Blogcritics Author: Roberta Rosenberg

Announcement: Short-content feeds

Phillip Winn — Sun, 26 Aug 2007 12:00:00 EDT

Sunday, August 26, 2007, marks the switch of all Blogcritics.org article feeds from full-content to short-content. This is the result of several converging factors, and is unfortunately a permanent decision (as permanent as any decision can be on the web, that is). We are aware of all of the reasons that this is a Bad Idea, and we are aware that some of you will be quite upset about having to click on something to read the free content, and we're sorry. Unfortunately, despite great effort, full-content feeds are not currently economically viable. Two other factors are involved: full-content feeds have resulted in an unprecedented level of content theft, with BC content appearing on many websites, usually spam sites, without attribution or permission. This duplicate content causes a cascading set of problems, not the least of which is that search engines generally aren't favorable to duplicate content, and don't always guess correctly. Finally, our RSS advertising partner is strongly in favor of short-content feeds. We hope that you'll continue to subscribe to BC via RSS, and when an article grabs your eye, it's only a click away, still free on the BC website. Thank you for your understanding.

Book Review: Hanukkah at Valley Forge by Stephen Krensky, Illustrated by Greg Harlin

Roberta Rosenberg — Thu, 21 Dec 2006 18:30:10 EST

Imagine for a moment that you're General George Washington surveying your army at Valley Forge in the bitter, biting cold of December. Your army is discouraged, starving, without proper clothes or weaponry, and hunkered down in resignation. You come across a soldier in his hut lighting two small candles, murmuring softly as he touches the flame of one candle to another.Now imagine the same soldier, a Polish immigrant and a Jew, is asked by his Commander in Chief to share the meaning of the candle lighting and the story behind Hanukkah. Sound far-fetched? Surprisingly, the answer is no. Based on the diary entries of Louisa Hart, the step-daughter of Michael Hart, a Jewish merchant known to Washington, Washington told the Harts about meeting a Polish-born Jewish solider at Valley Forge who explained the holiday of Hanukkah to him. (See Jews on the Frontier, by Rabbi W Harold Sharfman, for more.)Hanukkah at Valley Forge takes this fascinating little footnote to American Jewish history and expands it into a compelling, superbly written and illustrated story that all children, Jewish and otherwise, will find appealing.We never find out the soldier's name, but he shares with Washington the story of Hanukkah -- how the Greeks looked to assimilate the Jewish population and how a small band of Jewish zealots, the Maccabees, seeking to remain a Torah-true people, battled the army of the mighty Antiochus for nearly three years until finally the Greeks were driven out. The soldier further explains the "miracle" of the holiday to Washington, telling him of the work involved in resanctifying the Temple and how one day's portion of holy oil needed to keep the temple menorah flame alive burned eight days bright while new oil was found.In this telling, Washington's own words from his many writings are interwoven as responses to the soldier's story. Washington sees the many parallels between his out-manned, out-gunned ragtag Revolutionary army and the Jewish Maccabees. At story's conclusion, Washington is inspired, a little bit of hope restored as he goes back into the snowy night. (For another bit of Washington and his regard for the Jewish Community, here's the text of his letter to the congregation of Touro Synagogue, America's oldest Jewish house of worship.)Stephen Krensy's beautifully realized text flows softly from page to page. "I rejoice in the Macabees' success, thought it is long past." Smiling grimly, Washington adds, "And it pleases me to think that miracles may still be possible." Greg Harlin's warm, vivid and realistic watercolor illustrations positively glow off each page. Hanukkah at Valley Forge is a handsomely produced children's story that will keep children ages 7-11 (and their parents!) interested and attentive. Like Washington, I enjoyed seeing the connections between two peoples who, though out-numbered, were passionate enough in their convictions to persevere against damning odds. Jewish families will surely want to add this one to their holiday bookshelves for next year's gift giving and storytelling.

Roberta Rosenberg is a direct response marketing & SEO consultant, copywriter and coach (MGP Direct), popular etailer (AdoptShoppe), and mom to 3, two adopted from Korea (Adopting from Korea) with a strong need to share about issues I care about it.

Children's Book Review: Walter, the Farting Dog by William Kotzwinkle and Glenn Murray, Illustrated by Audrey Colman

Roberta Rosenberg — Mon, 11 Dec 2006 17:41:22 EST

My husband's sister has two daughters. I like the kids. Sister-in-law? Not so much. So when the holidays roll around, I engage in ... well ... a little subversive behavior. (I'm not proud of it, mind you, but it's like a sickness with me. I just have to.) So I'll spend some thought time thinking about gifts for the girls that (1) they'll enjoy and (2) that also carry a darker, more subversive message for their mother. Or worse, personalized gifts that the girls will want to keep out and around all year round. (All in the spirit of the season, of course.)I outdid myself this year. This year's gift for the six-year old is the best-selling children's picture book, Walter, The Farting Dog. It is hilarious, completely outrageous, and just the kind of book that children will beg to have read to them over and over again. (High-five!)Walter's story is quite simple. Adopted from the local dog pound, Walter is a older, overweight dog who farts. He farts all the time. The farts are quite nasty and disturbing to the adults of the family, especially Dad. Threatened with being returned to the pound, Walter vows to keep his farts to himself. That night, as Walter desperately, painfully tries to deny his true nature, the house is burgled. Walter, who can't hold back any longer, lets one fly. Unable to breathe, burglars jump out the window. Police catch them. Walter is redeemed as hero. Dad decides to ignore the farts. Good dog, Walter.I read the book to my own children, ages seven and nine. I was laughing so hard with each page it took me twice as long to finish the book with them as usual. The illustrations are a little bizarre, but perfect. The text is simple, straightforward and plays the perfect "straight man" to the comedy of the story and its illustrations.I gave the book to my husband to read and heard his laughter in the next room. I gave the book to my 14-year old to read. She wanted to appear cool and ironic, giving me the combination teen fish eye/eye roll I find so endearing. But Walter got to her. I heard my cherub's laughter even behind her closed door.I've discovered that Walter, The Farting Dog is a series with several titles. Oh boy. I can hardly wait for next Christmas and the Christmas after that. My sister-in-law will so love me encouraging her children in the sublime joy of reading that leads to pee-in-your-pants, can't-catch-your-breath laughter. Good dog, Walter. (To be fair, my own children have now begged me to buy every Walter book in the series. My pleasure, too, since laugh-out-loud reading is a joy with young and even not-so-young kids!)And a happy ho-ho-ho to you!

Miranda on the Veranda: A Memoir of Appreciation

Roberta Rosenberg — Sun, 1 Oct 2006 21:55:09 EDT

Miranda on the Veranda was the very first book I was allowed to borrow from the children's books section of Massapequa Public Library, my Long Island, New York hometown. This was 1961, and I had just begun first grade. This was my first book borrowed on my very own card with my own name hand-typed right on it. I watched the head librarian add my brand-new patron's card to the huge Rolodex wheel she kept on the service desk. When done, she directed me to the children's section and let me wander.I no longer remember why I chose Miranda on the Veranda that day. But some 40 plus years later, I can remember the look of the book (typical children's storybook size, white cover covered with that crackly library cellophane), with its line drawings washed and highlighted in pastel lavendar.Like that first chocolate in the box, I savored the sweet and savory rhyming prose... and then I had to have another and another. I grew fat on every word.I was allowed to borrow no more than six books per visit. Library's rules and they were strict about it. So on most Saturdays mornings, there I'd be waiting for the library to open so I could get my allotment of six books. I'd take them home, polish them off in an hour or two, and my mother and I would take them back Saturday afternoon, she for her allotment of Pearl Buck, me for my next allotment of six. I'd polish them off just as fast but had to keep them for the week since the library was closed on Sundays, and Saturday was the only day we could go. (My mother would savor her books and linger on the pages longer. In my mind's eye, I can still see her sitting on the living room sofa, one leg curled underneath her. Her elbow is on the sofa's puffy, over-stuffed arm. Her Kool cigarette is hugged precariously between her fingers, the ash flicked off with each page turn into the big cut-class ashtray she kept close by. Her eyes never leave the page.)I also had access to our classroom library. We were allowed one book home per night. I'd check out my one and next day return and and ask for another. Like Oliver in Oliver Twist, I wanted some more, and more after that. Classics or comics, it didn't matter. It was all good.Today, I have piles of books in every room of my house - mostly nonfiction and history, and have a huge affection for Hollywood biographies and memoirs. I usually have two or three books going at one time. I keep a book in the car and in my purse in case I have a few minutes of quiet time. Sometimes I can feel the words pour gently into my head and I ride the rhythm of the prose to a peaceful destination. Sometimes the words explode and spark, new ideas form, new connections are made and I find myself flying down new paths to knowledge and new topics previously unexplored. G-d, does it get better than that? I can't even imagine.Miranda on the Veranda wasn't a children's classic and, I imagine, has long been out of print. But for this little six-year old girl, clutching her first library card with unabashed delight, this simple little storybook was the start of a lifelong love affair with the power and pleasure of the printed word.Thank you, Miranda, after all these years, for sharing your veranda with me.

Children's Book Review: Rebecca's Journey Home by Brynn Olenburg Sugarman

Roberta Rosenberg — Sun, 3 Sep 2006 12:24:56 EDT

"She'll be Vietnamese and American and Jewish." So declares the gleefully excited older brother of a new baby sister who is Rebecca in English, Rivka in Hebrew, formerly Le Tai Hong in Vietnamese, the newest member of the Stein Family via adoption. Rebecca's Journey Home is a sweet and heartwarming adoption story that reflects the growing racial and cultural diversity of the American-Jewish community. In fact, adoption is fast becoming a favored choice among Jewish singles and married couples looking to grow their families. In 1990, the National Jewish Population Survey of the Council of Jewish Federations identified 60,000 adopted Jewish children under age 18 in the US, representing more than 3% of all Jewish children in this country. One quarter of these were born abroad. Today, the numbers and percentages have only increased.Rebecca's Journey Home follows a well-trod, familiar storyline popular in children's literature about adoption. Mrs. Stein, although a proud, happy mother to two boys born to her, decides she wants to parent another baby, this time with a child already born. There were so many babies and children in the world whose parents had loved them but could not take care of them. Mrs. Stein wanted to be the mother of one of those children.There are documents to prepare, meetings to attend, and finally the time comes when she will travel to Vietnam to collect her new baby daughter. Mrs. Stein tours a little, shops a little, and emails her family back home while waiting to meet her baby. After a time, Mrs. Stein and Rebecca arrive home to the US to an excited and happy family. (It would have been a nice touch if the story had included the Giving and Receiving Ceremony, which finalizes the adoption in the Vietnamese provincial court, but that's a quibble.) What sets this picture book apart is the focus on traditional Jewish family practice. The Steins observe Shabbat (Sabbath) every Friday evening. Rebecca is formally converted to Judaism with a visit to the mikvah, the ritual bath, where after she is immersed three times, she receives her Hebrew name, Rivka Shoshanah. This is a simple story, lovingly told and illustrated. The author has been a preschool, Hebrew and Judaics teacher. Like Mrs. Stein, she has a daughter adopted from Vietnam. Michelle Shapiro's illustrations move the story along with her cheerful yet evocative drawings. Her renderings of people will remind you a little of Amedeo Modigliani's work with their longish faces and noses -- and it all works. Rebecca's Journey Home concludes with a restatement of who Rebecca is. "She is Vietnamese, American, and Jewish." And Mrs. Stein wisely adds, "And she'll be many more things someday." Very nicely done. A perfect storybook for Jewish families with adopted children ages 4 to 8. Traditional Jewish families will especially like its focus on normative Jewish family practices and the centrality of Jewish observance.For more on the Jewish Community's "global big tent", you'll want to visit Tapestry: Weaving the Multicultural Threads of Jewish Identity. We're a whole lot more than bagels and blintzes, baby!

Book Review - Final Exits: The Illustrated Encyclopedia of How We Die by Michael Largo

Roberta Rosenberg — Tue, 15 Aug 2006 16:52:28 EDT

I don't know about you, but I stock a fairly extensive "quick-read" library in various bathrooms around my house. Issues of Newsweek, National Geographic, and a few newsletters from Boardroom Reports are usually in ample supply, as well as the occasional book formatted for the all-important quick read. I recently added a copy of 1,000 Places to See Before You Die, by Patricia Schultz to the bathroom bookshelf. For a quick pit stop read, this is a wonderful directory of must-see places to go and things to do in the US and overseas. I'm happy to report this travel compilation includes a few sites I've actually seen so maybe now I'll die a little happier because I saw Paris. (I like the happier part, not so sure about the dying part.) But here's the question ... Can someone actually die of happiness? I didn't find happiness listed in the new book, Final Exits: The Illustrated Encyclopedia of How We Die, but I did find hundreds of other documented ways that folks like you and me "kick the bucket", "sleep with the fishes", and "buy the farm". This is addictive, fascinating and lively reading (yes, I did say "lively") about the American way of death and dying that you're going to thoroughly enjoy. The more advanced the technology, the more ways to kill or be killed. Did you know that in 1700 there were less than 100 causes of death and that today there are 3,000? Me either, but you'll learn this and a lot more as Final Exits details the many ways we die. Alphabetically organized, this engaging sourcebook of death begins with a straightforward retelling of the history of "Abactio ... the medical term for abortion or premature labor induced by street drugs, herbal concoctions or homestyle surgery" and concludes with "Zoofatalism ... a psychological disorder in which the afflicted get dangerously close to wild animals or keep wild animals as pets against better judgment." (Ouch ... can you say Siegfried & Roy?) The in-between is packed with well-researched information told with a dry, wry touch. Consider this listing under "M" -- Microwave Popcorn ... "Popcorn factory workers and those at home who inhale microwave butter popcorn fumes on a regular basis got a rare lung disease from the combustion of one of the ingredients in the artificial butter flavoring. 24 died in 2003." (Guess I'll stick with the plain variety.) If your interest is more macabre, you'll want to review the Serial Killers entry. Final Exits devotes three pages to the likes of Son of Sam, Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy and several other "Infamous Ass****s" (as lawmakers like to refer to them.) And yes, because I know you want to know, there is the requisite listing for Foreign Objects. Suffice it to say, you'll get a full rundown of the stuff people stuff into various body parts with the obvious lethal results. (Feel free to do your own jokes and commentary here.) Author Michael Largo is the son of a NYPD homicide detective who used to take his young son for unusual tours of Manhattan, always taking time to point out the criminal mischief at this corner, the mayhem at that address, and the murders all around. With more than 400 medical/historical photographs and artwork ... hundreds of delightfully deadly little factoids of the "final crossing" ... humorous and poignant epitaphs ... and a 46-page bibliography and source notes section, Final Exits will keep you engaged and entertained as you skim through deaths both commonplace and bizarre of folks both famous and ordinary. The phrase, "kick the bucket" refers to the platform from which a person hangs him or herself. Stand on a bucket, give it a quick kick, and well, you know the rest.) Be amazed, be appalled, but by all means, have fun reading Final Exits - in or out of the family powder room. Look for it this October (just in time for Halloween) and have a howling good time!

Children's Book Review: The Family Book by Todd Parr

Roberta Rosenberg — Sat, 29 Jul 2006 15:51:15 EDT

To paraphrase Sojourner Truth, "Ain't mine a family?" Despite what many on the far right of the political/cultural spectrum would have you believe, there are many ways to be a family, and Todd Parr's The Family Book celebrates them all -- in all their variations and diversity -- with simple, hand-printed text and simple, neon-bright and utterly appealing illustrations. "Some families are the same color. Some families are different colors. All families like to HUG each other!" "Some families have two moms or two dads. Some families have one parent instead of two. All families like to celebrate special days together!" How can families be different yet still the same? The Family Book answers all! Every family -- adopted families, step-families, one-parent families, families with two parents of the same sex, and traditional families -- love each other, support each other, are sad when they lose someone they love, and celebrate special days together. It's the love that binds us close to each other that makes us a family, not its conformity to a singlular configuration or definition. "There are lots of different ways to be a family. Your family is special no matter what kind it is." A much-loved children's author and illustrator, Todd Parr has over 20 picture books to his credit. (A particular favorite of mine is My Really Cool Baby Book. Sadly, it's no longer in print but you can still find it through Amazon and other specialty outlets.) The Family Book, like all of his work, shares a reassuring and affirming message that will help children, especially those who live in family situations outside the traditional "norm", feel good about themselves and their very special families. A wonderful read for children of all ages, a definite must for children aged two to four. So to answer the question, "Ain't mine a family?" You betcha! Get The Family Book for your own little kiddos and show them how!

Book Review: Two Little Girls, A Memoir of Adoption by Theresa Reid

Roberta Rosenberg — Mon, 24 Jul 2006 18:44:12 EDT

I review many, many adoptive parent memoirs as my online store, AdoptShoppe, specializes in adoption books and gifts. Most are sent to me by their authors, sometimes their publishers. Chronicling their family's adoption journey - personal and geographical - all the memoirs I've read are deeply heartfelt and undoubtedly served their purpose as a cathartic release for their respective authors. Few, however, are particularly well-written or bring anything new to the genre (which, if I glance at the pile on my office floor, is growing exponentially.) The typical adoptive parent memoir structure is (feel free to take notes): We're infertile; We try reproductive technology/we don't try reproductive technology; We decide to adopt - we read books, take courses, talk to friends, cruise the web; We decide on domestic vs. international (most I read decide on the latter); We pick the country and the agency; We stress about the paperwork, the details, and friends/family who don't understand and say strange and hurtful things to us; We travel, which is fine, not so fine, pretty damn awful depending on the leg of the trip; Our accommodations generally suck but we soldier on; We meet the child, he/she is incredibly beautiful and wonderful - or not; We spend time with the child - we are either madly in love and completely besotted or we think, "What have we gotten ourselves into?" We complete the adoption with a lot of stress, lost/missing paperwork, disinterested bureaucrats/greedy lawyers; We leave feeling relieved/sad/overwhelmed; We come home promising our child, ourselves, and G-d almighty that we will love this child unconditionally, honor his/her heritage, and work on becoming a good and loving family.As I said, almost all adoptive parent memoirs follow this general story outline. However, every once in a while, a memoir comes along that blows me completely away. Two Little Girls, A Memoir of Adoption is such a memoir. Does it follow the story structure I've outlined above? Absolutely, but it does it with craft, wit, fierce intelligence, and an astonishing candor that will keep the reader engaged and eager to turn each page. The author, Theresa Reid, and her husband enjoyed successful careers, hers as executive director of the American Professional Society on the Abuse of Children, his as a physician. Like so many couples, they found themselves unable to conceive on their own or with the help of technology. They decide to adopt from Eastern Europe. Their first adoption, a little girl from Russia, went relatively smoothly. Their second adoption, eventually another little girl, this time from Ukraine, was a series of gut-wrenching, nightmarish events. There were many false starts and dashed hopes. Mountains of paperwork. Recriminations between spouses stressed by their own fears and doubts. The extreme poverty of Ukraine and the poor conditions of its orphanages were a tough read as this reviewer sat in the comfort of her comfortable, middle-class American home. The story, however, does end on a happy, satisfying note. Truly, this is a memoir that kept me riveted in every possible way, and not just as the mother of three children, two of whom were adopted as infants from South Korea in the late 1990s. This is simply a first-rate telling of a personal journey to parenthood and self-awareness that any reader would want to dip into and stay awhile. Now having heaped praise on Two Little Girls, a few caveats and personal observations, this time with my "Adoptive Mom" hat firmly in place. Ms. Reid is extremely candid as she shares her reasons why she chose to adopt a child from Eastern Europe as opposed to China, Korea, or other sending country. In short, she didn't want to hassle the race thing (and to be fair, there are adoption professionals and transracially adopted persons who would share her feelings on the matter). She also didn't want a child who had "issues." In her words, she wanted the "Princess of the Orphanage" both times. (Her first daughter fit the bill; her second daughter presented possible challenges that gave both the author and her husband great pause). She also talks about wanting to give her first daughter a sister, almost as a gift, rather than expressing a strong desire to parent another child. Let's just say, she and I would disagree on all these points and maybe a few more. I also found many of her observations and remarks, about people's appearances, the conditions of their homes, etc. snarky and superior in tone. But what she does in this memoir so compellingly is just lay it all out there. She doesn't try to win the reader's heart with her goodness. She's mean, unattractive, and petulant many times during this grueling process. She also, bravely to my mind, gives voice to many of the unspoken, barely whispered doubts and misgivingss adoptive parents have as they enter the process on one side and come out the other. Two Little Girls will challenge and intrigue you every step of the way. I may not have liked Ms Reid during the time I spent with her memoir, but I admire her courage greatly. It's not many of us who would lay our hearts bare and unappealing, allowing others into our deepest, most personal thoughts. Although written primarily for adoptive parents, I don't think you have to be one, or even a parent at all for that matter, to find this memoir a fine and deeply moving read.

Children's Book Review: The Legend of Hong Kil Dong, The Robin Hood of Korea, by Anne Sibley O'Brien

Roberta Rosenberg — Sun, 16 Jul 2006 21:01:00 EDT

The Legend of Hong Kil Dong, The Robin Hood of Korea, retells the classic 17th-century Korean tale, considered by scholars to be the first novel written in Hangul, the Korean alphabetic script, in an engaging and enjoyable graphic novel style. "The story begins this way ..."Hong Kil Dong, the son of a powerful minister, is forbidden his birthright as his mother is a maidservant in his father's household. Although smart, spirited and studious, Kil Dong's illegitimate birth makes it impossible for him to pursue those professions open only to the upper classes. The household staff and his father's favorite concubine torment him so he leaves to study martial arts, divination, swordplay, the uses of magic, and the wisdom of the I Ching, Book of Changes at a monastery far from home. After many seasons, he returns to the household but is worse off than before. The concubine arranges to have Kil Dong murdered. However, sensing the coming danger, he uses his magic to kill his assassin and once again leaves the house of his birth to wander the mountains in search of his destiny. Impressing a ragtag group of bandits with his incredible physical strength, the bandits elect him leader and share with him their personal tales of injustice that have brought them to a life of shame and crime. Kil Dong, infuriated and emboldened, trains the bandits to become a personal army to steal back from the corrupt what rightfully belongs to the people. At the story's conclusion, Kil Dong and his father have made peace with each other and Kil Dong, now having the respect of the King himself, shares his personal vision of justice for his people. Then, in a swirl of clouds and mist, he vanishes. It is said he and his men sail to an island with Kil Dong as its ruler, a place where men advance by skill and virtue, not by class or parentage.Well-written and colorfully illustrated by Anne Sibley O'Brien, who grew up bilingual and bicultural in South Korea, this fast-moving adventure story -- and cautionary tale for the wicked -- captures the drama and pageantry of 16th-century Korea. The author includes two pages of notes and charming illustrations that explain the history of Korea during the Chosun Dynasty, Korean symbols, clothing styles, and word pronunciation. An especially appealing part of the story's background is that, because the novel was written in Hangul, it was able to read by Koreans of all classes, not just the nobility. Kil Dong himself would have strongly approved, I'm sure. Source notes are also appended for additional reading. Children from ages 4-8 will enjoy having the story read to them; older children (ages 9-12) will prefer reading it themselves.As my youngest two children are of Korean birth, I have a particular interest in children's stories that showcase the culture of Korea through its history and literature, especially its folklore. I have no doubt that The Legend of Hong Kil Dong will quickly become a favorite at my house. And not just because it's a rollicking good Robin Hood-type story, which it most assuredly is. At its heart, The Legend of Hong Kil Dong delivers a message to all children that parentage and circumstances of birth aren't destiny, but merely a starting point on a personal journey during which all of us sit as captain. Where we go and how we get there resides squarely in our talents, resourcefulness, strength of desire and maybe a little self-made magic - an important message that even grown-ups should revisit often.

Children's Book Review: Little Lost Bat by Sandra Markle

Roberta Rosenberg — Sat, 8 Jul 2006 19:00:02 EDT

As the owner of AdoptShoppe, I get the chance to read and review many children's books about adoption, but Little Lost Bat is a truly unique contribution to the genre. Sensitively told without being sentimental, Little Lost Bat recounts the story of a newborn Mexican free-tailed bat and his mother. Their world is a dangerous place. The floor of the bat nursery swarms with hungry insects that are eager for tasty little bat babies to fall down, down, down. Outside the cave, mother bats are vulnerable to hawks, owls, and all manner of predators. As you can imagine, since this is an adoption story, the little bat's first mother is lost to him. A new mother, whose baby was lost to her, listens to the sad "sh-sh-sh" cry of this scared and hungry little bat baby. At the end of story, a new family is formed and all are satisfied.Written by the award-winning Sandra Markle, this beautifully realized story is unusual in the amount of factual information it shares about this particular bat species. Also, too, it doesn't flinch when telling of the demise of the little bat's mother. The death is sad but matter of fact. The delicately drawn illustrations by Alan Marks capture the rich darkness of the cave and wide expanse of the night sky – as well as the soft sweetness of the mother/baby bat relationship. Very nicely done.Whenever I receive a children's story to review, I always read it with my own children. My youngest two are adopted from Korea. They are ages 8-1/2 and 7-1/2. They both gave Little Lost Bat a big thumbs-up. Though saddened by the death of the first mother bat, they liked how the baby bat and his new mother found each other at the story's end.I reviewed this as an adoption story. (If your children liked Stellaluna, they should enjoy Little Lost Bat, too.) But easily, this wonderful storybook should interest and enchant all children who like stories about animal families. Parents, take note: you won't mind re-reading this one whenever you're asked.

4th of July Parade in My New Hometown

Roberta Rosenberg — Tue, 4 Jul 2006 14:05:22 EDT

I generally don't like parades. Too hokey, or worse, a celebration of militarism, over-ripe patriotism, and it's too damn not.But I made an exception for today. Having moved to our new community last year, I thought it would be fun for the family (hubby and my three kids -- cats stayed home) to attend the town's annual Independence Day parade. We drove about a mile to where the parade was to start, brought a folding chair and some water. I was prepared not to have fun. But I did. The parade was mostly local churches, businesses, a brigade of antique firetrucks and automobiles, and a ton of folks running for office this November -- from the school board all the way to Governor of Maryland. Someone came over and offered the crowd O'Malley/Brown for Governor signs. Before they got to me, one of the parents next to me shooed away the O'Malley rep with a dismissive, "We're not political." Immediately, I said, "I am!" and took the sign. Granted, I'm a supporter of the candidate, but it struck me that here we were...at a parade celebrating the ultimate political act -- a bold and reckless call for independence 230 years ago -- and this guy wasn't political. (I wore a "JFK for President" button to kindergarten in 1960 so you know I'm political in the bones.)I guess my neighbor was there for the free candy and frisbees.My eldest daughter wondered why the parade was littered with political candidates. I told her THAT was the tradition. We were celebrating the exercise of freedom to assemble, freedom to speak, freedom to worship -- all wrapped in a single local parade. (The free bottles of cold water were nice, too.)I still don't love parades, but after today, I hate them a little less. Hope you enjoy a spectacular day celebrating!