Martha Freeman's Blog
January 30, 2023
Who likes a line at the post office?
I am pretty sure I am unique in all the world in one way: I like standing in line at the post office.
I know that in the broad scheme, long lines at the post office are a bad thing, symptom of inadequate pay, inadequate staffing and general governmental service decline. That I don't like.
But the waiting experience is fine.
As I did in Philadelphia (4th Street) and in Centre County, Pennsylvania (Boalsburg), I have in Portland identified the small neighborhood post office with minimally harried clerks in which to do business. This branch, Sellwood, is .75 miles from my apartment.
On a recent visit, I arrived around lunchtime, and the line was out the door.
NB: If you don't like lines, do not arrive around lunchtime.
I had no sooner claimed my spot at the end when two gentlemen came up behind me. These turned out to be two of the most pleasant people on whom I've ever eavesdropped, talking about travel and grandchildren and Christmas in delighted tones. It was like return of the Car Talk guys; I couldn't help but smile.
These two were friends who happened to encounter one another in line. Ahead of me were a man and a woman who apparently had met when he let her take cuts. They were talking about his recent trip to New York City - nine shows in eight days!
This fellow was not young (in general, young people do not use the post office), and I was quite impressed and said so (not the young part, the so many shows, so little time part). When the woman finally achieved the window, the traveller turned to me and admitted that the trip had been exhausting but no worries because he was taking January off.
"January," he opined, "is not for resolutions. January is for reflection. I make my resolutions in February."
Recently I finished Kate Atkinson's latest, Shrines of Gaiety, in which one of the many (many) characters, the successful and morally challenged matriarch of a large family, goes for advice to fortune-telling cards.
I think getting life wisdom from the guy in front of me in line at the Post Office makes at least as much sense. Therefore, I will be holding off on resolutions till next month myself.
And now, if you'll excuse me, I have a box to mail. I wonder who I'll meet in line this time?
Martha
I know that in the broad scheme, long lines at the post office are a bad thing, symptom of inadequate pay, inadequate staffing and general governmental service decline. That I don't like.
But the waiting experience is fine.
As I did in Philadelphia (4th Street) and in Centre County, Pennsylvania (Boalsburg), I have in Portland identified the small neighborhood post office with minimally harried clerks in which to do business. This branch, Sellwood, is .75 miles from my apartment.
On a recent visit, I arrived around lunchtime, and the line was out the door.
NB: If you don't like lines, do not arrive around lunchtime.
I had no sooner claimed my spot at the end when two gentlemen came up behind me. These turned out to be two of the most pleasant people on whom I've ever eavesdropped, talking about travel and grandchildren and Christmas in delighted tones. It was like return of the Car Talk guys; I couldn't help but smile.
These two were friends who happened to encounter one another in line. Ahead of me were a man and a woman who apparently had met when he let her take cuts. They were talking about his recent trip to New York City - nine shows in eight days!
This fellow was not young (in general, young people do not use the post office), and I was quite impressed and said so (not the young part, the so many shows, so little time part). When the woman finally achieved the window, the traveller turned to me and admitted that the trip had been exhausting but no worries because he was taking January off.
"January," he opined, "is not for resolutions. January is for reflection. I make my resolutions in February."
Recently I finished Kate Atkinson's latest, Shrines of Gaiety, in which one of the many (many) characters, the successful and morally challenged matriarch of a large family, goes for advice to fortune-telling cards.
I think getting life wisdom from the guy in front of me in line at the Post Office makes at least as much sense. Therefore, I will be holding off on resolutions till next month myself.
And now, if you'll excuse me, I have a box to mail. I wonder who I'll meet in line this time?
Martha
September 14, 2011
Shaun Tan's "Tales from Outer Suburbia"
“Tales from Outer Suburbia” by Australian author-illustrator Shaun Tan is a collection of 15 hard-to-characterize pieces, including a faux found poem and step-by-step instructions for assembling your own pet from “burnt-out kitchen appliances, obsolete computer parts, defunct cassette players… whatever takes your fancy.”
Tan is this year’s winner of the prestigious Astrid Lindgren Memorial Award for Outstanding Contribution to Children’s Literature. While “Tales” is marketed for young adults, I can imagine children who appreciate “The Stinky Cheese Man” or Arnold Lobel’s “Fables” getting a mind-expanding kick out of these stories, too.
Well-known as a graphic novelist and maker of animated films, Tan sometimes counts on illustrations to carry the narrative. For example, in “Eric,” a tiny, pointy-headed foreign exchange student comes to live with the narrator’s family. Rather than staying in the newly repainted guest room, Eric elects to bed down in a teacup in the pantry – a decision the narrator’s mother speculates “must be a cultural thing.”
The narrator’s family does their best to show Eric a good time, but Eric is so polite it’s hard to know if he is enjoying himself. When Eric leaves abruptly – the illustration shows him riding a breeze-born leaf out the window – the family is left with an uncomfortable lack of closure until…
Wow! The final full-bleed spread epitomizes the adage about the relative value of pictures and words.
It should be obvious from the quotations that Tan’s prose is as evocative and unexpectedly beautiful as his drawing.
My least favorite story in the book is “Alert but not Alarmed” owing to a too-pat moral. However, the terrific opening line begs to be quoted: “It’s funny how these days, when every household has its own intercontinental ballistic missile, you hardly even think about them.”
Some of Tan’s pastel and pencil illustrations have the look of Japanese woodblock prints while others display the geometric strength of Wayne Thiebaud’s metropolitan landscapes. Into these scenes Tan often introduces wispy, fragile-looking characters like Eric the exchange student, or like the thistle-headed wraiths of “Stick Figures,” who are “not a problem, just another part of the suburban landscape, their brittle legs moving as slowly as clouds.”
More solid is the central figure in my favorite story, “Broken Toys,” an apparent crazy person wearing a deep-sea diving suit who first appears “over there by the underpass, feeling his way along the graffiti-covered wall.” Like the book as a whole, “Broken Toys” has an ending that’s surprising, happy and strange all at once.
Shaun Tan
Tan is this year’s winner of the prestigious Astrid Lindgren Memorial Award for Outstanding Contribution to Children’s Literature. While “Tales” is marketed for young adults, I can imagine children who appreciate “The Stinky Cheese Man” or Arnold Lobel’s “Fables” getting a mind-expanding kick out of these stories, too.
Well-known as a graphic novelist and maker of animated films, Tan sometimes counts on illustrations to carry the narrative. For example, in “Eric,” a tiny, pointy-headed foreign exchange student comes to live with the narrator’s family. Rather than staying in the newly repainted guest room, Eric elects to bed down in a teacup in the pantry – a decision the narrator’s mother speculates “must be a cultural thing.”
The narrator’s family does their best to show Eric a good time, but Eric is so polite it’s hard to know if he is enjoying himself. When Eric leaves abruptly – the illustration shows him riding a breeze-born leaf out the window – the family is left with an uncomfortable lack of closure until…
Wow! The final full-bleed spread epitomizes the adage about the relative value of pictures and words.
It should be obvious from the quotations that Tan’s prose is as evocative and unexpectedly beautiful as his drawing.
My least favorite story in the book is “Alert but not Alarmed” owing to a too-pat moral. However, the terrific opening line begs to be quoted: “It’s funny how these days, when every household has its own intercontinental ballistic missile, you hardly even think about them.”
Some of Tan’s pastel and pencil illustrations have the look of Japanese woodblock prints while others display the geometric strength of Wayne Thiebaud’s metropolitan landscapes. Into these scenes Tan often introduces wispy, fragile-looking characters like Eric the exchange student, or like the thistle-headed wraiths of “Stick Figures,” who are “not a problem, just another part of the suburban landscape, their brittle legs moving as slowly as clouds.”
More solid is the central figure in my favorite story, “Broken Toys,” an apparent crazy person wearing a deep-sea diving suit who first appears “over there by the underpass, feeling his way along the graffiti-covered wall.” Like the book as a whole, “Broken Toys” has an ending that’s surprising, happy and strange all at once.
Shaun Tan
August 7, 2011
What People Read at the Beach
If I were a publisher, I would hire someone (me, for example) to jog down popular beaches in the summertime and see what people are reading. That was my noontime activity today in Stone Harbor, and you get a rough idea of my jogging speed by the fact that I could easily read book titles as I passed. In fact, a seagull paced me for a while, and I don't mean a seagull that was flying.
Results of my informal market survey: Stieg Larssen rules the beach! Also-ran status goes to Clive Cussler, Jennifer Weiner, Danielle Steele (and the reader wasn't even that old!), and Janet Evanovich. Most surprising finds: Jonathan Safran Foer (Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close), and Rebecca Skloot (The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks). It was hard not to give gold stars to the latter two readers -- just like it was hard not to grab the guy's copy of "The Shack" and throw it into the Atlantic.
I refrained in both cases.
Next up after Larssen in popularity were cooking magazines. I noticed that the people reading Eating Well and Self were not the ones who, IMHO, needed to be reading Eating Well and Self.
Happily, reading was the No. 1 most popular single activity on the beach followed by throwing and hitting things (not children but objects -- such as balls, frisbees, horseshoes, and badminton birdies), excavating (only one impressive castle in the two miles I covered though), staring vacantly, and napping.
Another surprise: Lots of Kindles & Nooks. I hope they are sand- and water-resistant. One guy must've been reading something REALLY good because his chair was inundated by about six inches and the next wave threatened not only his lap but his technology.
Results of my informal market survey: Stieg Larssen rules the beach! Also-ran status goes to Clive Cussler, Jennifer Weiner, Danielle Steele (and the reader wasn't even that old!), and Janet Evanovich. Most surprising finds: Jonathan Safran Foer (Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close), and Rebecca Skloot (The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks). It was hard not to give gold stars to the latter two readers -- just like it was hard not to grab the guy's copy of "The Shack" and throw it into the Atlantic.
I refrained in both cases.
Next up after Larssen in popularity were cooking magazines. I noticed that the people reading Eating Well and Self were not the ones who, IMHO, needed to be reading Eating Well and Self.
Happily, reading was the No. 1 most popular single activity on the beach followed by throwing and hitting things (not children but objects -- such as balls, frisbees, horseshoes, and badminton birdies), excavating (only one impressive castle in the two miles I covered though), staring vacantly, and napping.
Another surprise: Lots of Kindles & Nooks. I hope they are sand- and water-resistant. One guy must've been reading something REALLY good because his chair was inundated by about six inches and the next wave threatened not only his lap but his technology.
February 10, 2011
Books for Kids for Valentine's Day
Say I Love You with a Book for Valentine’s Day
For Valentine’s Day reading and giving, here are some suggestions.
Writer Jane Yolen and illustrator Mark Teague have a grand thing going with their “How Do Dinosaurs…?” series, and the latest, “How Do Dinosaurs Say I Love You?,” is another worthy entry. The recurring joke is big, ugly, don’t-know-their-own-strength dinosaurs standing in for children, whose emotions may be outsized even if their bodies are not.
In this iteration, a dinosaur makes a mess of his “Frootz” cereal, another rebels against the car seat, and a third floods the laundry room.
In each case, just as the parent reaches wits’ end, the miscreant does something endearing, like blowing a kiss or holding tight to a proffered hand. I’m not sure this book is really so much for kids as it is for exhausted parents who occasionally need the reminder that deep down their growing dinosaur is lovable, too.
The stories’ setting in a so-civilized ’50s magazine ad world -- moms in form-fitting capris, dads mostly in suits and ties – makes the anomalous dinosaurs even more hilarious. In most of the spreads, the big brutes seem to struggle against confinement like a furious toddler wanting out of a playpen.
“Paulie Pastrami Achieves World Peace” is about love at the macro level: how acts of kindness make the world a better place. It’s not as Oprah as it sounds owing to author-illustrator James Proimos’s adroit infusions of dry humor.
Our hero Paulie can’t even whistle (his attempts are rendered as: “bthttt ssst flggg”), can’t match his socks, and is always picked last for street hockey. When he recognizes that his real purpose is to achieve world peace, he starts out small, watering a flower (“Hi, Jo. Thirsty?”), reading to the trees (“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times….”), and even – gasp – paying attention to his teacher (“The woman makes sense.”).
As his aspirations expand, he is forced to call in the big guns – his dad and a batch of blue cupcakes.
Proimos’s cartoon illustrations lie
somewhere between Jules Feiffer’s and Mo Willems’s on the minimalist continuum, with lots of white space emphasizing Paulie’s small size and big job. This is a funny story for your three or four-year-old, and it would spark a good discussion with a school-age child.
And speaking of school-age children, any of the following paperbacks would make an excellent Valentine for one.
“Falling for Rapunzel,” by Leah Wilcox, illustrated by Lydia Monks, is a rhyming re-telling of the fairytale in which Rapunzel continually misunderstands the prince’s request that she let down her hair and instead jettisons all sort of things including dirty socks, a cantaloupe, and eventually her maid. The colorful, collage illustrations add to the hilarity, and the ending is satisfying as well as democratic.
Diane deGroat’s “Roses are Pink, Your Feet Really Stink,” is that rare thing, a picture-book school story that is actually suspenseful! What will happen when Lewis plays a nasty Valentine prank on the only two classmates he doesn’t like? Excellent for an emerging reader.
Finally, I admit it’s sappy, but I loved “The Giant Hug” by Sandra Horning, illustrated by Valeri Gorbachev. A little pig wants to send his grandma a hug for Valentine’s Day and insists a
drawing won’t do. Instead, he hugs the postal clerk, who is instructed to hug the mail sorter, who is instructed to hug the truck-driver, and so on.
I have to say I thought the writers for “Sex and the City” would have a field day with this plot. In Horning’s animal-inhabited world, a single dancing date is made, and only the porcupine is prickly about physical contact. The ending is just perfect.
For Valentine’s Day reading and giving, here are some suggestions.
Writer Jane Yolen and illustrator Mark Teague have a grand thing going with their “How Do Dinosaurs…?” series, and the latest, “How Do Dinosaurs Say I Love You?,” is another worthy entry. The recurring joke is big, ugly, don’t-know-their-own-strength dinosaurs standing in for children, whose emotions may be outsized even if their bodies are not.
In this iteration, a dinosaur makes a mess of his “Frootz” cereal, another rebels against the car seat, and a third floods the laundry room.
In each case, just as the parent reaches wits’ end, the miscreant does something endearing, like blowing a kiss or holding tight to a proffered hand. I’m not sure this book is really so much for kids as it is for exhausted parents who occasionally need the reminder that deep down their growing dinosaur is lovable, too.
The stories’ setting in a so-civilized ’50s magazine ad world -- moms in form-fitting capris, dads mostly in suits and ties – makes the anomalous dinosaurs even more hilarious. In most of the spreads, the big brutes seem to struggle against confinement like a furious toddler wanting out of a playpen.
“Paulie Pastrami Achieves World Peace” is about love at the macro level: how acts of kindness make the world a better place. It’s not as Oprah as it sounds owing to author-illustrator James Proimos’s adroit infusions of dry humor.
Our hero Paulie can’t even whistle (his attempts are rendered as: “bthttt ssst flggg”), can’t match his socks, and is always picked last for street hockey. When he recognizes that his real purpose is to achieve world peace, he starts out small, watering a flower (“Hi, Jo. Thirsty?”), reading to the trees (“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times….”), and even – gasp – paying attention to his teacher (“The woman makes sense.”).
As his aspirations expand, he is forced to call in the big guns – his dad and a batch of blue cupcakes.
Proimos’s cartoon illustrations lie
somewhere between Jules Feiffer’s and Mo Willems’s on the minimalist continuum, with lots of white space emphasizing Paulie’s small size and big job. This is a funny story for your three or four-year-old, and it would spark a good discussion with a school-age child.
And speaking of school-age children, any of the following paperbacks would make an excellent Valentine for one.
“Falling for Rapunzel,” by Leah Wilcox, illustrated by Lydia Monks, is a rhyming re-telling of the fairytale in which Rapunzel continually misunderstands the prince’s request that she let down her hair and instead jettisons all sort of things including dirty socks, a cantaloupe, and eventually her maid. The colorful, collage illustrations add to the hilarity, and the ending is satisfying as well as democratic.
Diane deGroat’s “Roses are Pink, Your Feet Really Stink,” is that rare thing, a picture-book school story that is actually suspenseful! What will happen when Lewis plays a nasty Valentine prank on the only two classmates he doesn’t like? Excellent for an emerging reader.
Finally, I admit it’s sappy, but I loved “The Giant Hug” by Sandra Horning, illustrated by Valeri Gorbachev. A little pig wants to send his grandma a hug for Valentine’s Day and insists a
drawing won’t do. Instead, he hugs the postal clerk, who is instructed to hug the mail sorter, who is instructed to hug the truck-driver, and so on.
I have to say I thought the writers for “Sex and the City” would have a field day with this plot. In Horning’s animal-inhabited world, a single dancing date is made, and only the porcupine is prickly about physical contact. The ending is just perfect.
