Family Reads

Sunday Rest: Fishing in the Air

It's undeniably springtime in Texas today. The sky is impossibly blue, the trees are bursting with new buds, and the robins are chirping sweet music. And though our Sunday is shaping up to be a busy one, we're going to grab a slice of this gorgeous day and spend some time outside together.

That's just what a father and son do in Fishing in the Air, when they set off in the early morning for a day of fishing on the riverbank. The author, Sharon Creech, has an artful way of capturing the beauty and magic of these kinds of days.

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We drove and drove along the road, until we came to a narrow lane. We bumped along, along, along the winding lane.

"Those trees," my father said, "don't they look like tall green soldiers standing at attention?"

And the trees which had been trees became, in an instant, tall green soldiers standing at attention.

We were going on a journey. To a secret place. We'd catch the air! We'd catch the breeze!

When we stopped, my father said, "Ah, what a sky! White white clouds and a golden sun and bubbles of breeze and birds singing their songs like little angels."

And the birds which had been birds became, in an instant, little angels singing their songs.

"I'd like to take those clouds, that sun, those bubbles of breeze, and those angel birds home with me," my father said. He took my hand and said, "I smell a river!"

Sunday Rest: Henry Huggins

As a young woman, Beverly Cleary worked as a children's librarian in Yakima, Washington. When lively non-readers from a local school were sent on their weekly trip to check out library books, she struggled to find any with characters like these normal kids, particularly the boys who "did not have scary adventures but who made their own excitement." Several years later this frustration mounted and she decided to write something better—a short story featuring a boy like the ones who visited the library. After sending it off to a publisher, she was encouraged to write several more stories about the boy and link them together into a book. Producing a chapter a week, she wrote out the stories longhand and eventually her first book was published: Henry Huggins. More than 50 years later, this fun book about a boy who gets himself into and out of scrapes still holds its appeal.

In this selection, Henry has entered his dog, Ribsy, into a local dog show. Like most dogs, Ribsy has a keen appreciation for dirt, and just before the show he rolls around in a nice flower bed full of fresh muddy earth. How can Ribsy win a silver cup if he looks like a dirty mutt? When Henry sees a boy sprinkling some white powder on his dog to make him look whiter, he gets an idea to sprinkle talcum powder on Ribsy's white parts to improve his appearance. As usual, Henry's solution doesn't work out quite the way he thought it would. Enjoy this short bit from Henry Huggins and then check out this classic book to see if Ribsy wins the show!

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Followed by Ribsy, he ran as fast as he could out of the park and up the hill to his house on Klickitat Street. He rushed into his room and snatched his hairbrush. He tore into the bathroom and grabbed a can of talcum powder. Then he rushed back to the park with Ribsy. The children were still crowded around Maud.

Henry was so hot and sticky that he had to sit down on the grass to catch his breath. Ribsy was panting and his tongue hung out. Henry brushed him with the hairbrush. That helped a little. Then he sprinkled powder on the big white spot on his back.

Henry was horrified. He could scarcely believe what he saw. The talcum powder wasn't white—it was pink! Who ever heard of a dog with pink spots! Quickly he tried to brush the powder off. But Ribsy was still damp and the powder didn't brush off.

Henry decided to make all Ribsy's white parts pink so they would match. Maybe in the bright sunshine the judges wouldn't notice. He sprinkled powder on Ribsy's white ear and left hind paw. He even sprinkled some on his white tail. Yes, Ribsy did look better with all his light parts matching. Maybe the judges would wear dark glasses.

Sunday Rest: Betsy-Tacy

Betsy-Tacy, published in 1940, is the first in a series of books about two girls growing up in Mankato, Minnesota during the turn of the century.The author, Maud Hart Lovelace, told these stories of her childhood to her daughter, and they soon became the Betsy-Tacy books. The books begin as a string of simple tales of friendship and imaginative play—sweet scenes of domestic life from a much simpler time, whether the girls are selling colored sand to their neighbors, making paper dolls, or figuring out the first day of school. The books develop in character and complexity as Betsy, Tacy and their new friend, Tib, get older, so this is a great series to grow along with your child.   

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That summer they started having picnics. At first the picnics were not real picnics; not the kind you take out in a basket. Betsy's father, serving the plates at the head of the table, would fill Betsy's plate with scrambled eggs and bread and butter and strawberries, or whatever they had for supper. Tacy's father would do the same. Holding the plate in one hand and a glass of milk in the other, each little girl would walk carefully out of her house and down the porch steps and out to the middle of the road. Then they would walk up the hill to that bench where Tacy had stood the first night she came. And there they would eat supper together.

Betsy always liked what she saw on Tacy's plate. In particular she liked the fresh unfrosted cake which Tacy's mother often stirred up for supper for her big family. Tacy knew that Betsy liked that cake, and she always divided her piece. And if baked beans or corn bread or something that Tacy liked lay on Betsy's place, Betsy divided that too.

While they ate they watched the sun setting behind Tacy's house. Sometimes the west showed clouds like pink feathers; sometimes it showed purple mountains and green lakes; sometimes the clouds were scarlet with gold around the edges. Betsy liked to make up stories, so she made up stories around the sunset. When she couldn't think what to say next, Tacy helped her.

Betsy always put herself and Tacy in the stories....

Sunday Rest: Mr. Popper's Penguins

Newbery award winner Mr. Popper's Penguins is celebrating its 70th anniversary this year. It is relatively short chapter book, perfect for reading aloud, that tells the story of Mr. Popper, a house painter who acquires first one, then a whole dozen penguins. It's a very fun read, filled with humor and many odd twists along the way as formality is slowly overwhelmed by absurdity. Here's a short excerpt:

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Mr. Popper soon found that it was not so easy to take a penguin for a stroll.

Captain Cook did not care at first for the idea of being put on a leash. However, Mr. Popper was firm. He tied on end of the clothesline to the penguin's fat throat and the other to his own wrist.

"Ork!" said Captain Cook indignantly. Still, he was a very reasonable sort of bird, and when he saw that protesting did him no good, he recovered his customary dignity and decided to let Mr. Popper lead him.

Mr. Popper put on his best Sunday derby and opened the front door with Captain Cook waddling graciously beside him.

"Gaw," said the penguin, stopping at the edge of the porch to look down at the steps.

Mr. Popper gave him plenty of clothesline leash.

"Gook!" said Captain Cook, and raising his flippers, he leaned forward bravely and tobogganed down the steps on his stomach.

Sunday Rest: The Secret Garden

First published in 1911, The Secret Garden is nearing its 100th anniversary in print. Classics are classics for a reason—they stand the test of time. I never got a chance to read The Secret Garden in my youth, but fell in love with this wonderful story when I read it to Ben several years ago. Here is one of the best bits...

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One of the nice little gusts of wind rushed down the walk, and it was a stronger one than the rest. It was strong enough to wave the branches of the trees, and it was more than strong enough to sway the trailing sprays of untrimmed ivy hanging from the wall. Mary had stepped close to the robin, and suddenly the gust of wind swung aside some loose ivy trails, and more suddenly still she jumped toward it and caught it in her hand. This she did because she had seen something under it—a round knob which had been covered by the leaves hanging over it. It was the knob of a door.

She put her hands under the leaves and began to pull and push them aside. Thick as the ivy hung, it nearly all was a loose and swinging curtain, though some had crept over wood and iron. Mary's heart began to thump and her hands to shake a little in her delight and excitement. The robin kept singing and twittering away and tilting his head on one side, as if he were as excited as she was. What was this under her hands which was square and made of iron and which her fingers found a hole in?

It was the lock of the door which had been closed ten years and she put her hand in her pocket, drew out the key and found it fitted the keyhole. She put the key in and turned it. It took two hands to do it, but it did turn.

And then she took a long breath and looked behind her up the long walk to see if anyone was coming. No one was coming. No one ever did come, it seemed, and she took another long breath, because she could not help it, and she held back the swinging curtain of ivy and pushed back the door which opened slowly—slowly.

Then she slipped through it, and shut it behind her, and stood with her back against it, looking about her and breathing quite fast with excitement, and wonder, and delight.

She was standing inside the secret garden.

Sunday Rest: The Tale of Despereaux

Being the story of a mouse, a princess, a spool of thread and some soup, The Tale of Despereaux is a captivating adventure with an unlikely hero. Author Kate DiCamillo won the Newbery Medal in 2004 for this book, which features a sympathetic narrator, beautiful language and memorable characters. A film based on The Tale of Despereaux is scheduled to be released this December, and you can bet the Baileys will be in the theater for that one!

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"Why would you save me?" Despereaux asked. "Have you saved any of the other mice?"

"Never," said Gregory, "not one."

"Why would you save me, then?"

"Because you, mouse, can tell Gregory a story. Stories are light. Light is precious in a world so dark. Begin at the beginning. Tell Gregory a story. Make some light."

And because Despereaux wanted very much to live, he said, "Once upon a time..."

Sunday Rest: Anatole and the Cat

The beautiful series of Anatole books have been favorites in our family for years. The books tell the story of a mouse family living in the streets of Paris. Anatole and his wife Doucette have six children. He and his best friend Gaston work at the finest cheese factory in France. The books are so well written and illustrated; each celebrates family, adventure, culture, and caring for your community.

This excerpt is from Anatole and the Cat (1957), written by Eve Titus and illustrated by Paul Galdone.

Most libraries should have copies of these classics. If you haven't yet stepped into the world of Anatole, please seek them out. And if your children are particularly enamored with a certain rodent chef, now may be the perfect time!

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Long, long ago many mice had met to decide what to do about a cat. Someone had the idea of putting a bell around its neck. This would warn them of its coming, and all were pleased until a wise old mouse said, "But who will bell the cat?"

Not one mouse had dared to do it, then or ever!

There must be a way, thought Anatole, pacing up and down.

For hours and hours his brain was busy with ideas, but they all seemed too dangerous until he suddenly remembered a big empty crate in the storeroom of the factory.

And Anatole smiled, for now he had the perfect plan.

Sunday Rest: Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs

Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs is a picture book classic—a completely silly and fun tall tale. Life in Chewandswallow is pretty much like any other small town, with one exception. There are no grocery stores there because the sky supplies all the food they could possibly want. Eventually, the weather takes a turn for the worse, but in the meantime the townspeople enjoy a delicious deluge of three square meals a day.

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The menu varied. By the time they woke up in the morning, breakfast was coming down. After a brief shower of orange juice, low clouds of sunny-side up eggs moved in followed by pieces of toast. Butter and jelly sprinkled down for the toast. And most of the time it rained milk afterwards.

For lunch one day, frankfurters, already in their rolls, blew in from the northwest at about five miles an hour. There were mustard clouds nearby. Then the wind shifted to the east and brought in baked beans. A drizzle of soda finished off the meal.

Dinner one night consisted of lamb chops, becoming heavy at times with occasional ketchup. Periods of peas and baked potatoes were followed by gradual clearing, with a wonderful Jell-O setting in the west.

Sunday Rest: Rascal

An excerpt from one of our favorite Family Reads, Rascal, by Sterling North. Rascal may be our favorite family book. Published in 1963, the book follows an 11-year old boy through one year of his life with his racoon, Rascal. The story takes place in Wisconsin and is largely based on the author's life as a young boy in 1918. It is one of the sweetest, most beautifully written books you will ever read.

We'll be writing more about Rascal, but for now, here's this week's Sunday Rest.

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Breakfast-for-three became part of the daily ritual, and we had no trouble whatsoever until I had the idea of offering Rascal a sugar loaf. It is true we were at war, observing heatless, meatless, and wheatless days, and conserving sugar. But my father and I did no baking, and used almost none of our sugar ration, save for a lump or two in coffee. So I did not feel too unpatriotic when I gave Rascal his first sugar.

Rascal felt it, sniffed it, and then began his usual washing ceremony, swishing it back and forth through his bowl of milk. In a few moments, of course, it melted entirely away, and a more surprised little 'coon you have never seen in your life. He felt all over the bottom of the bowl to see if he had dropped it, then turned over his right hand to assure himself it was empty, then examined his left hand in the same manner. Finally he looked at me and trilled a shrill question: who had stolen his sugar lump?

Recovering from my laughter, I gave him a second sugar lump, which Rascal examined minutely. He started to wash it, but hesitated. A very shrewd look came into his bright black eyes, and instead of washing away a second treat, he took it directly to his mouth where he began to munch it with complete satisfaction. When Rascal had learned a lesson, he had learned it for life. Never again did he wash a lump of sugar.

Sunday Rest: Polo's Mother

An excerpt from one of our favorite Family Reads, Polo's Mother, by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor. Polo's Mother is the fourth and final book in The Cat Pack. These are easily some of the best Level 4 books you will find, wonderful to read out loud as a family or for your child to read alone.

"What I want to know," said Polo, feeling more confident of himself now, "is why some two-leggeds drag a tree inside at Christmas. But just let me try to sharpen my claws on it and they hit me with a newspaper."

"They don't just bring it inside, they decorate it," said Carlotta. "And don't even think of climbing it."

For a long time the cats thought about this mystery, but no one could think of a reason the two-leggeds would bring a tree inside.

Finally Geraldine said, "Perhaps it is because they are tired of winter. They think if they show their respect for something green, the earth will turn green again."

"Hear! Hear!" cried all the other cats, pleased with that answer.