I want to do a whole series of cars, maybe I should focus solely on cars for a bit—but by the time the next day rolls around, I would rather stick the pencil in my eye than start drawing another damn car with it. And yet, after a few days of cycling through different subject matter, I will suddenly think, okay, today I must draw a car, it’s the only thing that will do—even if I had planned on doing something else.

I’m a real pain in my own arse.

This is a favorite, and whenever we see it on the library's shelf, it eventually ends up on ours. And in light of recent buzz about the Kindle leading to a new and improved literary experience, this is a timely selection.

At one time, the Little Skyscraper is the tallest building in the city. His grace and beauty fills everyone with pride and inspiration. But as time moves on, taller, more modern buildings spring up around the Little Skyscraper, and our friend is overshadowed and redundant. Fortunately for the Little Skyscraper, this is a picture book with a message, and he is saved from a dreadful fate because one person remembers the building's glory and treasures it. Sweetly illustrated and concisely told, this is a lovely book, and it will enjoy repeat readings in this house until the day it is due back at the library.

Hi, everyone. Do you like to go sledding? I thought I'd bring this to the top again since so many in the USA are being covered with snow today! I have a poem called "Too Fast!" in the January, 2007 issue of Fandangle Magazine. Nancy used a perfect piece of clipart to go with the poem. http://fandanglemagazine.com/ Here's a direct link to the .pdf. Click HERE. My poem is at the bottom of page