Cold Sassy Tree by Olive Ann Burns

Cold Sassy treeI think I’ve mentioned I like a story set in America that reveals a bit of history, yes?  Well I was talking to a colleague the other day about other novels we may have hanging around the high school that I could use in my American Lit class.

He pulled Cold Sassy Tree by Olive Ann Burns out of his cupboard and recommended it.  After polling the lunch room, I may be the only person who has never read this book…or heard of it.

At first I didn’t know.  It was an old, ugly copy that I was given and the title was dumb.  But it was set at the turn of the 20th century in the South, and it was about a family and well, that is the combo I needed to sell me on reading it.

Like I said, the novel begins in 1906 in the small Southern town of Cold Sassy.  The narrator, a young Will Tweedy who is 14 at the start of the story, tells about his family–specifically his grandfather, E. Rucker Blakeslee the owner of Cold Sassy’s general store who marries a Miss Love Simpson just three weeks after his first wife passes.  This causes a ruckus not just in the family (Will’s mom and aunt are appalled that their father would marry before their dear mother’s body is even cold), but the town is in an uproar about how improper it all is.

Will Tweedylearns a lot about life and death and religion and society from his Grandpa Blakeslee.

At the very beginning of the book, Grandma Blakeslee dies and Will Tweedy compares his feelings to when his friend Bluflord Jackson died less than a year prior.  As a fourteen-year old who narrowly escapes being run over by a train, he is confused about God and why he chooses some people and not others to die.  About why God would will bad things to happen to good people, since his father–a very strictly religious man–tells him that everything happens due to God’s will.

Grandpa licked some meringue off his fork while he pondered. Finally he said, “Life bullies us, son, but God don’t. He had good reasons for fixin’ it where if’n you git too sick or too hurt to live, why, you can die, same as a sick chicken. I’ve knowed a few really sick chickens to git well, and lots a-folks git well thet nobody ever thought to see out a-bed agin cept in a coffin [...]

[...] When it comes to prayin’, we got it all over the other animals, but we ain’t no different when it comes to livin’ and dyin’. If’n you give God the credit when somebody don’t die, you go’n blame Him when they do die? Call it His will? Ever noticed we git well all the time and don’t die but once’t? Thet has to mean God always wants us to live if’n we can. Hit ain’t never His will for us to die–cept in the big sense.”

Will Tweedy’s big question beside this is about prayer: Why does Jesus tell us in the Bible to just “ask” and we will “receive” when that is not so.

He spends much of the novel coming back to this question.  Until the end, that is.

Grandpa Blakeslee was by far my favorite character.  I loved his way of explaining the Bible and what he believed God meant for us, his followers.  I found myself underlining and starring because they were also ways I felt too.

I also loved how he really didn’t care what the community thought about him.   He does what he wants according to his own morals and beliefs.

I read some reviews of people who got lost in the dialect that Burns uses, but I thought it was much easier to get through than say, Huckleberry Finn. In fact, I had no idea what they were talking about.  It was not murky or hard to understand and I am a Yankee!

I liked that the story was told from a 22-year old Will Tweedy’s perspective looking back at his teen years.  I think Burns did an excellent job of capturing the voice of a young, somewhat innocent teen boy’s voice.

Even though the story takes place in 1906, clearly the themes of questioning life and death and bucking societal norms are universal.  I won’t have time to teach the book anymore this year, but hopefully next year I can work it in because I think my students would enjoy reading it.

Changing Gears by Nancy Sathre-Vogel

I hate riding my bicycle.

In fact, I don’t even have a bicycle.

Thinking about riding a bicycle makes me tired.  I can remember the jello-feeling I used to feel in my thighs after going around the block.  The way I could pedal and pedal, but if I was going into the wind I could walk faster.

Ugh. I’m reliving it all over again and shuddering.

Changing-Gears1You would think the very last book in the world to capture me would be a book about riding bikes.  You would be wrong.

I fell in love HARD for Changing Gears: A Family Odyssey to the End of the World by Nancy Sathre-Vogel in the prologue where she describes and encounter with a 400-pound black bear that begins chasing her 10-year old son while he pedals his bike for his life.

My eyes bulged and I realized this book was not going to be “just” about biking.

This paragraph in the first chapter of the book becomes Nancy’s driving force throughout her journey.  And the theme of the book:

“What would you do if you were not afraid?” I asked myself as I lay in bed that night. “If you weren’t afraid of what people would say about you, or of the unknown, or of failure, what would you do?”

The Vogel Family: Nancy, John, and their twin 10-year old sons Davy and Daryl, decide to go for it.  They are going to bike from the most northern possible point of North America, Prudhoe Bay, Alaska all the way to the tip of South America, Ushuaia, Argentina.

It took them three years (1018 days).  They went 17,285 miles through 15 countries.

On bikes.

I can’t even imagine doing that by car.  But on a bike?  In the weather?  I read the whole book–some parts twice–and I still can’t wrap my mind around it.

I got so into the story of their journey that I didn’t even notice what chapter I was on; I noticed what country I was in with the Vogel family.

I felt like I was camping in Canadian woods with them.  I shared Nancy’s worry about where their next food and/or water source would be.  As a mother her concerns about keeping her family safe and doing right by her boys resonated with me.

She admits to being the biggest worrier on the trip, and as a mother, I can empathize.

She didn’t spend a lot of time using technical, biker-only lingo.  Nor did she overdo the descriptions of the landscapes or villages they stopped in.

Nancy is a mother telling a story. Her family’s story. Their story just happens to be on bikes.

What caught my attention and got me to read the book was the adventure, the hardships, the difference between their life choices and mine.

How applicable the lessons of the journey were to “real” life.

We could plan and plan, but sometimes we simply hadn’t hit upon the perfect solution–yet.  We needed to use our failure as a learning opportunity to add knowledge to our bank.

Nancy and John had to try to plan for every possible thing that could go wrong on the trip: broken bike parts, all kinds of weather, food shortages, getting clean water, etc. And things did go wrong. Their were injuries and dehydration.  There was sickness and broken bikes.  There was theft.

But they dealt with it, learned from it, and moved on to finally achieve their dream.

It wasn’t always fun, as she tells some children in Alabama via Skype.

Living your dream won’t always be easy or fun, [...] but it will always be wonderful. When you truly  make the decision to live your dream and do your big thing, you’ll forge ahead even in the hard times.

I thought about the dreams my husband and I have decided to live out.  He finished his degree in December.  Something that he had always wanted to do.  It was a major struggle a lot of the time, but, as Nancy said, he “forged ahead even in the hard times.”  Even when he wanted to quit, as Nancy also did many times.

And in a month, he will not only walk across a stage and get recognized at commencement, but he will do so from a small group of medal-wearing students–the top students in the class.

It was hard work.  That degree was his Ushuaia.

And he made it.

Nancy and her family didn’t conquer their dream because they decided not to be afraid.  Nancy was terrified.  But she did it despite being afraid.

And that is what Cort did too.  He was full of fear about going back to school as an adult…of not making it…of what people would think.

But he did it anyway.

So. What would you do?  What would your dream be if you weren’t afraid?

What WILL you do despite being afraid?

*************

If you would like a copy of the book, go here.

I was not compensated in any way for this review.  Nancy sent me the book, but the thoughts and opinions are all mine.

Nurturing the Soul of Your Family

I believe everything happens for a greater purpose.

About six months ago I started doing devotionals with an online group of women. I started to find some inner peace.  My finding inner peace led to a more peaceful family life.

But there were still parts that needed working on.  We had a technology issue in our house.  As in, we were ALWAYS CONNECTED. Cort, me, even Eddie.  We needed to actually use our family time on being a family.

So I wrote a post about that being my New Year’s Resolution as a mom.  And we worked on it.

3D_webnurturing_the_soulIn the middle of working on it, I was sent the book, Nurturing the Soul of Your Family: 10 Ways to Reconnect and Find Peace in Everyday Life by Renee Peterson Trudeau.

This was it.

This book–which I recommend every. single. family read–has everything I have been wanting for our family.

The organization of the book makes total sense: it starts with self, moves to reconnecting with your family, then to celebrating each other, goes into how to be more present, and ends with building up a support network.

I have to say the beginning chapters about self are what my therapy sessions are generally focused on.  Having suffered depression, anxiety, PPD, PTSD, OCD and more, I have to do a lot of work on myself…on loving myself…on remembering to put my oxygen mask on before I help others.

Much of the first section was like I was doing extended reading homework for my therapy.  It was wonderful.  I marked up the pages, was reminded of some important lessons, and felt good about what I was doing “right”.

Then I hit the second section–specifically chapter three–about disconnecting in order to reconnect.

It was hard for me to read because this is our exact problem in our house.

While I certainly do not agree that a mom on a cell phone in a park is necessarily neglecting her family, I do know that this family has been guilty of having three faces stuck in screens at the same time while a baby napped.

And I know it’s wrong…because it feels wrong.

I finished the book a while ago, but I came back to this chapter because this is where we are.  I can’t really get past this part until we work on it as a family.

My other favorite part comes a few chapters later when it talks about finding your spirituality.  It doesn’t have to be Christianity (in our case it is), it could be a traditional religion or not.  The idea is to become more at peace with yourself through spirituality and eventually have that permeate the family life through service to others, accepting each other, living in the present, and choosing happiness when possible.

I could really go on and on about this book.

It’s a MUST READ, in my opinion.

While I sat down and read it cover to cover for this review, I think if I was diving into it, I would take it much more slowly so I could really absorb and digest each section and really work on the tips and lessons.  Have some communication with my husband about it all.

In fact, I plan to start the book over and do just that.

If you want more information about Nurturing the Soul of your Family, head over to Renee Trudeau’s site.

Legal Stuff: I was sent a copy of the book for review, but no further compensation was exchanged.  All opinions are my own.

A Fine Balance

a-fine-balance--large-msg-1111635576-2A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry is a thick historical novel.  Both heavy in the literal sense and the figurative sense.

Historical Fiction is my favorite, and although I am usually drawn to US History, A Fine Balance lured me in because I don’t know much about Indian History, but I do remember loving A Passage to India by E.M. Forster when I read it in 12th grade.

The plot of A Fine Balance is mostly set in 1975 India, but it flashes back to 1947 when the country went from Independence to the Emergency which was called by Prime Minister Gandhi.  It is clear by the tone of the book that the author is not a fan of Gandhi’s politics, but he never mentions him by name or outright says that Gandhi is to blame.

There are three separate stories at the beginning that blend into one after the first section: Ishvar & Om, Dina, and Maneck.  Ishvar and Om come from a small village in a low caste.  They learn to the tailoring business and escape to the big city.  While on a train to Dina’s apartment, they meet Maneck who is also headed to Dina’s.

Dina grew up in the city in an upper-caste family. Due to a series of unfortunate events, Dina ends up living alone in an apartment.  She takes up tailoring to make some money, but needs to hire a couple more tailors–Ishvar and Om–to help make the large orders she takes in.  Another effort to make rent is to take in a paying house guest, Maneck.

Maneck grew up in a mountain village north of the city.  His parents made a huge living by owning a general store and making and selling their own cola.  His parents send him away to college in the city so he has something to fall back on in case the store falls through.

The three stories are all very different, yet they all weave their way into each other seamlessly and with much loss and tragedy. There is just enough good fortune to keep life–and the reader–going.  Just enough to give hope to the characters to go on, and for the reader to keep turning pages.

The book took me about six months to read because it is very, VERY depressing. I kept having to put it down and read something lighter and funny.  Then I could sit back down for another chunk of the depressing life of India in 1975.  So much poverty. So much human tragedy.  So much inhumanity.

It’s an important book.

It’s an eye-opening, thought-provoking book.

It’s an excellent book.

But it’s big and deep and heavy.

So what is the “fine balance” in the title? I believe it’s the balance between light and dark, the balance between hope and giving up.  It’s the sad reality of the characters entwined with the small joys that help push them through each day.

And it is a reminder that although we are all separate, we are simultaneously one.  One humanity.  One life.

One balancing act.

Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith

12535I’m a die hard Anne Lamott fan.  That being said it’s been quite some time since I last cracked one of her books.

Her nonfiction is my favorite.  I was hooked when I first read Bird by Bird in 2004 and I have devoured her words every chance I could get.  I was delighted that she not only wrote about being a writer, but also about her journey as a Christian.

Anne Lamott is exactly the kind of person Jesus would have had in his target to sidle up to and invite himself over to dinner.  She was an addict and a sinner.  She was full of grudges and bad choices.  Then Jesus found her.

I mean, Jesus grabs people that kill Christians, take people’s money, and sleep around for money.  And he grabs people like Anne Lamott.

She is hilarious, thoughtful, brilliant, stressed out, and anxiety-ridden.

Her book, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith, is a memoir-style book of personal essays that read like little sermons.  Each chapter is a little reminder that amid the crap storm that life throws us, there are beautiful, joyful things to be thankful for.

I have dog-eared the crap out of this book.

I hate saying that Lamott and I are so much alike, but we do hold many of the same passionate opinions.  We both strive to be good Christians while also being bleeding heart liberals gung-ho about social justice.

We both believe Jesus would have been in the ugliest parts of towns saving the ugliest sinners.

And we both wish God would stop telling us to love people we would rather hate.  But because we love Jesus, we try.  We try to love everyone.

We both have sons we fear may be insane due to their moodiness.  Hers (at the time of the book) is a teenager. Mine is 3 and half.  It’s astounding how similar they are.

And we are both obsessed with our own anxiety and depression.

She also refers to her thighs as “the aunties,” so there’s that.

I cried more than once reading this book, from laughter and from my heart being touched…and broken.

Anne Lamott is awkward, hilarious, irreverent, and very, very human.  And she is a glorious writer.  She says all the things in my heart in a way I never could because I don’t have the experiences she does to express them.  I also don’t have her unbelievable talent for writing.

I’m so glad I re-found her writing, and I can’t wait to get my hands on some more of her words.

Confessions of a Scary Mommy by Jill Smokler

I gave in.

I wasn’t going to do it.  At least not until I read a bunch of other stuff I already owned, but on a whim (and because Jill put up a link on facebook), I bought Confessions of a Scary Mommy for my Nook.

I read it in less than 48 hours.

I was afraid it would be pretty much just like reading Jill’s blog.  And it was.  But it was a good thing.

Ok, Ok…let me back up.  I suppose there are people who wander over here who are not blog readers…or at least not “Mommy Blog” readers.

Jill is the author of the widely popular blog, Scary Mommy.  She is known for her raw honesty about motherhood–something I totally respect.  She is not afraid to say the things that no one else will…

…that even though we may love our children, we don’t always like them.

…that being a mom isn’t all dreamy loveliness.  It’s hard.  And it’s filled with both pride and heartbreak.

…that sometimes the people we love the most in our life drive us the most crazy now that we are mothers.

Jill has an entire community on Scary Mommy.  One where moms can come and chat and commiserate and seek advice.

She also has The Confessional: totally anonymous posts by real moms confessing anything they want.  Sounds simple, but read through some of them.  They range from hilarious to heartbreaking.  And Jill uses a handful of real confessions at the beginning of each of her chapters.

Speaking of chapters, they are organized by topic. There is a chapter on husbands, on kids and swimming pools, on choosing your baby’s names, on being pregnant.  Each begins with real confessions before Jill writes an almost essay-like chapter about the topic.

But I use the term “essay” loosely.  “Essay” makes me think of medical periodicals or articles in my education journals.

There is no academia in these essays.  Just real, honest observations about the job that is motherhood.

I loved this book in spite of myself.

I wanted to be able to come here and tell you it was fluff and you may as well just read her blog for free instead of shelling out the dough for the book.

But I would be wrong.  The book is great.

The biggest complaint I saw in other reviews was the language.  Yes, there is swearing.  But if you read Jill’s blog, you know that is her style.  If you don’t, and it’s a surprise to you and a deal breaker, well…I guess that is unfortunate.  For you.  Because you are letting the word “shit” distract you from a great message.

That motherhood is fiercely difficult, but 100 times more fiercely worth it.

American Salvage by Bonnie Jo Campbell

This is not the first time this title has been over here.  My friend, Jeremy talked about his experience reading American Salvage at the beginning of last year.  As soon as his post went live, I knew I wanted to read this collection of short stories.

I’m a junkie for local regionalism, and while I think Campbell’s stories aren’t necessarily regional in the sense that they are unique to southwest Michigan, there is definitely a regional flare with the language and places.

Just as I devoured Hemingway’s “Nick” stories that were set in northern Michigan, I sped through Campbell’s tales from the area where I went to college…both for my Bachelor’s and my Master’s.  I became pretty well acquainted with the areas–from the wealthy professors and locals to the more rural areas where I did my student assisting.

Admittedly, my favorite collections of short stories are those from the Lost Generation: Fitzgerald, Hemingway, etc. And while Campbell focuses on the lower working class rather than the starving artists and upper classes, the themes are very much the same.  As one of my students once said, “literature is all about someone wanting/needing something, trying to get that something, and then either succeeding or failing.”  My favorite thing about short stories as opposed to novels is that a short story still follows this pattern, but in a nice tight little package.

There are not chapters and chapters of background.  You don’t necessarily know how those characters ended up together–nor does it matter–the conflict at hand is what you have…a snapshot into their lives.

And there isn’t always a complete resolution in a short story either.

If the characters entire lives were the novel, this particular moment is the short story.

American Salvage is full of intense snapshots.

There are big questions left lingering after each story.

There is vivid imagery and powerful language.

The characters are raw and real.

I loved this book.

I want to take these stories and read them over again.  With a class of students.  And then pick them apart word by word, image by image, character by character.

When that happens?  It means I’ve falling in literary love.

The Book of Ruthy by Jane Hamilton

I stumbled upon The Book of Ruth in a pile of books that my best friend dropped off for me to look through. She said I could keep what I wanted to read and donate the rest.  Most I had already read, but a few were new to me so I set them aside to keep.

The Book of Ruth  was one of those “keepers”.  I held onto it for no other reason than I hadn’t read it before.  Well, truth be told, I also have a penchant for any book that has been on Oprah’s Book Club list. About 90% of the time I really enjoy the books she chooses (and the times I don’t agree, I actually really, really HATE the book.  The Corrections, anyone?  Blech).

The front of the book also had this quote from Vogue:

An American beauty this book…The narrator of Jane Hamilton’s sensational first novel is a holy lusty innocent.”

Before even opening it I knew it was in first person and from the point of view of someone who was probably a victim.

I was right.

The story is told from the perspective of Ruth (whose name is actually not given until the very last chapter of the book, but can be presumed from the title) about something that happens to her and her family.  It reminds me, in a way, of how The Catcher in the Rye begins with Holden Caulfield in the mental hospital telling his audience that he is going to tell the story of how he got there.  Ruth begins the same way:

Even though I may still be looking through the dark glass, even though I haven’t finished learning the lessons, I’m the only one who tells the story from beginning to end.

The reader has no idea where she is telling the story from or who the characters she mentions in her introduction are, but you get the feeling that something terrible is going to happen.  Something she survives, but not all of them do.

She starts the story from when she was very small, and sucks you in with her beautiful descriptions and the lovely, innocent way she sees the world.  At the same time, the way she describes herself as dumb and worth nothing is heartbreaking.

It’s a coming-of-age story, in a way I suppose. A Bildungsroman (the literary term) by definition means the character has some sort of moral and psychological change from childhood to adulthood and that is definitely true of Ruth.

Most coming-of-age stories also focus on man (in this case woman) vs society.  In this case, Ruth struggles with how poor her family is. It’s not the focus of the novel since most of the town she lives in is poor, but she is clearly aware of how plain she is wearing her clothes that are hand-me-downs or thrift shopped.  She is aware that they are always broke.  And she is aware that her family is “different” even once she is an adult, but she can’t figure out how to break out of this.  Even though her brother did it.

The Book of Ruth was really easy to read, although for awhile, I forgot about the beautiful foreshadowing in the beginning and started to wonder when the bad thing was going to happen.

Don’t get me wrong, there was some epic build up and the “bad thing” deserves the build up, but at times, it seemed to be peaking and then, no.

This is one of those books that when I finished it, I laid it down and looked at it, then picked it up and read the first chapter again.  Then I realized I loved it.

Because you have to remember where this book begins.

That is Ruth’s point, I think.  And it makes it easier to understand her conclusions on the last page.

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

Once upon a time a friend sent me a book.

I was told by every. single. person who has read the book in it’s entirety that it ranked in their top books picks of ALL TIME.

It’s about a young girl in Nazi Germany.  As morbid as it sounds, I enjoy reading young adult lit about World War II and the Holocaust and Nazi Germany.  It’s impossible not to be amazed that something this horrific happened.  It happened.  So I was more than eager to read this “life changing” novel I had heard so many great things about.

When it came in the mail from my friend, I was all ants in the pants about getting started, but I was reading something else first.  And I do NOT like to overlap, so it had to wait.

The beginning intrigued me.  The narrator is…well…not any narrator I have ever had the pleasure of meeting before.  That alone kept me intrigued…how could this story be told by him?

It begins with Liesel Meminger being orphaned to foster parents by her mother.  But not before Liesel watches her younger brother die on the train ride there.  The first book she steals is called The Grave Digger’s Handbook that she finds partially covered in snow near her brother’s grave site.

The book (and interesting narrator) follow Liesel through her new life on Himmel Street where she learns to read…and steal books.

Don’t forget this is Nazi Germany in 1939.  There is the Hitler Youth and Jew-hiding.  And loss.  A lot of loss.

As I mentioned, the narrator is a unique choice.  The brief notes and asides by the narrator are also interesting to the organization of the novel.

I’d say it’s an easy, fast read, but that is not entirely true.

The first half dragged for me.  In fact, when I received a different book to review, I welcomed the chance to put this one down.  And leave it down as I moved on to another different book.

It wasn’t until I complained about it on facebook, twitter, and at work that I was convinced I must be crazy.  NO ONE ELSE seemed to have my issue.  So about a week ago, I picked it up again.

And I am so glad I did.

Something magical happens halfway through the book.  All the building actually becomes something.  The story moves deftly and magically and tragically.

The narrator prepares the reader for the end throughout the book.  So does history.

Yet…

The ending sat with me after I finished it.  It sat in my heart…in  my brain…in my life.

It is still sitting with me.

It’s not that it was surprising.  It’s that it was.  It happened.

It’s the way it was described.

There is no way to tell you.  You have to read the book.

But I will leave you with one of my favorite quotes:

“Don’t punish yourself,” she heard her say again, but there would be punishment and pain, and there would be happiness too.  That was writing.” pg 524

 

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot

Whenever I start a new book, I hand up a little sign at the front of my room broadcasting to my students what it is I am reading.  It’s right by our due date calendar, so kids see it as they come and go. As soon as I put up my sign for The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, I had 2 or 3 kids come to me and tell me how much they loved the book.

At first I was a little stunned that they knew of the book, let alone had read it.  Not that my students aren’t avid readers (ok, most aren’t.  not many high schoolers read outside of what is required), but this didn’t seem like a book they would see and think, “huh, I totally want to read this book.”  I mean, come on.  It’s no Twilight. 

Turns out that it had been the required summer read for Advanced Placement Biology, so all of my (mostly juniors) who were taking AP Bio had read it. This was cool because I got to discuss it as I read it…something I don’t get to do much.

And there is TONS to discuss!

The book is Rebecca Skloot’s nonfiction account of the life and death…and then immortality …of Henrietta Lacks.

Henrietta Lacks was a poor black woman who suffered and died from cervical cancer in 1951 at John Hopkins Hospital.  During treatment, doctors took some samples of her cancerous cells, named them HeLa, and never told her.

Those cells proved to be one of the single-most important thing to happen to medical science…EVER.

Skloot doesn’t just tell the facts about the cells, but she also dives into a deeply personal account of how Henrietta’s family has had to struggle with the legacy and success of those cells while struggling so much that they can’t even afford proper medical care for themselves.

The book is a narrative about the history of the Lacks family intertwined with the journey of the HeLa cells, and touches on the controversy surrounding medical experimentation and research, bioethics, and the legality of patient consent.

At first I was worried that although I find science interesting, my dunce-like understanding of the nitty-gritty details of it would leave me feeling ignorant and confused while reading.

But Skloot makes the idea behind cell cultures and growth and research incredibly tangible to the lay-person like myself.  You do not need a degree in biology to fall deeply into this book.  I think it’s the family.  Henrietta’s daughter is not educated.  Most of the legality and actual science surrounding her mother’s cells are difficult for her to understand.  But Skloot makes the accessible to her…and to us.

For me, the novel’s narrative was perfect on it’s own, but Skloot also included a timeline of HeLa, a list of characters (there are a LOT of people in this story), and a “Where are They Now” run down at the end of the book.

I love a lot of books, but this one is definitely one I would classify as a “must read.”  Not only was the story riveting, but the issues it brought up were things I never thought of before.  In fact, this week I had my pre-admission appointment for having by baby in three weeks, and I had to decide whether I wanted any of Charlie’s leftover blood samples that went unused to be dumped or donated to research.  Any other time in my life, I would have signed that paper without thinking.  This time I actually paused to think about how this option was in front of me because over 60 years ago, doctors did it without permission and someone stood up against that.

I did sign the paper, but at least I signed it knowing what that blood could possibly used for.

Read The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks.  Do it.

 

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