Even with air conditioning, there’s something about the heat that changes everything. Whatever progress I’ve made in the garden happens early in the day or not at all. Whatever chores or errands I have happen early or not at all. There’s a part of the afternoon when the crush of the heat makes all plans evaporate. I started Caddie Woodlawn by Carol Ryrie Brink (1935) at night, and got so caught up in it, I read it straight through.

The Rochester Democrat & Chronicle outdid itself today with a full-page obit for James Goodman, a retired D&C reporter. The outpouring of comments from those who knew him attested to Goodman’s kindness in the thick of a busy newsroom. Gary Craig’s coverage of this dedicated advocate for underdogs, was a reminder of what good community coverage is all about. Thank you.

Laura Adams Armer’s Waterless Mountain (1931) gave a profound, respectful view of Navaho life in Arizona in the 1920s. It showed Younger Brother’s growth into a skilled medicine man. The Navaho’s way of life seemed so sane, sensible and good. The contrast between that, wacked-out American tourists and one messed-up community member was well done. An archaeologist’s theft of precious artifacts had a painful ring of truth. Poetry and black-and-white illustrations added to its charm.

Elizabeth Coatsworth’s The Cat Who Went to Heaven (1930) was everything I could want in a short book. The story of a poor Japanese artist and a new cat in his house was a touching tale of learning to let go of long-held ideas ingrained by his community. He had trouble liking the cat in question, Good Fortune, because he had been told that cats were evil. This gently paced story with marvelous illustrations ended magnificently. It was the 1931 Newbery Award winner.

The Economist had four notable obits honoring women lately. Cristina Calderon, 93 (March 5) was the last full-blooded member of people from Tierra del Fuego, at the tip of South America. By the time she was born in 1928, the Yaghan population had dropped from 3,000 in the mid-1800s to 100. The Yahgan still lived by the old ways of half on the sea and half on land. Cristina was orphaned at 6, lost three partners, had nine children and got relocated to government housing. Abuela Cristina was eventually dubbed a national treasure by the Chilean government. She and her granddaughter spent years compiling a Spanish-Yaghan dictionary, running workshops and making recordings. She wrote a book of Yaghan legends in 2005. What a gem!

Yes, it is momentous that Juneteenth has become a national holiday. But. Having Father’s Day and Juneteenth on the same day yesterday felt confusing. The topic of fatherhood can be complicated. Emancipation can be one heck of a touchy subject. I believe a focus on healing and celebration is the way to go. Hmph.

The opening paragraph of The Trumpeter of Krakow (1929) blew me away: “It was in the spring of the year 1241 that rumors began to travel along the highroad from Kiev in the land of Rus that the Tartars of the East were again upon the march. As the weeks went on, the rumors grew thicker and there began to come through to Poland, our land of the fields, the news that the country lands of the Ukraine were ablaze.” What chilling words!

What a touching photo in today’s Rochester Democrat & Chronicle, (8A) of Gianna Floyd, George Floyd’s daughter. She was shown sitting at President Biden’s desk after he signed an executive order about police reform. The adults surrounding her seemed aware of the momentous occasion–a sad little Black girl, sitting in the president’s chair!

The weeks between Mother’s Day and Memorial Day have such beautiful spring days when Heaven seems to touch the earth. The morning air can be so lovely, the lilacs and flowering trees so magnificent, and early birdsong gets louder and louder. But.

Getting used to an uneven energy level is part of reconciling with covid’s aftermath. When I’m good, I feel on top of the world, and I when I feel low it’s as if I’d never had a happy thought in my life. As part of getting back on a hahppy track, I reviewed the Newbery award winners.

The part of me that was ready to dive into spring cleaning and start my garden got derailed. Three out of three people in my house got sick with the latest variant, spaced five days apart. What a kill joy. It’s been easy to be down on myself for not rebounding as effortlessly as I would like. In the meantime, it’s been a pleasure watching the fascinating and uplifting National Parks series narrated by former President Barrack Obama, on Netflix.

Were he still walking on this side of life, yesterday would have been my father’s 107^th birthday. (HBD, Dad.) It was a sunny and crisp day in WNY, and I was wondering how our cherry tree, which looks like popcorn shish kebabs of blossoms, would handle the lastest frost warning. Last year, when the tree was similarly marvelous and the weather also crisp, I wondered the same thing – and we didn’t get one cherry last spring.  

The notes at the back of Laurie Halse Anderson’s Fever 1793 (2000) caught my interest. In the story set in Philadelphia over the scorching summer of 1793, city residents scrambled for medical care and argued about best treatments. Those who succumbed quickly to yellow fever were the lucky ones.

Some doctors used a risky practice called blood-letting to drain fevered blood. Others preferred rest, fresh air and plenty of fluids (now recognized as the better choice.) The 14-year-old heroine lost neighbors, became separated from her mother, struggled with illness in the countryside and later, starvation in the city.

Thank you for another thoughtful picture spread, On Foot, of women farmers in Limpopo province, South Africa, with a photo credit to Siphiwe Sibeko of Reuters, in the Christian Science Monitor (April 25 & May 2). Thanks also to Melissa Mohr for the timely information on Cyrillic writing in her In A Word column. Mohr shared a concise history dating the script’s origins to the late 800s, and its getting named in honor of Cyril, one of two Christian missionaries. I learned that speakers in Eastern Orthodox Christian cultures like Bulgaria, Serbia, Russia and Ukraine kept the Cyrillic way of writing. Polish, Czech and Slovenian speakers who were mainly Roman Catholic changed to Latin script.