Book 193: Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass

There are only so many short books that are as memorable as this one. The life of Frederick Douglass narrated by himself is a crushing, fascinating book that will remain with me for a long time to come. Elie Wiesel's Night and Victor Frankl's A Man's Search for Meaning come to mind.

I picked up this book from the Gutenberg Project, which allows you to download free e-books (here's the link for this one). I never knew the details of Douglass's early life. From birth, his entire life was impacted by slavery. I was disheartened to learn of his early separation from his mother which was orchestrated for one reason: to destroy the mother-child bond before it could begin.

The cruelty described within this short little book will surprise you. Though most of us are familiar with some of the horrors of slavery, Douglass describes some I've never heard before. I now understand the hardness and resolve in his eyes that is captured in not one but all of the photos I've ever seen of him.

I was quite surprised by the conclusion of this book, in which Douglass describes the profound cruelty of the "pious slave owner" who professes faith in Christ and then uses his religion to cover the most heinous crimes.

I think this book should be required reading for every American.

My Origami Journey by Margaret Bogansky Hofknecht (Esther's Mother/Guest Blogger)

P.O.P. at the Knoxville Asian Festival.
Marge is on the far left. 

When I was eleven years old, I became ill with some abdominal pain while visiting Aunt Margaret. She was a registered nurse as well as a Franciscan nun and was stationed at the time of our visit at St. Francis Hospital in Trenton, NJ.

Delirious with fever and struggling with the pain, I was admitted to the hospital for tests and observation. Since my aunt would be there with me, my parents returned to Philadelphia with my brother and sister. I was in hospital about a week.

I met a friend there and she and I hung out in the nursery/playroom during the long days. One afternoon an older man entered the room and waved us to come over to a nearby table. I thought we might be in trouble or something but my curiosity was aroused when the man said, “So what do you want me to make for you today?”

I was confused because all the man had with him was a few squares of paper. Missing were the usual crafty accessories: scissors, glue, tape, etc. Since neither one of us answered him, he just picked up a paper and started folding it. Soon the table was covered with all sorts of models: a blow-up box, a flapping bird, something that looked like a church... I wanted them all and since my friend could care less, I took them back to my room. I never asked the man what it was he was doing. I was too engrossed watching him make all the folds.

Throughout the following years I'd think about that guy once in a while and the models he made. I tried to recreate them but couldn't. Paper was something I used for all sorts of crafting but I couldn't fold anything other than the party hat/ship model that Mom taught me. I wanted to make the models the man made.

After our daughter was born my husband Ralph and I spent a Saturday hanging out at John Wanamaker's department store which may seem like a odd thing to do. But we wanted to check out the store's latest theme, Japan Dynasty, and all the floors were decked out with kimonos, fans, prints, sculptures. I still have a shopping bag with the theme on it.

I saw an arrow sign with the word, “Origami” on it. Curious as to what origami I followed the sign and … “That's the stuff that man was doing!!” I nearly shouted it out to Ralph. We were about to leave the store and had no time to try folding paper. Now I knew the name of the craft but it would be some years before I pursued the practice of it.

When our third child was old enough, I was employed in an after school program. Two boys were on the floor playing with Lincoln Logs and building what I thought looked like a boat pier. I picked up a piece of construction paper and folded the one model I knew: the boat. I made a couple and gave them to the boys. Later, they came to me and asked if I knew how to make any more origami. I told them no, that's all I knew.

But I knew where I could find more information, and straightaway after the last child left I headed across the street to the library. I was friends with the children's librarian. I asked her to give me everything she had on origami, both adult and children's books. I took that pile of books home with me and began my origami journey in earnest.

Soon I was giving demonstrations and teaching models in classes in schools, at the library, at art festivals. I found the address of Origami USA and became a member and I tried to find a folding group here in Philadelphia. I contacted OUSA and was told no group existed and, “Would you like to start one?” I didn't think I could, but they put me in touch with another interested Philadelphian and soon the Greater Philadelphia Paper Pholders was born.

We got the word out and filled up the library's community room. I met new folders like me and several seasoned folders who were light years ahead of me. Our little group participated at all sorts of venues demonstrating and teaching and growing the origami community.

In 1999 I moved to Tennessee and a new paper folding chapter began. For a little while and until we were settled in, I did very little folding. But soon I was looking for opportunities to share this wonderful craft.

I participated in community art activities teaching some basic models for a couple years. At one of these activities I met a lady who asked me to speak to her Red Hats group. I met them at a Chinese restaurant. They were impressed, but only the lady who invited me, Patricia, had any real interest.

We began meeting at her house and I voiced my desire to see a folding group happen in Crossville. She offered her home as the initial meeting place and soon The Plateau Origami People was born. Most of the members were new to origami and so much of the time was spent in learning basic models with me as teacher. But now many of these one-time beginners are teaching others.

We participate in different community activities here in Crossville and at the Asian Festival in Knoxville. We decorate a Christmas tree each year at the Parade of Christmas Trees sponsored by a local bank. We never win any prizes but we have the most creative tree.

Origami has been such a gift to me. Through it I've met people from all over the world via the OUSA conventions and through the two groups I've started. It has an international characteristic and often breaks down the language barrier between people. I can't imagine my life without it.

To think it all started with an older man asking that simple question:

“So what do you want me to make for you today?”

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In her day job, Margaret "Marge" Bogansky Hofknecht cares for individuals with developmental disabilities as they strive to live their best lives. In her spare time, Marge teaches origami to children and adults in and around Crossville, Tennessee. In 2017, she was nominated for the Renana Benjamin Award through OrigamiUSA for outstanding origami instruction. Marge is also an avid crocheter and an active member of her church.

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This blog post was curated and/or edited by The Ardent Reader, Esther Hofknecht Curtis, BSOL, MSM-HCA. The views expressed in this blog post are those of the guest blogger. Visit www.parrotcontent.com for more information.

My Superpower: The Phoenix by Jennifer Sutter (Guest Blogger)

From the time I was very young, I always had an ability to see through the people I interacted with; to see their true selves. This is not something I have ever shared with anyone in conversation; it has always just been the way I see. 

Now this is not to say that I have never been hurt by anyone, because I have many, many times. But I’m an optimist. I like to always see the best in people. Which has left me vulnerable, but that’s fine... it has made me grow in ways I didn’t imagine.

I think I can say with some certainty that when one is hurt emotionally by another it tends to make them guarded or jaded. For me it has at times made me bitter and internally explosive. Despite that, I still always put myself out there and trust again. Foolish? Maybe, but it has actually served me well. I will try my best to explain what it is I see, but bear with me because I don’t really have a definition for it.

We all have our outer shell that is human nature; we only expose that delicate underbelly to those we really trust. But for some reason I have never had trouble meeting someone new and within minutes they are telling me their life story.

Me being the eternal student of human nature, I am always willing to listen and absorb. At some point during a conversation I am asked my opinion on the subject, which is usually, “Why did [insert name] have to hurt me like that?” Often the answer they expect is why the person did it. I often respond with the reasons why the person asking allowed it.

I don’t have to know a lot about a person’s history to reveal their nature, but when I do hear about their past or upbringing, it makes the whole picture much clearer. I am usually correct, and that is not a boast. It’s curious to me how I know things about others that they haven’t shared out loud. How can I sense the inner person? Answer: I don’t know.

In the past few years I have tried to find a label for what I do. I don’t read auras or concentrate really hard or even focus on a person. So as I was looking for answers I was naturally drawn to the law of attraction mentality.

It seems to be me. I put out some kind of vibe that attracts certain kinds of people. Now although it may seem like common sense when you read the literature on it (and it is) most people can’t understand how easy it is.

How can a whole new spiritual outlook be easy? Don’t you have to study with gurus, and chant and light candles? No, you only have to believe, and that is the hardest part. Believing in oneself is hard, and to trust that the universe will respond to you is even harder to understand.

To truly believe in something you have to cast out all doubt, all fear, and trust in something unknown. Most religious people would agree that absolutely, this is the truth, but that salvation lies in following God's rules. When things go bad, they're also the first people to to say, “God, why have you forsaken me?” Or, “Why did you let this happen?” The truth is it wasn’t God that made it happen. When you get to the root cause of the issue, it is usually that the person created their own problems. (To be fair, I am not talking about tragic events of cancer in a family or a car accident. I’m talking about everyday life happenings.)

So how does this all relate to me and my “weird power?” The truth is it doesn’t. But by changing my views, conceptions and understanding the laws of attraction, or the theory of universal abundance, I have allowed myself to understand and be more perceptive about the world and people around me. So in the example above, when people put out negative energy in thoughts or actions that is what they get back from the universe.

And in finding my inner peace I attract those that also strive for inner peace. For those who are ready to “hear,” I teach them, not with books, but by example.

That is my superpower.

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This blog post was curated and/or edited by The Ardent Reader, Esther Hofknecht Curtis, BSOL, MSM-HCA. The views expressed in this blog post are those of the guest blogger. Visit www.parrotcontent.com for more information.

It's sad, really...

When someone doesn't make progress, it makes me sad.

When they stay in one place.

When they refuse to move forward.

There is never any excuse not to seek to become better.

I mean, why don't they realize the resources that are their fingertips?

They have:

• THE INTERNET
• THE LIBRARY
• GOOGLE
• YAHOO
• LINKEDIN
• SKILLSHARE
• YOUTUBE
• YOUR FRIENDS
• YOUR FAMILY
• YOUR COWORKERS
• ME!

Not making progress is a choice. Plain and simple.

Everything you need is right in front of you.

GO.

The Spelling Bee.

Today, my daughter represented her school at the state spelling bee. She got to the third round and was stumped by a word I had never encountered in all the time I've been reading. In fact, there were a few words I'd never heard before.

In any case, the experience was a good one for her, and not one she'll soon forget. She was the top speller in her school, and for good reason: the kid reads like a fiend. When I see her getting totally absorbed in a book, it makes me so proud.

I'm proud of my son, too. The other night at Cover2Cover Book Club, he said he wanted to say something at the end of the discussion. When it was his turn, he stood up and presented Eragon, the book that has totally immersed him, and told 25 adults they should check it out. One adult responded, "Well! We love smart boy readers in this group!" (Cue proud mom blushing.)

What an ignorant ass I'd have been if I'd never had kids.

The Willingness to Expand - Organically.

My blog is not a fancy blog. But it's my blog, and it's a good blog. It's had almost 30,000 views as of today. I'm proud of my blog. It's pretty, and it's chock full of good stuff.

I've had this blog for eight years. I'm almost 39 years old, so I've maintained this blog for almost 21% of the time I've spent on earth. In that time I've read countless books (185 were reviewed here) and explored topics that mean so much to me.

I started The Ardent Reader after my second child was born. I had part time job in a nonprofit and I had extra time every afternoon after work to read. I was married then, I drove a minivan, and I had a dog. That seems like such a long time ago.

For me, this blog is so much more than being about reading. Reading is, of course, important, but when I realized what reading could do for me as a mother, a professional, a woman, this blog changed. It has become something else: evidence of my own deliberate cultivation of myself. I went from a young mother with an newly-earned associate's degree and half decent writing talent to an educated professional writer with two kids both on the path to excellence themselves.

I learned that in all things, I strive to be genuine. The practice of blogging has helped to reveal this particular aspect of my personality. It helped me realize I don't want to compromise my strongest held values, and it led to some of the hardest life choices I ever had to make. Here's a blog post called Living an Authentic Life, which I posted on my shorter-term blog, My Ten Bucks. 

A week or so ago, news broke that Russian hackers had used people's nationalism coupled with their own ignorance to divide us and undermine the validity of our elections. Twitter cut thousands of "bot" accounts overnight, and some folks lost thousands of followers in the process. And that night, I didn't lose a single one. In fact, I gained a few. For me, this was evidence that by cultivating this blog and my Twitter following slowly and organically, I had hit the right people. Real people.

Maybe I don't have thousands of followers on my blog but I know the ones I do have are people I want to have on my team. I want you to know how much you mean to me, dear reader, and that I appreciate your continued readership.

Thanks.

💗

Book 184: From Here to Eternity: Traveling the World to Find the Good Death by Caitlin Doughty (Audiobook)

Ever since I read her first book, Smoke Gets in Your Eyes, I've been fascinated with Caitlin Doughty's writing style and ability to both be respectful and poke fun at aspects of death at the very same time. For many years, Doughty - herself an undertaker - has been an advocate for respectful, interactive funeral arrangements and more family involvement in the American death experience as a way for us to mourn and remain connected with our loved ones long after they have gone.

From Here to Eternity: Traveling the World to Find the Good Death is one of the more interesting books I've read on the topic of death. In it, Doughty details her travels to learn about death traditions and how families care for their dead. She traveled to a remote island in Indonesia, where the beloved dead are mummified and kept in the family home for years after they've expired. In Colorado, she found a group that uses a mobile funeral pyre to burn a person's body down to ashes in front of his or her loved ones. In Bolivia, she found shrines full of skulls which bless the communities in which they reside. In Japan, she found a corpse hotel which infused technology and death traditions to create posthumous experiences for both the dead and their families.

In this book, Doughty shows us the American death tradition is just as weird as any other. I've long disliked the look of an embalmed body, so I've opted for cremation when my time comes. In fact, I even have a plan that both my kids know by heart: I want them to use whatever money I have to take a trip together and to scatter my in a beautiful part of the world I've never visited. (A little pinch will do - they don't have to fly an entire urn out to Africa and dump it.) Until I read Doughty's books I didn't realized I had an option as to how I'll be cremated. I could be burned on a funeral pyre or the kids could push the button to start the cremation process. There's something to be said for closure and being part of the final arrangements. It's about letting go in a way that's respectful, intimate, and personal.

I hope you'll pick up this book (read Smoke Gets in Your Eyes first) and love it as much as I did. Your skin might crawl a bit, but you'll learn a lot, too. Buy it here. 

Book 181: The Rooster Bar by John Grisham (Audiobook)

This review is late because my brother was in town and I was so crazy busy I did not have time to finish my books.

Although it was not my favorite John Grisham novel of all time (that honor is reserved for The Rainmaker), The Rooster Bar was a fun read. The plot was inventive and had twists and turns that I really loved.

D.C. law students Mark, Todd, Zola, and their friend Gordy find themselves in a no-win situation in their final year of school. They're all deep in debt, without any good job prospects, even though they've been promised by their law school that their ensuing careers will give them the edge they need to get ahead of the student loans and make bank. Three of the friends embark upon a journey that has all the promise of making them rich, or at least breaking even. In the end, the decisions they make lead them to an ending no one could have guessed. At least, I didn't.

As all of my readers already know, I finished my master's degree in 2017. Even with tuition assistance from my employer, I still owe more than $60,000 in student loans, so this aspect of this book was familiar territory, and I felt I could commiserate with the characters in The Rooster Bar. (Hey Congress, want to score points with voters? Forgive student loans.)

As I said, The Rooster Bar was not my favorite Grisham read, and here's the reason: I love John Grisham's ability to weave a complex, multi-dimensional story. The Rooster Bar was sort of like John Grisham Light. Maybe you'll disagree, but that was my impression.

Ari Fliakos did a great job on narration - I thought his voices were wonderful.

The Rooster Bar was another loan from my dear coworker, Sherry, who kept me supplied with excellent audio books throughout 2017. As soon as I finished one, she had another one on deck. It's always nice to have someone like that around.

😊😊😊

The Plight of Women in America

All my life I've been drawn to stories of women like Amelia Earhart, Marie Curie, Eleanor Roosevelt, Dorothy Day, Clara Barton, and Queen Esther. These women didn't ask for permission to do what they needed to; instead, they broke rules and made history. They didn't conform to social norms. They did what they thought was right. I like that, and I always have. 

Not long ago, I realized that for every women who rose above the status quo, millions lived and died in horrific circumstances that destroyed their bodies and spirits for thousands of years before me. They lived through hell.

Women were once considered second-class citizens and the property of their fathers and husbands. Yes, that was here in the U.S. In fact, it was legal for a husband to beat his wife and children, and many suffered such extreme abuse that they never recovered. Women were beaten until they could not or would not stand up for themselves. Watch The Color Purple or The Stoning of Soraya M  and let yourself feel the pain of these characters, which reflect so many other true stories that will never be told. 

Until 200 years ago, women weren't permitted to attend any institutions of higher education. They were welcome to attend grammar school, but "were at a significant disadvantage in access to most forms of higher education." Academies for women were not much more than high schools, and were "restrictive and inferior when compared to the educational opportunities available to young men." In 1836, women were able to pursue their higher degrees at only two universities in the whole United States. Men had no such restrictions, and flourished. 

Women kept pushing to crack the glass ceiling and be elected to the U.S. Congress, despite losing election after election to male opponents. The first woman voted into Congress was Jeannette Rankin, a Republican from Montana, who served in the House of Representatives. One hundred years ago, she took her seat in the 65th Congress in 1917, a full 128 years after congress was established. (Because women couldn't vote, she couldn't even cast a vote for herself, but you know she damn well used her congressional vote to push through women's suffrage.) 

In the early 1900s, suffragettes fought to vote, a right that had been bestowed upon men in the U.S. Constitution, but had not been extended to women. In 1920, women won the battle, but not without being imprisoned, tortured, and some even killed for their activism. I still get chills thinking about the bravery of these women, and I'll always vote because of their sacrifices on my behalf. Watch Suffragette to better understand their struggles. 

The Women's Liberation movement of the 1960s and 1970s - which I am so, so pissed that I missed - focused on the fact that women outnumbered men (51% of the American population) and still had nowhere near as many rights and opportunities. They focused on a variety of causes, including better pay, more higher education admissions, reproductive freedom, better employment opportunities, and among other things, dissolving the traditional gender roles so women weren't limited to domestic roles. The term "feminist" was used to describe these revolutionary women who spoke out for equality and absorbed every punch they were dealt. They are both revered and vilified by all manner of historians. 

Even now, in 2017, women are undervalued in the American workplace, and underrepresented in leadership roles, on boards, and in Congress. Women have to work twice as hard to gain the same success as their male counterparts even with superior education and experience. Look at the leadership of any Fortune 500 company and you'll see that most are overwhelmingly comprised of men, unless they are women-owned organizations. And the gender pay gap is another can of worms entirely; women still earn about 80% of what men earn to do the same jobs. And men are selected for promotions more often than women. 

Women have continued to push for equality because for hundreds of years our country has taken advantage of our strengths and all but ignored our contributions to its success. 

With the #NoMore movement, the feminism wave is rising again. Women are tired of being beat up, underrepresented, treated like doormats, and most of all, sick of being expected to continue to put up with it. And guess what? We really hate that we continue to be victims of sexual assault and abuse in this civilized day and age. Men should be able to control themselves and keep their hands to themselves, end of story.

Right now, many women who have chosen to speak out against sexual assault and abuse are being absolutely destroyed by the press and social media. They stay strong despite the onslaught of criticism, and I salute them for their bravery. Their voices will be the catalyst for positive change in our society, and I hope that even more will decide to come forward. Perhaps their voices will be the reason one abused woman will have the courage she needs to finally walk away.

Women: Assault and abuse and harassment leave deep wounds that never heal. A woman speaking out is reliving the most shameful moment of her life. She's ashamed because she was too scared or shocked to stop her assailant. She's ashamed because she's lived with this secret for her entire life and by keeping it a secret, she's protected the person who hurt her. Speaking out is the hardest thing she's ever done, and she's doing it for all of us - even those of you that choose not to believe her. One in five American women suffer assault, abuse, or harassment, so you could end up in her shoes. Wouldn't you want people to believe you if you had the guts to speak out? 

Men: Don't complain about the storm of allegations against news icons, movie stars, elected officials, and film directors. Women have been putting up with a lot of shit for a lot of years, and these guys have had it coming. If you're shocked, it only shows how ignorant you are of the horrors women have had to endure since the beginning of time. Don't act like this is something new. These guys represent the tip of the iceberg. Just support us as we get through it. The process is just like pulling weeds out of a flower bed. These stories need to be told so that we can get through this as a nation and be better as individuals.

We've been ignoring these problems for a long time, and now is not the time to strike these stories from the record and sweep them under the rug. Now is the time to listen.

✊✊✊