It takes but one gust of wind
and all at once--
everything
is yellow
and red
and orange
all over
all around
right in the middle of Fall.
                                          from In the Middle of Fall
                                            written by Kevin Henkes
                                       illustrated by Laura Dronzek
              Greenwillow Books / HarperCollinsPublishers, 2017 

    This morning as I type, a leafstorm cascades outside my kitchen window. I plan an afternoon walk to the library. The sun is bright, the wind is calm, the air is dry. A perfect Indian Summer day. Wait, what? Is it still acceptable to call this weather that? 
    Turns out, not really. Since November, 2020, when the American Meteorological Society renamed this unseasonably warm weather Second Summer, that has become its most accepted name. 
    No one knows the real origin of the term Indian Summer. Some say it is an Algonquin term supporting a belief that the “great spirit” Cautantowwit, a southwestern god, gifted the People with a warm wind from his court. Some say it originated in New England when Indigenous people gathered their harvest and prepared for Winter.    
    Another explanation says this short time in late October or early November was named Indian Summer because when the cold took hold, European settlers took a respite from Indian attacks. When the inevitable warm spell returned, Native People, sometimes violently, reminded the settlers that before they arrived, Indigenous People lived on the land. 
    According to The Old Farmer's Almanac, timing is crucial. A true Second Summer falls between the parentheses of very cool days, even a hard frost, and the first snowfall. And even more precisely, between November 11 and November 20 in any given year. 
    Cultures evolve by naming and re-naming.
    During this unseasonably warm Second Summer day in Northeastern Ohio, I’ll take my own short respite to take advantage of another gorgeous day.

          -—be curious! (and celebrate Autumn, in all its beauty!)

   “Are you a lost toy, too?” asked a teddy bear.
    “Um…yes,” lied Pinocchio. His wooden nose began to itch.
    “I have no family,” said the teddy bear.
    “Nor do I,” lied Pinocchio. His itchy nose began to grow.
                                       from The Story of Pinocchio
                                        written by Carlo Collodi, 1883
                                               retold by Katie Daynes
                                                Usborne Books, 2005 
                                     Illustrated by Mauro Evangelista
                                      accessed on YouTube 10/16/22
                                                    read by Mr. Moon

    When my older daughter was an inquisitive four-year-old, she had a very scary nightmare about Pinocchio. He was in her bedroom terrorizing her. Was she afraid because he was a puppet that turned into a real boy? Or that he caused so much trouble by being naughty? It could have been that his nose grew each time he told a lie. I never learned why my daughter was scared. But she was terribly afraid. 
    When I convinced her to tell me why she was so upset, she told me about her nightmare. I offered Pinocchio my hand. My daughter held onto my other hand and we walked to the bottom of the stairs. She opened the front door and I told Pinocchio it was time for him to go home. When my daughter agreed that he had indeed left, she closed the door behind him. Pinocchio never came back. 
    I don’t know what inspired me to calm her down that way, but I’m very grateful it worked.
    My daughter insisted she always told me the truth. About everything. While I’m sure that’s not exactly accurate, she may have believed she was telling me the truth. Experts tell us that we all lie. Everyone of us. Lies help us connect our wishes of who we are and who we long to be, with who we really are. 
    Sometimes we are protecting someone’s dignity or our own when we lie. Some people lie for financial gain or they lie to gain power. Most people know when they lie, but about 7% of us don’t know why we do it. 
    According to Pamela Meyer in her 2011 TED talk, How to Spot a Liar, lying is a co-operative act. We will believe what a person tells us, whether or not they told a lie, because we are willing to believe them.
    Children begin to lie when they learn to use language. They test the parameters of how far they can influence and manipulate their environment. When a seven or eight-year-old tells their parent a lie and doesn’t “get caught,” they learn that parents can’t read their minds and that parents believe what they are told. And it sets them up for becoming willing believers, too.
    But we are not children. We’re living in a time when our very Democracy is in peril. It is election season again, and political ads are never like news. As a matter of fact, candidates in political ads are allowed to lie. It’s in the Constitution, in the First Amendment. The one that protects free speech. This protection is an essential concept in American Democracy. We can express our ideas and, unless we are promoting something unlawful, the government cannot prohibit that speech. Duke University explains it this way on their YouTube channel: “If speech is political in nature, no matter how outrageous and offensive it might be, it may still be protected by the First Amendment.” 
    Ads, by their very nature, are made to get our attention. The Federal Trade Commission (FTC) regulates what can be said in a commercial advertisement. That protects us as consumers from false claims made by drug companies, toy companies, car manufacturers and anyone else trying to sell us something. 
    While the FTC oversees commercial speech, and while there’s some overlap when it comes to advertising on the internet, it’s the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) that regulates our First Amendment right to free speech.
    Part of the First Amendment says the government cannot force us to say something against our will. But politicians say what they want us to believe. Often, we are willing believers. We believe their ads, especially when derogatory comments fly back and forth from opponents.
    Courts have allowed candidates to say what they want on federally regulated broadcast channels. The broadcasters are not allowed to reject an ad, even if it is blatantly false. And while they must disclose who is paying for the ad, some superPACs are named purposefully to deceive. Some disclosures go by so fast that they are unreadable or unable to be understood. 
    Cable channels can and do sometimes reject ads. So do digital advertising platforms like Facebook and Twitter. 
    When an idea rings true, it’s often said to be “on the nose.” The American Heritage Idioms Dictionary says “on the nose” comes from boxing. When a punch landed accurately, it landed on the opponent’s nose.
    Journalists have a “nose for news,” the instinctive sense for what makes a big story. They can sniff out a story that is interesting to lots of people. The phrase is said to come from the radio newsroom where a technician would lay their finger alongside their nose to indicate when the newscaster should begin to speak.
    Since we can’t believe everything (anything?) we hear, we need to stay informed by reading and listening to reliable, non-partisan sources, journalists who have a “nose for news” and give us stories that are right “on the nose.” 
    My daughter’s nightmare aside, wouldn’t life be easier if politicians (and journalists for that matter) had noses like Pinocchio’s? 
                                     be curious! (and a little skeptical) 

    “Come with me,” said the fox. He led the dog to his creepy house.
    The fox turned on his oven. “You would be good with carrots and onions,” he muttered.
    “Who are carrots and onions?” the dog asked.
                                  .    .    .
    Soon he could hear [his lady] calling, “Baked Potato, Baked Potato.” 
                                  .    .    .
    He jumped into her arms and she showered him with kisses. “My little Baked Potato,” she cooed, squeezing him tight. “I might have known you’d like walks in the rain. You’re just like me.”
                                           from I’m a Baked Potato!
                                                   by Elise Primavera
                                          illustrated by Juana Medina
                                                  Chronicle Kids, 2019
                                     accessed on YouTube, 10/10/22

    Whenever someone hurt my feelings with a thoughtless remark about my new curly hairdo, or my Bobby socks, or the way I did (or tried to do) gymnastics, my mom would remind me that “sticks and stones could break my bones, but names could never hurt me.” She thought she was helping me understand that kids could be mean, but I could be resilient. She was only half right. Kids could be very mean. But I was not that resilient.
    Sticks and stones, like bricks and bombs really can break bones, and other body parts and even communities and even whole societies. And, it turns out, names can do just as much harm. Maybe even more.
    As my daughter recently reminded me, the strongest muscle in anyone’s body is their tongue. It has the power to hurt and also has the power to heal. Words are that important.
    How we name things is important, too. Derogatory nicknames are hurtful. Their original meanings, the stereotypes, are even ingrained into our language. Well-meaning people say them without a thought to their origin. 
    Take “grandfather clause.” It is a legal phrase that means a person or entity can keep old rules in place even when a new rule is made. For example, old power plants are grandfathered when they don’t have to meet new standards. A retail establishment is grandfathered when new zoning laws are put in place that don’t allow retail stores where the store stands. 
    The phrase comes from a particular set of 19th century laws that suppressed voting. Seven Southern states enacted statutes between 1895 and 1910 to specifically suppress the Black vote. These laws stated that men whose grandfathers had voted before the end of the Civil War and their descendants were exempt from taking literacy tests and paying poll taxes. 
    The Fifteenth Amendment “guaranteed the right to vote regardless of race, color, or previous condition of servitude.” Since was passed in 1870, most Black men were effectively excluded. Their grandfathers were most likely enslaved. White men, regardless of their education or financial status, were allowed to vote without a literacy test or poll tax. Their grandfathers most likely were not enslaved. These statutes were not found unconstitutional until 1915.
    Now just a drop of history. The Fourteenth Amendment (passed in 1869) defined citizenship. The first part of the Amendment, “All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside” resulted in confusion. Since most Native Americans were living under tribal laws and subject to those laws, the Amendment was interpreted to exclude them from citizenship and excluded them from the voting rights guaranteed by the Fifteenth Amendment, too. It was not until 1924 that Congress passed the Indian Citizenship Act, giving  Native Americans citizenship and guaranteeing their voting rights. 
    American History is rife with conflict. Built on the idealism of plurality, diversity, and inclusion, we struggle to accept the application of its truth. We all learned the couplet that describes America’s founding: In fourteen hundred and ninety-two, Columbus sailed the ocean blue. Columbus called what he found the New World. He named the people he found Indians. In fact, groups of people had been sharing and vying for the land for thousands of years. 
    Last year, 2021, President Biden made Indigenous Peoples Day a Federal Holiday. The second Monday of October each year, what some people still call Columbus Day, is becoming more celebrated for the importance of our shared history.
    Indigenous Peoples Day began in 1977 at an international conference on discrimination sponsored by the United Nations. In 1990, at the same conference, Scott Stevens, director of the Native American and Indigenous Studies Program at Syracuse University, said “Indigenous Peoples Day is about resilience of what past cultures have endured as much as it is about honoring heritage.” 
    Gradually, we newcomers are beginning to realize that Indigenous People, while sharing their Native land, do not share one culture. Gradually, states and cities are recognizing the struggles and contributions made by Native people. Gradually we are accepting their differences and similarities.
    In his 2021 address, President Biden said, “It is a measure of our greatness as a nation that we do not seek to bury [the] shameful episodes of our past –- that we face them honestly, we bring them to the light, and we do all we can to address them.” 
    While we acknowledge Columbus’s adventurous spirit, his tenacity, and his excitement, while we can be grateful for our luck at surviving in this new (for most of us) place, we need to temper our acknowledgement and gratitude with humility, respect, and honor for those who were here first.
                                     -—be curious! (and speak kindness)   

    “…Working in a beauty shop takes years and years of practice.”
    “Yeah, only I already know that,” I said.
    “Years and years and years,” said Daddy.
    I did a huffy breath at him. “I already know that, I told you,” I said again.
    After that, I leaned back in my seat. And I thinked about the years and years of practice.
    Finally, I did a big sigh.
    I would have to get started right away.
                         from Junie B. Jones Is a Beauty Shop Guy
                                             written by Barbara Park
                                         illustrated by Denise Brunkus
                    Random House Books for Young Readers, 1998
                                           accessed on Libby 9/29/22

    Mom combed my hair every morning and tied it up in one long braid that reached below my waist. I was not a tall child, but still. Putting in the braid was the easy part. All I had to do was sit still and I’ve always been pretty good at that. It was much harder to sit still when Mom was taking my braid out. In those olden days, coated rubber bands had not yet been invented. I know she didn’t mean to yank out all those single strands of hair. They couldn’t help but get caught. 
    When I was about six and a half, my mom and I decided we would ask our neighbor to cut my hair. I was ready to say goodbye to the ouchies.
    Mrs. Osika helped me up to her twirly chair. I faced myself in a big mirror, but I didn’t really want to look. “Ready?” she asked before she whacked off my long braid with her big scissors. I probably nodded. After, a rubber band held each end, and I kept that braid in my bottom dresser drawer for many, many years. 
    I wish I could have donated it to a child who needed a wig. (See Locks of Love, if you’re interested.) My older granddaughter did that a couple of years ago. She donated the 12 inch minimum and looked really cute with her new not-too-short style. Mrs. Osika, on the other hand, permed what was left of my hair. The kids at school laughed at me after they got over their shock and called me Curly for a couple of weeks. I was embarrassed, but lived to tell the tale.
    Hair has been important throughout history. Beginning with the Bible story of Samson, long, uncut hair symbolized not only physical strength, but strength of character. Many modern cultures, from the Sikhs to much of Native American culture, still prohibit cutting one’s hair. Whether described as gift from Gd or a sign of community identity, hair is viewed as sacred.
    Styles have varied throughout the ages. Ancient Greek sculptures depict gods with long hair, a symbol of their power. In the Middle Ages, long hair was a symbol of wealth. From the Germanic Goths to the Gaelic Irish, people prided themselves in their long hair. Shorter hair often identified a person as lower class. 
    By the late 1500s, syphilis had been raging throughout Europe for several years. Since long, thick hair was a status symbol for men and the disease could cause hair loss, many who recovered chose to don a wig. In time, wigs became status symbols of their own. Even today, British judges wear wigs as a sign of formality and to continue a tradition.
    Portraits of classical musicians are often depicted in long hair, or wigs. Think of Scarlatti (1600s Italy), Mozart (1700s Austria), and Beethoven (late 1700s to early 1800 Germany). While Beethoven is not shown in a wig, he let his hair grow long. MerriamWebster.com defines a “long hair” as an impractical intellectual, a person of artistic gifts or interests, especially a lover of classical music, or a counter-cultural, non-violent person. 
    When I was in high school, boys’ hair had to be above their shirt collars. Girls had no such restrictions, but when the dress code became more relaxed, both boys and girls let their hair grow. As an outward expression of a growing counter-culture and encouraged by the musicians of my day from The Beatles to Bob Marley and Willie Nelson to Jimi Hendrix, long hairs were not tied to a specific genre. They introduced an era. An important counter-culture, a movement had started. During those explosive days of the Vietnam War, growing political strife, and violent street riots, the most courageous of us worked for change brought by “good trouble.” 
    When the rock-musical Hair opened on Broadway in 1968, it played along side among others, Fiddler on the Roof. With its emphasis on “Tradition!” Fiddler can be seen as the opposite of Hair, where the focus is on change. But really, both stories are showing their audiences, us, that while change is necessary, it is the way the world works, it is often painful. 
    The painful nature of change is most clearly seen in today’s Iran. Since 1979, when the Guidance Patrol was established after the revolution that deposed the Shah, women have been forced to cover their hair with a hijab. Commonly called the morality police, these officers are charged with enforcing the religious moral code of extreme Islam. 
    The world watched when a 22-year-old woman was arrested for wearing her head scarf too loosely. The world protested when she died in custody. Protests continue. 
    While laws and definitions of morality can hold a society together, the strong-armed dominance of a minority over a like-minded majority can encourage, maybe even incite revolution.
                            -—be curious! (and embrace good change)