To enter, leave a comment on this blog. Tell me something your child, your students, or you yourself learned during this kindergarten school year. It can be a few words or few paragraphs, whatever you like. (Be sure to check back to see what others have shared!)

On May 13 I will randomly pick an entry and email the winner to get mailing instructions. 

In 2019 and 2020, I taught a few semesters of creative writing at Hennepin Technical College. The best part of the job was being witness to my students' growth. For some students, that growth went beyond a new understanding of elements like plot or description. They learned that the very process of writing can be transformative. 

One student in particular discovered that writing can heal: "It helps you dig deeper within yourself," she told me. She continued to write after the class ended and has sent me some of her work from time to time. With her permission, I'm posting a couple of pieces here. They deal with sexual assault and its aftermath. Since April is both Sexual Assault Awareness Month and National Poetry Month, I thought this would be a good time to share her work. 

Darling, You’re Not Alone
 
The definition of the word is unlawful sexual activity and usually sexual intercourse carried out forcibly or under threat of injury against a person's will or with a person who is beneath a certain age or incapable of valid consent because of mental illness, mental deficiency, intoxication, unconsciousness, or deception.
 
There is no word that defines what happens to the survivors when this word is finished. 
 
How an agonizing pain tore my limbs apart piece by piece.
 
How I surveyed each piece of my body from head to toe.
 
How I wondered what made my attacker choose me, when did my words no longer matter.
 
How a world that was so full of bright colors became the same shade of gray.
 
My mind and spirit were shattered as if they were made out of glass. My solid foundation was nothing to this demon that was forced upon me.
 
My body gave up, stopped fighting the war within my mind. My body and I slipped away into a comatose state where I merely existed in the world. I was stuck in a crippling depression, stuck in time. I was standing still on the sidewalk on a busy day in the city, thinking I would rather die.
 
I would lie on my bed covered with several blankets to hide my body away. In my mind I was screaming, but my voice was a whisper lying that I was fine.
 
Bathing became a tortuous event that took all life and energy out of me. I couldn’t erase the unclean feeling. How does one clean something that is not dirty on the outside? I couldn’t stand to be touched, not even by my own hand. How could I be the mother I wanted to be if no one could touch me? My children’s bathtub toys all around the edge of the tub.
 
Somehow when I went to work I would shove it all away--my feelings of shame, disgust, fear, pain, numbness, anger, confusion, and loss. Others described my strength and courage as amazing, but some days I had no strength or courage at all. I crumpled against the floor where I would lie and cry. I’d let my fear consume me until I couldn't bear it and I would call out for help. The voices on the other end of the line would always greet me with compassion, empathy, and became my light in my darkest moments. It felt like those voices were right next to me, protecting me in my weakened state. Those voices walked me through the hardest parts of processing what had happened to me.
 
Healing from this word is not a straight line like a lot of people picture it. It’s rather a rollercoaster at night. Sometimes you see light and know what is to come. Other times it’s like you went backwards and you're in the dark again. In those dark moments,  I could hear their voice replaying in my head. They encouraged me to keep going but assured me that it was okay to take a rest, too. Giving up, though, wasn’t an option, not if I wanted to get better.
 
Because of them, I found that my voice, too, had strength and power to help myself and others like me.
 
Do not lose hope, for those darker moments do get easier and they come less and less often. Things you felt you lost will come back. But you need to choose to heal.
 
I hope that you hear me when I say that you are not alone in the battle. If you need someone to be your light and voice on the other line, I pray that you reach out. Darling, you're not alone in the battle.
 
Your strength will shine even brighter than before.
 

I recently had the privilege of visiting with U.S. elementary students living in Europe. I offered them a couple of writing prompts (from my Weird Things collection, of course) and wow, did their imaginations take off! The students whose work is posted here went "above and beyond," according to their teachers. Enjoy!

It was a frigid winter night when an egg hatched and out came a penguin.  He was different than others because he was not black and white like the other penguins. He was just white. His parents loved him and thought he was beautiful and special.  They always told him what makes him different makes him special. But he never knew what was special about him. He had no friends at school.  He would get bullied and laughed at because he was different. They called him names like blanco, colorless, pale, and chalk boy.

One day at school there were fliers that said a swimming competition is coming up.  Albert didn’t now how to swim because when he was little he was made fun of at the swimming pools. He went home to eat dinner and his mom and dad saw that he was gloomy. They asked what was wrong and he showed them the flyer.  His dad told him that it’s never too late to learn how to swim.  He said that it would be too hard to learn but his dad told him anything is possible because he is special. Albert practiced everyday and finally he beat his father in a race.  Then his father knew he was ready for the competition.  When they got to the competition they had to line up. The referee blew the whistle and the penguins started swimming.  Albert was in the lead and crossed the finish line first!

His parents were so proud of him.  Everybody came up to him and wanted to talk to him. AFN news wanted to interview him because he won. They wanted to know about his extraordinary life because he was the only white penguin they had ever seen.  They thought he was amazing! The bullies came up to him and felt bad for what they did and apologized. 

​After that day Albert was able to try new things by simply being himself.  He now has many friends who asked him for help with swimming faster.  Now he has the confidence to know that being different makes him special. 
 
The moral:
 Just because you are different it does not mean you are not capable of doing amazing things.

One day there lived a little penguin. He was stuck in a globe for as long as he could remember. The little penguin was tired of it. He wanted to see the real world. He would think of the globe as a glass wall stopping him from leaving. It was his dream to get out of the snow globe.

The little penguin would wait for somebody to break the glass so he could break free. But one day, the little penguin had too much anticipation and decided to push the glass. So he pushed and pushed and pushed and before he knew it, the globe was in the air. The globe had finally fallen off the shelf. He did it! He did break free! As the little penguin was falling, he shouted,“Yippie!”

But when the little penguin had finally reached the ground, the globe shattered. The penguin’s smile had turned into a frown. The little penguin had always thought that he would be happy to get out of his globe,and fulfill his dream, but instead he was upset. The little penguin's home had been shattered. The one he grew up in,and the one his dream came true in. The little penguin cried, and cried wishing that he could go back into his memories. But then it happened, a light bulb appeared over his head. The little penguin climbed up the shelf one by one, taking up the snow globe pieces and some glue up the shelf that he had found lying on the ground. When he made it to the top, he stood in the same spot as before and glued the pieces together delicately, so it wouldn’t break again. But, he made sure that there was one piece that could open and close that way he could leave when he wanted. Once it was finished and dried, the little penguin had a happy tear come out of his eye. The little penguin was finally satisfied, happy, and at home.

 
I'm a penguin
alone in this globe,
with a lot of snow.
 
I only have one wish.
one wish is all I need.
 
I want to be with the free,
but who needs the free.
 
 All you can see is a special penguin,
 who is happy to be seen.
 
And that special glowing penguin is me
in the globe.
Where I can enjoy being seen.
 

 
​White as the moon, I see
Create a storm just for me
See your chin way up high
Looking at the new white sky
The snowflakes fall on your beak
They just seem so tiny and meek
All unique and one of a kind
They fall like the worries in your mind
So graceful and so you
Stand there in the snowglobe is all you do
Stand there in the snowglobe is all you can do
Nothing else in your mind
Like the snowflakes falling from the sky
The snowglobe is your home
The snowglobe is your heart
It breaks, you fall apart

Once upon a time… there was a mini penguin in a snow globe. There were three  kids, a mom, and a dad. They loved the snow globe and always wrote stories  about it and took pictures of it to show their friends. Once the kids got older and  the parents passed away, the snow globe got lost. The people never saw it again,  but once the man unknowingly walked by and accidentally kicked the plug from  the snow globe into the outlet and the snow globe started to glow! The family  never knew the snow globe could glow, but I don’t think they wanted to. Since  the electricity was going into the snow globe, it electrified the penguin, and the  penguin magically came out of the snow globe and came to life. Oh! Did I mention  the penguin is colorless? Well, he is! The penguin wandered around the house  and wandered outside into the snow. He was very happy to find it was not fake  flakes and he made many snow angels, but he blended into the snow. He wanted  to be different, not one color and not white. He wanted to find his colors and go on an adventure! He wandered back into the house where the woman was  making a painting and she splattered paint all over the penguin, but she only got  one side of him. He was so joyful he got some color. He waddled on. After a little  while the penguin reached the man, where he was making a poster to put on the  walls of a school building, but he spilled some glitter on the other side of the  penguin and it stuck to him. The penguin wandered outside and saw a dog  wearing a sweater. The dog shook his fur, and all the fur went on to the little  penguin. The penguin found a little place to rest. He had been working hard all  day and finally had colors, but as the penguin laid down, he noticed that he had gotten some dirt on him. As he lay there, he fell fast asleep. The next day the  penguin was happy with all his colors… blue paint, green glitter, orange fur, and  brown dirt. He started wondering if he had made any friends. While he was  working on finding his colors, he realized that he would be able to try to make  best friends, but the question is, did he make friends? He wanted to know and  was going to find out, so he went back to his original home and when he got there, he saw his owners standing in front of him and remembering how much they  loved the penguin in the snow globe. Soon the penguin found himself in the snow  globe again. Everything went back to normal, but now he was colorful and glowed  from within. From that day on, the family never forgot about the snow globe.  They told stories about the penguin and because they talked about the penguin so much, they became famous. Everyone loved the family and the penguin! They  all lived happily ever after.
​

                On a brisk summer day a little penguin named William was getting ready for his first day of school. “Today will be the best day!” exclaimed William as he looked in the mirror and fluffed his all white feathers. “Honey, time for breakfast.” called William’s mom. William came down the stairs with a happy-go-lucky skip, ate breakfast and headed off to school.
               As William was walking to school, he noticed the other penguins staring. When he arrived he walked up the stairs to the courtyard and suddenly BAM! William felt himself on the ground and realised another penguin had tripped him. When he looked up he saw the other penguins pointing and laughing and then he heard them say “Look at all those white feathers, how weird!” William was heartbroken that the other penguins could be so mean.
During school, all William could think about is what had happened in the courtyard that morning. By the end of the day the only thing William could do was put his head down on his desk and wait for the final bell. The more he thought about what had happened the more bitter he became about his all white feather coat.
               As soon as the final bell rang, William stormed off. He headed straight home, swung open the door and stomped up the stairs. Wondering why her happy-go-lucky penguin wasn’t so happy anymore, William’s mother followed him up the stairs. “What’s wrong sweetheart?” asked William’s mom. “All of the other penguins were staring at me! They tripped me! They pointed and laughed at me! All because of my ugly WHITE feathers!” William began to cry and laid his head down in his mother’s lap.
               “Oh my sweet boy.” whispered William’s mom. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with those beautiful white feathers of yours. You are one of a kind but those feathers don’t make you who you are. You are kind, you are loving, you are caring and most of all you are loved.” William slowly lifted his head to look at his mother and said “But Mama the other kids….” and William’s mother quickly said “We are all different, William. We are different in our own way.” William looked at his mother and smiled and said, “You mean everyone is different?” She smiled back at him and said “Yes my sweet boy, we are all different.”
               William enjoyed the rest of the night with his family, went to bed and got up the next morning to get ready for school. He looked in his mirror, fluffed his wonderful white feathers, skipped joyfully down the stairs, ate his breakfast and proudly walked to school. When William got to the stairs, he took a big breath and headed to the courtyard. When he got to the top of the stairs another penguin said “Hi, my name is Emily, do you want to be friends?” William smiled and knew it was going to be a great day!

​Little penguin, was different from the others,
 
His feathers as white as snow

His parents had left him
 
He had no sisters and no brothers,
 
His eyes filled with tears from sadness
 
A long time passed by
 
Days, weeks, months, and years
 
He grew up
 
Got married
 
Had a little penguin of his own
 
He was happy
 
He wished
 
And Wished
 
And Wished
 
That his parents were there,
 
To see his Wife and kid
 
But he was still happy though they were gone
 
His little penguin had grown
 
And was almost leaving
 
And he was still happy
 
It was great that his child had
 
gone to start a life of his own
 
He was so happy for his child
 
He had heard that his wife had died
 
He was so sad and his eyes filled,
 
with tears as if they could fill the ocean 
 
But he had heard on the same day,
 
That his child was getting married
 
And he was still happy……………

           Once upon a time there was a penguin who lived in a snow globe. Her name was Paisley. Paisley loved her snow globe. Paisley always looked out the glass.But on a fine morning she was picked up  by a human. She was scared about leaving the place she had been her whole life. But she was excited about seeing new things. As the human was walking to the car the human dropped paisley’s snow globe! paisley was devastated and scared. The glass was all over the place! But then after dropping the snow globe paisley was amazed and surprised that the human picked up all of the  glass of the Ground her and her shattered snowglobe. When she was fixed she was very happy.           
               Now at a new place her snow globe was different. When she looked out the glass she saw a key. A little human came over and twisted the key then paisley felt her beak move. Then the human exclaimed look mommy the penguin singing. The little human twisted the key looking thing every time paisley stopped singing. The little human did this until it grew dark outside. The next morning she twisted the key looking thing again and she twisted it until it grew dark like she did the before day. The next morning the little human saw the key looking thing fell of! The little human put it on really easily. She could sing again. But the key looking thing kept on falling of. Then one day the taller human wasn't looking where her hands were and she knocked the snow globe over.
           The little human heard the noise and came right over. The little human saw the shattered snow globe and asked if it could be fixed. The taller human said that the snow globe could not be fixed but they can put paisley in a new snow globe like the she was in. Paisley was taken to the same place she was taken before. She was put in a new snow globe. Now her snow globe was not breaking and she sang happily when the little human twisted the key looking thing. She was happy from then on. 

​The End

​  
A thick, powdery layer of snow covered the ground. A frozen lake sat silently. The spindly trees swayed in the early-morning breeze. The sweet song of colorful birds drifted on the wind. It was a calm, peaceful morning. A girl sprang from. She reached for a snowglobe with a penguin in it. She had shelves of snowglobes of snow globes but she loved this one the best. “Annie? Are you up?” her mom called from downstairs. “Yes, one second!” Annie replied as she darted around the room. She pulled on a pink T-shirt, navy leggings, a coral-pink skirt, and her coat. Lastly, she grabbed one polka-dot sock and one striped sock. “Ugh! What are you wearing?” asked her teen-aged sister JJ. “I never dressed like that when I was ten!” she went on. She thought she was so cool in her leather jacket, ripped jeans, and beanie. “Why are you holding a snowglobe? You know that’s not safe with our brother.” Sure enough, a few minutes later, they were dodging foam bullets being fired by her eight-year-old brother, John. Finally, her mom got the bullets and was not happy. “You! Go to your room!” When he didn’t listen she added “NOW!” He started walking glumly upstairs. “Ok, bye!” I said as I ran upstairs, grabbed John, my brother, and we exited the house through the backdoor. “POWERS! HERE I COME!” he yelled, but Annie quickly covered his mouth. “Quiet” she hissed. “Ok,” he whispered back. Annie shook her snowglobe and it glowed brightly. Then the light sank into Annie. “Ok, your turn,” she told him in a hushed tone. He slowly took it, but his hands shook the whole time. He shook it, and finally, it began to glow. The light sank into John too! “Come here,” Annie told him as she put her snowglobe away in her bag.
 
They walked to the coast and Annie began picking up huge rocks. One rock, two rocks, THREE! He walked over but couldn’t pick one up. “Your power must be something else…I know!” Annie exclaimed excitedly. She ran to a massive rock. She picked it up so it was taller. Then she leaned it against the cliff. She climbed onto another rock and leaped onto the tallest one. John followed, but he wasn’t as graceful. “Ok,” Annie said when they both were on top. “We jump on three,” she told him. “What?” She grabbed his hands and said “ONE!” They moved to the edge. “TWO!” They got ready to jump. “THREE!” They leaped off and plummeted toward the jagged rocks below. Suddenly, they lurched to a stop mid-fall. John’s eyes were squeezed shut, but without a doubt, John was making them fly. Slowly, he opened one eye, then the other, and his face lit up. A mischievous grin spread across his face as they shot like a rocket into the clouds. A plane came too close for comfort and John lost his concentration and they fell until Annie grabbed the side of a rock and they were clanging above the razor-sharp rocks below. “That’s enough for today,” said Annie as she flung herself onto the rock and John floated on top. When they got home, Annie whispered into John’s ear. “The snowglobe doesn’t give us our powers, it just shuts them down while we’re at home.” “Cool,” breathed John as they stepped inside their inviting home.
 
The next morning was hard. John ran into Annie’s room as soon as the first sun rays of dawn appeared. When they were ready, they turned their powers on and headed to the town. They helped move trees, fix houses, and pick up litter. “Wow, the park sure looks better without all the trash an-” John was saying when he was cut off by a low rumble that shook the ground. Then, a giant robot broke through the ground. It was shaped like a T-rex and let out a roar so loud they had to cover their ears. A man stepped out of the T-rex’s mouth. He was very tall and herculean, but he was covered from head to toe metal. “Annie Cook! John Cook! Come forth and fight!” the man sneered. They tramped forward, but Annie ripped off one of its legs and used it to battle the robotic tyrant of the dinosaurs. “Fools!” the metal man yelled “I am Metal, you can’t stop me!” Metal pulled out a button and pressed it. When he did, other robots charged rapidly through the park. A pterodactyl flew up after John while Annie was surrounded by rabid-raptor-robots. She grabbed her snowglobe and threw it. The nearest robot lunged to catch it. When it did, it grabbed it and brought it back to Metal! He laughed triumphantly and called his robots back into the T-rex, and he followed. After he was gone, John came down to stand by Annie. His lip was swollen and he was cut up pretty badly. Annie’s leg hurt really bad and she had a gash across her cheek. She checked her bag and saw her magic snowglobe was still there. “A fake, you gave him a fake?” John realized. “My leg hurts, let’s go home,” Annie told him. “That sounds good,” he replied and the two of them limped home.
 
“WHAT HAPPENED!” their mom screamed when they walked in Annie shrugged-then winced. John faked laughing, “Let’s get you to the hospital,” their mother said. When they walked out of the doctor, Annie had stitches and a broken leg, and John had a bandaged wrist and he was holding an ice-pack to his lip. “Wow you two, wow,” their mom said. She held out her phone and the news was on. It showed their whole fight with Metal! She pulled them in for a big hug. “Wow, I am so glad you didn’t die,” JJ told them. “Really?” John and Annie asked in unison. “Really,” she told them. The whole family pulled in for a group hug. Even their dad came and hugged them. “You’re on the news!” he told them. “We know,” everyone told him. “Ha, ha, ha” he laughed and pulled in more. That moment was perfect and nothing less.
 
At home, the family sat down on the couch together to watch the news. The reporter talked about some strange battle in the park. “It was said that a man wearing metal was fighting kids!” the reporter yelled. “Thousands of people are coming to this park to see the dinosaur footprints” the reporter went on. “We love all of you,” their dad said when JJ pulled away. “We love you guys too,” Annie told them. She couldn’t help smiling. 

Once upon a time there was a colony of penguins. There was a little penguin named Zack that had no black on him. As he grew up he was made fun of at school and he had only one friend, his name was Steve. Steve was a different kind of penguin; he was from a different colony of penguins. He never knew his parents because they had abandoned him when he was a baby. So he was raised by two nice parents Lily and Liam. One day at school Zack and Steve  were going to sit down and eat their lunch the bullies they hated came and sat at the table in front of them. The bullies were really mean and they liked to pick on kids a lot. Especially Zack and Steve. They think the bullies come to support their leader Shifter; he was the meanest kid in school. They also came to bully kids. When Zack and his buddy were going to play. The bullies were cheating when they were playing soccer. They kept making fun of the players. They thought of a really good plan! Then Zack and Steve came and had a little talk with them. Then they ran off the field crying. Wow, I did not think that would work!

​The snow seemed everlasting. It has been seven days and the weather has not been touched. Not a blizzard, just light snowfall. The days got harder, more of a fight for survival. There was a small dinosaur with white, beige and black through the torso to the vertebrae. Some black feathers around the eyes and others running down the arms and the center portion of its tail. The trees around darkened every corner. It was rare for a lot of snow to get through the thick brush. A little teenage dromaeosaurus saw something familiar and hid, crouched behind a thick tree. Snow covering the cold moist mulch.
 
There was a moment of silence then she saw a lone struthiomimus probably separated from its group by an attack by another carnivore. It was walking in a medium sized opening between the snow and the forest. The dromaeosaurus bared it’s claws. The struthiomimus still had not yet seen dromaeosaurus. By the time the struthiomimus noticed the trouble, it was already down to the ground by the great feet of the dromaeosaurid. The feet thumped the struthio to the snow, took a quick deep bite in the long curved neck of the struthiomimus and caused it to weaken. The pupils became smaller and then the eyes were closed. Finally, the dromaeosaurus hungrily started to eat, but in the wild there is always competition. Just a few minutes later something possibly fatal happened. A strange sound startled the feeding dromaeosaurus. It looked around to the abyss of snow covered trees and bushes and saw another dromaeosaurus. Standing… Staring… Stalking…

​  
 There was once a white penguin. He was white from head to toe. He was born that way. He was a happy penguin until he started school. All the other little penguins bullied him. A few years passed and he is older now and is in intermediate school, and that's where our story begins…
 
It was the first day of fourth grade and the white penguin walked the arctic streets alone, looking like no other penguin. He could feel all eyes on him.
 
He walked to class and took a seat right next to me. We did some math and then went to lunch and recess. I noticed that the white penguin was swinging on a swing alone.
 
I was going to walk over there to swing but Mack Charter, the biggest bully out there, got there first and started singing the song he sings to all oddballs: “Oddball Oddball, you're so odd, you don’t fit in with any pod!”  Mack then laughed and waddled away.
 
I ran over to the white penguin and sat on a swing to his left. I then said, “ Don’t let him get inside your snowglobe White Penguin. I saw what happened.” He looked me in the eye and then looked at the ground.
 
“My name is Bo,” he said, “not White Penguin.”  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I replied, “my name is Juila.”  “ Don’t I sit next to you in class?” Bo asked. “Yep!” I responded. BBRRRIIINNNGGG!!!! “Oh that's the bell. Come on, friend!” I called, already two steps away from the swings.
 
Bo caught up to me, smiled and said, “ I’ve never had a friend before.” I smiled back and we walked to class together.
 
A couple weeks passed and Bo and I spent all our time together. All was happy until now. Only one word: Mack Charter. He was back. And this time he sang his song to Bo even louder.: “ ODDBALL ODDBALL, YOU’RE SO ODD, YOU DON'T FIT IN WITH ANY POD!!”  But this time, instead of getting upset Bo stood up and said “ You know Mack? I will not let you get inside my snowglobe. I think it is cool that I am different from the rest, and if you don’t see that I feel really bad for you.”
 
I grinned and Mack looked shocked. Then he quickly waddled away. Since then on Bo walked with his beak held high and proud.
 
When I think about him I think of a brave, powerful, kind soul. 
                            The Mighty Bo!

I am a nobody. That is a stone cold fact as hard as Antarctic ice. It is like I don’t exist. Even when I was born, it took the nurses an hour to find me. All the other penguins either don’t realize I’m there or just pretend like I’m not. I have been discriminated against and an object of disgust since I was born.
 
My parents were shocked and ashamed to give birth to a pure white. That’s the proper term but everyone calls them snowy’s. I am the only one in my tribe so my parents are on their own. Each of them are quite respected officials in our tribe, but that just puts all the more shame and disgust on me. 
 
When I was born, everyone was excited, I mean the giving of birth is important. The hunters had come back from the sea and each had lots of fish. My mother was in her cave when she had me and everyone was happy until the nurse showed me to everyone. Nobody could see the baby, until they finally realized that I was a runt, a pure white.
 
Now, it was even more embarrassing and shameful because the Trial of the Moon is about to start where each and every single child at 11 years old was given his job. In my case all runts at the trial of eleven were sentenced to death. It’s not like they chop off your head or anything, but you are banished from the tribe and sent off in the Antarctic wild. They banish us early so we don’t survive long.
 Our entire charter is based on how Thomas Quack the First governed our journey and later our new tribe was to forgive penguins so the persecutors have to be forgiving to stay pure. That's why they let snowy’s stay with our tribe for 11 years. You’re probably wondering who Thomas Quack the first was. He was the penguin who led our people across this barren desert of ice to the valley where we are now. He was also the first Emperor of the tribe and is my great, great, great, great, great grandpa. Although because I am snowy I cannot say that in public.
 
Not to mention that my family’s list of accomplishments include the fact that my parents do hold important government positions as high justices who help guide the emperor to making the right judgements. Yet, if I thought that I could ask them for help, think again. All my Mom or Dad talks about is banishing me and getting the Quack family honor back.
 
My plan is to escape the morning of the Trial so I have some supplies for when I’m in the wilderness. I will find a cave and camp there and sneak in the village and grab the most I can without revealing myself.  I have tunnels that lead to the outskirts of town and to all the alleyways in the town. If I could escape before they
 
“ Roger, get down here or I’ll banish you earlier than the trial next week,” My mom screamed.
 
I ran downstairs and bowed. “Yes guardian.”
 
Yeah it’s sad, that I can’t call her mom, but because I am a snowy, nobody in my family wants to be related to me so I can only call them guardian.
 
“ Get your work done Roger, I might as well get some use out of you while I still can,” she said.
 
…
 
Hours later, I sat lying in my barren room of the twigs I had collected for my nest. I waited for five minutes while I heard my mom stepping into her cave. Then I took out the rocks I had set on a tunnel to my real room. The one I had been building my whole life. It was beautiful with Twigs and snow that was comfortably set around it. I had fish stock piled from dinners, and an ice couch.
 
“Oh, come on.” The couch had shifted to another side of the room again. I walked over put my back against the wall, and
 
“Ahh!” The entire wall clapped behind me as I tumbled down a steep set of stairs. I stopped with a loud thunk at the bottom. After taking a minute to gain my senses I realized I was in a huge cave. It was dark so I ran back and grabbed a light. . After holding it up against the wall I saw drawings.
 
They were penguins obviously, but there was one white mark in the shape of a penguin, and it was leading the way while others were following it! 
 
Yet, the mentors of the young told us that the Whites on the journey to our home had stolen food and the great Thomas Quack the First had graciously let them stay. Thomas had eventually led them to the valley where we are now.
 
I took a closer look at the symbols next to the white figure. Although, as a snowyI shouldn't have any education, our system of language is simple so I have picked it up over the years.
 
“What no, no!” that’s not possible. Thomas Quack the First was snowy!

 
Sir Robin the penguin has a very sad life. He lives in a snowglobe by himself cursed to stand still and do nothing for an eon. The very story of why he was cursed is too violent for kids, so I will tell you the age-appropriate version of the story.

Fifty-thousand years ago during the Ice Age there was a special penguin named John. John was a special penguin because he excelled at everything from swimming and fishing, to math and science. Nobody messed with him because he was very strong and they knew if they tried to take him, they would get hurt. Over time he got older and only got better and better at things. Eventually, he was an adult and became the leader of the village. He was a strong leader that conquered more land for his tribe and caught so much fish in one area that they had to keep moving to a new place. After a while their tribe was so big and strong every penguin in the world was part of it, and so they built a thriving empire in the middle of the Arctic where it was the coldest. He ruled with a firm but gentle fist and had everything he wanted: gallant and brave soldiers, bright young children at the schools, and a stable economy. Everyone was very rich and happy and this continued for years to come.

“You’re the best, king John. You are even better than a fish sandwich,” his subjects often cheered.
 
After 20 years, John was growing old, and he knew it. He needed to decide who would become the next ruler because he didn’t have any children. After many months of thinking and thoroughly observing, he decided who would be the next king. He decided it would be Robin, his second in command and the general of the army. Robin was very brave and had risked his life many times for the king.

Ten years later John passed away and Robin took the throne. Lots of people were sobbing uncontrollably for weeks about his death. Robin was a very good king and made laws that John had failed to put in place. After about one year, something very unexpected happened. Robin went to the bank overnight, stole all the money, fled into the night, and was never seen again.

Well, there’s actually more to the story than this so let me finish. John, the former king, had set up a security system in case any nasty thieves wanted all the money. The security system was a tripwire, so when you stepped over it a spell was cast on you, turning you into a statue inside a snowglobe and cursed to stay like that forever. The snowglobe is a very terrible fate indeed, because the trapped are fully conscious the whole time and fully aware of what is happening around them but unable to move or speak. When Robin stepped over the tripwire, there was a blinding flash of green light – trapped forever!

​That was the fate that Robin endured and sadly nobody knows what happened to the penguin empire after that.

​
In San Diego Zoo, there was a family of penguins. There was the mom penguin, dad penguin, and their three kids, Flury, Flake, and Flopp. Flopp was the youngest. She always felt left out when her sisters played games. Flury was the oldest, prettiest, and just the best at everything.

One day, Flopp just could not take it anymore. So, she ran away. But, she only got to the end of her cage before she realized it was impossible to escape the complex zoo. Consequently, she told her mom all about it, hoping she would give her advice. Or, better yet, ground Flury and Flake. Mom was no help. Flopp thought long, and hard, and decided to dig a hole.

​Flopp managed to work her way through to her neighbor, Sally, the elephant’s room. Flopp noticed that zookeepers had just painted Sally’s wall. They left an enormous bucket of white paint on the ground, so Flopp jumped in it. She became all white. No one could wash it off. She tried dunking in the water, washing under the hose, and rubbing her feathers. Not even the zookeepers could get it off with a bath. When she gave up on getting it off, she realized that it looked pretty, and so did her sisters. But from that day on, Flopp was even more beautiful than her older sister, Flury, and was never left out again because of her shimmering, gleaming, whiteness.

Penguins small, big and tall march through wind and snow. Stomping feet shake the ground as the storm rages on.

Penguins slip and slide against the cold ice. They yell and call falling into the sea. They climb to shore squawking as loud as can be.

​The moon shines softly in the sky. The snow begins to fall as the penguins march on through the night. 

​Dear old snowman, big and bright you bring to me the morning light. A blanket of snow covers the land but you will always give me a hand. Outside in  the cold snow and ice is oh so bold. Friendly man made of snow I’d like to say, “oh no.” Your melting snowman summmer has come. Don’t cry dear child, I'll be back next winter.
 
​
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote this because it reminds me of the snowman my friend and I made back in Alaska.

 
I wake up and see large fluffy flakes. Falling from the sky so beautiful as if they were fake. Bundled up to go out and play. Hat, gloves, and snow pants so warm I stay. I feel the snow melting into my gloves so wet. So focused on playing that I don’t fret. I take time to make a special friend With arms made of snow that stand out straight and don’t bend. Beautiful buttons I use made of pearl. I place on the coat of my little snowgirl. I grab my sled and head for the hill. Zooming down with my friends we laugh and shiver with a chill. Coming inside from the cold  snowy storm I smell the fireplace burning while I get warm. As my snow day ends with the fire warming my toes. I taste creamy hot chocolate with the perfect amount of marshmallows.

Pretty little snowman, so content in every little way, pretty little snowman, your carrot nose bright orange. Pretty little snowman, your beady little eyes are like black pearls at the bottom of the sea. Pretty little snowman we have to say goodbye but please don't cry, the sun is coming up and you'll just melt away but we’ll see you again next Christmas again we’ll get to play.

​
The snowman reminded me of the first time it snowed while my family lived here in Germany.

When me and my 7-year-old brother, David, woke up we peeked out the window hoping to find a winter wonderland. Our wishes were granted with a snow covered town. We were so happy to finally have a snow day.
 
Me and David's excitement bubbled up as we watched the snow fall and stick to the ground. We were not allowed to go outside yet because it was still dark out. When it was time to go outside we invited some good friends from the neighborhood to join up in the rolling hills behind the house.
 
Donna, Lilly, and Brenna brought two inner tubes. Two people sat on a single inner tube. I sat with Brenna. Donna and Lilly held my feet so we were connected. We flew down the big hill. Sometimes the inner tubes would spin around. When it would slow down the snow would go down my shirt. We also made a snow fort and a snowman.
 
When we got home we got in dry clothes, made steaming cups of hot chocolate, and settled under the soft fluffy blanket for a movie.

​Falling snow from above, people as comfortable as can be.
Happy family time for all for all it shall be, having fun with family
sledding, building a snowman, making hot chocolate and way more.
Happy for me, happy for you and most importantly for all, the holidays give
me a gift of happiness and I hope the holidays give us the best spirit too,
​My holiday is your holiday.

Once there was a snowman named Frost. Frost was a caring snowman. In fact he was the nicest snowman in town.  He was having a normal day when he saw a penguin chick without its mom and dad.  Frost decided to take the little chick home because it wouldn't survive all alone in the wild. Frost brought the chick home and made him a little area with ice slides, igloos, and a pond with fish.  Frost thought the chick needed a friend, so Frost decided that it would be a good idea to open an animal shelter.  Frost made a gigantic shelter for animals, but needed a name for it.  Frost thought about it, then he got an idea. He called it a Zoo because he thought the name was bewildering.
 
Frost started getting animals like penguins, emperor penguins, snow petrels, arctic terns, springtails, arctic foxes, and Brush-tailed penguins because penguins live in the Antarctic. Frost researched what the animals eat and asked other snowmen for donations for the animals. He also let other snowmen come, learn, and see the animals. Frost also put on shows with the first penguin chick that started the whole zoo project.
 
One day it was warm. Frost had to go inside to get cold to stop himself from melting. The next day, it was warm again. Frost was feeding the animals during his lunch break when someone knocked on his door.  Frost opened the door and saw something he had never seen before..  Frost saw a creature that called itself a human. He pondered what the human was doing at his house. The human taught Frost about the seasons.  The human said at one point it will be summer and it will get boiling hot.  All the snowmen will melt during the hotter seasons.  The human also said that he would take care of Frost’s animals when he melts.  Frost agreed to let the human take care of his animals at the shelter on one condition. The  human had to agree to remake Frost every year when it snowed, so he could see his friend the penguin. The human agreed.  Frost melted shortly after. As Frost melted he was afraid that the human wouldn't keep his promise. But he had no choice.
 
Every year, the human recreate Frost.  Frost's bond with the penguin will live forever.  Also, because of Frost, humans make snowmen every year and are able to relish Zoos all over the world.                                                      

In her poetry, Sara explored topics that are relatable to many of us. She wrote about children growing up, parents aging and dying, seasons changing. She wrote about specific memories—a picture in her grandparents’ home, a stormy spring day in Illinois, hearing her own voice on a recording made years earlier. She wrote about self-doubt and self-worth, depression, anger over an abusive childhood. She even wrote a tribute to her beloved cowboy boots.
 
During the process of selecting, organizing, lightly editing, and proofreading, I developed a relationship with her work. Certain phrases, images, cadences are now embedded in my mind—and they are every bit as useful and important as anything I’ve read in a college textbook or literary magazine. I feel fortunate that I had the opportunity to work so closely with Sara’s poems. Sara wrote poetry for more than 50 years, just for its own sake. And that’s enough. 

With Pat’s permission, I am sharing some of the poems that I found especially meaningful.

"Summation" is the opening poem and Pat's personal favorite. It's the poem that inspired him to put together this book. 

"Nightmare" is among the last poems Sara wrote. It captures what many of us have felt about our country in recent years. The wind has changed...

The next poem, "We Will See Better Days, is as optimistic as "Nightmare" is bleak. It portrays a moment of hope inspired by a song. I think most of us have had that experience: a sudden surge of emotion brought on by hearing a particular song at a particular moment.

​"I'll kiss the winters from your eyes..."  
So beautiful.

​Lilac Dreams is divided into three parts, and each part opens with a collage of pictures relating to the poems that follow. Design-wise, this made the book a lot more complicated (so many decisions!), but we thought readers would appreciate this personal connection to Sara. 

​This one pulls back the curtain in a raw and powerful way. I wish I didn't relate to this poem so strongly, but I do. 

​I love the simple, vivid imagery in this poem.

​I've reached an age at which it's all too easy to look back and see all the things I did wrong. This poem offers acceptance and peace. 

 
​Sara was a science fiction fan. (One of the poems in Lilac Dreams is a tribute to Leonard Nimoy, who played Mr. Spock on Star Trek.) As soon as I read this poem, I knew I wanted it to be the closing poem in the book. I don't know if she intended it to be about life after death or if she was sharing a pleasant daydream about traveling in space, but I love the sense of freedom and adventure and hope she conveys. 

My sincere thanks to Pat Kovar for trusting me with this project.

​In "Summation," Sara wrote, "It is up to those we leave behind to provide meaning to our days." It has been a privilege to help Pat do just that. ​

The day was beautiful: blue skies, warm but breezy—a delight after nearly a week of cold, rainy weather. Bill hadn’t slept well the night before, so in the afternoon I took the kids out so he could nap. We went to the neighborhood park. Helena was unusually serene and content. Maybe sensing his opportunity, Louis was even more talkative than usual. When other kids approached, he introduced himself with lots of additional commentary:
 
I’m four.

I’m a big boy.

If a bad guy comes, I’ll punch him in the belly button.

Do you know, do you know I really love Godzilla. And I like the Rugrats too.

God’s got the whole world in his hands, right Mama?
 

“Do you always chatter so much?” one of the moms asked him.
 
Louis seems to think that the coincidence of being at a playground at the same time somehow forms a commitment between the participants. When it was time for us to leave, he said to the kids who just happened to be near him, “Well, bye, we’re coming right back, we’re going to the Dairy Queen and then we’re coming right back.” As if these other kids care. It almost breaks my heart, he can be so earnest.
        
Anyway, we did go to the Dairy Queen, then off to a different playground. Louis found a live worm and gently played with it. He wanted to take it home, but contented himself with giving it rides on the swing.

“I’m going to watch its antics,” he announced.

A father on a nearby bench smirked. Meanwhile Helena just swung happily.
        

​Truthfully, I’ve never cared much for Mother’s Day. There’s something that rubs me the wrong way about being told whom to appreciate and when, and that I should expect appreciation myself. But on this day, I celebrated being a mother in my own way: blue skies, warm sand on bare toes, a little girl’s red hair blowing in the breeze, and a little boy digging a home for his new friend, the worm.

Years ago, after my elderly mother-in-law passed away and we were sorting her things, I came across this Christmas card. I couldn’t throw it away. I didn’t know who Joan was or how she knew my mother-in-law, but what I did know was that this woman had a story.


DEAR LOUELLA,
 
HOW ARE YOU? THIS IS LATE, SORRY. I HAVE HAD A LOT OF SICKNESS THIS LAST YEAR OR SO. I LIVE ALONE, SO IT'S HARD, BUT GOD KEEPS MY DAMAGED HEART BEATING. I WASN'T MYSELF UNTIL I LEFT BEN, NOW IT'S EASY TO KNOW WHO UNDERSTANDS WHAT LOVE IS.

LOVE,

JOAN


This short note has affected me as much as anything I have ever read. I’ve often thought that I should write about it, gently tug meaning out of it and piece together my reflections. But I’ve decided that there’s not anything to add. Joan was writing straight from her heart in a way few of us ever manage to do.
 
This holiday season, may God keep all our damaged hearts beating, may we truly be ourselves, and may we find others who understand what love is.

It’s difficult for me to express my thoughts about the egregious racial injustices that are imbedded into our history, culture, and institutions. I don’t know where to start, and in this moment I would rather listen than try to make my own voice stand out. 

But my silence isn’t acceptable, either. So for anyone who comes across my website or Facebook page, know this about me: I believe that Black Lives Matter.  And to those who say “All Lives Matter,” let me gently suggest that you are missing the point. Please read this blog from parents.com—it offers some metaphors that are useful in understanding the issue.   https://www.parents.com/kids/responsibility/racism/reasons-all-lives-matter-doesnt-work-in-terms-simple-enough-for-a-child/

​There are many, many ways we can show our support for the change that needs to happen in our country. Reading books by and about Black Americans—and truly allowing ourselves to learn, to be transformed—is one of those ways. It’s important work. Let’s get busy. 

​I have been irritable much of the day. I don’t enjoy the work I’m doing, and there is nothing to look forward to. It’s Good Friday, but there will be no family dinner on Easter Sunday, no dyed eggs or coconut cookies topped with jellybeans to resemble bird nests.  Instead we’ll be trying our luck at our first-ever family video call. We are still in the early days of the pandemic, still groping our way through this miserable low-hanging fog that never burns off.

Around five o’clock, I sleep my computer and head out for a walk, listening to the Cowboy Junkies on my phone. Almost exactly a year ago, I sat 15 feet away from the Cowboy Junkies at a show at the Dakota in downtown Minneapolis. I look back at that night with a sense of disbelief: people crowded together, drinking and laughing and eating, nodding and tapping their toes to live music, with no reason to give any of it a second thought. On this bleak day, it’s like remembering a jewel: a flash of sapphire, the glow of ruby.

I haven’t lived in this area of St. Paul very long and am still getting to know the neighborhoods. To the south is Summit Avenue, lined with well-tended Victorian mansions. To the east is the Cathedral of Saint Paul, a behemoth of faith risen from the hills. Today I head north. Older two- and three-story homes give way to ramblers. Later I will learn that this is the old Rondo neighborhood—a thriving black community that was torn apart in the 1960s when government officials decided to route I-94 right through the middle of it.

The music in my ears does little to improve my mood. There are few walkers and even fewer cars. The absence of activity takes on a heavy presence of its own.

I come to Carty Park, which covers an entire square block. The last time I was here, maybe two weeks ago, a half dozen teenagers were hanging out in the usual way—voices loud, no masks, no six-foot spaces between them. But the hard truths of the pandemic have been sinking in. Today the park is entirely empty, except for one man who is walking his dog. He angles by me, stepping off the path to avoid getting too close. He won’t even make eye contact. I feel rebuked, unclean.

The path curves toward the swings, and it occurs to me that I could sit there for a bit. I’m not tired, but for some reason the idea of sitting on a swing is appealing. I will sit and sway and check my email.

As soon as my hips settle into the black rubber U, I feel it—the urge to swing. Swaying won’t do. Forget email. I will swing.

After a few pumps of my legs, Margo Timmins’s voice pours into my head:
 
Sing me a song about life in America
Sing me a song of love

I smile at the aptness of the lyrics even as tears come to my eyes. A love of country wells through me unlike any I’ve ever experienced. What will become of us?

Sing me a song about life in your neighborhood
Sing me a song of love
 
I pump harder, higher. Before me are unbudded trees and silent houses. But I am swinging. I am a 55-year-old woman swinging in the middle of an empty park during a pandemic.
 
Tell me a tale about those who are dear
Sing me a song of joy
 
I’m swinging as high as I can go now. My ears are cold and I feel dizzy, queasy. But never mind.

I know what will become of us.

We will swing.