Saturday mornings were mornings not to disturb parents who were sleeping in, grab a bowl of Frosted Flakes in our Tony the Tiger bowl we received from sending in cereal boxtops, and to sit down in front of the TV to watch cartoons. That was the 50’s and 60’s go-to plan. TV programming was tuned in to this phenomena, running cartoons from 6:30 a.m. until the 9:00 a.m. news. This blog dedicates Saturday mornings toward the same “target audience.” Here is a recommendation for the kid or grandkid in your life:
In Gutsy Women, Roenfanz presents gutsy women poets and authors as the daily readings for Thursdays of every week. She heads…
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At one time, I was very “into” memoirs. In fact, one semester , I had my students do a “memoir project” as part of their course requirements, reading then reviewing a memoir. The students actually enjoyed this assignment, and the culminating memoir they wrote from their own life was very interesting, and in some cases inspiring. One would not necessarily use “inspiring” as a term for the heavy rock n’ roll legend Neil Young, but his memoir was one that was revealing, an indicator of the glory days of rock n’ roll, and even uplifting at moments.
Hard-singing, hard-playing, hard-living Neil Young’s music was the last thing from my mind as an uptight, judgmental, hard-working, low-paid, “green” teacher of the seventh and eighth grade kids who appreciated his sound. I remember them talking about Buffalo Springfield and their special albums that only teenagers understood.
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