I would like to welcome Steff Deschenes to Books and Needlepoint today. She is sharing a guest post that is very appropriate for Thanksgiving. Steff is the author ofThe Ice Cream Theorywhich I reviewed a few days ago - If you missed it - go backhere and be sure to sign up for the giveaway there also!
I am thankful.
For still being able to climb apple trees.
For polar bears.
For the smell of the ocean.
For music that makes me cry and written works that stir my soul.
For French-press coffee.
I am thankful.
For being healthy . . .
. . . for being healthy enough.
I am thankful.
For the great state in which I live in and have specifically come back to and for time after time. I will never not be mesmerized by the beauty of autumn here – the way the trees ignite with color; I will never not be hypnotized by the first snow fall – the way it looks like a thousand tiny cold diamonds blanketing our pine trees.
For proving that I didn’t need a degree to be successful.
For living my dream of being an author.
For being able to pay my bills!
For living in a country where I can practice my religion, eat or not eat whatever I choose, wear whatever I want, think however I want, and thrive as an opinionated independent woman without fear of persecution.
I am thankful.
For my estranged dad who, although we’ve now parted ways after years of struggling to understand each other or even just see eye-to eye, permitted me to be the eccentric tomboy I was while growing up. For encouraging my mom to raise us in a liberal, worldy, socially conscious manner. And who, over the course of our time together, taught me some ridiculous things.
For my sister, who at some point in time crossed the line from just being a sibling to being a best friend, too. And who better to call a friend than her? She knew me when I was four, when I was fourteen, when I was twenty-four. And through all those life changes, she was right there. She is the only other person to go through most of what I went through, the one other person who knows every part of the comedy and tragedy that made up our family life.
For my mom. Always and forever, for my mom. The strongest, most courageous, most benevolent woman I know. She is the biggest champion of my cause, and the person who loves and appreciates every quirk about me the most. She has and always will bathe me in her love and support. As I look on towards my impending adulthood my only hope is that I can be half the woman, mother, wife, and Child of God she is.
For my step-parents. I don’t tell them enough how much I appreciate them. They make my parents happy, and that is ultimately the number one most important thing to me: the people I love and their happiness. And while they don’t have to, I appreciate their involvement in my life. They have their own children, they don’t need to remember little things about me, like how I take my coffee or how I get cranky when I haven’t slept, but they do. They are kind and lovely people.
I am thankful.
For my pet which, despite my occasional annoyance for his troublesome bunny ways, has become quite the companion. It’s oddly comforting to come home to a large empty flat and find this very small curious creature enthusiastically waiting for me. For me! And to be able to keep him and continue to care for him and his well-being, especially in an economy where daily people are giving up their small critter friends because they simply can’t afford them, warms my heart.
For friends far and close, the ones who touched my life very briefly yet altered it forever, and the ones who are in it for the long haul and cherish every moment whether remarkable or unimpressively trivial. They’ve supported my every endeavor, encouraged me to jump, kept me humble, and loved me unconditionally in spite of my awful self sometimes.
For the memories I have of the people I don’t.
Life and the living of it is imperfect and at times, downright difficult. I think we all need to take a deep breath and acknowledge that in that imperfection there is tremendous beauty. And maybe it’s me, but it seems terribly important as individuals and as a community of people that, even if only once a year, we take the time, we allow ourselves, to simply let our hearts overflow with gratitude and appreciation for everything, for all the things, big and small, that make living life wonderful and worthwhile.
Title: What I Thought I Knew: A Memoir Author: Alice Eve Cohen Publisher: Penguin
About the book:At age forty-four, Alice Eve Cohen was happy for the first time in years. After a difficult divorce, she was engaged to an inspiring man, she was joyfully raising her adopted daughter, and her career was blossoming. Then she started experiencing mysterious symptoms. After years of hormone replacement therapy and months of tests and X-rays, she was diagnosed with an abdominal tumor and rushed in for an emergency CAT scan that revealed the cause of her symptoms -- she was six months pregnant.
That was the first of many shocks in a pregnancy riddled with complications that threatened the lives of both mother and baby. In her third trimester, with no prenatal care and no insurance coverage for high-risk pregnancy, Cohen was inundated by friends and doctors telling her what was ethical, what was loving, what was right. (from Penguin Books press release)
My thoughts: I am 44 years old myself, with an 18, 16 and 6 year old. I was 38 1/2 when my son was born and have a chronic health condition which put me in the high risk category. However, that being said, my situation seems miniscule compared to what Ms. Cohen went through. After accepting the fact that you were infertile, not using birth control for 14 years, then thinking you have cancer only to find out you are six months pregnant! Wow! Ms. Cohen shares her story with an openness and honesty that was surprising. At the same time, the humor comes through. She is able to write about the worst parts of her experience with a dark sarcasm that had me feeling a sense of shock one minute and smiling the next. I especially enjoyed the lists that pop up at the end of some of the chapters about "What I Know".
I am very excited to have Alice Eve Cohen as a guest blogger today! I just finished her book, What I Thought I Knew, and loved it. You will be seeing a review on this from me later today. It was fun to read the story below about Julia now, after reading a little about her as a young girl.
JULIA’S RED DRESS
By Alice Eve Cohen
Hallelujah! I don’t have to apply to schools for my kids this year. Being a New York City parent is a school-application-intensive occupation. Even in the public school system, you have to go through a competitive application process to get a seat for your child in preschool, elementary school, middle school, and high school. My older daughter, Julia, has always had very strong opinions about schools. The defining moment in her school application career came when she was just two years old. I was taking her in her stroller from preschool to preschool, in the hopes of finding a place for her within walking distance of our Upper West Side apartment. At one of the first schools we visited, the director brought us into her office for the interview. “Julia, would you show me how you play with these blocks?” she said. Julia, looking adorable in her new red dress, smiled at the director…Then she pulled off her dress. I quickly pulled Julia’s dress back on. The director cleared her throat and repeated, “Julia, would you show me how you play with these blocks?” Julia smiled at the director… And she pulled her dress off. Again, I quickly put Julia’s red dress back on. The director cleared her throat and said, sternly, “Julia, at this preschool, we do not take our clothes off!” Julia looked at the director… and pulled her dress off.
Needless to say, Julia didn’t go to that preschool.
Two years later. I brought Julia to an interview for a public elementary school for academically gifted children. The room, filled with ambitious parents and children, was vibrating with competition. “Mommy, I don’t want to go to this school. I want to go to the school near us with the playground.” “You haven’t seen this school yet,” I said. “Children in Group B, please line up and follow me,” said a teacher. “Mommy, I hate this school,” said Julia. “Julia, just give it a chance.” “Mommy, if you make me go, I’m gonna have a tantrum.” “Is your daughter in Group B,” asked the teacher, impatiently. “Julia, please go with the teacher.” “I warned you, Mommy.” She lay down and had a tantrum. “Is your daughter ready to join us?” asked the teacher, looking down at my daughter who was kicking and screaming on the floor. “Evidently not,” I said. Needless to say, Julia did not go to that elementary school. Thirteen years later. Julia was seventeen, and we were looking at colleges. As soon as we arrived at a university in New England, which sounded great on paper, she said, “I hate this school!” “How do you know? You haven’t even seen it yet,” I said. “Let’s take the tour.” Michael and Eliana played on the lawn, while Julia and I followed the tour guide, an officious professor. “Let’s leave,” Julia whispered to me, mid-tour. “Give it a chance,” I whispered back. Our tour guide led the group into the performing arts building. I was the last one on line, and the door to the building closed and locked just before I got to it. While I waited outside the building, Julia texted me from inside: “MOM, GET ME OUT OF HERE!” I called Michael's cell: “Warning! Julia's about to take off her red dress!” Needless to say, Julia did not go to that university. Cut to yesterday. Julia is 20. I visited her at college, the same school I went to, to see a play she was in, at the same campus theatre where I did plays when I was an in college. Princeton wasn’t originally one of Julia’s first choices, so it was a huge surprise to me when she decided to go there. “I’m glad you went to Princeton,” I told her yesterday. “It’s so much easier to visit you here than it would have been if you’d gone to school on the West Coast. And besides,” I added, “I hear Princeton’s a pretty good school.” “I love this school,” said Julia.
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
***Special thanks to Sarah Reck, Web Publicist, Hachette Book Group for sending me a review copy.***
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Joyce Meyer is one of the world's leading practical Bible teachers. A #1 New York Times bestselling author, she has written more than eighty inspirational books, including The Secret to True Happiness, 100 Ways to Simplify Your Life, the entire Battlefield of the Mind family of books, her first venture into fiction with The Penny, and many others. She has also released thousands of audio teachings, as well as a complete video library. Joyce’s Enjoying Everyday Life radio and television programs are broadcast around the world, and she travels extensively conducting conferences. Joyce and her husband, Dave, are the parents of four grown children and make their home in St. Louis, Missouri.
Title: The Ice Cream Theory Author: Steff Deschenes Publisher: Book Surge Publishing
My synopsis/thoughts: Steff Deschenes has a theory - that people are like flavors of ice cream - you can like certain people at different times in your life, just like different flavors of ice cream appeal to you at different times. How sometimes you can't get enough of someone, and then suddenly you don't want to have anything else to do with them. Just like you can overdue flavors of ice cream (or any food for that matter) until you are sick of it. This isn't the only corollary between ice cream and food though - just one of them.
Each chapter centers on a certain flavor, with Ms. Deschenes first telling you about a person in her life, then about what flavor ice cream she associates them with, and then the reasons why she feels they are like this ice cream.
This was a very fun, light-hearted read, even though some of the chapters dealt with break-ups of people she cared a great deal about. I have tried to use her theory and think about the people in my life in relation to ice cream - but I couldn't come up with anything. While I like ice cream, I don't think that I love it as much as Ms. Deschenes does! I did like hearing about all the different ice cream flavors though like Champagne, Exploding Chocolate Extraordinaire and one that I would really like to try - Peanut-Butter Filled, Chocolate-Covered Pretzels. This is vanilla ice cream with peanut butter swirls and chocolate fudge ripples, and yep - peanut-butter filled, chocolate-covered pretzels. I love peanut butter and chocolate and I love chocolate covered pretzels - so this seems like it would be right up my alley.
Please come back tomorrow for a guest post by Ms. Deschenes!
I received a complimentary copy of this book from the author in exchange for my unbiased review.
GIVEAWAY!
Ms Deschenes has offered a copy of this book for one of my readers - so to enter, just tell me what is your favorite flavor of ice cream! Please leave an email address with your entry. This giveaway is open to US/Canada only and will end on December 13.
About the author:Steff Deschenes is a self-taught ice-cream maker. When she isn't conducting random social experiments or going on secret ice cream rendezvous with her younger sister, she enjoys traveling and playing guitar. She lives in Maine with her bunny, Boone, and is diligently researching her next book, The Burrito Theory. Visit her website atwww.steffdeschenes.com.
The Ice Cream Theory
Publisher/Publication Date: BookSurge, July 2009
ISBN: 978-1-4392-3005-3
270 pages
My first music review! I was so excited to be selected by the One 2 One network to review Norah Jones latest CD . . . Featuring. This CD spans her entire career and includes performances with The Foo Fighters, Ryan Adams and Dolly Parton - just to name a few. I loved it! It has a very laid back - bluesy appeal. The kind of CD you want to slip in on a cold Sunday afternoon and sit in front of the fire with your sweetheart. I must say though, that my favorite was probably Blue Bayou followed closely by Baby, It's Cold Outside. This would be a great stocking stuffer for the music lover in your life!
(~I received a complimentary copy of this CD from One 2 One Network in exchange for my unbiased review. I am entered to win a giftcard for participating.~)
TRACK LISTING:
1. Love Me – The Little Willies
2. Virginia Moon – The Foo Fighters featuring Norah Jones
3. Turn Them – Sean Bones featuring Norah Jones
4. Baby It's Cold Outside – Willie Nelson featuring Norah Jones
5. Bull Rider – Norah Jones and Sasha Dobson
6. Ruler Of My Heart – Dirty Dozen Brass Band featuring Norah Jones
7. The Best Part – El Madmo
8. Take Off Your Cool – OutKast featuring Norah Jones
9. Life Is Better – Q-Tip featuring Norah Jones
10. Soon The New Day – Talib Kweli featuring Norah Jones
11. Little Lou, Prophet Jack, Ugly John – Belle & Sebastian featuring Norah Jones
12. Here We Go Again – Ray Charles featuring Norah Jones
13. Loretta – Norah Jones featuring Gillian Welch and David Rawlings
14. Dear John – Ryan Adams featuring Norah Jones
15. Creepin' In – Norah Jones featuring Dolly Parton
16. Court & Spark – Herbie Hancock featuring Norah Jones
17. More Than This – Charlie Hunter featuring Norah Jones
18. Blue Bayou – Norah Jones featuring M. Ward
Title: Christmas at Harrington's Author: Melody Carlson Publisher: Revell/Baker Publishing Group
My synopsis: Lena Markham had just gotten out of prison after serving an 8 year sentence for a crime that she didn't commit. She had been convicted of embezzling from her church's missionary fund - where she was the accountant and the pastor's wife. After being arrested, she listened to her husband when he told her that he was handling it and that she would be released soon - she even signed over her grandmother's inheritance when he said he needed it to set up the real embezzlers. Turns out he was the real embezzler and he let her take the fall - and then ran off with the church's money AND her inheritance.
Not wanting to return to her hometown - where she no longer had any family or friends, her social worker arranges for her a place to stay in New Haven, Minnesota - as well as a job at Harrington's - the local department store. Upon arriving at Harrington's, she is told there are no jobs and that people have actually been laid off. But she seems to be having some luck, as Ms. Harrington and her daughter Cassidy are just leaving. When Cassidy sees her, she thinks Lena would make a perfect Mrs. Santa - an idea she dreamed about just a few weeks before.
Things go well for about a week, and then a woman from Lena's hometown comes in with her daughter to see Mrs. Santa. She recognizes Lena and it isn't long before she has spread the word that Lena is a convicted felon and shouldn't be allowed to work with children. Ms. Harrington has no choice but to fire her, or risk loss of business due to bad publicity.
My thoughts: This is a great story for Christmastime! It is also a great story about forgiveness when someone has done something wrong - and how Jesus will forgive us also, as well as telling the truth - even if it hurts. It is a very quick read at only 167 pages, and it truly is a feel-good story. It made me so angry when people immediately were against Lena when they found out that she was an ex-con. Made me wonder how I treated people if I knew something negative about their past. I really liked the way that Lena wove together Jesus' birth with Santa during a storytime she was asked to do at the library. It was also a good lesson to not gloss over the real reason of Christmas, even for young children - that they CAN understand about Jesus' birth and that He is the reason for the season!
~I received a complimentary copy of this book for review from Donna at Baker Publishing.~
Melody Carlsonis the award-winning author of over two hundred books, several of them Christmas novellas from Revell, including her much-loved and bestselling book,The Christmas Bus. She also writes many teen books, includingJust Another Girl,Anything but Normal, the Diary of a Teenage Girl series, the TrueColors series, and the Carter House Girls series. Melody was nominated for aRomantic TimesCareer Achievement Award in the inspirational market for her books, including the Notes from a Spinning Planet series andFinding Alice, which is in production as a Lifetime Television movie. She and her husband serve on the Young Life adult committee in central Oregon. Visit Melody's website at www.melodycarlson.com.
“Available November 2010 at your favorite bookseller from Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group.”
Christmas at Harrington's Publisher/Publication Date: Revell, Nov 2010 ISBN: 978-0-8007-1925-8 167 pages
Title: The Forever Queen Author: Helen Hollick Publisher: Sourcebooks
About the Book:Married to a king incompetent both on the throne and in bed, Emma does not love her husband. But she does love England. Even as her husband fails, Emma vows to protect her people-no matter what. For five decades, through love and loss, prosperity and exile, Emma fights for England, becoming the only woman to have been anointed, crowned, and reigning queen to two different kings, the mother of two more, and the great aunt of William the Conqueror. (from Shelfari)
My thoughts: I have been trying to read more historical fiction as I feel grossly ignorant of history - especially English history. I realize this is fiction - but Ms. Hollick has always done a wonderful job of sticking very closely to the facts and weaving a wonderfully rich story around them.
I had never heard of Emma (or Aethelred or Cnut) so was really interested to learn more about his young Queen. At the age of 13 she was given by her brother in marriage to Aethelred - who was 34. (and to think it upsets me when my 16 year old wants to date an 18 year old. . . ) I was very impressed by her bravery in facing this situation with her head held high. She married this man, and was not even able to speak his language! Within that first year of marriage, she lost her innocence, two close friends, suffered a lingering illness, and began to fall in love with England. It wasn't long before she had fully embraced the role of Queen and wasn't afraid to speak her mind.
At the end of the book I read how Ms. Hollick had actually left out some of the characters as the roles they played in history were small ones. Whew! Am I ever thankful for that. Though I do enjoy her writing very much - as she writes about history in such a way that my non-history brain can understand it, following the people, with their often similar names, can be challenging. She does provide a family tree in the beginning and a list of pronunciations, but it wasn't after I was in the story that I was able to follow the tree. As for the pronunciations, they usually come over time.
This book is not for the light-hearted, as it is filled with political shenanigans, treachery, not-so-pleasant deaths, but a proud and fiercely loyal Queen emerges. This book is a must for historical fiction fans! Please visit some of the other stops on the tour for other reviews and some great interviews with the author!
The Forever Queen Book Club Schedule
November 1
http://www.bibliophilicbookblog.com/
http://calicocritic.blogspot.com/
November 2
http://www.passagestothepast.com/
http://lifeinthethumb.blogspot.com/
November 3
http://peekingbetweenthepages.blogspot.com/
http://www.luxuryreading.com/
November 4
http://yankeeromancereviewers.blogspot.com/
http://historicallyobsessed.blogspot.com/
November 5
http://booksbythewillowtree.blogspot.com/
http://www.historyandwomen.com/
November 8
http://www.rundpinne.blogspot.com/
http://www.bookwormsdinner.blogspot.com/
November 9
http://debsbookbag.blogspot.com/
http://startingfresh-gaby317.blogspot.com/
November 10
http://literatehousewife.com/
http://carpelibrisreviews.com/
November 11
http://web.me.com/quirion/Bookaddict/Welcome.html
http://bibliophile23.wordpress.com/
November 12
http://www.brokenteepee.blogspot.com/
http://www.read-all-over.net
November 15
http://writesthoughts.blogspot.com/
http://celticladysramblings.blogspot.com/
November 16
http://www.jennylovestoread.blogspot.com/
http://booksandneedlepoint.blogspot.com/
November 17
http://bookalicio.us/
http://themaidenscourt.blogspot.com/
November 18
http://pushersink.blogspot.com/
http://marthasbookshelf.blogspot.com/
November 19
http://theroyalreviews.blogspot.com/
http://thetometraveller.blogspot.com/
November 22
Book Club Chat on http://www.bibliophilicbookblog.com/
7pm-9pm EST
The Forever Queen
Publisher/Publication Date: Sourcebooks, Nov 2010
ISBN: 978-1-4022-4068-3
656 pages
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
***Special thanks to Cat Hoort, Trade Marketing Manager, Kregel Publications for sending me a review copy.***
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Rusty Whitener is a novelist, screenwriter, and actor. His first screenplay, Touched, won second place at the 2009 Kairos Prize at the Los Angeles Movieguide Awards and first place at the Gideon film festival. That screenplay soon became A Season of Miracles. The movie version of this book is now in production with Elevating Entertainment.
List Price: $14.99
Paperback: 272 pages
Publisher: Kregel Publications; Reprint edition (August 3, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0825441919
ISBN-13: 978-0825441912
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
I didn’t set out to believe in miracles. Nobody does. That’s what makes them miracles.
The events of 1971 would pick me up in a tornado of changes and set me down in an amazing place of grace. As with Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, it would be a kind of homecoming, except that I would be coming home for the first time.
Around the middle of March, about the time my hometown of Silas started to escape the gray Alabama winter, Little League baseball would crowd out everything else for my attention.
I wasn’t alone. Those days, Little League in our county was akin to a small-town parade down Main Street. Everybody went, not really expecting to see the remarkable so much as the familiar. Pretty near every boy in town played the game. And most every player’s parents went to watch, clap, groan, and cheer.
Little League is a game played by Charlie Browns and Joe DiMaggios. Most children that age are Charlie Browns, still struggling with how to handle an oversized pencil, let alone how to grip a baseball and hurl it a particular direction. They are likely to throw the ball farther from their target than it was when they retrieved it. They even look like you imagine Charlie Brown would, running in preadolescent distress to recover the ball they just threw in the wrong direction. On the weaker Little League teams, Charlie Browns mosey around the outfield, and DiMaggios man the infield. Players who hit the ball over the infielders’ heads usually have an easy double. Stronger teams have a DiMaggio anchoring center field, or maybe left. If anyone better than Charlie is in right, then either the team is stacked with talent or something magical is going on. Maybe both.
I don’t remember ever not being able to hit the ball into the outfield. I didn’t think much about it, really, except for the basics: relax, breathe, don’t swing so hard, don’t pull your head. Bring the bat to the ball and drive it on a line. I was a little tall for my twelve years, but I also had something much better than size. Confidence. I knew I could hit the ball, and hit it hard. Not every time, but most of the time. And batting over .500 with power will scorch any league.
I was the best hitter I had ever seen. Until 1971.
It was a cool Saturday in mid March. I called my best friend, Donnie White, and he called Batman Boatwright and Jimmy Yarnell. I really didn’t spend a lot of time with Batman and Jimmy throughout the rest of the year. Just spring and early summer. When Little League season came into focus, so did Batman and Jimmy.
I always took the back way to the old field, cutting through woods so thick and dark it was like traveling and hiding at the same time. My wicked cool Sting-Ray, with butterfly handlebars and a fat banana seat covered in leopard spots, gave me an edge in races with the guys. But in woods that thick, I’d just get to pumping the pedals hard before I’d have to dismount and negotiate the bramble bushes and low hanging, cobwebbed pines that duped nature by growing with so little sun.
Sawdust wasn’t real keen on those woods. A hound-collie mix, he had followed me home two summers before and decided I needed him. Through these woods, along the rough path of moss and bracken, he got nervous when I had to stop the bike and walk. He looked back and forth and around, seemingly wary that something might sneak up on us. He barked his approval when we climbed the last ridge and tumbled out of the sun-spun shadows crisscrossing our wooded trek and into the sun’s soaring shine over the ancient baseball field behind Mill Creek Fire Station.
It wasn’t a real baseball diamond anymore, just a big space of worn-down grass. But it was enough of a practice field for us. There was even an outfield fence of sorts, a lot of chain no longer linked. A backstop someone put up years before helped us out. If the ball got by the hitter, it caromed off the chain links and dribbled in the general direction of the pitcher. If it didn’t get a good enough carom to send it close to the mound, the batter picked it up and tossed it back to the pitcher. Who needed a catcher?
Donnie, Batman, and Jimmy were already there, tossing the ball in a triangular game of catch.
“It’s about time, Pardner!” Donnie raised his arms in a “what’s the deal?” gesture. “We’re startin’ to take root here.” He dropped his arms and threw the ball too high in Jimmy’s direction. Jimmy threw his glove after the ball, and then turned to look at Donnie like he couldn’t believe he put up with a friend who threw that poorly.
“Sorry,” said Donnie with a big smile. “Too high, I guess.”
“Zack,” Jimmy said, turning to me, “can you tell this guy about cool?”
“What do I know about cool?” I said, not really asking.
Sawdust barked at Jimmy and Batman, darting between the two. He made quick little circles around Jimmy, like they were old friends. They weren’t.
“Whaddya always have to bring the mutt for?” Jimmy sounded seriously miffed.
“Sawdust likes chasing the balls,” I said.
“I know that,” said Jimmy. “He gets ’em all slimy.”
Batman drawled, “He’s got your glove now, Hoss.”
Jimmy gave a squawk and bounded after Sawdust, who was running in large circles back and forth across the field.
“I’ll make a glove outta you, ya mutt!” Jimmy’s threat broke us up, and I laughed pretty hard until I saw the new kid. At first, I thought something was seriously wrong he was so still. He sat at the base of a tree, his back ramrod straight against the trunk, his legs straight out from his body, arms at his sides. He looked almost unreal, not moving his head, stock-still, eyes frozen. Not moving anything.
“Whatcha looking at, Pardner?” Donnie gave nicknames to people he really liked, and people he struggled to like. Come to think of it, that’s just about everybody. He once told me it was hard to call someone by a good nickname and still not like them. Donnie wanted to like everybody.
“That boy,” I said, “over there.”
“Oh man, he don’t look so good.” Donnie stared. “He even . . . is he alive?”
“What kind of a question is that?” I said, still staring at the kid under the tree, who still had not moved. “Of course he’s alive. I mean . . . don’t you think?”
Batman jogged up to us. “Are we gonna play or what?”
“Look at that kid over there.” Donnie pointed with his gloved hand.
“I see him,” Batman said. “So what?”
“Is he alive?”
“Whaddya mean?”
“I mean he doesn’t look alive.” Donnie said the words slowly, as if he were announcing something important, like the moral at the end of a story.
“Well he’s not dead,” said Batman.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Because he sits there like that all the time. I’ve seen him before, when we come here to play.”
“Really?”
“Lots of times,” Batman said. “I think he’s a retard.”
“Come off it.” Donnie looked at Batman and shook his head, like he was disappointed in him.
“It’s the Forrester kid,” Batman said. “Everybody knows he’s touched.” Batman was blowing massive bubbles and struggling to move the gum to the side of his mouth so he could talk. “Don’t tell me ya’ll haven’t seen him at school.”
“I seen him,” said Donnie.
“I don’t think I have,” I said. “How come, you reckon?”
“Maybe ’cause you’re always looking at Rebecca Carson,” Batman joshed. “Anyway, he’s touched.”
Batman decided to pluck the wad of gum out of his mouth and hold it in his free hand, a rare move he reserved for emergencies. “Serious problems,” said Batman.
“Okay,” said Donnie, “serious problems, but we don’t have to call him—”
“Hey guys,” I said. “Guys, I think he’s coming over here.”
The Forrester kid was on his feet, walking toward us.
“Holy metropolis,” Batman whistled. “Look alert, Batfans.”
Jimmy ran up, holding his glove away from his body, between a thumb and forefinger, the leather shiny with Sawdust drool.
“This is so foul, ya’ll. I can’t play with this nasty thing. Do ya’ll . . . do ya’ll know that fella is coming over here?”
“Yeah Jimmy, we know,” I said.
“Do ya’ll . . . do ya’ll know he’s a retard?”
“He’s not a retard. He has some problems, that’s all,” said Donnie, loudly.
“His problem is he’s a retard—and his dad’s a drunk, ’cording to my folks.”
I really don’t think Jimmy meant to say anything mean. That’s just the way he was. Shoot from the lip and take no prisoners.
“Shut up, Jimmy,” Donnie’s voice was a sharp whisper now. “There’s nothing wrong with his ears.”
Rafer Forrester walked straight up to me, stepping up close, his face no more than a foot from mine. The other kids instinctively took half-steps back, clumsily trying to give me more space. Sawdust sauntered into the picture, sat down razor close to Rafer and put a paw on the boy’s shoe. Without looking, Rafer put his hand on the dog’s head and stroked it.
“Hey,” I said quietly. “How’s it going?”
I guess I hadn’t really expected an answer. But I did expect him to say something. After some long seconds he did.
“Hit.”
“You wanna hit?” I asked.
Silence.
“You wanna hit?” I said again.
“Hit. Rafer hit.” His face was still devoid of expression.
I heard Jimmy’s voice behind me. “I think the fella wants to try to hit the baseball.”
“You mean the ball?” I held it up in front of me, about six inches from his eyes.
“I don’t think he’s blind, Zack-man,” Batman said, his voice joining Jimmy’s in a nervous flutter of laughs.
“All right, guys,” said Donnie. “Hey, Pardner, why don’t you let him try?”
“Oh, come on, Donnie,” Batman said. “Jimmy and me gotta go in about thirty minutes. We don’t have time.”
“Let him try, Pardner. Just a couple of tosses.” Donnie was already walking toward home plate. “I’ll catch so we don’t have to keep fetching the balls.”
I looked right in Rafer’s eyes. “You want to hit the baseball a little?”
“Rafer hit.”
“Okay, Rafer. Do you wanna take the ball yourself”—I pressed the ball gently in his hand—“and just toss it up in the air and hit it?” I figured he could do that. Hitting a pitched ball didn’t seem plausible, no matter how slow I tossed it.
“Rafer hit.” He pushed the ball back at me.
Batman moaned and sat down on the ground. “C’mon guys, we’re wasting time.”
“Okay, I can pitch it,” I said.
Rafer walked slowly toward home plate and picked up the bat. Donnie was already crouched behind the plate calling to me. “Okay, Pardner. Toss it in, and Rafe here is gonna knock the cover off the ball. Here we go, Pardner.”
Rafer stopped in front of Donnie and said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Zack pitch. No Pardner.”
Behind me I heard Jimmy’s chuckle. Batman, sitting on the ground behind the pitcher’s mound, laughed so hard his gum started slipping down the back of his throat. “Oh . . . oh, my gosh. I almost swallowed it, ya’ll,” he managed to say.
Donnie just smiled real big at Rafer. “That’s right, Rafer, my buddy. He is Zack.” Then, rocking back and forth in a low catcher’s crouch, he called to me. “Okay, Zack, just toss it in gentle-like.”
So I did. I tossed the ball underhand, as slow as I could, across the plate. As fat a pitch as I could make it.
Rafer didn’t swing. He watched the pitch the whole way and the bat never left his shoulder. Donnie threw the ball back to me, and I tossed it again. Again, no swing.
From his spot now reclining on the ground, his head resting on his glove, Batman’s groans were like a sick boy’s. “Oh, guys. We’re gonna be here all day. And we gotta go home soon.”
“Batman,” said Jimmy, “if we gotta go home soon, then we can’t be here all day.”
Jimmy crashed on the ground next to Batman, resting his head on his glove. Then an odd expression invaded his face. He bolted upright, frantically wiping dog spit from the back of his head. “Oh, that’s stinking! Oh, that’s so raw!”
Batman just groaned again.
Donnie called to me, “Maybe you need to get closer, Pardner . . . I mean Zack. You know, toss it from a shorter distance.”
As I started to step off the mound, Rafer bellowed, “No!”
I froze.
“No!” he said again. “Zack pitch. Rafer hit.”
“Okay, okay.” I got back on the mound. I tossed it again, underhanded, only this time as the ball was crossing home plate, Rafer caught it with his right hand. He dropped the bat. For several seconds he did not move. “Zack pitch,” he said again as he started moving through an elaborate windup, turning his body like Tom Seaver and kicking his leg high like Juan Marichal, coming down with his throwing hand over the top. The ball rocketed from his hand to my glove, which I reflexively raised to protect my face.
Dead silence.
Then Jimmy drawled, “Well, good night, ya’ll.”
Donnie, barely audible, said, “He wants you to pitch it fast, I guess. God help us.” I wasn’t sure what to do. I had a strong arm from playing third base.
“Come on, Zack. Fire it in here.” Donnie was suddenly confident about the situation.
“Can you catch it?” I asked him.
“Oh, come on, of course I can catch it. You’re not that fast, you know.”
That was all my adolescent ears needed to hear. I wound up and released, letting the ball spring naturally out of my grip. The ball crossed the heart of the plate in a white blur.
At least it would have.
Rafer dropped the head of the bat, quick like a cat, just in front of the ball. Coaches tell hitters to focus on getting the barrel of the bat on the ball, and let the pitched ball do all the real work, ricocheting off the bat. That’s what Rafer did. And my perfect strike was now a perfect line drive, streaking into the gap in left center field. It had just started to drop when it banged off the old outfield fence.
“Throw him another one, Pardner!” yelled Donnie.
“He Zack,” said Rafer.
“I know, I know, he Zack! I mean, he’s Zack. Throw him another one, Pardner! And put some real zip on it this time.”
I wound up and put everything I had into the pitch. Again, Rafer swung as if he were simply dropping the bat onto the ball in one quick, measured motion. The ball left his bat and left no doubt. It cleared the fence in left field, disappearing in trees ten or fifteen feet past the fence. We had never seen a ball travel that far off this field. Not even when Jimmy’s brother, a starter on the high school JV team, had tossed a few in the air and socked them as far as he could.
“Don’t throw him any more,” Jimmy hollered, climbing over the fence with Batman after the ball. “These are my brother’s balls, and he’ll kill me if I don’t bring ’em all back.”
Donnie ran out to me at the mound. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking? We can get him. I bet he ain’t on a team . . . I bet my silver dollar he ain’t. We can get him.”
I walked up to Rafer, still standing in the batter’s box, expressionless. “Rafer, how old are you?”
“Rafer twelve.”
Donnie went into a silent victory dance, a kind of jump and twirl.
“Do you wanna play on our team, on our Little League team, the Robins?”
“Yeah. I play.”
“Great,” I said, trying to stay calm. “Great, Rafer. We’re going to have tryouts, right across the street, at McInerney Elementary School. I pointed in the direction. Right on that field, this coming Monday after school. Can you be there?”
He didn’t seem to get what I said. Just when I thought he wasn’t going to say any words, he said three.
“Mack . . . and Ernie.”
“Who are they?” said Donnie. “No, no, you tell him we just want him.”
Donnie was standing right next to both of us. I didn’t know why he thought I was Rafer’s interpreter, except that I kind of felt that way too. Like I was a bridge between Rafer and Donnie and whomever.
“Who are Mack and Ernie, Rafer?” I asked.
“Mack and Ernie School.”
“Oh.” I smiled. “I get it. Hey, that’s pretty funny, Rafer.”
Only Rafer wasn’t smiling, and I worried about him not showing up for the tryouts.
“Rafer, can you be here”—I pointed to the ground—“next Saturday?” I figured I could walk across the street with him to the actual tryouts.
“Mack and Ernie,” he said without expression.
Donnie started to laugh and I gave him a sharp look. I was trying to get something important done.
“Rafer, I will meet you right here, next Saturday, by your tree.” I pointed. “Then you and me will go to tryouts . . . I mean, play some baseball together. All right? Saturday morning. Is that okay?”
“Rafer hit.”
“That’s right. Saturday morning, you’ll hit.”
“I hit Saturday.” I probably imagined it, but it looked like his mouth was turning at the corners in a small smile. Then he turned and started to walk. He passed his tree.
Watching Rafer disappear into the woods, I heard Donnie’s anxious voice. “We can’t let the other coaches see him bat. We gotta find a way to make him a Robin without, you know, without the others seeing him bat.”
“I know,” I said. “I’ll think of something.”
From a long ways off we heard Jimmy, sounding like someone you hear hollering when you’re in your house with the windows closed.
Title: A Season of Miracles Author: Rusty Whitener Publisher: Kregel Productions
About the Book: In 1971, Zack is just a 12-year-old boy dreaming about his last season of Little League and the chance to maybe win the championship game. The Robins were a good team, but they weren't All-Stars like the Hawks. But then along came Rafer.
Zack first saw Rafer just leaning against a tree at the edge of their practice field. He was sitting so stiff and so still that Zack wasn't sure he was even alive. He spoke very few words, but it was soon apparent that he wanted to hit the ball too. Zack tried to take it easy on him, but Rafer wanted the pitches to be real fast. He showed them he could really hit the ball. They brought him to try-outs the next week and even though he didn't get to really show what he could do, the coach took Zack and his friends' word and put him on the team.
Over the course of the story we learn that Rafer is autistic. He says very little, but sees much - and his words hold much meaning.
Donnie is Zack's best friend and a pastor's son. He invites the whole team to church the beginning of the season, and this sparks curiosity in Zack. He is pretty sure that his Dad doesn't believe in Heaven and Hell, but isn't sure where his Mom stands on the whole thing. Zack does have a big heart though, and quickly becomes Rafer's protector, friend, mentor. Rafer slowly begins to change as the season progresses and helps the Robins to start a winning season.
There are many lessons to be learned in this book and I think each person who reads it will take away the one that is most important to him/her. There is much talk about grace and the forgiveness of sins, and this is the most important message. I like it because it is from a boy/man's point of view. So many times those books about grace are about women and are all touchy-feely. This would be a great book to give to a young man who is a non-believer or is riding the fence.
About the author: Rusty Whitener is a novelist, screenwriter, and actor. His first screenplay, Touched, won first runner-up for the Kairos Prize at the 2009 Los Angeles Movieguide Awards and first place at the Gideon Film Festival. That screenplay soon became A Season of Miracles. The movie version of this book is now in production with Elevating Entertainment. Find out more at http://www.rustywhitener.com/ and http://www.aseasonofmiracles.com/.
~I received a complimentary copy of this book from Kregel Publications in exchange for my review.~
Title: Surrender the Heart (Book 1 - Surrender to Destiny series) Author: MaryLu Tyndall Publisher: Barbour Publishing
About the Book: Marianne Denton feels like her fate has been sealed. She is in a forced engagement to Noah Brenin, a man she has no feelings for and only bad memories of him antagonizing her as a child. With her plain looks, and plump figure, she doesn't feel she has a lot of options - and she must marry in order to receive her inheritance. This inheritance is all that her mother, baby sister and herself have left. With her mother ailing, Marianne needs the money for her medication. They have already let the entire staff go, and there really aren't any more corners left to cut.
Noah isn't thrilled with the engagement either and is bound and determined to break it off. He wants to force Marianne's hand in it so that she won't want to marry him. Even though his father wants the inheritance money to further their business, Noah doesn't want to marry this plain woman.
After a brief appearance at the engagement party, Noah hurries out, not knowing that Marianne is following him through the streets back to his ship, the Fortune. She boards his ship, gets lost in the hold, and gets knocked out when she is startled by a cat. Upon her awakening she discovers that the ship has set sail and no one realizes she is on board. Refusing to take her back to port, Noah pushes the ship onward, not believing Marianne when she tells him there is no one to care for her sick mother. All he cares about is making a quick trip, unloading his cargo, and returning home to prove to his father that he is worthy of something.
Well, Marianne, stubborn woman that she is, decides to sabotage the ship in order to get Noah to take her home. It isn't until they are pursued by a British warship that her treachery is discovered. Both Noah and herself, as well as 2 others, are taken prisoner aboard the Undefeatable, the British warship. On this warship they meet Daniel, a young boy who tells Marianne that she has been sent from God to rescue him. That God told him this in a dream. Marianne had stopped trusting God when her father died and left them almost penniless. She scoffs at the idea that she should have such a destiny.
My thoughts: This was a great beginning to this new series. I loved the scenario of 2 people really despising each other from childhood, only to be placed in such situations that they slowly begin to see the other through new eyes. What will it take to get these two people to put their trust back in God and then to be able to trust in each other? I have been hit with the message a couple of times in the past weeks to "Be still, and know that I am God," and that message was in this book as well. To trust in Him, even without seeing the big picture, without knowing what may happen tomorrow. I really enjoyed it and am looking forward to the next 2 books in the series, Surrender the Night and Surrender the Dawn.
To read the first chapter, please visit my earlier post onSurrender the Heart.
~I received a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for my review from MaryLu Tyndall and Camy Tang.~
Surrender the Heart
Publisher/Publication Date: Barbour, Aug 2010
ISBN: 978-1-60260-165-9
367 pages
Title: Take a Chance on Me Author: Jill Mansell Publisher: Sourcebooks
My synopsis: This is the story of Cleo, a 20-something living in Channing Hill and working as a chauffeur. Happily ensconsed in a new relationship with Will, she is upset when her childhood nemesis, Johnny LaVenture, arrives back in the neighborhood and brings up bad school memories.
It isn't long after his arrival that Cleo's life starts to fall apart, beginning with Will and the secret life he has kept from Cleo. Cleo's brother-in-law Tom, has also been keeping a secret from Abbie, Cleo's sister and his wife. When Abbie discovers clues to why Tom has been acting dodgy, she reacts very uncharacteristically for her and does something she soon regrets. Fortunately Tom's secret was not as bad as Abbie thought, but she cannot change what has now happened.
Cleo, now single, keeps running into Johnny and doesn't understand why Johnny actually seems to be a nice guy. She keeps remembering the brat he was in school and is confused when she realizes that she seems to be falling for the guy. Before she can make a fool of herself, he hooks back up with an ex, Honor, and soon is seen all around town with Honor on his arm.
Then there is her best friend Ash, who is besotted with Fia, the new cook at the local pub. But for all the charm and wit he exudes as a local morning dj - when he is around a woman he likes, his words fail him and he comes off as a complete jerk.
My thoughts: I really liked Cleo. She is honest and funny and loyal, but isn't afraid to stick her nose where it doesn't always belong and gets it out of joint once in a while as well. Ash is hilarious as her friend the way he kicks himself when ever he freezes up around Fia. I love the way that Ms. Mansell writes and brings life to her characters. They have feelings and assumptions and thoughts that are real - some of which I have had myself. I can totally relate to feeling insecure like Ash and even Cleo, of hating the feelings that childhood memories evoke, and of making random mistakes due to assumptions.
For anyone who has ever had their heart broke, have been in a relationship, or is secretly yearning for the cook at the local bar, you should read this romantic comedy. It may not solve your problem, but it will definitely put a smile on your face.
~I received a complimentary copy of this book from Sourcebooks in exchange for my review.~
which I reviewed a few days ago - If you missed it - go back here and be sure to sign up for the giveaway there also!
978-0-8254-4191-2
and Surrender the Dawn.
