Markus Zusak and The Book Thief

I met Markus Zusak last week!  FINALLY!

The Book Thief was published 20 years ago - in 2006.  (How has it been 20 years?)  To this day, it remains one of the best books ever written.  Are you familiar with the book?  Set in Nazi Germany, the book is narrated by Death. A young girl named Liesel steals books and then shares them with others, risking her life to share the words that the Nazi's don't want others to see.  The book is haunting.  I highly recommend reading it if you haven't yet had the opportunity.

As part of his talk, Markus Zusak shared that his parents had grown up in Europe during World War 2.  Many of the atrocities that he mentions in the story were first hand accounts of things that his parents had seen when they were growing up.

I'm going to segue back in time for a minute:  Let's back up to 2007. I was a younger librarian and I had been sent to my first ever conference for the American Library Association. (ALA).  The Book Thief had just won the Printz Award and Markus Zusak was signing copies of his book!

I had a copy that I really wanted to get signed.  I tried standing in line, but his people chased me out of line, telling me that "Mr. Zusak was not signing any more autographs."  

Fine. 

I was in the presence of literary greatness. I could make this work for me. I worked my way around until I could get a decent picture of him signing books.  I then heard a voice over my shoulder.  "Look at all these people fawning over Zusak when they have true greatness standing right here."

I turned to look, and standing less than a foot away from me was Garrison Keillor.

"Oh My God!  You're Garrison ----"

He shook his head and interrupted me "Don't even" and walked away.  To this day, 19 years later, that encounter still tickles me when I think of it.  Just the absolute whimsy of that encounter!  

Last week, Markus Zusak came to my local public library.  He spoke to a group of over 200 fans.  He was funny, introspective, and gave excellent writing advice.  

He has written many books since then.  He has won many awards.  But he is humble.  He listens and talks with his fan.  He is a genuine nice guy.

You know what?  I got to meet him!  I shared the story from 19 years ago, and we all had a good laugh.

I got his picture.  (Several pictures, actually.)

He even signed my book for me.

FINALLY.

19 years later, I finally got my book autographed by Markus Zusak. It's the same book that I took with me 19 years ago, hoping to get his signature.  

Spoiler Alert

I was helping a young man find a movie about Samson and Delilah at work the other day.  It was a movie he had seen before, so finding the exact match was a little tricky.

Once we finally found the movie, he began telling me about the story...  Almost word for word, here as his words as I remember them:

Samson was this like, really strong guy.  Like stronger than the Rock.

He got all of his strength from his hair, so he never cut it.

And then he met this woman who was bad for him.  Her name was Delilah.  Samson loved her but she was like, seriously bad.  She tricked him and found out that he got all of his strength from his long hair.  So she cut it. 

But then, his hair grew back, and he was strong again.

And then, he was in this building and he went to push the building and

*SPOILER ALERT*

The building fell down!  Can you believe it?

(Yes, he really did shout spoiler alert!  I smile every time I think about it!)

Several Comedies of Error

This post originally appeared in my now defunct "Mom's View" blog. It originally appeared on May 24, 2012.  Oh, the woes of a substitute teacher!  Those were the days!

  
I've been subbing a lot the past few weeks.  Jobs have been plentiful... and the motivation that says "You won't get a paycheck for June, July, or August" has kept me moving pretty quickly on taking up the jobs.  Today is a rare day off, so I thought I would share my comedy of errors over the last few weeks.

I normally only substitute in K-3rd grade, because that is my area of certification, and it is the age group I am best at teaching.  Unfortunately, several of the jobs I took over the past couple of weeks were "supplementary", which is the grab bag of the substitute world.  I didn't know what I was getting into until I walked in the door of the building that morning.  Surprise!!

I spent one particularly memorable afternoon in 5th grade.  The teacher had left us with a DVD to watch, and had trained the kids how to turn it on and get it to go.  Her final words to me before she left "You don't touch anything.  Only she does." (pointing to a child in the class)  Okie Dokie!  We finished up the lessons she had left, and then we attempted to start the movie.  Nothing happened.  The girl tried again, and nothing happened.  The kids became very, very helpful.  (overly helpful) Yet still, nothing happened.  I called down to the main office, and they sent an Assistant Principal down to "show us" how to fix it.  He ended up calling the media specialist, who then ended up calling the technology guy from the county who was in the building working on the network. So, while all of the great minds were working on getting the DVD to run, what were the kids doing?  We started playing "Simon Says".  Twenty minutes later, the crew of four adults looked at me and said "It's not working."  (Insert evil teacher/mom glare here.)  I asked, "so what do I do?"  "Oh, said the AP, you follow the plans she left you."  I handed him the plans that said in clear letters: "Watch movie.  The kids know how to turn it on.  Dismissal begins at 3:15".  Thank heavens, the teacher next door poked her head around the corner at that moment and said "We're just getting ready to start the movie.  Why don't you bring them in here?" 

I spent one day with an assistant teacher who couldn't remember my last name.  She kept calling me Mrs. Jones, no matter how many times I corrected her.  Finally, I gave up and let her call me Mrs. Jones for the rest of the day.  I found out yesterday that she calls every sub in her room Mrs. Jones. 

I was reading a book aloud to a group of students, sitting in the rocking chair when *CRASH* the entire rocking chair broke apart underneath me!  There I was, one shocked woman, sitting amidst the remains of a rocking chair!  (Once I finally caught my breath and figured out how I ended up on the floor, we called the story finished and went outside for a quick extra recess.)

On my way out of the building yesterday, I was accosted by a teacher that I subbed for last week.
"Did you hear the news?"  she asked.  "No, what?"  I replied.
"Seven kids in my class have lice.  They found them the day after you subbed for me.  You need to get checked before you leave today."

What a wonderful, wonderful couple of weeks it's been!

Palm Sunday

Four years ago, I was teaching 7th Grade Sunday School with a very good friend.  We enjoyed teaching together no end, and we really loved what we were doing.  This particular year, the Education Director told us as we arrived that the kids would be reenacting Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem.  The younger kids would line the hallway with palm branches, and lay cloaks on the floor.  Our class was to put a kid on a donkey and roll him down the hall.  The donkey turned out to be a wooden cut out of a donkey, held onto a stack of building blocks piled on top of a Radio Flyer wagon. Everything was held together with Bungee Cords.

Looking at the precarious pile of stuff,  my friend and I looked at each other and muttered "What could go wrong?"

The appointed time arrived.  We had a volunteer to ride on the donkey cart - and the rest of the class volunteered to pull/push him down the hallway.  Let's call the volunteer on the cart "Andy".

Andy perched on top of the blocks high atop the wagon,  and the kids began pulling and pushing him down the hallway.  The little kids enthusiastically waved their palm branches.

And then, the wagon hit the first bump as it went over the first of the cloaks laid on the ground.  The blocks began to shift and Andy stopped smiling.

Every time they hit a bump, the blocks shifted a little bit more, the little kids cheered a little bit louder, Andy held on a little tighter, and his friends moved a little bit faster.

By the time they reached the end of the hall, the little kids were screaming in delight, and Andy was holding on for dear life. 

As the kids stopped, the sound of our laughter resonated through the hallways, and Andy rolled off of the donkey cart, onto the floor and shouted "Land!  Sweet Land!" as he hugged the ground.

Interview Madness

Have you ever gone for an interview where everything went wrong?  That happened to me earlier this week.

1) The interview was originally scheduled for Thursday afternoon.  Monday afternoon, I get a call asking me to change the interview to Tuesday.  They wanted me to come in during the morning - but I can't get off of work in the morning.  Long story short, we switched the interview to the afternoon.

2) I carefully dress at home, and leave for work.  It's wicked hot and humid, and I turn on the a/c in the van, only to find out that the air that we had fixed 2 weeks ago IS NOT WORKING.

3) Leaving work at noon, I realize I have a spot on my shirt.  My husband tells me now that it's not noticeable - but at the time, I panicked!!!  Add in a quick stop at Wal-Mart to pick up a clean white shirt.

4) Go to the nearest public library to change my shirt.  The bathroom by the front doors is broken.  Like some creeper, I had to go use the potties in the children's section.. Couldn't change and get out of there fast enough. 

5) Pull out the deep purple shirt I'm planning on wearing over the white shirt and realize it is deeply wrinkled and smells kind of funny.  Back to Wal-Mart to pick up some wrinkle release /deodorizing spray.

6) With all of the windows open, traveling 65 miles an hour down the highway, it is a balmy 85 hot and humid degrees in the car.  I look a mess.  My carefully coiffed hair looks like something even Medusa wouldn't claim.

7) Get lost twice on the way to the building.  It's so new it doesn't show up on my GPS.

8) Good news - the wrinkle release spray worked on my shirt.  Bad news - it's like 100* in the parking garage.  I find a library, and go inside and do my best with my hair.  I pull it up into barrettes.  I hate the look, but it's better than sweaty Medusa hair.  Due to the wonderful nature of the air conditioning in my car, my face is bright, bright red.  I sit at a table in the back corner of the library and fan myself with a periodical until 20 minutes before my interview begins.

9) Realize at the end of the interview that I forgot to bring my list of references with me.  Way to look professional, girl friend.  (You know, in case if the Medusa hair, bright pink face, and sweat stained shirt under a deep purple overshirt and the faint smell of sweat don't convey that professional look enough already.)

10) Finally leave the interview - it's close to 3:30 now, and I still haven't had lunch.  Find the Starbucks down the street library and have their most amazing Omega 3 Bistro Box - smoked salmon cream cheese, wheat free crackers, nut mix, endamame hummus and cucumber slices and have a veritable feast while enjoying their artificially cooled air.

I'm pretty sure that this interview was probably the WORST interview I've ever had.
You know, my current job isn't really all that bad....

Why You Should Put Things Away at the Store

So, I was at one of those big box retailers over this past week - I don't want to mention it by name, but they sell everything.  Clothes, food, etc.

You know how people roam around these stores, decide they don't want something, and then just leave it wherever they happen to be?  Their train of thought is along the lines of "They pay people to put that back.  Why should I inconvenience myself by putting this back where it belongs?  It's a long walk, and I am lazy." 

There was a family browsing through the clothing with their daughter and son.  The family was looking at clothes for the daughter, and the son had roamed out of sight. 

I heard the mother say "I feel bad.  It seems like we're always buying clothes for her, but never for him."

"I'll go with him and pick out a couple of shirts" the Dad said.  "Where did he go?"  I saw him roam around the display table and I heard him shout "What the h%ll are you doing?"

Everyone in the store came to a dead standstill and looked over...  the mother scurried over to her husband and started screaming "Oh my God, Oh my God". 

One of the sales associates ran over, and I hear the Dad yelling "Do I look happy?"

The kid had roamed over to the other side of the table, found a container of car wax, opened it, and proceeded to smear it all over himself.   No lie, the kid was blue.

Dad ran off to the bathroom with the son, while Mom tried to pull herself together.  The helpful sales associate helped the Mom, and radioed to a manager who went into the bathroom to help the Dad.

I've got to give a lot of credit to the retail store.  They rose to the occasion and helped that family.  They didn't charge the family for the car wax, and the managers pulled in paper towels and liquid dish soap to try and get the wax off of the kid.  Of course, if someone hadn't just left the damn wax wherever the heck they felt like...  (I'll stop.)

You know, there was a part of me that was thinking that the Dad should have taken the kid out to the car and just rubbed him all over the outside of the car....

Just Another Day in Paradise

It's been one of those days. It's warm, and I have the day off.  I headed out with daughter this morning.  She drove off to school, and I walked down to the bottom of the hill to get the trash cans and bring them back up. 

I tuck the trash cans away, and turn around to go into the house.  As Pooh would say "There are 11 jars of honey in my cupboard, and I can hear them calling my name."  Wouldn't you know.  The door was locked.  MY keys were on the hook, just inside of the door.  My daughter's keys had just left with her, headed to school and then the community college.

Not looking forward to spending the day outdoors, I began trudging around the house to see if I had left any windows unlocked.

Lo and Behold - the window over the kitchen sink was unlocked.  Even better - this window is in the back of the house, so nobody would see my attempt at greatness.

The ladder for the kids' old bunk bed is metal, and it was sitting just inside the door of the shed.  (We keep that door locked with a combination lock, thank you very much!)  I retrieved the ladder, and leaned it up against the house, just under the kitchen window.  The ladder wasn't quite tall enough to get me safely into the kitchen window, but it was tall enough to get me close. I figured I could just power my way through the window by grabbing onto the kitchen counter once I got up that high.

Buoyed by an enthusiasm borne of hunger and a need to use the facilities, I climbed up the ladder, raised the kitchen window and began climbing in the window.

There is one problem with climbing in a window over the kitchen sink.  The faucet.  As you get yourself partially through that window, the faucet is right there in the middle, with no place for it to go.

The cats, highly entertained by this spectacle, forgot their animosity long enough to hop onto the kitchen counter and watch me.

There came that moment of faith- when I hung on the fulcrum of the window - my feet unable to push off the ladder, my arms not yet able to reach the edge of the kitchen counter, and the cats, full of concern, began rubbing up against my face as I hung there, unable to go in or out of the window, with the kitchen faucet digging into me.

Finally, I managed to wiggle in enough to grab the edge of the kitchen counter.  I pulled, and the rest of me followed behind.  I somehow managed to turn myself around and not land on the kitchen floor face first.

As I sat on the edge of the kitchen counter, catching my breath, the cats forgot their concern for me.  With noses twitching, they both climbed up onto the window sill, took a look back at me, as if to say "I don't see WHY you always make such a big deal of things" and then hopped out of the window.

Just another day in paradise.

Taking the Cats to the Vet

I took the cats to the vet today.  It was a traumatic experience for everyone involved.

The cats like to go outside early in the morning, so I took the precaution of locking each of them into a separate room overnight with a bowl of food, a bowl, of water, and a litterbox.  I was hoping to get a stool sample from each of them overnight.  I should have known better...

A half hour before it was time to go to the vet, I tracked down the animal carriers and went after Luna (the more agreeable one) and put her in her box.  No fights with that little girl, she's always ready for an adventure.  I scoped out her litterbox, but she had made absolutely no deposits over night.

I went after Tiger next.  One huge catfight later, I had two bloody gashes on my hand and a cat that had buried himself under the middle of the bed.  I finally dislodged him from the bed, only to turn around and find that Luna had let herself out of her carrier and was firmly lodged in Tiger's carrier.

Actually, this turned out to be a very good thing!  Once Tiger saw Luna in his carrier, he immediately lunged from my arms, and started squabbling with Luna, until she left the carrier and he could get in.

I locked his carrier and attempted to get Luna into hers.  No sooner did I shut her door than she began prizing open the weak edge at the top.  Desperate, I found a length of blue ribbon and tied her cage together so she couldn't open it again.

5 short minutes later, we were in the waiting room at the vet's office.

When we were called back, the tech decided to go with Luna first.  (Remember, she's the agreeable one.)  She purred through her initial exam, preened herself, and generally had a great time.  When the tech told Luna "OK, I'm done with you, I need to see Tiger next", Luna hopped right off of the table, walked over to one of the chairs, and assumed her sphinx pose while watching Tiger.

It took both of us to dislodge Tiger from the carrier.  We had to turn it upside down to get him out.  He hissed, he fussed, and he made snarly noises the entire time the tech looked at him.

Then came the fun part:  The vet came in!

Remember, Luna is still sitting on the chair, purring away and swishing her tail.  She was enjoying the spectacle!

The vet felt Tiger's abdomen.  Tiger growled.  She checked his teeth.  He hissed.  She gave him his shots.  Tiger made snarly noises at her.  The minute she finshed and said "OK Tiger, I'm done with you, you can go now" he jumped down off of the table and ran into his carrier.

The vet looked at Luna and said "OK Luna - you're next!"  (I swear I am not making this up!)  Luna hopped off of the chair and sauntered over to the table.  The vet picked her up and put her on the table, attempting to feel Luna's abdomen.  Luna immediately rolled over onto her back, squiremed around, and got her head under the vet's hand.  The vet tried to check Luna's teeth.  Luna immediately rolled over onto her back, squirmed around, and put her back under the vet's hand.  While the vet was trying to keep Luna still long enough to give her the shots, she asked me "Did you manage to get a stool sample from her?"

"No", I answered.  "She hasn't done anything at all in the last 12 hours.  I had her locked in a room overnight with the litter box, and she didn't even pee."

It's like that was the cue that cat had been waiting for.  With an insane gleam in her green eyes, she let loose at both ends, giving the vet both kinds of samples.  Luna hopped down off the table and hopped back into her box. 

We all stood there, too stunned to speak for a few minutes.

"Well", said the tech, "At least we have our samples!"

Those cats!  I guess we know who's really in charge!

This post originally appeared in my now defunct "Mom's View" blog.  I moved it to this blog at the request of my kids, who wanted to have all of the various posts that accompanied their high school years in one place.  I've matched the publication dates here to their original post date.  If you're reading these posts, I sincerely thank you for taking the time to go back through them all! 

Nobody Ever Told Me

We visited another college campus this past weekend.  Beautiful campus, set in the mountains of the Mid-Atlantic.  It was a glorious spring day when we began our tour, so the tour guides were wearing their fleece jackets with the name of the school discreetely emroidered on the front.

As we began our tour, one of the admissions officers said to our tour guide "There she goes!  Girl on fire!"  and everyone laughed.

"Everyone is being so mean to me," she lamented.  "We are given these nice fleece jackets to wear as tour guides.  and we even get to keep them! I love my fleece, it's so nice and warm, I wear it all the time.

The other day, I got out of the shower and put my fleece on to warm up quick.  I got warm, but my jacket got wet.  I didn't want to go outside with a wet coat, so I popped it into the microwave for a minute to dry it off.

Nobody ever told me that fleece was flammable!  After like, 5 seconds in the microwave, my jacket burst into flames and melted into this weird little pool of something that I can't get off of the bottom of the microwave."

We all stared at her for a moment, stunned into silence.

"When I went to housing to report my destroyed university owned microwave, they were speechless.  They told me I was the only person ever to have set fire to a fleece jacket in my microwave."

One of the fathers in our group looked up and said in a very deep voice: "I certainly hope you're not the standard  representative of this school."

"Why does everyone keep asking me that question?"  She wondered aloud.

Why, indeed.  A fleece jacket in the microwave....

Pink Hair

The middle child now has pink hair.   You read that right - PINK hair! 

He has been in the middle of his competition season- Physics Olympics, Destination Imagination, and the Robotics Tournaments.  He wanted to do something that would make him stand out and be memorable.

I've got to admit, the pink hair does stand out! 

He and his friends got together before Easter week and decided to dye their hair.  Since his hair is so dark, he decided to go whole hog and bleach it first, then dye it pink.

I had no advance warning before this happened.  He came home, walked into the room, said he was going to take a shower, and walked back out again.  I looked at his sister and said, in a rather stunned voice "Was his hair pink?"

Okie Dokie.  Pink Hair. 

I've actually gotten used to it.  It's easy to find him in a crowd.  Bright pink hair in a sea of heads- easy to spot. He brought a nice touch of Easter joy to our table- he looks like a giant Easter Egg now.

I've had several people ask me my thoughts about his hair color.  So, I'll share them with you:

1) He doesn't smoke, do drugs, and isn't out having sex.  Pink Hair is not a battle worth fighting.

2) He needs to enjoy his hair while he still has it.

One last thought to leave you with....  While we were at the University of Maryland last week, we stopped at the statue of Jim Henson with Kermit in front of the student union.  Jim and Kermie are sitting on the statue, talking to each other.  I took middle child's picture on the bench with Jim and Kermie.

As people were walking by, they stopped and stared at him, with his pink hair, turned towards Jim and Kermie as if he was talking to them.

"Oh My God..." said one father to me... "Your son looks just like Beaker!"

Yep... my son Beaker, who hopes to be a Terrapin, class of 2017. 

Enjoy that hair while you still have it!!!!

University of Maryland

The middle child is looking at colleges.  Last week, we visited the University of Maryland.

Maryland is known for many things- an awesome school of business, high academic standards, and their basketball and football teams, as well as the home-made ice cream served in the lower level of the Student Union.  (The Creamery)

Many famous alumni have graduated from Maryland: Connie Chung, Larry David, Robert Basham, Sergey Brin, and Carl Bernstein.  Perhaps the best known of all the graduates is Jim Henson: the creator of The Muppets.

On campus, just outside of the student union is a statue of Jim Henson and Kermit.  They are sitting together on a bench, facing each other.

While on the tour of Maryland, I heard a couple of stories about Jim Henson that I'd never heard before.  The character of Animal was based on one of Henson's Fraternity brothers.  Miss Piggy's character was based on one of Henson's former girlfriends.  Even better--the dorm where the girl lived has been immortalized and now contains her profile in the lobby. 

I wonder how often that woman has cringed over the years as we have watched the popularity of Miss Piggy, and her continuing infatuation with Kermie over the years.