Debi Cates

Hanging on to this book until March when my littlest Little will be participating in the First Grade Read-A-Thon at her school where she'll have to do all the reading to an adult.

Note to self: Don't misplace these books.

Don't mess with Grandma

I'm up at 4 a.m. It's an new old age thing for me, waking hours before the alarm. What a perfect time to read this book about another Grandma. I read it in one sitting, chortled and guffawed darn near every page.

Grandma Dowdel is one badass granny. Two city kids, Joey and Mary Alice, are sent to the small town to stay with Grandma, their dad's mom, for a week every summer between the years 1929-1935. There they learn an old-fashioned thing or twenty. Some of it outright illegal, some of it dubiously moral, all of it memorable. What goes on that action-packed week is tacitly agreed between brother and sister when they return to Chicago what goes on at Granny's stays at Granny's.

In their first ever week there, they are half-terrified of this unsmiling, opinionated, anti-social old lady who has no vehicle, no phone, no radio, but does have a shotgun that makes regular appearances. By the end of the very last summer's week there, they would follow her to the ends of the earth.

I wonder would a Granny, in 2024, be able to apprehend the criminal kids of the neighborhood, hold them by shotgun until their parents arrive, and not go to jail herself? Asking for a friend.

A new favorite! Looking now for more Richard Peck to read. His writing doesn't feel like writing; it's as smooth and easy as a hot knife through home-churned butter.

This was one of the random picks I chose at our public library to read with my Littlest Little today, World Book Day!

It's hard to rate anything I read with the two littlest grands, my Littles, using any rhyme or reason because the Littles both bring joy to any reading experience. (Gosh, remember when reading was like that? No discernment needed, just open joy.)

This is a simple rhyming book about a Medieval celebration without any special message except things are round (pancakes are round, so are donuts, plums, king's crowns, jester's bells, and so on). The illustrations–I explained the word “illustration” to Littlest Little–were bright, cheerful, and provided the best part of the entertainment. Among all the people, children, and animals, we liked the small white puppy the best because he/she was always right in the middle of the most fun part of the activity. We guessed that by the end of the day, with all the sweet treats the puppy had, the poor thing would be pretty full and pretty tired.

“You may say I'm a dreamerBut I'm not the only one”
John Lennon, Imagine

The simple message of this short allegory is encouragement to imagine and then do something.

My copy included wood engravings by Harry Brockway. I hope your copy has them too. Notice how large the hands are? Right, that's an important point. I truly hope readers who were uplifted by this 1953 work take the message to heart. And to hand.

Planting oaks native to your area is among the most hopeful steps to begin restoration. Or any native trees, native shrubs, or native wildflowers of your area. You don't need access to acres upon acres like the man who planted trees did. If you have some yard (garden in the UK), replace some of that lawn with eco-rich native species.

Watch as you create something remarkable. And become part of something good.

Imagine!

Need more inspiration?
Read [b:Oak and Company|4631008|Oak and Company|Richard Mabey|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1677796609l/4631008.SX50.jpg|4681065] by Richard Mabey, 1983.

Need actionable advice?
Read [b:The Nature of Oaks: The Rich Ecology of Our Most Essential Native Trees|54110488|The Nature of Oaks The Rich Ecology of Our Most Essential Native Trees|Douglas W. Tallamy|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1608663515l/54110488.SX50.jpg|84458549] by Douglas W. Tallamy, 2021.

Google “Homegrown National Park”

Need perseverance?
前人栽樹，後人乘涼 a Chinese proverb, “One generation plants the trees, another gets the shade.”

Answers are delayed until the question is no longer relevant.

Knowing next to nothing about the Hindu culture, I can hardly add anything to this novel's deeper meaning. I can only reflect on it personally via this English translation.

In a very brief summary, this is a 1965 novel about a village religious leader, Praneshacharya, who is presented with a dilemma related to the rites and cremation of one of the members of the village. The dead man, although also a brahmin, has deliberately mocked brahminism and is considered polluted as well as polluting. No one wants to touch him but no one except a brahmin can do the rites. The whole village must wait upon Praneshacharya to find a solution.

Meanwhile, the man's corpse is rotting and the village isn't allowed to eat or pray until he has been cremated. Praneshacharya has a crisis of indecision. After searching the scriptures to no avail, he decides to go to a temple where he asks and waits for an answer from the temple's god. He receives none. In the subsequent state of dejection and fatigue, he succumbs to an act of religiously immoral passion. Because of his hitherto faithfulness and his role as an example to others, this aberration causes him psychic pain and he falls into deep self-reflection.

As a non-Hindu reader, I found the novel and its premise fascinating. The writing was superb, the plot was intriguing, the characters well defined and the drama highly thought-provoking. I'm certain that to Hindus it would be incredibly more complicated. But even from my cultural distance, it was stimulating and rewarding.

Praneshacharya is an empathetic character. He is honest in his faith and has lived his life with a clear moral compass going back to his early teens. He is now almost 40, an age common for an identity crisis. However, the same faithfulness can't be said of the other village brahmins, including the reprobate dead man. While alive he had been Praneshacharya's opposite, his nemesis who now, in death, continues to antagonize and challenge Praneshacharya's understanding of what is holy and righteous. This is his long-needed trial, the kind that can either destroy or enrich one's spiritual understanding. It will foundationally change his personal and religious perspective about himself and his place as a member of humanity.

It was an immersive read. I loved that about it. I may not have understood all the many nuances and other political facts (perhaps includes effects of Colonialism) that a fellow native of author Ananthamurthy's would, but I am convinced the novel can be understood at a universal level of the State, Society, and Religion versus personal morality. I'm reminded of Sophocles' play Antigone in that way.

From my admittedly narrow perspective, the novel's hero was the despised low caste consort of the dead man, who like the hero in Antigone also outside the power structure, is a woman. Her credo was so much simpler–and one could argue is the premise of every religion: how should we best live? To love and care for others. And to honor this life of pain and joy.

A fine, thought-provoking read.