Fathers Day Reflections; Reposting a Review

 Today is Fathers' Day. If we're honest with ourselves, each day of our lives we are reflections of the roles our fathers played, for good or bad, whether we knew them or not, None of us would be here to write or read this unless we hade been fathered at some point in the process that led to eyes to this page. 

I've written celebrations of fathers, mine included, on past Fathers' Days (HERE, HERE, HERE). It was my great joy to have wonderful parents, including a dad who was devoted to being the best he could be. How he defined that responsibility was not always how I might have written the  part, but that's generally a good thing. Uppermost in my memory is the absolute certainty that he loved us unconditionally. As a kid, I focused on the "conditional" aspects of life, always clearly presented-- grades, curfews, fights with siblings, chores, etc. Through it all, the beauty of my childhood is that i really never needed to question whether or not any infraction could shatter that parental love. It was a foundation I wish for every life born into the world. 

With that said, today I was drawn to a book that I featured back in 2020. (Yep, even typing that year brings memories of pandemic era). Thankfully, libraries were some of the first institutions that found ways to get back into business. I read and wrote my way through those tough days, thanks to libraries. And publishers managed to keep releasing books, although the flow reduced for quite a while. Even so, one new title reached me that comes to mind over and over through the years since then. 

NEAL PORTER BOOKS, 2020

I TALK LIKE A RIVER is written by Jordan Scott and illustrated by Sydney Smith. My review of it at the time can be read HERE, if interested. In that review I focused on the remarkable qualities of the writing and the illustration that later garnered major awards. (This creative pair have since produced other titles that also win awards. Check them out.)

Today, Fathers' Day, this memorable picture book came to mind yet again. It's a book about a boy who struggles with stuttering, although that is never said explicitly. We know the boy struggles. That his internal view of himself reflects the reactions he reads from others as he tries to express his ideas and feelings. 

His struggles for fluency are illuminated, literally in the images (an al-time best cover, IMO) and lyrically ninth narrative. I found myself connected with his self-doubt and longing, though I never stuttered. (Those who grew up with me likely wished that i would be tongue-tied!).

What I felt throughout, and what is minimally but powerfully referenced within the brief text, is the power of his father's acceptance and advice. 

By guiding his son to a metaphor that invites identity with strength, power, change, and beauty, the father didn't simply help his son through a particular incident or life challenge. He offered an analogy, a tool, a source of strength  that could be accessed in the moment and in the future. He presented an alternative to the immediacy of pain and struggle, a light at the end of the tunnel, a way through the present and into the future, providing relief in the moment and promise of better times. 

I just finished reading two (excellent) adult novels in which fathers are portrayed with recognizable strength and abilities. The stories involved sports, business, communities, and many settings in which fatherly advice is passed to the next generation, including coaching. Today's various tributes to dads in social media, news shorts, and more will express thanks for love and support, mention dad jokes and golf or other sports, and otherwise celebrate the ways fathers have shaped our lives. Life lessons will be celebrated, from work habits to honesty to fairness. ALL are worthy of praise. 

When this book came to mind, and then lingered, I wondered what it was about this particular father that had reached out to me. Reflection brought me to this:

SMALL MOMENTS of FAITH

INSTILLING CONFIDENCE

I could be wrong, but I can't imagine many cards or memes or other quick-shot accolades to fathers will focus on those two aspects of powerful "father-ing". Perhaps I'm wrong, but I wanted to call it out here. I hope you will read the book I shared. It will do a better job than I have at making clear what I've tried to say. Whether your own "father" was biological or found (a step parent, a coach, a neighbor, or teacher), I hope you can reflect, too, and recognize small moments in which you felt seen in moments of weakness, and led to a sense of competence. When your capacity to deal with hard things was revealed to you and affrirmed by a trusted adult. When you recognized your own power. 

If so, and if you are lucky enough to still have that person in your lives, consider talking about that with them. I would if i could. 

A Personal Story about HOW TO TIE A SHOE

I began this blog with liltle-to-no understanding of how to do it. But I knew I had something to say and decided to go for it. Some of my most personal and frequently viewed posts were from those early efforts, developed during a steep learning curve. 

That's pretty much me in a nutshell.

I seem to have been born with a determination to NOT be left behind, to learn everything I could, and to prove that I could do things I if I set out to do them. 

Don't confuse that with arrogance or ego.

I know my limits, and they are many. Even so, my youngest memories included an I CAN DO IT mindset that has, over the years, served me well, despite some spectacular face splats along the way.

Penny Candy Books, 2020

Here's a prime example:
As a youngest, then middle child, I was determined to do, to go, to copy everything my older brother and sister were doing. Picture those kid-dense neighborhoods of the fitties, playing outdoors from dawn-to-dusk. 
That's where and how we grew up, running in packs and playing in dirt lots, neighborhood parks, under lawn sprinklers, and pumping bike pedals. 
These were multi-aged kid-packs and the age-range was wide.  Upper-age kids would gradually peel off and younger ones would eventually tag along, keeping the population of the pack fairly stable. 
Even before kindergarten age, I was certain I belonged in that pack and tried to join daily. Depending on the activity, I might manage to chase the ice cream truck, to catch lightning bugs, or otherwise serve an apprenticeship to prove that I could keep up. 
I will never forget the day I sat on the top stoop of our front steps and called out to the gathering pack, "Wait for me, I'm coming." 
Someone older among them looked at the dangling laces on my sneakers and said, "You can't even tie your own shoes. You can't come."
My rage was such that I didn't think to ask for help, I shouted, "I CAN TOO TIE MY SHOES!"
Which I could not.
But I did. 
Right then and there.
And then I jumped up and ran after them, not pausing to wonder at what I had done or to wait for applause. 
I just did it. And I did it every day after that.

Ask any parent or kindergarten or preschool teacher how rare that result was. I credit not my manual dexterity but my determination and blind faith for my success.

Here's a short musical YOUTUBE clip that will remind  adults how tricky the process is, despite the clever and seemingly simple directions. There are also countless books and interactive toys allowing kids to practice the actual mechanism of tying shoes.

HOW TO TIE A SHOE & OTHER BIG ADVENTURES, created by SKIP HILL, takes a different approach. It's a HOW-TO book about building confidence, celebrating past success, and diving into daunting situations with both feet (and hands). The focus is on recognizing one's own agency and the exciting consequences of stepping forward into adventures. 

Interior spread: Penny Candy Books 2020

From the opening spread, it is clear that motivation and confidence can overcome even a massive serving of slippery spaghetti. Each page invites smiles, predictions about the direction of the text, and nods of recognition. 
The realistic black-and-white line drawings of diverse kids in a variety of settings connect young readers with memories of satisfying and successful experiences. 

This is not about the mechanics of tying shoes but about the mentality of making a stab at it. 
This is the first of a series of planned books and I look forward to reading the upcoming releases. 

Kirkus reviews gave it a well-earned star, and provided this quote:
"A quirky picture book that respects the intelligence of children."

How We See Ourselves: HENRY THE BOY

How we see ourselves matters. It is shaped in both subtle and obvious ways, rooted in early childhood, and, all to often, negatively affected by those around us. That can happen intentionally, through bullying, but also through the most casual of comments, glances, or even subconscious bias and consistent micro-aggressions.

Penny Candy Books, April, 2019

HENRY THE BOY is written by Molly Felder and illustrated by the mother-son team of Tara Sweeney and Nate Christopherson. It is true for all picture books that the story begins on the cover. In this case I especially urge you to linger at the cover, before knowing anything else about Henry.  Ask yourself what it tells you about Henry and who this boy really is. Here's what I came up with:

• Henry the Boy with curious eyes. 
• Henry the Boy with a big imagination.
• Henry the Boy living in a colorful world of possibilities.
• Henry the Boy with places to go and things to do.
• Henry the Boy with feelings.

Oh, perhaps you also noted that Henry the Boy wears glasses and has crutches. Those are also his truth, but are such small parts of HENRY THE BOY. The cover encourages readers to begin by seeing HENRY THE BOY, not Henry, the boy on crutches.

The illustrators use a combination of surrealistic distortions and additions to surround Henry, but safely embed those into stable and familiar scenes. Henry begins his day with a smile, using his sticker-covered crutches to descend steps, that are, in his reality, extremely steep. The images also reveal that coming downstairs to breakfast is a familiar challenge he has mastered, smiling while envisioning his sticker-covered, clicking crutches as his heron legs. 

It is during interactions with others, from classmates to his friend Joel, that Henry confronts the labels others use for him. Even if meant in fun (robot, chicken) Henry the BOY knows they are seeing that last detail, those crutches, as the most important one about him. They are erasing his agency and empowerment to reshape his perception of himself. 
And they are hurting his feelings.

With that problem presented in the first pages, Henry and Joel are free to have fun- on the playground, on their walk home, and in Henry's muddy backyard. Their adventures unleash the illustrators to splash the backgrounds with vibrant color and "people" the foreground with fine-lined drawings of the various metaphorical comparisons that arise throughout the book. Henry's freedom to just be a BOY in these pages is empowering, as is the end-of-play moment in which Henry manages to use his crutches to stand up on his own, no helping hand required. The help of being allowed to be a BOY has already been given.

Henry's busy day ends as we would hope-- with Henry the BOY as happy as he was when the day began. His book, his collection of object-friends, and his experience of acceptance and engagement with Joel have provided the confidence for Henry to be a BOY.

The combination of color, curiously engaging line drawings, and story will draw the youngest back to this book again and again. In the process, they will meet HENRY the BOY, absorbing the appealing sense that we are all more alike than different, and we can do more than others might imagine we can. In the process this offers a wealth of discussion potential about topics of resilience, empathy, confidence, and problem solving. 

An advance copy of this book was provided by the publisher in exchange for an honest review. It is available now for preorder with a publication date of April 2.