We were a musical family. Not like the von Trapps or the Osmonds or the Beach Boys. We sang for fun. We sang on car trips and around the house. Daddy had a beautiful singing voice. He could sing harmony, too. And he could whistle.
     Mom could whistle, too, but she wasn't much of a singer. She taught our Girl Scout troop campfire-type songs and commented to me, when I was much older, that she always wondered how we learned the melodies. 
      There must be something innate about singing on key. Or not. Mom always said she could hear the right notes in her head, but they never came out the way she heard them.
       We all played musical instruments, too. Daddy played the banjo. Mom played clarinet. My brother and sister both played violin and I played piano. My grandmother played the mandolin, but I never heard her play. She could play the piano, too, but I never heard her play that either. My grandfather couldn't carry a tune in a bucket and he did not play an instrument, but he appreciated our music Someone always needs to be the audience, and he played that role very well.
      Sometimes we gathered around and sang show tunes, but I wouldn't call anything we did a jam session. It was all petty informal, except for our practice times. Those were enforced.
       I'm thinking about music this week because the Eurovision Sang Contest just finished up in Lisbon, Portugal.
       Since 1956, countries in Europe (mostly) compete for the top spot in the contest. Not very many people in the US have even heard of Eurovision, but it really is a world-wide big deal. There is no prize money involved for winning the contest, but the notoriety speaks (sings?) for itself.
       Last week, Israel's Netta Barzilai won Eurovision with her song, Toy, delivering Israel's fourth Eurovision victory. Although Netta was always aware of the music scene, she only gained the confidence she needed to be part of it a few years ago. And her singing career only began last year when she auditioned for and won a spot in the contest. According to Wikipedia, her music video received more than 20 million views in March, 2018, two months before the beginning of Eurovision. You can watch it on YouTube.
       Most of the time my music tends to be mellow or folksy. Simon and Garfunkel, some of the older Beatles, tunes, ballads in general. I also like Chopin.
       So while Netta's Toy will probably never be one of *my* favorite tunes, like my grandpa, I do appreciate her enthusiastic delivery.
                                               Keep a. song in your heart! and
                                               --stay curious!
​
       I'm reading Young Jane Young by Gabrielle Zevin. (Algonquin, 2017). So far it's light-hearted, but I sense something big coming. (I'm only on page 39! Stay tuned.)
                                               
       
       

​ 

     “...when we first moved to America, I would tell [my mother] that I missed home, especially the ocean.
     “When you say something out loud, it makes it a big truth. Best to keep it in your mind and keep it small,” she’d say.
                                                            from: Blackbird Fly
                                                  written by Erin Entrada Kelly
                                                               Greenwillow, 2015
 
       There is a difference between truth and reality. There is also a difference between Truth and truth. A lot of the difference has to do with perspection. But not all.
       Some things are simply true. An oak tree (and only an oak tree) will, given proper conditions, sprout from an acorn. Abraham Lincoln was president during the Civil War. Arithmetic. These can be proved.
       Some things are simply real. The ocean tides. Summer fading to Autumn. Gravity. These are observable.
       How much we allow our perceptions to color our truths and our reality depends on a variety of factors. And those factors are usually in flux.
       Last weekend, my daughter took my six-year-old granddaughter to a Unicorn Festival. A grand time was being had. Hot dogs on a stick and other fare were offered. Games were available to play and win.
       And Unicorns were on display. Prancing around in a ring. Several unicorns.
       Of course, my granddaughter was dressed for the occasion. She wore her unicorn headband, which, when worn correctly and not observed too closely, made a horn appear to grow from just above her forehead.
       She got as up close and personal to the Unicorns as she was allowed. She asked the Unicorn Trainer if those were real unicorns. When he said yes, she asked what the horns were made of. He looked right at her and told her in a no-nonsense tone, “They are made of the same material as your horn.”
       If the answer surprised or flustered my granddaughter, she did not let on. She replied in the Trainer’s same no-nonsense tone, “It’s not nice to lie to children.”
       While her answer was perceptive, astute, and true, I wanted some follow up. I wanted to know if she believed she was a unicorn. I don’t think so. Or, if like her, the miniature horses were playing dress-up. I do think so. Or if it was the Unicorn Trainer’s way of telling a young child who still believes in magic and that her mother is always right and knows everything, that there is no such thing as a real unicorn. I hope not.
       So, I’m not sure if my granddaughter’s perception of the Truth of Unicorns changed that day. I think she still believes in the Tooth Fairy. And does it really matter if there is a tooth fairy? or Unicorns? I think that is a matter of perception.
       Which comes back to the question. How do we know what is true? How do we know what is real? Beyond observations and proofs, there is Truth. The Big Truth that can’t change, the Truth a society tacitly agrees on. That good conquers evil, that lies will be discovered, that experience breeds wisdom.
       Our society is in a state of flux. Not everyone believes good will prevail, that lies will be punished, that experience is an insightful teacher.
       Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe.
       Maybe all we can know for sure is what we believe.
       And that's the Truth.
                                                                   --stay curious!
     

            One day not long after her arrival in Savannah, [Juliette Gordon Lowe aka Daisy] called her cousin, Nina Anderson Pape. “Come right over,” she shouted into the telephone. “I’ve got something for the girls of Savannah and all America and all the world, and we are going to start it tonight!”
     from First Girl Scout: The Life of Juliette Gordon Low
written by Ginger Wadsworth
Clarion Books, 2012
 
       Last week, Boy Scouts of America announced it is changing its name. Soon it will be called Scouts BSA. I can only wonder what prompted the change.
       My mom was a Campfire Girl when she was growing up. I was a Brownie.
       Mom said Girl Scouts were more modern, more in tune with current affairs. She beaded a beautiful bracelet and a pair of moccasins when she was a Campfire Girl. She wanted me to learn how to take care of myself and others. She wanted to help me become independent.
       Our troop started out as Brownies in 1959. We were in 2nd grade.
       We moved up to Juniors in 4th grade, then Cadettes in 6th.     
       We did all the Girl Scout things: sang campfire songs in our meeting room (the basement of our suburban Cape Cod home), earned badges, sold cookies (door to door in those days), and learned to be an important part of a whole. We worked together, friends helping friends.
       Thinking Day, February 22, is the one day each year set aside for all Girl Guides and Girl Scouts to think of each other. The event began as a way for girls to nurture new friendships. In 1926, girls came from all over the world and spent a week at Camp Macy in upstate New York. Since then, Thinking Day has evolved into a world exploration. Girls research the culture of different countries and share the information with other troops in their area.
       Always an independent thinker herself, one time, Mom chose Suriname. In 1954, the South American colony began negotiations with the Dutch government that would lead to its independence. Suriname was younger than we were.
       Another time it was Sierra Leone, an African country that achieved independence from the United Kingdom in 1961, the same year we became Junior Girl Scouts.
       I’d like to say that I kept in touch with all, or even some, or even one of the girls in my troop, but I did not. In all fairness to me, though, neither did they. After 6th grade we went our separate ways. Our different focuses had changed to reflect our own changing selves and our roles in the vast social strata of Junior High School and beyond.
       My older daughter was a Girl Scout for one school year. My younger daughter started as a Brownie and went all through high school with her troop. As Seniors, they earned their Gold Award, the highest Girl Scout honor, by completing a nature trail for the local elementary school.
       Now my older granddaughter is a Brownie. She goes to her meetings, sells cookies, and just completed her first Girl Scout camping experience.
       And now the boys are inviting girls to join them. They’ve even changed their name. To make it more palatable? Some girls have already joined. The full change will be implemented in February, 2019.
       According to MetroNews.com, the Girl Scouts has no plans to start accepting boys into their organization.
       I’m glad about that.
​
       I’m reading Origin by Dan Brown. Plot driven. Fast paced. Intriguing premise. Feeling a little manipulated by the ongoing mystery, though.
                                                                   --stay curious!
 
 

No book ever ends
When it’s full of your friends.

                                     from: The Giraffe and the Pelly and Me
                                                           written by Roald Dahl
                                                    illustrated by Quentin Blake
                                                            Jonathan Cape, 1985
 
       Several years ago someone asked me why it is important to read. The thought stopped me in my tracks. It felt like the answer was something everyone should know, but just like the answer to “why is the sky blue?” I suspected the answer was complicated.
       I’m not sure what I answered at the time, but I’ve been thinking about it ever since. Of course I came up with a list (in no particular order):

• Discover current information about the world
• Learn something new
• Become more interesting
• Find a new role model in a biography or memoir
• For entertainment
• Keep my brain active
• Have something in common with my kids, grandkids, and friends

 
       When I was still working, I’d visit classrooms in the spring to get the kids excited about Summer Reading. I always told them that just like they need to exercise their bodies by riding bikes or swimming or playing, it is important to exercise their brains, too. Reading is the best way.
       I used to read children’s books so I could recommend them to children when they came to the library. But because my dream of becoming a published children’s author is still very much alive, I continue to read lots of children’s books. Also I like them.
       I did not have the kind of mom who pulled me up on her lap and read bedtime stories (or other stories, either). I had the kind of mom who took me to the library whenever I wanted and let me pick out my own books. I don’t remember having a limit, but the library might have had one.
       My books were funny and contemporary. I loved fairy tales and biographies. I liked mysteries. I was not a fast reader, and I still am not. When I was in high school, my grandmother gave me her copy of Little Women. I think she told me it was her favorite book. It took two years, really, but I read it. I liked it, too.
       Sometimes I read to my little brother. The Cat in the Hat, some Grimm stories from a collection we had, and one of his (and my) favorite picture books, a Little Golden Book, called The Big Brown Bear about a bear who didn’t listen to his wife about staying out of the honey tree. Disney/Hyperion, which itself falls under the Random House/Penguin umbrella, acquired Little Golden Books several years ago and made it an imprint. Now you can find some of those cardboard covered, gold-spined gems in the library.
       This week is International Literacy Association-sponsored “Right to Read” week. The primary focus of the week is to promote reading by asking children to vote for their favorite book. Awards are given for books with the most votes, divided by grade level. The ILA times their week to match up with Children’s Book Week, administered by the Children’s Book Council, a non-profit trade organization of book publishers.
       So go to your library, (or book shelf) find a child, (or Skype or Facetime your grandchildren), and read something together.
 
       I’m reading The Land of Forgotten Girls by Erin Entrada Kelly. (Greenwillow, 2016)
 
                                                                   --stay curious!
                                                               and have fun, too.