“let’s just have a nice coffee and maybe a little breakfast”
“hope makes a good breakfast. eat plenty of it.”
as a collector of the classic golden books
i am endlessly fascinated
by their history, artwork, authors, short tales, and backstories
i finally found and ordered one i’d been looking for
“lucky mrs. ticklefeather”
which seems to have quickly made it’s way through multiple cities
only to land in detroit a few weeks ago
where is has remained
stuck in an ‘in transit’ status
ever since its arrival.
will *mrs. ticklefeather ever be found?
is she still considered lucky?
is there a rival golden book collector near me
looking for the same book?
does paul her pet puffin, have anything to do with this?
it remains to be seen and i remain hopeful
this story isn’t over yet.
*Book summary – Rare ~~ Mrs. Ticklefeather was a very thin old lady with a good sized feather in her hat, and on her feet she had tall black shoes with plenty of buttons. She lived on the top floor of a terribly high building because the top floor is the best place for getting sunshine, and, Oh, what a good thing sunshine is for thin old ladies. When her pet puffin, Paul, goes missing, the elderly Mrs. Ticklefeather becomes very upset, but the next day Paul returns and brings with him a special gift that brings her great and unexpected happiness. Great illustrations in mid- century yet modern style.
“hope is the last thing ever lost.”
it has been one year
since the global pandemic coronavirus began to shut much of our nation down
so much loss and so many sacrifices and lessons learned
everyone waiting for a return to fully living life
with hope on the horizon.
“there are 31,536,000 seconds in a year. i am counting down every second.”
-ljupka cvetanova, the new land
I signed his copy of ‘The Tale of Despereaux’ and he said, “My teacher said fifth grade is the year of asking questions.”
“Really?” I said.
“Yeah,” he said. He took out a notebook. “Every day we’re supposed to ask someone different a good question and listen really good and then write down the answer when they’re done talking.”
“Oh,” I said, “I get it. I’m someone different. Okay, what’s your question?”
“My question is how do you get all that hope into your stories?”
“That’s not a good question,” I said. “That’s a great question. Let me think. Um. I guess that writing the story is an act of hope, and so even when I don’t feel hopeful, writing the story can lead me to hope. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah,” he said. He looked me in the eye. “It’s kind of a long answer. But I can write it all out. Thanks.”
He picked up his copy of Despereaux, and walked away—writing in his notebook.
This was years ago.
Why did I wake up this morning and think of this child?
Maybe because this is a time to start asking good questions, a time to write down the answers, a time to listen to each other really well.
I’m going to get myself a little spiral bound notebook.
I’m going to listen and hope.
-Kate DiCamillo – American author
in recent days
i have seen and read about
many gestures of hospitality
one reaching out to another
with each act
i find a renewed sense of hope.
“hospitality is always an act that benefits the host even more than the guest. the concept of hospitality arose in ancient times when the reciprocity was easier to see: in nomadic cultures, the food and shelter one gave to a stranger yesterday is the food and shelter one hopes to receive from a stranger tomorrow. by offering hospitality, one participates in the endless reweaving of a social fabric on which all can depend – thus the gift of sustenance for the guest becomes a gift of hope for the host.”
-parker j. palmer