Biblioburro

As the daughter of a small town librarian who took me on deliveries in the near north of Ontario in a bright yellow bookmobile, I was tickled to learn about the Biblioburro, a traveling library that distributes books to young Colombian readers from the backs of two donkeys.

I’d been watching TVOntario and saw the story of Luis Soriano included in Alberto Manguel’s – Empire of the Word.

Initiated over a decade ago in the La Gloria area of Colombia, Luis Soriano delivers books twice-monthly to small villages in his area thanks to his donkeys, Alfa and Beto. With a hand painted Biblioburro sign tucked under his arm, it’s a ritual he repeats almost every weekend in Colombia’s war-weary countryside.

Soriano is by profession a primary school teacher. He developed his whimsical take on the bookmobile after witnessing how the power of reading transformed his students who were struggling to live through conflict. Biblioburro was created from the belief that providing books to people who do not have them can somehow improve the lives in this impoverished region.

When he himself was young, the violence of bandit groups was so bad that Soriano’s parents sent him to live with his grandmother near the Venezuelan border. He returned at 16 with his high school diploma and took a job teaching reading to schoolchildren.

In the 1990s, Colombia’s long internal war had drawn paramilitary bands into the area surrounding his hometown of La Gloria, intimidating the local population. It was through this violence that Soriano would travel to communities with his donkeys and a portable library that started with 70 books. He’d take with him some reading texts, volumes of the encyclopedia and novels from his personal stash. Children still await Luis Soriano at stops along the way to hear him read from his selection before they can borrow the books.

Thanks to donations, as of 2008 his collection of books numbered 4,800 volumes. A community library in Santa Marta, nearly 180 miles away has hired him as a satellite employee and the library shares a portion of its $7,000 budget with him. He lives with his wife and kids in a small house with books piled to the ceiling. On his teacher’s salary of $350 a month the budget is tight. He and his wife, Diana, opened a small restaurant, La Cosa Política, two years ago to help make ends meet.

Please check out Luis's blog. http://elbiblioburro.blogspot.com/

photos taken from www.nytimes.com

For Sale

Here's the house I moved into the day after my third birthday. Train tracks at the bottom of the yard - views of Georgian Bay from the front window. It's up for sale for $239,000 CA.

http://www.mls.ca/propertyDetails.aspx?propertyId=8897427

The Two Pollies

Polly Jackson


Polly Jones

My mother kept a goldfish pond in her back yard. In July her very rotund female laid her eggs and her husband did his duty resulting in lots of roe and very many teeny-weeny fry.

Mum rescued a glob of the fish eggs and raised them in a bowl inside the house away from their parent's canabalistic tendencies.

Many died-off but 3 remained. We brought them back to Toronto in the back of the car in an old mason jar. They weren't much bigger than sesame seeds.

So I introduced them to Ming's old bowl and the resident snail. We call him Monstro. We hope for the best for our three new fish.

I've always loved goldfish and goldfish images. Some of the earliest art I bought for myself was of Japanese carp hand-painted on silk.

Goldfish also remind me of two of my favourite blog artists - Polly Jones and Polly Jackson; a Texan and an ex-Texan. Their work is wonderul; full of light and life. I like their treatment of goldfish, carp, koi, whatever, very much.

www.pollyjackson.com
http://pollyjones.blogspot.com/

When I am Old I Shall Wear Purple or the Red Hat Society - Love it or Leave it.

Please have a look at this poem by Jenny Joseph.

When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple

with a red hat that doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves

and satin candles, and say we've no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I am tired

and gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells

and run my stick along the public railings

and make up for the sobriety of my youth.

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain

and pick the flowers in other people's gardens

and learn to spit.



You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat

and eat three pounds of sausages at a go

or only bread and pickles for a week

and hoard pens and pencils and beer nuts and things in boxes.



But now we must have clothes that keep us dry

and pay our rent and not swear in the street

and set a good example for the children.

We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?

So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised

When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

This is a great poem. I read it years ago. It's all about an aging woman's longed-for non-conformity. It reminds me of those cool older ladies who love their budgies, add a streak of colour to their hair and might share a toke with their grandson.

What could be more conforming than a "society"? Somebody had the great idea of taking this poem and using it as the tenet for The Red Hat Society. The Red Hat Society is peopled by women 50 and older who think that by dressing alike, wearing purple with their red hats and red gloves is pushing the outside of the envelope. They think they're breaking the mould of what it's like to get older. I beg to differ. They're just reinforcing it.

Here's a quote from Queen Mother, Sue Ellen Cooper

"The Red Hat Society began as a result of a few women deciding to greet middle age with verve, humor and elan. We believe silliness is the comedy relief of life, and since we are all in it together, we might as well join red-gloved hands and go for the gusto together. Underneath the frivolity, we share a bond of affection, forged by common life experiences and a genuine enthusiasm for wherever life takes us next."

I suppose I can see the poignancy for someone of my parent's generation, but as someone from the "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" generation and as someone who refuses to myself middle-aged despite my 47 years - I don't get it.

How about living your life to the fullest NOW; being an individual first. Mixing it up a little before you find yourself old. Instead of longing for permission to be non-conforming - do it now. How can joining a club add to your individuality?

I really shake my head at the Pink Hat society, whose members are under 50 but are obviously ready to wear the mantle of age. To quote a line from the poem, maybe they OUGHT to practice a little now. Maybe they ought to have been practicing a lot earlier to be uniquely individual insteading of waiting to join the club of old age eccentricity.

And to close I'll paraphrase Groucho, "it's a wonderful institution, but who wants to live in an institution"

Sorry - just a rant. What do you think?

Pumpkin Pandemonium

On November 1st, people in our neighbourhood take their jack-o-lanterns from the night before, relight them and place them in our community park - just a minute's stroll from my back door. It is a wonderful, spontaneous tradition, with literally thousands of folks adding their pumpkins to the parade. It's really an awesome spectacle.

This fairly new custom started about 6 or 7 years ago with around 20 participants and snowballing (if I can mix my seasons) into a citywide attraction. Coming home at dusk we were stuck in a traffic jam of parents with their young children and pumpkins in tow; some on foot, some being pulled in their wagons.

The jack-o-lanterns are left to smoulder all night and vandalism is at a minimum. The City agrees to collect them en masse the next day.

Here are some pictures (far too many) of last night's festivities. One person put Cinderella in her pumpkin. My yellow Lab Jersey is on hand to judge.