One December in the late 50s my mother sat me down with piles of construction paper, scissors and stacks of old Christmas cards. She gave up these treasures from our family and friends so that I could create my own illustrated versions of The Night Before Christmas. The holiday cards, artfully trimmed with pinking shears, created delightful scenes - flocked reindeer and glittered snow-covered landscapes. Embossed and colorful santas rested next to crayoned fireplaces and doorways of my creation. I was occupied for days and hours and it seems my mother knew exactly what she was doing.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
A Visit from Saint Nicholas
Read Charlotte Canelli's column in the November 30, 2012 edition of the Norwood Transcript and Bulletin.
Friday, November 23, 2012
Reading
Read Brian Samek's column in the November 23, 2012 edition of the Norwood Transcript and Bulletin.
Remember your high school foreign language class with its endless grammar exercises? In a study in 1998, Spanish professor Jeffrey Stokes and his colleagues tried to determine which factors best predicted a student’s ability to correctly use the Spanish subjunctive, a notoriously difficult form for Americans. They found a long list of things that were not significant predictors: time spent in the Spanish classroom, time spent on the subjunctive, and time spent in Spanish-speaking countries. The only factor that predicted competence in the subjunctive was the amount of free reading in Spanish done by the student.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Chicks with Sticks
Read Charlotte Canelli's column in the November 16, 2012 edition of the Norwood Transcript and Bulletin.
My mother began to teach me to sew about the same time I learned to type – at age eight. I learned on a Singer Featherweight 221with its wonderful gold on black paint and fold-up extension platform. I still own that machine, made sometime in the early 1950s, and cherish to this day. It weighs a mere 11 pounds and fits into a wonderfully compact case with compartments for all the necessities.
I began my lesson in sewing on tiny clothes for my cherished Barbie doll. For Christmas and birthdays my mother would create the more elaborate wardrobe items like wedding dresses and swimsuits. I made simple sheaths and capes that closed with tiny snaps and buttons. In junior high and high school I sewed my complete wardrobe each year on that Singer Featherweight.
My mother began to teach me to sew about the same time I learned to type – at age eight. I learned on a Singer Featherweight 221with its wonderful gold on black paint and fold-up extension platform. I still own that machine, made sometime in the early 1950s, and cherish to this day. It weighs a mere 11 pounds and fits into a wonderfully compact case with compartments for all the necessities.
I began my lesson in sewing on tiny clothes for my cherished Barbie doll. For Christmas and birthdays my mother would create the more elaborate wardrobe items like wedding dresses and swimsuits. I made simple sheaths and capes that closed with tiny snaps and buttons. In junior high and high school I sewed my complete wardrobe each year on that Singer Featherweight.
Friday, November 9, 2012
Food, Comforting Food
Read Charlotte Canelli's column in the November 9, 2012 edition of the Norwood Transcript and Bulletin.
Last week when Hurricane Sandy pounded Norwood and the rest of the Eastern seaboard, I spent the day at home cooking comfort food. I was tempting fate but I also knew that I had a gas range and oven to fall back on. In any event, I started preparing early in the day: a braid of bread, macaroni and cheese, and a potato-leek soup.
Last week when Hurricane Sandy pounded Norwood and the rest of the Eastern seaboard, I spent the day at home cooking comfort food. I was tempting fate but I also knew that I had a gas range and oven to fall back on. In any event, I started preparing early in the day: a braid of bread, macaroni and cheese, and a potato-leek soup.
Friday, November 2, 2012
Dogs That Know ... A Lot More Than Mine
April Cushing is the Adult Services Librarian at the Morrill Memorial Library. Read her column in the Norwood Transcript & Bulletin November 2, 2012.
While browsing through my bookshelves recently I came across “Dogs That Know When Their Masters are Coming Home, and Other Unexplained Powers of Animals” by Rupert Sheldrake. Seriously? It sounds like a canine version of “Ripley’s Believe it or Not.” I was, I admit, more than a little skeptical.
I love all my kids, of course, but if I relied on them for daily demonstrations of devotion I might be barking up the wrong tree. That’s where Duffy, my true and constant companion for the past 13 years, comes in. I own an embarrassingly large assortment of Dandie Dinmont Terrier collectibles: artwork, figurines, kitchenware, coasters, jewelry, pottery, return address labels. Can you say “obsessive?” Duffy, for his part, showers me with love--and way too much saliva. I’m pretty sure I’ll be more devastated when Duffy enters doggie heaven than when certain blood relations go to the great beyond.
While browsing through my bookshelves recently I came across “Dogs That Know When Their Masters are Coming Home, and Other Unexplained Powers of Animals” by Rupert Sheldrake. Seriously? It sounds like a canine version of “Ripley’s Believe it or Not.” I was, I admit, more than a little skeptical.
I love all my kids, of course, but if I relied on them for daily demonstrations of devotion I might be barking up the wrong tree. That’s where Duffy, my true and constant companion for the past 13 years, comes in. I own an embarrassingly large assortment of Dandie Dinmont Terrier collectibles: artwork, figurines, kitchenware, coasters, jewelry, pottery, return address labels. Can you say “obsessive?” Duffy, for his part, showers me with love--and way too much saliva. I’m pretty sure I’ll be more devastated when Duffy enters doggie heaven than when certain blood relations go to the great beyond.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
The School for My Girl
Read Charlotte Canelli's column in the October 26, 2012 edition of the Norwood Transcript and Bulletin or listen to the podcast on SoundCloud. Podcasts are archived on the Voices from the Library page of the library website.
I’ll never forget
the moment I decided to let my daughter drop out of school. That sounds a bit shocking, I know, but the
reality was that I needed to rescue her from failure in the traditional school
setting and it was the only idea we had.
It was 1994. Ciara was ten years old and she was in the
fourth grade. It was the evening of her
first day back in the classroom after the Christmas holiday vacation and the
two of us were at dinner together in her favorite Chinese restaurant. I can remember vividly where we sat and how
helpless I felt when we discussed how uncomfortable she was in school, how hard
math was, how much she felt like an utter failure. My child’s self-esteem was suffering, she was
miserable and she was not learning in that environment.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Agatha's Express
Read Charlotte Canelli's column in the October 19, 2012 edition of the Norwood Transcript and Bulletin or listen to the podcast on SoundCloud. Podcasts are archived on the Voices from the Library page of the library website.
On the evening of Friday, December 3, 1926, Agatha Christie disappeared. At the time, she was the well-known author of “The Murder of Roger Ackroyd”, her seventh mystery. Her car was found abandoned several hours after she had announced that she “was going for a drive.” She left several notes; in one to local authorities, she declared that she feared for her life. In another, to a relative of her husband, she stated that she was going on a vacation. Her friends and fans were very confused and they speculated that she might have committed suicide. A local lake, one in which one of the characters in her novels had drowned, was dredged. 15,000 volunteers searched for Ms. Christie high and low.
Although Agatha’s mother had died months before, and admittedly Agatha was suffering from that loss, the story that emerged was that she was actually grief stricken over a very blatant affair that her husband was having. In the end, Agatha might have wanted to publicly embarrass her husband and at the same time escape the humiliation caused by his affair. In any event, husband Archie Christie was forced to travel eleven days after her disappearance to the Old Swan Hydropathic Hotel in Yorkshire, England. His mission? To identify Agatha, a resort guest and an identical match who was refusing to admit she was the one and only Ms. Christie. Or so the mystery goes.
On the evening of Friday, December 3, 1926, Agatha Christie disappeared. At the time, she was the well-known author of “The Murder of Roger Ackroyd”, her seventh mystery. Her car was found abandoned several hours after she had announced that she “was going for a drive.” She left several notes; in one to local authorities, she declared that she feared for her life. In another, to a relative of her husband, she stated that she was going on a vacation. Her friends and fans were very confused and they speculated that she might have committed suicide. A local lake, one in which one of the characters in her novels had drowned, was dredged. 15,000 volunteers searched for Ms. Christie high and low.
Although Agatha’s mother had died months before, and admittedly Agatha was suffering from that loss, the story that emerged was that she was actually grief stricken over a very blatant affair that her husband was having. In the end, Agatha might have wanted to publicly embarrass her husband and at the same time escape the humiliation caused by his affair. In any event, husband Archie Christie was forced to travel eleven days after her disappearance to the Old Swan Hydropathic Hotel in Yorkshire, England. His mission? To identify Agatha, a resort guest and an identical match who was refusing to admit she was the one and only Ms. Christie. Or so the mystery goes.
Friday, October 12, 2012
Twenty Five Years of Discussing Books
Margot Sullivan is a part-time reader's advisory and reference librarian at the Morrill Memorial Library. Read her column in the Norwood Transcript & Bulletin this week or listen to the podcast on SoundCloud. Podcasts are archived on the Voices from the Library page of the library website.
When I came on board the Morrill Memorial Library as a fulltime staff member the first thing I wanted to do was to start a book discussion group! Little did I know that twenty five years later the “discussing” and pondering of books with much laughter thrown in would still be as rewarding and enjoyable as those first tentative years. I think we started off with 8-10 “regulars” and now we often have 20-25 people attending in the morning and 10-15 in the evening.
When I came on board the Morrill Memorial Library as a fulltime staff member the first thing I wanted to do was to start a book discussion group! Little did I know that twenty five years later the “discussing” and pondering of books with much laughter thrown in would still be as rewarding and enjoyable as those first tentative years. I think we started off with 8-10 “regulars” and now we often have 20-25 people attending in the morning and 10-15 in the evening.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Defending the Art of Hoarding
Read Charlotte Canelli's column in the October 5, 2012 edition of the Norwood Transcript and Bulletin or listen to the podcast on SoundCloud. Podcasts are archived on the Voices from the Library page of the library website.
From the Library October 5, 2012: In Defense of Hoarding read and written by Charlotte Canelli
Several months ago we moved to Norwood and in the process I came across a lone, small bag that contained a book. It was something that I had meant to go into a donation bin years ago but it never got there. Sadly and forlornly, the book sat in a corner of my basement for several years in a home I owned before I remarried. We sold that house and the book then founds its way, undiscovered, to our garage in Norfolk and remained there until a few months ago. It never made it to a donation bin, of course, but got stuck in my “stuff.”
From the Library October 5, 2012: In Defense of Hoarding read and written by Charlotte Canelli
Several months ago we moved to Norwood and in the process I came across a lone, small bag that contained a book. It was something that I had meant to go into a donation bin years ago but it never got there. Sadly and forlornly, the book sat in a corner of my basement for several years in a home I owned before I remarried. We sold that house and the book then founds its way, undiscovered, to our garage in Norfolk and remained there until a few months ago. It never made it to a donation bin, of course, but got stuck in my “stuff.”
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Revisiting The Hobbit
Read Charlotte Canelli's column in the September 28, 2012 edition of the Norwood Transcript and Bulletin or listen to the podcast on SoundCloud. Podcasts are archived on the Voices from the Library page of the library website.
I’ve just found out that September 22 marks Hobbit Day each year. This date happens to be Bilbo and Frodo Baggins’ birthdays. Hobbit Day, in fact, is during the official Tolkien Week. This year, all of these celebrations precede December release of the Warner Bros. film, The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey.
This date happens to be Bilbo and Frodo Baggins’ birthdays. Hobbit Day, in fact, is during the official Tolkien Week. This year, all of these celebrations precede the release of the December release of the Warner Bros. film, The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey.
I’ve just found out that September 22 marks Hobbit Day each year. This date happens to be Bilbo and Frodo Baggins’ birthdays. Hobbit Day, in fact, is during the official Tolkien Week. This year, all of these celebrations precede December release of the Warner Bros. film, The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey.
This date happens to be Bilbo and Frodo Baggins’ birthdays. Hobbit Day, in fact, is during the official Tolkien Week. This year, all of these celebrations precede the release of the December release of the Warner Bros. film, The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
The Art of Journaling
Nancy Ling is an Outreach Librarian at the Morrill Memorial Library. She is also an author and a poet and loves working with adults, children and teens and teaching poetry.
When I was ten years old, my family took a trip to Nova Scotia. I decided to bring along my new diary. It had blue and orange stripes and the all-important lock on the outside. The pages were gold-tipped, and soon the sparkles were flaking onto me and the backseat of the car. When we stopped at a local restaurant to eat, my Mom spent the first part of the meal wiping the endless sparkles from my nose.
The thing that I treasured the most about my new diary was all the empty pages waiting to be filled. Do you know that feeling? With the right pen, the sky was the limit. Pages were awaiting my brilliant thoughts and recorded memories. For three days, that dream was a reality. I wrote about the beauty of the Cabot Trail, the Bay of Fundy, a nice retired couple I’d befriended, and the cozy inn where we stayed.
When I was ten years old, my family took a trip to Nova Scotia. I decided to bring along my new diary. It had blue and orange stripes and the all-important lock on the outside. The pages were gold-tipped, and soon the sparkles were flaking onto me and the backseat of the car. When we stopped at a local restaurant to eat, my Mom spent the first part of the meal wiping the endless sparkles from my nose.
The thing that I treasured the most about my new diary was all the empty pages waiting to be filled. Do you know that feeling? With the right pen, the sky was the limit. Pages were awaiting my brilliant thoughts and recorded memories. For three days, that dream was a reality. I wrote about the beauty of the Cabot Trail, the Bay of Fundy, a nice retired couple I’d befriended, and the cozy inn where we stayed.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Over the Rainbow
Read Charlotte Canelli's column in the September 14, 2012 edition of the Norwood Transcript and Bulletin or listen to the podcast on SoundCloud. Podcasts are archived on the Voices from the Library page of the library website.
Some time ago, not long after I became a serious iPod user, I began collecting versions of what might be called my favorite song, Somewhere Over the Rainbow. I’m not sure when I fell in love with the classic song written for the movie The Wizard of Oz in 1938 – it certainly wasn’t when I was young. I’m ashamed to admit I actually never liked Judy Garland, the movie or the song, when I was a girl. It wasn’t until I was older that I appreciated Judy Garland’s movie or the song, Somewhere Over the Rainbow.
What I’m not ashamed to admit, however, is that I purchased all the versions through iTunes – unless, of course, I first owned the music on compact disk and simply transferred it to my iPod. I believe in digital rights and I spent well over $100 over several years downloading many versions of the song. I think knowing that I’ve purchased them honorably and ethically adds to my love of my collection.
Friday, September 7, 2012
How to Talk to a Widower
Read Charlotte Canelli's column in the September 6, 2012 edition of the Norwood Transcript and Bulletin or listen to the podcast on SoundCloud. Podcasts are archived on the Voices from the Library page of the library website.
More often than not, I tend to read in themes. If I’ve liked a book and I haven’t quite been ready for it to end, I’ll often find another to fill the gap. This spring I found myself reading fictionalized accounts of the journey of widowers through their grief and retrospectively their past marriages. They are tender, and often comic, stories of the passage from shock and heartache to the possibilities of second chances.
Friday, August 31, 2012
Finding My Inner Runner
Diane Phillips is the Technical Services Library at the Morrill Memorial Library in Norwood. Read her column in the Norwood Transcript and Bulletin this week.
I became a runner about two years ago. I didn’t start out running but worked my way up to it. I didn’t realize how hard it would be for me to run. I see so many people, young and old, out on the streets running; and they make it look effortless. For me, it is not. It’s work – hard work. I didn’t just get off the couch and run. I started out by walking. I walked anywhere between eight to twelve miles a week. Doing that was no problem. I enjoyed it. I listened to music on my iPod, and the time seemed to go by really quickly. The satisfaction was short lived. I needed to do something more challenging. I started to run. I would walk for five minutes and then run for one minute, walk for another five minutes and run for another minute and so on.
I became a runner about two years ago. I didn’t start out running but worked my way up to it. I didn’t realize how hard it would be for me to run. I see so many people, young and old, out on the streets running; and they make it look effortless. For me, it is not. It’s work – hard work. I didn’t just get off the couch and run. I started out by walking. I walked anywhere between eight to twelve miles a week. Doing that was no problem. I enjoyed it. I listened to music on my iPod, and the time seemed to go by really quickly. The satisfaction was short lived. I needed to do something more challenging. I started to run. I would walk for five minutes and then run for one minute, walk for another five minutes and run for another minute and so on.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
The Mice in the Piano
Read Charlotte Canelli's column in the August 17, 2012 edition of the Norwood Transcript and Bulletin or listen to the podcast on SoundCloud. Podcasts are archived on the Voices from the Library page of the library website.
I knew all along that it was a very big mistake to store my piano in the garage. At the time I thought it would only be a few short months and it had, of course, the snow blower, leaf blower and lawn mower and other assorted tools to keep it company before we would be moving it inside where it belonged.
Of course, a few months became four seasons and four seasons became a bit more than a year. Finally moving day came and my piano and I exhaled a huge sigh of relief as it was carted up the front steps of our new home and snuggled against an interior wall, once again inside the house.
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