Beth Kephart's Blog, page 65

GOING OVER is on the 2015 TAYSHAS Reading List and Props to Sister Kim

Can we give it up this morning for Sister Kim of Little Flower Catholic High School for Girls? Who has ignited her students with a love for stories. Who drives them to their super stars. Who gives them book projects that yield stunning results. Who makes videos that make writers cry. Who puts together a massive and massively successful Little Flower High School Teen Writers & Readers Festival.

(Look for the 2015 festival on April 18, 2015, when I will join a fantastic cast of area writers for a day of workshops, panels, and signings.)

Who writes to me last night to say that 42 copies of Going Over have arrived at her classroom and will be taught this spring.

Who tags me this morning to say:

Going Over is on the 2015 Tayshas Reading List. This was a dream I had. But. I hadn't dared to dream it fully.

Props. To Sister Kim. To the so-generous TAYSHAS committee. To Chronicle Books, whose glorious team members have opened more doors for me than any publishing house ever.

My NaNoWriMo Tip: Stop Writing and Start Seeing (at Chronicle Books)

Truth? I haven't written anything remotely bookish for a while because, well, I've been busy. That harried woman running from place to place, topic to topic, responsibility to responsibility, and only sometimes to her own kitchen? That would be me. There's wind in my hair.

But I've been thinking about writing and when the good folks at Chronicle asked me to offer writers a NaNoWriMo tip, I knew exactly what inspiration I wanted to offer.

It's all here, along with a few of my photographs. And one silly picture of me. What I wouldn't give to be pretty. What I wouldn't give.

Wait. I'm off topic. I'm also off again, and running —

Celebrating our Veterans, the Mighty Moms, Kevin Ferris, and Dava Guerin at the Union League

Yesterday, the Armed Services Council of the Union League of Philadelphia hosted a celebration of Veterans Day. Well more than 300 people turned out for what was a moving remembrance. My friend Cindy was there; five generations in her family (including her son) have served our nation. General James L. Jones, the 32nd commandant of the United States Marine Corps and a former National Security Advisor to President Obama, was there, receiving the Union League Lincoln Award. The people to my left at the luncheon were remembering Coast Guard duty. Across the way was a man who, through a not-for-profit organization, helps those who lose their limbs to walk and write again.

And in that hallowed space, the Mighty Moms and Wounded Warriors of Walter Reed were honored—by flowers, by gifts, by standing ovations, and by the book, Unbreakable Bonds, released yesterday. Written by Dava Guerin and my friend Kevin Ferris, the book features forewords by President George H.W. Bush and Connie Morella. It tells ten moving stories about young people wounded at war and the mothers who will not leave their sides throughout the healing process. My thoughts on the book, published by Skyhorse, were first shared here.

Kevin isn't just my friend. He is an assistant editor with the editorial board of the Philadelphia Inquirer and a man who served in the US Army from 1976 to 1979. He's the sort of person who consistently shines the light on other writers and broad national and local issues. Yesterday was our chance to thank him and Dava and the Mighty Moms and the Vets and those who love them.

It was, as well, our chance to sing a medley of Service songs—the songs of the Army, Marines, Navy, Air Force, and Coast Guard. My father, who also served, sang those songs to me when I was young. It was hard to get through them without wiping away a few tears.

Songs of Freedom, at Masterman High in Philadelphia

I took the story of the Berlin Wall to Philadelphia's academic magnet school, Masterman—meeting with the students of two exquisite and clearly well-respected history teachers, Liz Taylor and Janel Vecsi.

In the Spring Garden neighborhood, inside a circa-1876 building that has inspired filmmakers and hosted President Obama, we talked about risks, responsibilities, and choices. I met students with a personal tie to East Berlin. Students who knew history and the world around them. Students who watch the news out of curiosity and not out of an assignment. Students who work extremely hard at school and at home—and excel. Students who willingly make art and share it. We hear about the terrible struggles of the School District of Philadelphia. We meet and write about the teachers who work so hard under difficult circumstances. Then we hang out with the students themselves and are (again) reminded how important this teaching enterprise is, how necessary it is to get it right, for them.

I came home with a fat file of graffiti art and poetry. What do you want that you do not have? I'd asked the students, after sharing Wall stories, playing Bruce Springsteen, reading from Going Over. What separates you from your dreams or those you love? What is the cost of desire? What are the consequences of change? What are the lessons of the Wall?

And student after student thoughtfully answered. A mere sampling:

I know why the caged bird sings
because I am that caged bird.
My wings are clipped,
my legs are tied,
yet, I will still warble in
this dark, pressing night.
I will walk up to this barrier,
this solid thing that embodies
all forms of constriction.
I don't care, I will fly,
my ropes are loosening,
my wings are growing.
The bird knows its risks.
Yet it flies, it flies.
The bird has one
thing that I cannot attain:
freedom.
Freedom is on the other side.
Will I jump?
I know why the caged bird sings.
He's telling me to jump.
*

It's safe to stay where I am.
That's what people say, at least.
It's too risky
To risk the distance,
Defy the borders.
Your life is fine here, easy.
But I don't live to feel fine.
I live to feel alive.
To do what I want to do.
To pursue freedom.
To chase my own dreams.
I don't live to listen to washed-up lyrics
Written by tyrants.
I live to dream.
To dance.
To dare.
*

Walls separate
Mentally, physically, emotionally...
On one side, ideals.
The other, truth.
People have ideals,
A set mind on how they
Want to live.
But then there is the truth.
How they are living ...
If there ideal is their truth
There would be no wall.
*

The cost of desire is terror—
the Terror you feel when change occurs,
when it does not turn out the way you thought.
like you wanted it to.
You do not know what answer you will get.
What feelings you will have.
What the long-term outcome will be.
But you try and you try
And you hope change will go your way.
*

Walls.
They protect but also confine.
They keep out the bad but
also the good.
They protect us from the outside world
but also block us from the outside.
So break down the walls
and let yourself free.
Because the walls can't protect you forever.
And when they break,
make sure you're ready.

The El Salvador nuns—in the news, thirty years on

Readers of this blog know that I married a man from a land that was foreign to me. El Salvador. That I traveled there. That I studied it. That I tried to make sense of that world in a memoir that took years to write, Still Love in Strange Places. I read every last news story I could find at the time, every antique coffee brochure, every photograph made available to me (this one, here, I especially love, featuring my husband's grandfather on the far right). I talked to dear Aunt Adela, my brother-in-laws, Mario and Rodi, my mother-in-law, anyone who had the time.

But the story is never over, and this morning I found myself spiraling back toward El Salvador while watching this New York Times retro reportage on the four American nuns who were murdered in December 1980. Their story horrified me when I first heard of it (a few years before I met my husband). I never could make sense of it. But love and memory keep a story alive, and justice finds its way.

For those interested in footage of El Salvador that I never saw and in a story that has many twists and turns, I highly recommend this story by Clyde Haberman and important video.

I am off to Masterman High, in Philadelphia, to talk with students about the Berlin Wall, about the world beyond, about risks and responsibilities. There is, I believe (I stake my small legacy on it), nothing like the real world to inspire meaningful conversations. 

The Caldecott Panel—Chris Van Allsburg, David Wiesner, Brian Selznick, Jennifer Brown—celebrates Children's Book World's 25th

Today is not just the 25th anniversary of the Fall of the Berlin Wall. It's the 25th anniversary of the remarkable, enduring, smart, and somehow simultaneously huge and intimate Children's Book World of Haverford, PA.

As part of the celebration, CBW hosted The Caldecott Panel at Friends' Central School—the very best of the very best right there on City Line Avenue. Chris Van Allsburg. David Wiesner. Brian Selznick. And Jennifer M. Brown as moderator of what quickly became a wide-ranging conversation about black and white vs. color, visual narratives, filmic translations, the plot power of the artistic media, the certain school of design attended by all three of these great storytellers (RISD), and who taught who, or who might have taught who, or who wished they had taught who.

There they sat on one long couch and two book-ending chairs, surprising each other, while Jenny Brown, who knows this business better than anyone anywhere (our Ambassador of Children's Literature, I've always said), asked her intelligent questions, sat back, and enjoyed the surprises, too.

A packed house. An eager audience. Dozens of hands flying up during the Q and A—half of those hands belonging to children.

You want to celebrate one of the top children's book stores in the country? I can think of no better way.

Congratulations, CBW. The lovely lady with the dark tresses, by the way, is CBW's own Heather Hebert.

8,000 Balloons Celebrate the Fall of the Berlin Wall — and tonight are set free

LICHTGRENZE from Fall of the Wall 25 on Vimeo.

These past two days, 8,000 lit balloons have been floating above a ten-mile stretch of the original Berlin Wall.

Tonight, 8,000 citizens with keys will each unlock a separate balloon and it will escape, free, to the atmosphere.

It's part of the 25th anniversary of the Fall of the Wall, an art installation by Christopher and Marc Bauder that has been in the works for many years.

My friend Bill sent me this video and article. I am pleased to share it here and encourage you, too, to watch this New York Times coverage of the installation. It's extraordinary art and essential history.

Tomorrow, I will take my Berlin Wall novel, Going Over, into Masterman, a Philadelphia school, and talk about history, risks, freedom, and responsibilities. On Friday the conversation will move to my alma mater, Radnor High. 

But today I wish I was in Berlin to see those 8,000 balloons fly free.

More on the wall and what it did, who tried to escape, how much it hurt, can be found here. 


Today your job is this: Take nothing for granted.

on seeing Bill Cunningham in person (!!), silvered friendship, good news for my son, the Caldecott Panel

There was no evidence of a bicycle, but Bill Cunningham, New York Times style photographer and the subject of this amazing documentary (watched here because Melissa Sarno gave me the word), was out among the nearly 200 craftspeople at the 38th Annual Philadelphia Museum of Art Contemporary Craft Show.

He just kept passing by—lanky and tipping up on his toes, camera in hand, a coy smile when someone called out, "Are you Bill Cunningham?" Oh, jeepers, his smile said, recognized again. He just kept looking and nodding, his presence electrifying the crowd. Bill Cunningham in Philadelphia. Yes, we Philadelphians felt proud.

Meanwhile, I bought a glorious something from Cathy Rose of New Orleans (worth taking a look at this link, truly her work is remarkable)—an addition to my small but growing doll and mask collection. Meanwhile, my husband and I went off for a Reading Terminal lunch—Salumeri's, of course. Meanwhile, we returned to a lit-up sky and I slipped out for a Kelly Simmons rendezvous—a gir's afternoon, silver and gold. When I returned home, walking a brisk dark, a full moon rising, my son called with deliriously good news. You want to know the definition of perseverance, creativity, optimism, extreme hard work, and lessons in hopefulness? I will tell you the story of these past few months and my son. I will tell you everything he taught me, and I will say, again and for the record, I would be half the person that I am without him.

Today I'm off to the woods to teach memoir at the Schuylkill Center, part of the Musehouse Writing Retreat. I'll slip away afterward to see my friend Karen Rile. And then I'll come home and get ready for tomorrow, when I'll see my dear friend Jennifer Brown moderating the Caldecott panel—Chris Van Allsburg, David Wiesner, and Brian Selznick—at Friends' Central School in Wynnewood. (Two o'clock, and hosted by Children's Book World.)

And then I, like the rest of the world, will celebrate the 25th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. I will just sit and think on it all.

The Berlin Wall poetry and art of Downingtown West (incredible)

Yesterday, as part of the Speak Up for libraries program (which I wrote of in the Philadelphia Inquirer here), I spent four consecutive periods with the very special students of Downingtown West and their beloved (for such good reason) librarian, Michelle Nass. We talked about the role of libraries in our lives, and the treasures we've found there. We learned some of the history of the Berlin Wall (history libraries helped me uncover) and reflected on the metaphorical and physical walls that still separate us. We listened to Ada and Stefan of my Berlin novel Going Over weigh the consequences of freedom, asked ourselves when, if ever, we'd take the risk to jump a wall, wrote poems, and made graffiti art.

After school during the book club hour, we talked about how books get made, what editors do, the difference between writing and publishing, and the writer friends I've come to love.

I was staggered by the receptivity, creativity, and generosity of these students. Their willingness to dig in deep, to answer hard questions, to write—and eagerly share—their work. I came home with a fat file of poems and art, wanting to share every sentiment and drawing here. Space is my limitation. I share a few poems below, a collage of art above, but please know this, Downingtown West: all of it was special, and so are you.

Write about what risks are worth taking, and freedom is, I prompted. This is what happened:

What is life
but a bundle of risks
a handful of desires.
We get thrown in the mix
of temptations and hopes
but in order to obtain
the things that we want
we must go through pain.
— Mike Lodge

Freedom isn't free.
Yes, that's the irony.
We hear its cry.
We hear its call.
Yet here we are
at an ancient all.
A wall we cannot live without.
A wall that fills us up with doubt.
And some of us will take a risk.
Some of us will die to have it all.
That freedom filled with irony.
For that I would fall.
— Micky

Freedom
It's not impossible,
but it's not clear.
It's what lies in the future that is feared.

But what's life without freedom?
A life of being caged?
The only thing that gives us freedom
is change.
— August Walker

Not much is worth risking my life for.
Family, friends, love, freedom come to mind.
Would you risk everything now for a chance at freedom?
If everything could be lost, would you try?
One moment you're there, the next you're gone.
Never to see your loved ones again.
Is it really worth it, for a chance at freedom?
— Samantha Goss

Can you go against the stream?
Fight the system?
Make your own path?
It will be hard.
Blood. Loss. Isolation.
You are a soldier with no army.
You are a lone soul looking for a place
to call home.
Stay strong.
— Megan

To rebel against the evils which control
our very lives.
In hopes to prevail against the wings of Freedom
and its vibes.
These days our right to think different is
challenged by all.
Yet without the help of others our ideas
will surely fall.

What is worth my life?
What is worth my death?
What will hold me back?
What will set me free?
Love
Freedom
Freedom
Love
That is all I need.
— Emily Gibbs

Many, many thanks to Michelle Nass for organizing this day. Thanks to the students. Thanks to the librarians who do what they do and keep their doors open for us. And thank you to Jennifer Yasick, with whom I began this beautiful day.

Speak Up for Libraries Day — in the Philadelphia Inquirer and at Downingtown West

Today, authors and illustrators from across the state of Pennsylvania are out in force, speaking up for libraries as part of the PA Forward campaign, a Pennsylvania Library Association initiative designed to shine the light on what libraries do and why they are vital to the communities in which we live.

As part of that initiative, I reflected back through the years—on the libraries I have known, the shelter they have provided, and the books they have helped me write. Hanby Jr. High Library (pictured above). Radnor Memorial Library. Van Pelt Library. Historical Society of Pennsylvania. Free Library of Philadelphia. These and so many other libraries have been essential to my life, my work, my process, and I celebrate them and PA Forward in the Op/Ed pages of the Philadelphia Inquirer today, here.

I'm also heading out to Downingtown West, where I'll spend the day talking with students about libraries and about the most recent book—the Berlin Wall novel Going Over —that was born, in part, of stacks and microfilm. Just three days until the world remembers the 25th anniversary fall of the Berlin Wall, I'll say. And then we'll be off and talking.

With thanks to Margie Stern and all the librarians. And a special thanks to Michelle Nass, my Downingtown hostess with the mostest for the day.