Full circle

This morning my church life came full circle.  Though pastors in the United Methodist Church have our membership in the conference rather than in a church, nevertheless we must designate a local church as our charge conference.  I chose East Lake UMC, where I grew up.  I went there after retirement because I wanted to move my mother's membership back "home" where she also grew up.  By that time, she was in a nursing home, but it made no sense to leave her membership at my last church appointment.  So I moved us both back to East Lake Church.  Mother's membership ended in November 2004, when she died.  Mine ended last week, when I preached the final sermon and the congregation was no more.  (Thanks to John Shearer for this photo of worshipers before the last service at East Lake.)

The congregation at Forrest Avenue UMC also had their last service on June 27th and closed their doors.  It was my first church appointment, and I served as their pastor from 1987 to 1991.  Last Sunday, I managed to get from East Lake's 9:30 service, after a short visit with friends, across town to North Chattanooga just as their last service started.  The whole day was bittersweet for me, with my childhood church closing on the same day as the first church I pastored after seminary.

I now live in St. Elmo, in the same block as the St. Elmo UMC.  They are meeting at the Lookout Mountain Church because they lost their building in a fire last summer and the church on the mountain had lost their pastor.  It's a good match, for now.  I went down front during the closing hymn at this morning's service, and the Rev. Mark Dowell announced that I was moving my membership.  Lots of people shook my hand and welcomed me to their congregation, but one surprised me when he said, "Nobody even mentioned that we have your piano."

My piano?  It's at home.  But no, he meant the grand piano (or is it a baby grand?) that Scott Medley played for today's service.  This week, the piano was moved from Forrest Avenue UMC to the Lookout Mountain Church.  Full circle!  The Rev. Carol Wilson, who preached the last sermon at Forrest Avenue, and I, who preached the last one at East Lake, told the people that the church doesn't end when a particular congregation does.  Rather, our influence goes on, as we take the spirit of love into the community and into other congregations we attend.

Little did I know that the music would continue in this way, with Forrest Avenue's piano leading the service in my new church!

John Shearer wrote about last week's church closings for Chattanoogan.com:  Two Local United Methodist Churches Hold Final Services.  Clint Cooper wrote about the closings for the Times Free Press:  United Methodists discontinue Forrest Avenue, East Lake churches. To read all I've written about these churches, click here.

Report on Sunday's church closings

I witnessed the last services of two congregations on Sunday, both celebrating what the churches accomplished over the years.  I counted 43 present at East Lake United Methodist Church, which began in 1908 as Ida M. Bass Memorial M.E. Church, South.  That's Methodist Episcopal Church, South, so named because M.E. churches north and south separated before the war between the states.  Because I was preaching Sunday, I couldn't very well take photos during the service.  The photo above is "after church."

I dashed across town after the 9:30 a.m. service at East Lake and got to Forrest Avenue exactly at 11:00 a.m. as their service was starting.  This church, which began in 1887, was once known as Hill City, the former name for North Chattanooga.  I was pastor at Forrest Avenue from 1987 to 1991 before the growth of the North Shore area.  Here's a photo John Shearer took to illustrate his wonderful article about the final services at East Lake UMC and Forrest Avenue UMC.  This is Conley Mercer with me.

John Shearer's photo of some worshipers before the service at East Lake shows my brother's family on the second pew:  my nephew Jimmy Setliffe, his daughter River and son Sam, my brother Jim and his wife Carol, and her father Charles Moses.  River was the youngest person present and noticed when I said my mother Mildred was ten when she attended the first service in the current building.  River pointed out that she is Mildred's great-granddaughter and also ten years old when the church closed.  Betty Madewell, present at the closing service, told me she was christened at the first service in this building on Easter Sunday, April 8, 1928.  The church history says the sermon preached that day by the Rev. Jack Anderson was entitled "A House Not Made with Hands."  I used that scripture (2 Corinthians 5:1, 17-20) for the closing sermon, picking up on later verses in the same chapter to make the point that the bricks are not what's important -- we who comprise the church take the spirit of love with us, wherever we go.

Jim and Jimmy are both interested in historical items, like this bronze plaque in the foyer at the front door that dedicates the organ to those in the church who served in World War Two. The picture below shows the name of my father, William Elmer Setliffe, Jr., who came home from the Pacific after being in the Philippines and Japan.

To read other posts I've written about the two churches, click here.

Church closings

East Lake United Methodist Church
Last week I learned that East Lake United Methodist Church, where I grew up, will close at the end of this month. When I also found out the current pastor is going on a mission trip and won't be there June 20th and 27th, I volunteered to keep it open those additional two Sundays. I've been calling old friends and lining up people to come on our last Sunday, if not the next two Sundays as well. And then today's mail brought the news that Forrest Avenue United Methodist Church, my first appointment, will also close at the end of this month. I, along with other former pastors and former members, am invited back for the final service -- on June 27th.

Forrest Avenue United Methodist Church
I learned a lot in seminary, but not how to be in two places at once!  I was sad to think I'd miss the final service at Forrest Avenue UMC, but I was committed to East Lake UMC.  And then I remembered that they don't meet at the same time.  East Lake's service is now at 9:30 a.m., and Forrest Avenue's is at 11:00 a.m.  They are 25 minutes apart, but both in Chattanooga.  Maybe I can slip in a little late and make it to a second service the same morning.  I'm sure gonna try!

I took these photos this evening just before the sun disappeared for the day.

Then and Now ~ one year later

June 2011

New City East Lake Church

June 2010

  East Lake United Methodist Church

It's been ten years

The last service at East Lake United Methodist Church on June 27th.  Betty Madewell (on the second row in the photo below) was present at that closing service and told me she had been christened at the first service in this building on Easter Sunday, April 8, 1928, when the sermon by the Rev. Jack Anderson was entitled "A House Not Made with Hands."  River Setliffe noticed that Mildred Setliffe had been ten years old when she attended that first service in this building.  River, who is Mildred's great-granddaughter, was then ten years old herself, when she came to the church's last service.  She's almost hidden between her father and her brother, far to the left in the first row, in the picture below).

This photo, taken by John Shearer, shows some of the worshipers inside East Lake United Methodist Church before the service started).

First pew (left to right):  Jimmy Setliffe, River Setliffe, Sam Setliffe, Jim Setliffe, Carol Setliffe, and Charles Moses.
Second pew:  Henry Mason, Charlotte Mason, Jane Helton, Betty Madewell, Ed Madewell, and Ken Smith.
Third pew:  John Paul Williams and Martha Morgan Gardin.
Fourth pew:  (I can't tell who they are).
Fifth pew:  couple visiting from First-Centenary UMC and June Rollins Tant.

Those who contributed to the service that day:

• The Rev. John Paul Williams sang "My Tribute"
• Laura and Richard Young, John Coniglio, and Nell Williams were the musicians who played and sang for us.
• River and Sam Setliffe were the acolytes who lit the candles.
• Jim and Jimmy Setliffe were the ushers.
• The Rev. Bonnie Setliffe Jacobs preached the church's final sermon, using the same scripture that the Rev. Jack Anderson had chosen for the FIRST sermon after that building was constructed.  (The point I wanted to make was that we who comprise the church take the spirit of love with us, wherever we go.  It isn't about buildings, but about love.)
• John Shearer wrote about the closing service for Chattanoogan.com.

Nobody could have guessed that exactly ten years later (on June 27, 2020, a Saturday) I would be attending Virtual Annual Conference at noon in St. Louis (1:00 pm Eastern Time).  The church is indeed not the building, but the people, however we gather together.

Mt. TBR Challenge for 2023

January 2023 kicks off the twelfth year for the Mount TBR Reading Challenge, which I did in 2020.  Bev at My Reader's Block hosts this challenge.  This time, I'm signing up for the Mt. Blanc level to read a total of 24 books from my own shelves in 2023.  (It looks like I picked TWO levels because today is TWOsday.)  Here are the challenge levels:

Pike's Peak (14,115 feet):  read 12 books from my TBR pile

1.  75 Years: A History of East Lake United Methodist Church 1908-1983 ~ by Bonnie Setliffe Jacobs, 1983, history, 38 pages, 8/10

2.  The Irish Cottage: Finding Elizabeth (The Irish Heart Series Book 1) ~ by Juliet Gauvin, 2014, fiction (Ireland), 349 pages, 4/10

3.  A Vow of Silence ~ by Veronica Black, 1990, cozy mystery (England), 175 pages, 8/10

4.  A Vow of Chastity ~ by Veronica Black, 1992, cozy mystery (England), 191 pages, 3/10

5.  Being Authentic: A Memoir ~ by Morhaf Al Achkar, 2020, memoir, 174 pages, 7/10

    6.

    7.

    8.

    9.

    10.

    11.

    12.

Mont Blanc (15,781 feet):  read 24 books from my TBR pile

    13.

    14.

    15.

    16.

    17.

    18.

    19.

    20.

    21.

    22.

    23.

    24.

Mt. Vancouver (15,787 feet):  read 36 books from my TBR pile

Mt. Ararat (16,854 feet):  read 48 books from my TBR pile

Mt. Kilimanjaro (19,341 feet):  read 60 books from my TBR pile

Cerro El Toro (20,236 feet):  read 75 books from my TBR pile

Mt. Everest (29,029 feet):  read 100 books from my TBR pile

Mount Olympus (Mars) (69,841 feet):  read 150+ books from my TBR pile

I'll conquer the lower Pike's Peak and keep going until I reach the top of Mont Blanc.  Maybe I'll go even higher.  Who knows?  Sign up HERE, if you are interested.

Celebration of 102 years at my home church

The last service at East Lake United Methodist Church was a celebration, and greeting old friends was a joy.  I plan to write more about it this week, for those who are interested.  For now here are photos of the altar with fresh flowers from the crepe myrtle in my yard between the two lit tapers and the pair of windows next to the pew where my mother seated us children, conveniently located near an exit door in case we acted up during church.  When my brother Jim arrived this morning, he hugged me, reminded me it was exactly two years today that he had liver transplant surgery, and went straight to "our" pew beside these windows.  His family filled most of the pew:  Jim, his wife Carol, their son Jimmy with two of his children (River and Sam), and Carol's father.

Thursday Thoughts ~ she said, playfully

I like this page from I Am Yoga by Susan Verde (2015).  It's making me feel playful today.  Anybody want to join my playfulness?  How can we do this?  First, I imagine viewing the world upside down.  And THAT thought made a memory come back to me of hanging by my knees on my swinging bar.  I can even "feel" the blood rushing to my head as I swing back and forth.

It's making my long hair swish in the air, like the upside-down girl in this photo, though I'm thinking of a day when I was playing alone and letting my hands swing free.  Can you tell I'm smiling?  That memory of the swing set in my back yard in the old family home in East Lake is from many, many decades ago.  It was nowhere near as fancy as the swing set in this photo I found online.

I get on Facebook occasionally, in spite of having posted that I'm done with Facebook. just long enough to see if anyone in my family has posted photos of my (adult) grandchildren or my great-grandchildren.  Today, I just happened to see this story from 1942, during World War II, when I was a toddler.  The woman's wire-rimmed glasses make her look a lot like my grandmother (Gladys Duke Setliffe).  I love coincidences, so I'm sharing this with you blog readers.

 

On August 9, 1942, Navy Signalman 3rd Class Elgin Staples was aboard USS Astoria (off the coast of Guadalcanal) when the ship was attacked by Japanese cruisers.  The attack provoked devastating explosions.  Wounded, and surrounded by water coming from every direction, Elgin quickly grabbed his inflatable rubber lifebelt and strapped it on.  More than 200 crewmen died in the attack and sinking of USS Astoria, but thanks to his lifebelt, Elgin survived.  He was later rescued by the destroyer USS Bagley.

Shortly afterwards, he looked closely at the lifebelt that had saved him and was surprised to see that it had been manufactured in his hometown of Akron, Ohio, by the Firestone Tire and Rubber Company.  He also noticed an inspector number on the label.  When Elgin returned to Akron, he told his mom about that terrible night, and she informed him that while he was overseas, she had taken a wartime job at the Firestone plant.  Stunned, Elgin quickly took out the lifebelt from his duffel bag and said:

"Take a look at that, Mom.  It was made right here in Akron, at your plant."

After reading the label, she looked at Elgin with tears in her eyes, and said:

"Son, I'm an inspector at Firestone.  This is my inspector number."

Without saying another word, mother and son fell into each other's arms.

Okay, that's awesome, but heavy.  Let's end this post with a pun, for laughs:  "They say with age comes wisdom, so therefore I don't have wrinkles — I have wise cracks."

Books I completed in June

Here are three of my girls earlier this week.  My great-granddaughter Raegan, age 2, is reading a Dr. Seuss book.  (How many of you can identify the book?  Click on the photo to enlarge it.  Ready, set, go!)  My granddaughter Cady, age 11, is holding a couple of books she had read to Raegan a few minutes earlier — a photo of Cady reading three years ago accompanies one of her book reviews for this blog.  My granddaughter Cali, age 24 as of Tuesday, has a book at her left elbow that I gave her for her birthday — Cali's degree is in English literature.

A photo of Raegan reading is at the top of my list of books I've read this year, updated book by book.  And as you can see, Raegan is still reading.  We are a bookish family.

Now, without further ado, here are the books I read during June.  Notice I completed 120 books in six months, averaging 20 a month.  That makes 240 for the year a real possibility.

JUNE

100.  Once Upon a Time There Was You ~ by Elizabeth Berg, 2011, fiction, 8/10
101.  Caleb's Crossing ~ by Geraldine Brooks, 2011, fiction (Massachusetts), 9/10
102.  Not My Daughter ~ by Barbara Delinsky, 2010, fiction (Maine), 9/10
103.  Clara and Mr. Tiffany ~ by Susan Vreeland, 2001, fiction (New York), 8/10
104.  Garlic and Sapphires: The Secret Life of a Critic in Disguise ~ by Ruth Reichl, 2005, memoir (New York), 8/10
105.  A Place to Pray: Reflections on the Lord's Prayer ~ by Roberta C. Bondi, 1998, religion, 9/10
106.  Yummy: The Last Days of a Southside Shorty ~ by G. Neri, illustrated by Randy DuBurke, 2010, graphic novel (Illinois),  8/10
107.  The Bird Sisters ~ by Rebecca Rasmussen, 2011, fiction (Wisconsin), 7/10
108.  The Coming Global Superstorm ~ by Art Bell and Whitley Strieber, 2000, science, 9/10
109.  Mother Nature's Greatest Hits: The Top 40 Wonders of the Animal World ~ by Bartleby Nash, 1991, science, 8/10
110.  Bird ~ by Zetta Elliott, illustrated by Shadra Strickland, 2008, children's, 9/10
111. Seeds of Change: Planting a Path to Peace ~ by Jen Cullerton Johnson, illustrated by Sonia Lynn Sadler, 2010, biography of Wangari Maathai (Kenya), 9/10
112.  The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible ~ by A. J. Jacobs, 2007, memoir/religion, 9/10
113.  The Year of Magical Thinking ~ by Joan Didion, 2005, memoir, 8/10
114.  Go and Come Back ~ by Joan Abelove, 1998, fiction (Peru), 9/10
115.  The Unlikely Disciple: A Sinner's Semester at America's Holiest University ~ by Kevin Roose, 2009, memoir (Virginia), 9/10
116.  75 Years: A History of East Lake United Methodist Church 1908-1983 ~ by Bonnie Setliffe Jacobs, 1983, history, 5/10
117.  Animals Are the Funniest People ~ by Professor Percy Niwrad, 1976, humor, 6/10
118.  The English Teacher ~ by Lily King, 2005, fiction (Maine), 9.5/10
119.  The Faded Flower ~ by Paul McCusker, 2001, fiction (Pennsylvania), 8/10
120.  Wild Words from Wild Women: An Unbridled Collection of Candid Observations and Extremely Opinionated Bon Mots ~ compiled by Autumn Stephens, 1993, 1996, women's studies, 8/10

June favorite (#118)

8 fiction
1 children's
1 graphic novels
1 history
1 humor
5 memoir / biography
1 religion
2 science
1 women's studies
_______________
Total = 21

Friday Five ~ Dreams

Jan @ RevGalBlogPals said, "I have just started studying Jung and dreams with a group of friends.  I am hearing about lucid dreaming and imagining, which have opened me up to wondering about dreams in general.  So how about wondering with me?"  Here are Jan's five questions.

1.  Everyone dreams:  Do you remember your dreams?  How often?

Yes, I nearly always remember my dreams.  I started studying dreams 40 years ago, in the early 1970s.  One of my friends actually taught dream workshops, and I probably first heard about lucid dreaming — being aware that I'm dreaming — from her.  When I started writing down my dreams upon awakening, I began to remember more and more each time.  Eventually, it took too much time to record my dreams, so I would simply be aware of dreaming and make a mental note of whatever seemed important for me that day.  I also think about any odd things in my dreams and ponder them during the day.

2.  Did you or do you have a recurring dream?  Share it, if you'd like.

Like most people, I recall dreams about running from someone.  Those used to be scary, when I was young.  When I learned to control my dreams and was aware of dreaming even while I was still asleep, I had fun in my dreams — and rarely, if ever, have had nightmares since.  When whoever was chasing me in a dream was just about to catch me, I would laugh, speed up slightly, and dodge the reaching hand.  My dreams became playful and joyful, and I would wake with a smile on my face, feeling like I could run forever.

3.  Have you ever had recurring themes or images in dreams?  Examples?

Besides running, flying in my dreams was always fun, even before I knew about lucid dreaming.  I *knew* flapping my arms couldn't make me fly like a bird, I knew I was dreaming, and I flew anyway, rising off the ground and hovering there, with a smile on my face.

4.  Do you day dream?  About what?

Sure, I daydream.  I remember writing out a daydream many years ago, when my three children were young and took all my time.  It was all about what I'd do when I "had the time."  I shared it with my mother, who laughed and explained why running away to a place with nothing but books and cushions and a reading lamp wouldn't work for me.  "You'd need your piano," she said.  Oops!  She was right, and running away with a piano would be a bit hard to do.

5.  What are your dreams/hopes/goals for the future?

Another recurring theme in my dreams has been the church I grew up in.  I called to mind with no effort at least three times I dreamed about East Lake Methodist Church.  Once I ran into my dad on the sidewalk in front of the church, long after he had died.  I asked him, "Does Mom know you're back?"  (Now THAT is an interesting concept to ponder!  I knew he had died, but I was simply joyful that he was "back.")  In another dream, I exited the side door of the church onto the front porch of my childhood home — also a very interesting thought.  But it's the third dream that gives me pause.  I drove by the church (in the dream) and noticed it was hollow like a cave, deep into the fellowship hall beneath the sanctuary (see the "cave" under the stairs on the left).  A hollow church.  Something was missing.  The church was dead, long before I preached the last service there in 2010, and it was closed.  A year later, I returned to celebrate new life as a Presbyterian congregation began worshiping there.  My dream is for new life and transformation among dying congregations, which (in my opinion) will come only with major changes in thinking about the purpose of "church."

I think it's a fascinating coincidence that today's Quote of the Day, which appears on my sidebar, is this by Anais Nin:

"Dreams are necessary to life."

Will it be like homecoming ... or a funeral?

Under METHODIST, UNITED in the list of sermon topics in today's Chattanooga Times Free Press (on page E6) is this announcement about tomorrow morning:

East Lake, 2903 E. 37th St., "Passed Away," 9:30 a.m., the Rev. Bonnie Setliffe Jacobs, guest speaker as the church holds its final service and celebrates its 102-year history.

Church family and friends will gather one last time (at least in this building) for a time of closure and fond memories.  We have folks planning to "come home" from all over, including some from Nashville, Lenoir City, and Knoxville, as well as from churches all over the Chattanooga area.  The Chattanooga District Superintendent will be there, along with several other pastors, active and retired.  It will be like homecoming!  Or a funeral.  But this isn't really the end of the story.  Come tomorrow morning to hear what I think comes next.

Write with me ~ about memories

Write a list that begins "I remember."

(Why a list?  Why not just write about a memory?

Okay, do whatever you like about "I remember,"
and maybe write a paragraph in the comments?)

I remember the stove in the living room of our house when I was a little girl.  My experiences with that coal stove came to mind when I read this line on page 204 of Jacqueline Winspear's novel Birds of a Feather (2004):

"Maisie prepared her bath, opened the door to the fire and settled down to soak before embarking on the rest of her day."

When I was three years old, my mother's mother died and my family moved into her house with my Aunt Bonnie Reynolds.  The coal-burning stove sat in front of the closed-in fireplace, where the stove pipe vented.  It looked something like this one I found online, but our fireplace was still there behind the stove.  Our stove wasn't as boxy as this, but had more rounded corners.  Beside it was the coal shuttle, shaped like this one.

That little stove was the only heat for the whole house (not counting the kitchen's oven), and I'd run to the living room on cold mornings to warm myself — front and back — at the open door of the stove.  Maisie, in the novel, opened the door of her stove for the fire's warmth, just as we did.  Both bedrooms, where I lived, opened onto the living room, the one where I slept with Auntie at the front of the house and the one where my parents slept at the back of the house.  Between the bedrooms was a connecting bathroom, with a clawfooted tub and a big closet.  I probably would have welcomed a warm stove near my bathtub, as Maisie did.

Modern technology enabled me to "visit" that house again by googling the first address I ever memorized; I lived on Fifth Avenue in East Lake.  The open lots on each side are still there, but the big tree in front of the house is gone, replaced by a smaller tree on the other side of our front yard.  Grandma's two beautiful crepe myrtle trees are missing from the side yard.  Ah, well, everything changes, doesn't it?

I googled that address for a 2013 post, where I also mentioned the changes wrought by the decades since I lived there.

Looking toward Tennessee

On June 3rd, I saw this photo Mike Feely posted on Facebook, taken from in front of the post office in Rossville, Georgia.  I grew up two miles away, on Fifth Avenue in East Lake.  The street going off to the left is Rossville Blvd, heading toward Chattanooga, which is only a block or two away.  My son-in-law Pat used to be bank manager at a branch bank on the Tennessee side of the state line, among those buildings visible in the middle of Mike's picture.

Two days later, I got mail from Mike.  Guess where it was posted from?  How funny is that?  Thanks, Mike.

Wisdom gained the hard way

Here's a STORY that I posted in early 2007 on another of my blogs, a blog I called Words from a Wordsmith.  It's a long story, so I'll understand if you skip through it.  However, there's another photo of cats in boxes near the bottom.

"Wisdom begins in wonder." — Socrates

"This is who I am, and I like who I am.  It has taken a lifetime for me to get here." — Note to myself, June 18, 2006

Who can I talk to?

When I was younger, I talked to young and old, men and women, boys and girls, and found no one interested in what I was curious about.  At some point most children quit asking "Why?  Why?  Why?" and get on with living, the same way everyone else does.  I am as curious now as I was as a child.

Some of the big questions I had were "Why are we here?" and "Why is there something instead of nothing?" and "Why are things the way they are?"  I have not found all the right answers yet, but I have figured out some of the right questions.  What I did not find was someone who wanted to talk about these fascinating ideas.

If I have no one to talk to, no one who is interested in the same questions, then where do I find answers?  In books, of course.  If I were a child now, perhaps my answer would be "on the internet, of course."  If I were the age of my children, perhaps my answer would have been "on television programs, of course."  I see today's internet as a natural extension of the books that gave me knowledge in the '40s and '50s and '60s and '70s.  Then I started getting degrees:  the bachelor's degree in 1975, the master's degree in 1987, the doctorate (almost) in 1998.  But it was all about "Who can I talk to?"

If nobody in my world wanted to talk about my interests, then I had to find authors who would talk to me.  I began reading where I had questions, going from one book to another whenever an author would kindly provide me with a bibliography.  I would find another book on the same subject or a similar subject and read that one.  My discussion partners may have lived many years ago or many countries or continents away, but we shared the same ideas.

Why not ask my parents?

Well, I did, but when I was still very young, I began to learn that adults were not always honest with me.  What, no Easter bunny?  No tooth fairy, either?  And no Santa?!!!  Being a precocious child, I began to see a pattern here.

I never saw the Easter bunny, who left me eggs when I was asleep.  (And why EGGS, anyway?  Chickens lay eggs.)

I never saw the tooth fairy, who left a coin in exchange for my tooth.  (And why would a fairy want a tooth?  My mother's explanation was that she used them like bricks to build fairy houses.  Okay, THAT made sense, based on her tiny size.)

I never saw Santa either, a jolly old elf who managed to leave gifts all over the world in the middle of one night.  (But how did he get all those toys on his small sleigh?)

I never saw the Easter bunny, the tooth fairy, Santa Claus.  Yes, it's a pattern.  Hmm, what ELSE have they told me about that I've never seen?  God and Jesus, that's who!  So when will they tell me God isn't real either?

What do I want to know?

For starters, I always wanted to know WORDS.  That is at the heart of what a wordsmith is, one who loves words, collects words, wants to understand words.  My earliest full memory is about words, a story I've told many times, so you've probably already heard it.

I see my grandmother's chandelier beyond the head of my uncle (possibly Uncle Paul), who is looking down toward Nancy and me standing at his feet.  He asks Nancy, "What grade are you in?" and she says, "First grade."  That's all of the conversation I remember, but my perplexity rings clear in my memory.  What were they talking about?  How could she be in a "firstgrade" when I could clearly see she was in a room?  What's a "firstgrade," anyhow?  I didn't even understand our uncle's question, but Nancy knew and she answered him.  EVERYBODY knew what the words meant . . . except me!  I couldn't stand it!  I wanted to know what all the words mean, all of them, every word in the world.  Even Nancy, a little girl herself, knew what these words meant, and I didn't.  It was so frustrating.

As an adult I pondered my memory of confusion and perplexity, realizing I must have been very, very young if Nancy was in the first grade.  Nancy, after all, is four years older than I am.  Let's see, she would be six years old in the first grade, making me . . . two?!?  This means I struggled with words and trying to understand grown-up talk from the age of two?  Wow!  In later years I realized an uncle whose name I didn't know would probably be one who lived away from Chattanooga (my hometown).  Many people were milling around in Grandma Reynolds's living room that day, meaning an uncle (one of her sons) was there for something big.  A funeral?  Probably, since Grandma died in early May 1943, and I remembered that uncle was wearing a dark suit.  That means I had just turned three years old a week earlier, and Nancy was nearing the end of her first year in school.

What else did I want to know?

How about God-stuff?  I started learning words, exploring ideas, thinking big thoughts, and going to church every time the door was open, it seemed, because Mother was very faithful.  When I was little, she took me to HER Sunday school class because she was worried about leaving me in the nursery "alone," without her.  When I was about eighteen months old, she later told me, she decided it was time to help me settle in with other children.  So she explained to her Sunday school class that she would be in the nursery for the next few Sundays.  When she opened the door to the nursery, she was surprised when I exclaimed, "Oh, Mother, boys and girls!"  And I never looked back.  She didn't miss a single Sunday in her own class and I was, finally, happily in my own!

My parents went to different churches.  It was only after she married him that my mother found out Dad had been telling HIS mother he was going to dances when he was really going to church with my mother.  Grandma Setliffe would have been upset to find out he was attending another church, so apparently dancing was more acceptable.  Dad and his family went to Central Church of Christ when I was little, and Mother and her family went to East Lake Methodist Church.  We were a divided family, but it almost wasn't that way at all.

One Sunday morning Mother attended church with Daddy, thinking a family should worship together.  She had decided that, during the invitation, she would march down to the front and change her membership.  That morning's sermon was about the First Baptist Church and, Mother later told me, Dad's preacher "preached them into Hell and not back out again."  She said she could imagine it being the Methodists next week, and she just couldn't stand being in such a church.  Dad went to his grave not knowing how close Mother came to joining his church.  By then, he had joined HERS.

Anyway, I grew up attending two very different churches.  By the time I was eight, I was ready to join the Methodist church.  I don't remember what I made of their differences, but I had decided the Church of Christ was not for me.  Mother thought I was too young at eight, and even at nine and ten.  When I was ten-and-a-half, I told her one Sunday that I was going to go down front when the preacher gave the invitation, since she wouldn't talk to him about my desire to join.  She gave in and told "Brother King" (Rev. John King) that I insisted on joining.

I remember my baptism.  Methodists allow children to be baptized ("christened") as infants OR as a consenting believer, but my Daddy was firmly in the Church of Christ which insists on believer baptism by immersion only.  So I was not baptized as a baby.  Since Methodist churches rarely have baptismal pools for immersion, Brother King borrowed the one at the Baptist Church one afternoon.  I was a skinny little kid at ten and couldn't have weighed much, but when my bare foot slipped . . . oh, my!  I was sure I was going to drag poor, thin, elderly Brother King down with me!  But no, he held on and didn't lose me and I went under the water.

How do I love God and other people?

The main thing I learned from my mother was that I was loved by her, by my father, by my aunts and uncles and cousins, by God.  She sang "Jesus Loves Me" to us children, and I believed it because I felt loved.  If God loves us, then we are supposed to love God and each other.  That was clear to me.  The next logical step is to figure out how to do that.  How do I love God and other people?

When I was eleven, Mrs. Florine Morgan was my Sunday school teacher.  One Sunday she told us that there were only three doctors in the whole of the Belgian Congo.  Okay, so as an adult I can deduce what she REALLY said was there are only three Methodist missionary doctors in the Congo, but that's what I "heard" her say.  I decided from that day that I should be a medical missionary to Africa.

When I went to college, I was working on a degree in pre-med so I could become a doctor and go to the Congo.  Although I had a merit scholarship to Emory University, I chose to attend in my hometown (the University of Chattanooga, later the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga) because Clyde said "if I love him" I wouldn't go so far away.  And he told me he would go to Africa with me as a missionary.  He even changed his major to facilitate his being accepted, he said.  He lied, and it was never changed.  After we were married, I asked why he lied to me and he said, "I figured you'd outgrow these childish ideas."

Now what?

I spent the first year of marriage in tears, wondering how I'd gotten myself into this mess.  After letting me use his car every workday while we were dating, Clyde refused to let me drive after we were married, not even on our honeymoon, saying, "Statistics show that wives are not good drivers."  What?!?  I tried to explain I was still the same person, to no avail.  No job ("not MY wife," he said), no college ("women don't need higher education," he said), no books to read, no money to buy them anyway (the money he earned was HIS money), no car to go anywhere, just staring at four walls after I'd made the bed, and then waiting for him to come home.

In high school I had been in concert band, orchestra, and marching band, becoming Band Captain in my senior year.  I got to go on all the band trips, including once to Washington, DC, where our band marched at half-time, seen on television across the nation.  I played in the Youth Symphony, taught bassoon to a younger student, and played in the college band while still in high school.  I was in the writer's club that met after school every week.  I wrote a short story for an English class that my teacher had me read before a meeting of English teachers.  I published poems and articles in school papers, took a required history class in summer school just so I could take all the electives I wanted to study during the year, and never saw the inside of our study hall until we were given an IQ test in my junior year in high school.  I was either president or secretary or some position in every club I joined, and I was elected to the National Honor Society.

I had been into everything I could manage to find time for, so sitting at home doing nothing was absolute torture.  It lasted less than two months.  After getting married on February 28, 1959, I had had enough of staring at four walls by mid-April and got a job at Sears.  My boss told me, months later, I had made the highest score ever recorded for Sears-Roebuck applications.  Huh, so I did have a mind, but a mind that had been suddenly deprived of any stimulation whatsoever.  The job lasted until the last day of that year because Sears (and most businesses, at that time) had a rule:  No woman could work past the mid-term of her pregnancy.  Yes, I made the classic mistake of thinking I could make the marriage better by having a baby.  I now know more than I knew at age 18 when I got married or at age 19 when I got pregnant, but I'm glad I had my children when I was in my early twenties.

Numbers are also words

It's sad to waste a mind or, for that matter, to mind a waist.  Oops!  Here I am again, playing with words.  Lest it appear I was all one-sided, I must say I have also loved numbers all my life.  When I sat on Mother's lap while she looked through a magazine, I wanted her to read me the long number in ads for, say, tire mileage.  When she read me nursery rhymes, I wanted her to read me the page numbers, too.  I would tell Sassy, my aunt Lillian, that I loved her to the end of the line and then some!  In other words, beyond how far I could count.

I remember I could count to twelve at age four because I learned to count the numbers around Mom's watch.  And that reminds me of a story.  In other words, this wordsmith also became a storyteller.

I needed a tonsillectomy, which Dr. Harold Starr would do in his office.  Since they would be using ether on me, Mother explained they would have me smell some "perfume" and I should count all the numbers around her watch when they did.  They started the procedure and put the ether mask over my face.  Mother asked me to count the numbers, but I didn't.  After a little bit, they removed the mask to see whether I was already asleep.  I wasn't.  They did it again, and I still refused to count.  When I woke up after my tonsils were gone, Mother asked me, "Why wouldn't you count?"  In great indignation I told her, "I didn't LIKE that ole PEW-fume!"

While taking a state exam during the sixth grade, I probably lowered my score because of my fascination about one particular question.  Using a symbol I had never seen before, with a 49 inside it, the test gave me four answer choices:

(a)  5

(b)  6

(c)  7

(d)  8

Well, that was easy.  The only one of those numbers that had anything to do with 49 would be a 7, of course.  Also, that funny looking symbol seemed to be telling me the answer; it was shaped like a division sign but had a little thing like a 7 attached to the bottom left of it.  I know now it was the "square root" sign.  I had the right answer without ever having studied square roots.

That was probably the most fun I ever had on a test!  But I devised other ways to have fun with boring tests.  When we were tested on our assigned spelling words, maybe ten in all, I would wait until the teacher had called out more than half of them before starting to write.  That way, I not only had to spell each word correctly, but I also had the challenge of getting the words in the right order!

In my ninth grade algebra class the teacher started explaining our homework, for the FIFTH time, because most of the students still didn't get it.  I had "gotten it" the night before when I did my homework and was bored to tears.  Miss Blackwell didn't change anything when telling them again, so why bother?  Being among the tallest in my class, I was seated on the back row, and beside me was a bookshelf.  Ah, yes, books.  I found an interesting title, probably also math, and slid it off the shelf.  Just as I started looking through the book, the teacher spotted me and called me down, even though nobody in the class was aware of what I was doing.  So I was chastised for knowing algebra too well.

As a mother of elementary school children, I went back to college.  So did a woman who lived about half a mile from me.  We carpooled, so our children knew each other and were playing in her yard while I tried to help her grasp the concept of algebra.

4x = 16

X is the unknown.

That means 4 times "something unknown" = 16

so 4 times WHAT = 16?

About then our children ran past her back deck and Barbara, having heard my question, yelled, "FOUR!" as she disappeared around the house.  I couldn't help but laugh because that's exactly what I would have done as a child.  I don't know if Jeanette ever did learn algebra.

During my stay-at-home time, when the only books available to read were my college textbooks and his, I took down his trigonometry book and started going through it, page by page.  In two days time I taught myself a third of his book.  It was such fun!  Clyde continued his college courses in night school.  One night he was stumped by a calculus problem, and I looked over his shoulder, curious about it.  I had never even had trigonometry, much less calculus, but after studying his figures and strange symbols I'd never seen before, I told him, "I can't explain HOW to fix your error, but it's right here in this section."  When he reworked that part, he was able to solve the problem.  I still don't know calculus, but I seem to have an affinity for numbers.

Most of my grandchildren could probably tell you "Grandma's favorite number" is nine.  It's a magic number!  Multiply 9 times anything, say 9x2.  The answer is 18; now add those two digits: 1+8=9.  Do it again: 9x4=36, and 3+6=9.  This is fun!  Again:  9x9=81, and 8+1=9.  One day in the car I kept Cali entertained with this "numbers game" while we rode along, with her in the backseat and me driving.  She wouldn't have been able to multiply this "big" number in her head, but it works as well:  106 x 9 = 954, and 9+5+4=18, and 1+8=9.  There are other games we could play with nines, like adding up all the single digit numbers:  1+2+3+4+5+6+7+8+9+0=45, and 4+5=9.  Okay, I'll stop now.

Thinking outside the box

Do you know that feeling when you are working on a difficult problem and everything suddenly comes together?  That's what I call an "aha!" moment, a time when everything is wonderfully and completely clear.  The pieces have all fallen into place and you can see the big picture.

Writing is the process by which I synthesize what I am learning at the time.  (Then I added:  "to be continued" at the end.)

The famous "Dewey" left the first comment.  She was a blogger early on, but she died in 2008.  I miss her still.  This is what she said:  "I had that same line of thinking when my father told me Santa wasn't real.  I said, 'What about the Easter Bunny?'  Nope.  'Tooth fairy?'  Nope. 'God and Jesus?'  My dad said they actually were real, but I don't think I ever thought they were real again after that day."

Then Dewey added a comment about numbers:  "Nines are the most fun ever!  Do you know the hand game with nines?  If you hold up your hands, and put down one finger, then the answer to nine times that number will be the two numbers on either side of the finger you put down.  So if you put down the sixth finger, you'll have five fingers on one side and four on the other, so 54."  Wow!  No, I had never heard that.  It only works with the smaller (hand-sized) numbers, obviously.  But what fun!

I responded to her:  "Dewey, the more I learn about you, the more I realize how much we think alike.  I am so glad I'm getting to know you."

My friend Ginnie commented:  "Please do continue!  I was enjoying every word, until you hit the wall.  Please, keep going!"

=========================================================

*** NOTE:  I wish I could tell Dewey and Ginnie that what I typed at the end (adding "to be continued") is actually a quote from Colleen's Loose Leaf Notes blog.  On the sidebar, Colleen says:

"From the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia I write to synthesize what I'm learning at the time, whether it be poetry, a political commentary, or a letter to my family in Hull, Massachusetts, where I'm originally from.  Whenever I don't know exactly what it is I'm doing and it borders on wasting my time, I call it research.   'Dear Abby, How can I get rid of freckles?' was my first published piece at the age of 11."

Start the year with reading

Raegan's still reading

Days after the previous reading photo, Raegan is still reading.  What better way for me to start our reading year than showing you a young lady who loves to read?  In May 2011, I gave Raegan more books for her second birthday, and one book stopped the party until Raegan's mother read it to her.  In July, Raegan was still reading, Doctor Seuss this time.

====================================================

Books read in the first half of 2011
Title links go to book reviews, if I've written one.
The list for the second half of the year is here.

JANUARY

1.  Forge ~ by Laurie Halse Anderson, 2010, YA fiction, 8/10
2.  Have You Got My Purr? ~ by Judy West and Tim Warnes, 1999, children's picture book, 8/10
3.  A Place Called Freedom ~ by Ken Follett, 1995, fiction, 8/10
4.  Let the Northern Lights Erase Your Name ~ by Vendela Vida, 2007, fiction (Finland), 9/10
5.  Harriet the Spy ~ by Louise Fitzhugh, 1964, children's, 9/10
6.  Little Bee ~ by Chris Cleave, 2008, fiction (Nigeria and England), 9/10
7.  The Cat in the Hat ~ by Dr. Seuss, 1957, children's, 9/10
8.  Ethics 101: What Every Leader Needs to Know ~ by John C. Maxwell, 2003, philosophy, 8/10
9.  On Writing Well: The Classic Guide to Writing Nonfiction (30th Anniversary edition) ~ by William Zinsser, 1976, 2006, writing, 9/10
10. The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks ~ by E. Lockhart, 2008, YA fiction, 8/10
11. Revelation of the Magi: The Lost Tale of the Wise Men's Journey to Bethlehem ~ by Brent Landau, 2010, religion, 8/10
12.  Hanna's Daughters ~ by Marianne Fredriksson, 1994 (English 1996, 1998), fiction (Sweden), 8/10
13.  The Age of Orphans ~ by Laleh Kadivi, 2009, fiction (Persia/Iran), 8/10
14.  If I Stay ~ by Gayle Forman, 2009, YA fiction, 10/10
15.  The First Christmas: What the Gospels Really Teach About Jesus' Birth ~ by Marcus J. Borg and John Dominic Crossan, 2007, religion, 2/10
16.  While Europe Slept: How Radical Islam Is Destroying the West from Within ~ by Bruce Bawer, 2006, history, 8/10
17.  Lizzie Bright and the Buckminster Boy ~ by Gary D. Schmidt, 2004, YA fiction (Maine), 8/10
18.  Fair Weather ~ by Richard Peck, 2001, YA fiction (Illinois), 8/10
19.  My Name Is Memory ~ by Ann Brashares, 2010, fiction, 8/10

January favorite (#14)

6 fiction
5 YA fiction
3 children's
0 essays
0 graphic novels
1 history
0 memoir
1 philosophy
2 religion
0 women's studies
1 writing
_______________
Total = 19

FEBRUARY

20.  Noah's Compass ~ by Anne Tyler, 2009, fiction (Maryland), 7/10
21.  True to Form ~ by Elizabeth Berg, 2002, fiction, 9/10 (teaser, pp. 76-77)
22.  Twenty and Ten ~ by Claire Huchet Bishop, 1952, children's (France), 9/10
23.  The Art of Racing in the Rain ~ by Garth Stein, 2008, fiction, 10/10
24.  City of Light, City of Darkness: A Comic-Book Novel ~ story by Avi, art by Brian Floca, 1993, graphic novel, "nah"
25.  YHWH Is Not a Radio Station in Minneapolis ~ by Craig McNair Wilson, 1983, religion, 8/10
26.  Things Not Seen ~ by Andrew Clements, 2002, YA fiction, 9/10
27.  The Summer Book ~ by Tove Jansson, 1974, fiction (Finland), 7/10
28.  The Year of Pleasures ~ by Elizabeth Berg, 2005, fiction (Illinois), 9.5/10
29.  The Last Time I Saw You ~ by Elizabeth Berg, 2010, fiction, 7/10
30.  The Handmaid and the Carpenter ~ by Elizabeth Berg, 2006, fiction, 8/10
31.  Home Safe ~ by Elizabeth Berg, 2009, fiction, 8/10
32.  What We Keep ~ by Elizabeth Berg, 1998, fiction, 8/10
33.  We Are All Welcome Here ~ by Elizabeth Berg, 2006, fiction, 7/10
34.  The Art of Mending ~ by Elizabeth Berg, 2004, fiction, 9/10
35.  Never Change ~ by Elizabeth Berg, 2001, fiction, 9/10
36.  The Story of the "W" Road ~ by Kay Baker Gaston, 1980, history, 8/10
37.  The Night Bookmobile ~ by Audrey Niffenegger, 2010, graphic novel, 9/10
38.  Children Make Terrible Pets ~ by Peter Brown, 2010, children's picture book, 10/10
39.  I Still Dream About You ~ by Fannie Flagg, 2010, fiction (Alabama), 9/10
40.  Open House ~ by Elizabeth Berg, 2000, fiction, 7/10
41.  Say When ~ by Elizabeth Berg, 2003, fiction, 9/10
42.  Until the Real Thing Comes Along ~ by Elizabeth Berg, 1999, fiction, 9/10
43.  Range of Motion ~ by Elizabeth Berg, 1995, fiction, 7/10
44.  Talk Before Sleep ~ by Elizabeth Berg, 1994, fiction, 9/10
45.  What on Earth Have I Done? : Stories, Observations, and Affirmations ~ by Robert Fulghum, 2007, esssays, 8/10

February favorite (#23)

18 fiction
1 YA fiction
2 children's
1 essays
2 graphic novels
1 history
0 memoir
0 philosophy
1 religion
0 women's studies
0 writing
_______________
Total = 26

MARCH

46.  Original Sinners: A New Interpretation of Genesis ~ by John R. Coats, 2009, religion, 9/10
47.  The Strange Case of Origami Yoda ~ by Tom Angleberger, 2010, children's, 9/10
48.  Joy School ~ by Elizabeth Berg, 1997, fiction, 7/10
49.  Sing You Home ~ by Jodi Picoult, 2011, fiction (Rhode Island), 9.5/10
50.  I Am the Cheese ~ by Robert Cormier, 1977, YA fiction, 7/10
51.  The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears ~ by Dinaw Mengestu, 2007, fiction (DC and Ethiopia), 6/10
52.  Queen of the Underworld ~ by Gail Godwin, 2006, fiction, 7/10
53.  Made in America: An Informal History of the English Language in the United States ~ by Bill Bryson, 1994, history, 8/10
54.  A Doll's House ~ by Henrik Ibsen, 1879 (translated by R. Farquharson Sharp and Eleanor Marx-Aveling, 1993), women's studies, 8/10
55.  Every Visible Thing ~ by Lisa Carey, 2006, fiction, 7/10
56.  Missing May ~ by Cynthia Rylant, 1992, YA fiction (West Virginia), 7/10
57.  The Teacher's Funeral: A Comedy in Three Parts ~ by Richard Peck, 2004, YA fiction (Indiana), 8/10
58.  Disobedience ~ by Jane Hamilton, 2000, fiction (Chicago, Illinois), 7/10
59.  House of Sand and Fog ~ by Andre Dubus III, 1999, fiction (California), 8/10
60.  The Septembers of Shiraz ~ by Dalia Sofer, 2007, fiction (Iran), 8/10
61.  The Secret History of the Mongol Queens: How the Daughters of Genghis Khan Rescued His Empire ~ by Jack Weatherford, 2010, history (Mongolia), 8/10
62.  Two or Three Things I Know for Sure ~ by Dorothy Allison, 1995, memoir, 7/10
63.  In the Country of Men ~ by Hisham Matar, 2006, fiction (Libya), 7/10

March favorite (#49)

9 fiction
3 YA fiction
1 children's
0 essays
0 graphic novels
2 history
1 memoir
0 philosophy
1 religion
1 women's studies
0 writing
_______________
Total = 18

APRIL

64.  Sixpence House: Lost in a Town of Books ~ by Paul Collins, 2003, memoir (Wales), 8/10
65.  The Red Judge ~ by Pauline Fisk, 2005, YA fiction (Wales), 6/10
66.  The Secret of Sabrina Fludde ~ by Pauline Fisk, 2001, YA fiction (Wales), 6/10
67.  Steal Away Home ~ by Lois Ruby, 1994, YA fiction (Kansas), 9/10
68.  The Dive from Clausen's Pier ~ by Ann Packer, 2002, fiction (Wisconsin and New York), 8/10
69.  How Do I Love You? ~ by Marion Dane Bauer, 2009, children's, 9/10
70.  California Blue ~ by David Klass, 1994, YA fiction (California), 9/10
71.  Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakthrough ~ by Ruth Pennebaker, 2011, fiction (Texas), 7/10
72.  The Grand Inquisitor ~ by Fyodor Dostoevsky, 1880 (translated by Constance Garnett, 1956 edition), fiction (Spain), 8/10
73.  The Grand Inquisitor ~ by Fyodor Dostoyevsky, 1880 (translated by David McDuff, 1993), fiction (Spain), 8/10
74.  Leeway Cottage ~ by Beth Gutcheon, 2005, fiction (Maine and Denmark), 9/10
75.  Whale Rider ~ by Witi Tame Ihimaera, 2003, YA fiction (New Zealand), 9/10
76.  Winter's Bone ~ by Daniel Woodrell, 2006, fiction (Missouri Ozarks), 8/10
77.  My Cat, the Silliest Cat in the World ~ by Gilles Bachelet, 2004, children's, 10/10
78.  Raining Cats and Dogs ~ by Jane Yolen, 1993, children's, 7/10
79.  The Shell Woman and the King: A Chinese Folktale ~ by Laurence Yep, 1993, children's, 9/10
80.  Six Months to Live ~ by Lurlene McDaniel, 1985, YA fiction (Ohio), 8/10
81.  Good Masters! Sweet Ladies! : Voices from a Medieval Village ~ by Laura Amy Schlitz, 2007, children's (England), 10/10
82.  The White Darkness ~ by Geraldine McCaughrean, 2005, YA fiction (Antarctica), 8/10
83.  Domestic Pleasures ~ by Beth Gutcheon, 1991, fiction (New York), 9/10
84.  Still Missing ~ by Beth Gutcheon,  1981, fiction (Massachusetts), 9/10

April favorite (#81)

9 fiction
6 YA fiction
5 children's
0 essays
0 graphic novels
0 history
1 memoir
0 philosophy
0 religion
0 women's studies
0 writing
_______________
Total =21

MAY

85.  The Rest of Us: Dispatches from the Mother Ship ~ by Jacquelyn Mitchard, 1997, essays, 9/10
86.  Daughters of the Stone ~ by Dahlma Llanos-Figueroa, 2009, fiction (Puerto Rico), 9/10
87.  Ninth Ward ~ by Jewell Parker Rhodes, 2010, YA fiction (Louisiana), 9/10
88.  The Girl Who Chased the Moon ~ by Sarah Addison Allen, 2010, fiction (North Carolina), 9/10
89.  The Invention of Hugo Cabret ~ by Brian Selznick, 2007, YA fiction (France), 10/10
90.  Hickory, Dickory, Dock ~ illustrated by Sanja Rescek, 2006, children's, 8/10
91.  Butterfly in the Garden ~ illustrated by Ana Martin-Larranag, 2006, children's board book, 8/10
92.  Wings: A Book to Touch and Feel ~ by Salina Yoon, 2010, children's board book, 8/10
93.  There Once Was a Puffin ~ by Florence Page Jaques, 1995, children's, 8/10
94.  School for the Blind ~ by Dennis McFarland, 1994, fiction (Florida), 8/10
95.  Lord, Teach Us: The Lord's Prayer and the Christian Life ~ by William H. Willimon and Stanley Hauerwas, 1996, religion, 7/10
96.  Please Look After Mom ~ by Kyung-sook Shin, 2008 (translation 2011), fiction (South Korea), 8/10
97.  Read One Tonight and Call Me in the Morning: Stories to Make You Feel Better ~ by Richard Speight, 1998, essays, 8/10
98.  31 Hours ~ by Masha Hamilton, 2009, fiction (New York), 8/10
99.  Dear Mr. Henshaw ~ by Beverly Cleary, 1983, YA fiction, 9/10

May favorite (#89)

5 fiction
3 YA fiction
4 children's
2 essays
0 graphic novels
0 history
0 memoir
0 philosophy
1 religion
0 women's studies
0 writing
_______________
Total = 15

JUNE

100.  Once Upon a Time There Was You ~ by Elizabeth Berg, 2011, fiction, 8/10
101.  Caleb's Crossing ~ by Geraldine Brooks, 2011, fiction (Massachusetts), 9/10
102.  Not My Daughter ~ by Barbara Delinsky, 2010, fiction (Maine), 9/10
103.  Clara and Mr. Tiffany ~ by Susan Vreeland, 2001, fiction (New York), 8/10
104.  Garlic and Sapphires: The Secret Life of a Critic in Disguise ~ by Ruth Reichl, 2005, memoir (New York), 8/10
105.  A Place to Pray: Reflections on the Lord's Prayer ~ by Roberta C. Bondi, 1998, religion, 9/10
106.  Yummy: The Last Days of a Southside Shorty ~ by G. Neri, illustrated by Randy DuBurke, 2010, graphic novel (Illinois),  8/10
107.  The Bird Sisters ~ by Rebecca Rasmussen, 2011, fiction (Wisconsin), 7/10
108.  The Coming Global Superstorm ~ by Art Bell and Whitley Strieber, 2000, science, 9/10
109.  Mother Nature's Greatest Hits: The Top 40 Wonders of the Animal World ~ by Bartleby Nash, 1991, science, 8/10
110.  Bird ~ by Zetta Elliott, illustrated by Shadra Strickland, 2008, children's, 9/10
111.  Seeds of Change: Planting a Path to Peace ~ by Jen Cullerton Johnson, illustrated by Sonia Lynn Sadler, 2010, biography of Wangari Maathai (Kenya), 9/10
112.  The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible ~ by A. J. Jacobs, 2007, memoir/religion, 9/10
113.  The Year of Magical Thinking ~ by Joan Didion, 2005, memoir, 8/10
114.  Go and Come Back ~ by Joan Abelove, 1998, fiction (Peru), 9/10
115.  The Unlikely Disciple: A Sinner's Semester at America's Holiest University ~ by Kevin Roose, 2009, memoir (Virginia), 9/10
116.  75 Years: A History of East Lake United Methodist Church 1908-1983 ~ by Bonnie Setliffe Jacobs, 1983, history, 5/10
117.  Animals Are the Funniest People ~ by Professor Percy Niwrad, 1976, humor, 6/10
118.  The English Teacher ~ by Lily King, 2005, fiction (Maine), 9.5/10
119.  The Faded Flower ~ by Paul McCusker, 2001, fiction (Pennsylvania), 8/10
120.  Wild Words from Wild Women: An Unbridled Collection of Candid Observations and Extremely Opinionated Bon Mots ~ compiled by Autumn Stephens, 1993, 1996, women's studies, 8/10

June favorite (#118)

8 fiction
0 YA fiction
1 children's
0 essays
1 graphic novels
1 history
1 humor
5 memoir / biography
0 philosophy
1 religion
2 science
1 women's studies
0 writing
_______________
Total = 21