A Grieving Dad Finds Renewed Purpose in We Bought a Zoo

My aunt Barb and I share a love of zoos, so I wasn’t surprised that she decided to rent We Bought a Zoo when I visited her and my uncle recently. As soon as the titular zoo came into view, both of us started fantasizing about how cool it would be to live in such a place. The landscape and the ragtag collection of animals combine to make a very appealing playground for Rosie (Maggie Elizabeth Jones), the adorable little girl whose father is the film’s main character.

Matt Damon is the most likable I’ve ever seen him as Benjamin Mee, a plucky widower who wants to make a better life for Rosie and her surly pre-adolescent brother Dylan (Colin Ford). While sunny Rosie seems to be adjusting fairly well to her mother’s death, it’s transformed Dylan into a borderline delinquent. While Benjamin processes his own grief, he longs for a way to restore the lost connection between him and his son.

Buying the zoo seems like a crazy idea, but Benjamin and Rosie both fall head over heels in love with the place at first glance. Dylan objects to being uprooted, while Benjamin’s pragmatic brother Duncan (Thomas Haden Church), an accountant, foresees financial disaster if he goes through with it. But Benjamin has fixed on a dream, and even though the zoo is in shambles and will require thousands of dollars and hours of manpower to get it up to code for inspection and a summer opening, he is determined to make a go of it. Is it a sustainable goal, or is he about to fall flat on his face?

Cameron Crowe directed and co-wrote this earnest charmer of a family film, which was based on a true story, though the family was transplanted from England to Southern California and the wife’s death, which served as the impetus for all the events in the film, did not occur in real life until after the zoo had been purchased. Here, buying the zoo is very much about this dad and his children making a new beginning and slowly learning to let go, never forgetting the warm, loving wife and mother whose early death stuck such a painful blow but allowing themselves to move forward with optimism.

Rated PG, the movie contains little material that could be considered objectionable. Death is certainly a prominent theme, but it’s dealt with gently, and I imagine that children going through a grieving process might find a lot to relate to here. Damon anchors the film with a sense of determination and good humor, while Jones steals every scene with her sage and funny proclamations and Ford’s angst keeps the family’s recent tragedy fresh in viewers’ minds. Church is a consistent source of humor with his sad-sack demeanor and snarky remarks. The bond between these very different brothers is one of my favorite aspects of the movie.

Of course, romance comes into the storyline a bit, though it’s really not the focus. As the film begins, Benjamin is still seeing his wife (Stephanie Szostak) everywhere he goes, and the last thing on his mind is starting a new relationship. However, he is thrown into constant contact with Kelly (Scarlet Johansson), his property’s no-nonsense head zookeeper, and a mutual affection gradually forms. Meanwhile, Dylan, still disgusted by the family’s move, attempts to deal with the confusion of a first romance with Kelly’s tomboyish niece Lily (Elle Fanning). I think I actually enjoyed this pairing more, partly because of the opportunity it presented for Benjamin to offer some wise advice as the rift between father and son starts to heal.

We Bought a Zoo is a sunny, funny, touching movie about family, grief and impossible dreams. Beautiful animals, a quirky zoo staff and a dad deeply devoted to his children and his new venture make this a truly endearing film. I watched it with my aunt, uncle and grandparents, and we all gave it the thumbs up. At just over two hours, it might be a little on the long side for young children, but it truly is a film that the whole family can enjoy together.

Dennis Quaid Brings Complexity to the 2011 Remake of Footloose

I am a child of the 80s, and I like to think that I’m pretty up on the pop culture of that decade, particularly when it comes to movies. However, perhaps in part because of my two left feet, I never latched onto either Dirty Dancing or Footloose. I heard some of the music, of course, and I saw clips on television specials, but that’s always been one little chunk of quintessential 80s that I’ve been missing. While I still need to remedy that one of these days, I did see the remake of Footloose recently. Maybe my reaction to it would have been different if I’d grown up with the original, but I quite enjoyed it.

The movie revolves around Ren McCormack (Kenny Wormald), a free-thinking Bostonian who has just moved to a tiny Southern town in the wake of his mother’s death. He finds welcome with his supportive uncle Wes (Ray McKinnon), warm-hearted aunt Lulu (Kim Dickens) and adoring little cousins Amy (Maggie Elizabeth Jones) and Sarah (Mary-Charles Jones). The rest of the town is a bit slower to accept him, however. He’s the new kid on the block, so it’s easy to accuse him of stirring up trouble, though aside from a little fast driving and loud music, he’s a pretty upstanding young man.

Still, he feels stifled by all the rules in a community that has turned to legalism for comfort in the wake of a terrible tragedy. After the deaths of several teens, including the son of local pastor Shaw Moore (Dennis Quaid), in a car accident on the way home from a dance, the town council enacted a ban on public dancing, and Ren becomes determined to overturn it. His attraction to the reverend’s daughter Ariel (Julianne Hough), who is the greater rabble-rouser by far, does nothing to endear him to this clergyman who still hasn’t fully processed the loss that his family suffered.

From the moment that Ren turns up in town and gets rushed by his exuberant cousins, he pretty much won me over. He’s got a bit of a rebellious streak, but he’s a really likable guy. Ariel takes a little longer to warm to, since she seems to have chosen a very self-destructive path and spends the early part of the movie pushing away everyone who really cares about her. Ultimately, however, she becomes easy to sympathize with as well.

On the other hand, while Rev. Moore is set up as the primary antagonist, this certainly is not a cookie-cutter situation in which the restrictive establishment is Evil. Indeed, he is a complex man whose deep faith and love for his family and parishioners informs everything he does, making his actions understandable even when they are frustrating. Quaid’s nuanced performance actually makes Shaw my favorite character in the movie save Willard (Miles Teller), the somewhat dopey local teen who quickly becomes Ren’s best friend. A regular source of comic relief throughout the movie, he particularly tickled my funny bone in the scene in which the two meet.

I’m sure that it was a bit superfluous to remake this movie less than three decades after it first hit theaters, but writer-director Craig Brewer brought a deep affection for the original to the project, and I would imagine that many contemporary teens who saw the remake might want to check out the 1983 version as well. Not having seen it, I can’t draw comparisons, but as a stand-alone movie, the new edition of Footloose entertains and invites thoughtful discussion about the balance between safety and freedom.

Richard Harris Intimidates in the Tragic Irish Drama The Field

In preparation for St. Patrick’s Day, I’ve been loading my Netflix queue up with Irish movies. The first to arrive was The Field, Jim Sheridan’s film adaptation of a play I read in high school. It had been a while, so while I remembered the premise, I didn’t recall all of the events that transpired in this tragic tale or I might have shied away. That would have been a shame, though, because I would have missed some gorgeous cinematography and a towering performance by the late Richard Harris.

Harris stars as Bull McCabe, an elderly farmer who has spent his life nurturing a rocky field and coaxing green life out of it. The land is now lush and fruitful, and the weakening Bull wants assurance that his son will carry on the work that he began, so he decides the time has come to persuade its long-widowed owner (Frances Tomelty) to sell it to him.

He succeeds, but the plan backfires; instead of selling directly to the man who has worked the field so long he considers it his, she announces her intention to sell it at public auction, and a wealthy, arrogant American (Tom Berenger) shows up to buy it. What’s worse, he wants to cover it in concrete and turn it into part of a highway system. Is there anything this old man can do to protect the one thing in life he is most passionate about?

Irish farmers take their land very seriously, and Bull’s obsession with the land is all the more intense because of the family history he divulges in one of Harris’s most wrenching moments in the film. This is a quiet movie with little music but plenty to feast the eyes on. Jack Conroy’s capturing of the green rolling hills makes us feel the pain along with Bull at the thought that it could soon be paved over.

The eyes linger over the verdant grass more than they otherwise might because there are stretches of time with no dialogue at all. When Harris does speak, however, he makes an impact, even though you might have to pay extra close attention to catch everything he says with that soft voice and thick brogue. His piercing eyes peer out of a face wreathed in white hair, and when the dormant fire within them sparks into life, it’s an intimidating spectacle.

While Harris is the focal point here, other strong performances bolster his. Sean Bean is surly and near-silent as Tadgh, Bull’s cowed son with a violent streak. With few words, he emphatically demonstrates the depth of the gulf that lies between father and son, as well as the tragic traits that tie them together. As village idiot Bird O’Donnell, John Hurt adds some levity as he disappears into a truly eccentric role, while Sean McGinley’s mostly low-key performance as a stern parish priest deepens the eventual outburst showing the conflict between the clergy and public opinion.

This is an unsettling film that compels us to sympathize with characters while simultaneously disdaining them. Its exploration of the conflict between a tight-knit community and encroaching modernity opens an ethical can of worms as stubbornness and madness lead the key characters in dismal directions. It’s not an uplifting film, to be sure, and it’s a bit on the long side, its lagging pace seeming more egregious as it becomes clearer that the conclusion will hardly be a tranquil one. Nonetheless, this dark drama provides a fine example of Harris’s dramatic heft and of the gorgeous land whose all but inevitable loss drives him to the depths of insanity.

The Irish Rovers Have a Rollicking Time with Drunken Sailor

The Irish Rovers is one of those bands I have truly grown up with. My love of Irish music began with them way back in toddlerhood, and I've seen them in concert three times. Their Tales to Warm Your Mind has a secure spot in my top ten favorite albums ever. While I don't have nearly all of the music they have released, I try to keep up with what they're doing, so when I heard that they had a new CD coming out, I knew I'd need to have a listen.

Drunken Sailor doesn't actually hit shelves until the end of the month, but it's available in MP3 form now, so I decided to go ahead and get it in time for St. Patrick's Day. It's a good album for such a festive occasion; the name reflects the general theme: drunkenness and the sea. For the most part, I would say it's more ribald than most Rovers albums, at least the ones in my collection, with drunken debauchery present in almost every song. Because of this oversaturation of dubious topics, I'm not quite as keen on this album as I am on most. Nonetheless, the musicianship is excellent, and it sure sounds like they're having a lot of fun.

The line-up is mostly different now than it was in the early 1960s, but George Millar is still the bandleader and chief songwriter, crafting many of the songs that appear on the albums and adapting many other traditional favorites. Other members include Wilcil McDowell, longtime accordionist for the group, and husky-voiced balladeer John Reynolds, along with George's cousin Ian Millar, percussionist Fred Graham and vocalist Sean O'Driscoll. Nearly 50 years since its formation, the group continues to provide a rollicking good time for evergreen fans.

The title song here is a familiar one that always goes over well at concerts because it makes such a rousing sing-along. Many of the songs here are similarly rowdy and repetitive, with easy opportunities for listeners to chime in on a key line or two or try to keep up with an ever-lengthening list. Examples of the former include the scatterbrained All For Me Grog, the rascally Across the Western Sea and the wistful Pleasant and Delightful, while Good Luck to the Barleymow and The Dublin Pub Crawl will test your memory of potent potables and promising pubs. My favorite song of this type will probably always be The Rattlin' Bog, but that's not included here. Still, these two make for a fun challenge.

The most blush-worthy of the songs are Wh*res and Hounds, in which a drunken sea dog both laments and celebrates the wild living of his past, and the fast-paced Cruising 'Round Yarmouth, which uses a lot of sailing-related double entendres. The upbeat Trust in Drink, The Jolly Roving Tar, The Good Ship Rover and Dear Ould Ireland are all toasts of sorts, at least on the chorus.

Two of the tracks really stand out from the rest to me. Both are nautical in nature, so they still fit the theme, but one is a low-key, heartfelt lament, while the other is a lengthy ballad recounting an infamous tragedy. Sweet Anne is a mellow, mostly solo song of a sailor caught in a deadly storm expressing his regrets over his leaving his true love. The whistle and mandolin makes this gentle song of separation all the more affecting, and it's probably my favorite on the album.

The real highlight, however, is The Titanic, George Millar's six-and-a-half minute-long ode to the calamity, which happened a hundred years ago in April. It begins with a mournful minute-long rendition of Nearer My God to Thee, which was played on the ship as it was sinking. The song has a nice sea shanty flavor to it as it tells the tale of the ship's construction and the great expectations for its maiden voyage that contributed to its early demise. The chorus is a bit too peppy - and repeated a few too many times - for this to have quite the tragic heft of Gordon Lightfoot's Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, but it's still an effective musical recollection of that calamity with some sobering reflections on its significance, and I suspect that this is the track for which the album will be most readily remembered.

Overall, I would say that I prefer Irish Rovers albums that include more of a mix of song types, with the exception of Tales to Warm Your Mind, of course, which I think of as a concept album aimed as much at children as adults. As a rather straight-laced non-drinker, there are only so many rowdy drinking songs I can take in a row before I need a break. Nonetheless, it's great to see the Rovers still going strong. After all these years, they still know how to turn a song into a party.

Not-So-Merry Men Abound in this VeggieTales Video About Hurt Feelings

What do you do when it feels like you're being neglected and rejected? That's something kids face a lot as those around them misunderstand them or simply aren't attuned to them, and it's the subject of Christian children's company Big Idea's latest computer-animated VeggieTales video, Robin Good and His Not-So-Merry Men.

The video begins, as most do, with a countertop scene. This one finds Larry the Cucumber distraught because his hamster has abandoned him. Meanwhile, Bob the Tomato opens a message from a young viewer who is battling hurt feelings of his own, and he deems it a good time for a couple of stories.

The first tale is fairly short and told all in rhyme, recalling such previous segments as The Story of Flibber-O-Loo and The Snoodle's Tale, but this one is set in a contemporary world rather than a fantastical realm inspired by Dr. Seuss. Junior Asparagus, here a kid named Lenny, is turning eight.  This time, his character has an energetic little sister by the name of Libbie, which amused me since that is the name of one of my best friends. Also amusing me was a random reference to Abraham Lincoln, my favorite president.

Lenny, however, is not amused in this tale, and that's because it seems everyone has forgotten his birthday. He spends the day in an agony of mopeyness waiting for just one person to say something about his special day. What's going on? This is a cute story that contains a sweet song of reassurance by Lenny's mom and a twist at the end that is both fun and educational.

Of course, it's also a bit of a downer for most of it because it's just Lenny feeling sorry for himself and keeping all his angst bottled up. The takeaway message is that even when you're having a terrible day, God is still there for you, and that should bring comfort. However, another message kids might glean is that instead of stewing silently over having been slighted, they should address their problems openly.

Granted, when someone is ignoring your birthday, you don't want to say anything because you hope that eventually, they will remember, and it doesn't really count if you told them. But generally speaking, "failure to communicate" can contribute to all sorts of hurt feelings. As a fundamentally non-confrontational person, this is something I have struggled with myself. Expressing myself openly has never been my strong suit, and as with Junior, that reluctance to speak up has led to unnecessary anxiety and confusion.

The main story is a parody of Robin Hood, territory VeggieTales has touched before in the shorter segment on Minnesota Cuke and the Search for Samson's Hairbrush. However, that was only a brief sojourn. Here we've got a full-blown tale in which Robin Good, played by Larry, leads his band of Not-So-Merry Men by waylaying travelers in the forest and soliciting funds from them to redistribute to the poorest in the kingdom of Bethlingham. When donations run almost dry, his buddies rebel and turn to thievery instead, something Robin refuses to do. He's got scruples, but he's also got a lot of resentment bubbling up inside him. Can he overcome it to help a friend in need? The message here is about the same as in the first, with an added theme that making other people feel better tends to make you feel better yourself.

This is an enjoyable twist on familiar characters. I love the setting, the different take on the usually sinister Sherriff (played here by Bob) and the bits of zany humor, particularly a discussion between Robin and the Sherriff that is reminiscent of Abbott and Costello's "Who's On First?" routine and a series of rather groan-worthy ham puns. The tale includes mostly music along the same lines as Mom Asparagus's lullaby, which is nice, though the one that got my attention the most was the peppy duet between Robin and the corrupt prince, played by frequent antagonist Mr. Nezzer in one of his meaner incarnations. It's a fun and ultimately encouraging story, but again, because we spend so much time with Robin, and later the Sherriff, moping, it's not quite as upbeat as most of these videos tend to be.

Between stories we've got the traditional Silly Song, which is another offering by Boyz in the Sink, the boy band made up of Larry, Junior, Mr. Lunt and Jimmy Gourd. This song has a radio-ready feel to it similar to their previous offerings, a very distinct sound from most of the Silly Songs. What we get is an ode to bubble wrap, an item that just tends to make people grin. Yes, it's good packing material, and they're using it because the band members are getting some fancy new digs and are settling in, but it's best known for just being fun to pop. The novelty never seems to wear off. I actually saw this song quite a while ago, since Big Idea posted it on YouTube well in advance of the video; I like it, and the subject makes me smile, though it hasn't really stuck in my brain the way my favorites like The Hairbrush Song and I Love My Lips have.

All told, it's a solid video, and I think the Robin Hood story makes a great framework. It wasn't really the lesson I would have expected to go with that tale, but it works well. At the same time, the humor isn't quite as pronounced in this video as usual because the main characters spend so much time down in the dumps. The message is also a bit heavy-handed, with the same words about God being bigger than any hurt being repeated multiple times. Still, for children going through that sense of isolation, that might be just the reassurance they need.

Rediscover Classic Fairy Tales With This Classy Collection

“Happily ever after” and “once upon a time” are two of the most iconic phrases in storytelling history thanks in large part to the Brothers Grimm, who so diligently collected and adapted many of the folktales that endure as childhood favorites to this day. Along with many other fans, I am hoping that it will take a long time for Once Upon a Time, the ABC Sunday night drama helmed by LOST scribes Adam Horowitz and Eddie Kitsis, to reach its “happily ever after.” Although I want to see these characters find their happiness, which in most cases seems to include making a seemingly impossible romantic connection, I am in no rush to see this modern take on these ancient stories come to an end.

On my birthday, an episode of Once Upon a Time featuring the beloved story of Beauty and the Beast aired, and I received this collection of fairy tales illustrated by Kevin Tong and published in conjunction with the series. Part of the book’s appeal for fans of the show is its foreword by Horowitz and Kitsis, who share their thoughts on why fairy tales have so thoroughly permeated the public consciousness, what they are trying to accomplish with the show and how LOST helped prepare them for it. I’d read snatches of these ideas before in interviews, but it’s nice to have them all here in a cohesive three-page essay that only increases my already strong faith that these two – whose extensive contribution to LOST includes writing my favorite episode, Dr. Linus – know what they are doing.

Parents considering purchasing this for their kids should be aware that the stories within this collection are direct translations of the original Grimm tales, and they are… well… grim. That isn’t to say that the “good guys” don’t win out – usually – but many of them must endure violent trials in the meantime, to say nothing of the grotesque ends many of the villains meet. Young readers, especially the very sensitive, might be troubled by such story elements as eyes being gouged out by birds, youngsters getting gobbled up by wolves and fathers beheading their own children. Of course, generations of readers grew up with these stories before more sanitized versions became more prevalent.

Brief but memorable, with the longest 15 pages long but most much shorter, these stories mostly felt very familiar to me, though the ones Disney introduced to me had distinct differences from their animated adaptations. For instance, this Cinderella’s father is still alive but does nothing to spare his daughter from her stepfamily’s wickedness, and in the process of trying on the royal shoes, her stepsisters cut off parts of their own feet to make them fit – and the prince can’t even tell that neither is the one he danced with at the ball. In Snow White, the evil queen tricks Snow White several times, and ultimately she is revived not by the prince’s kiss but by being transported by coffin to his palace and coming to when it hits a bump in the road and a bit of poisoned apple dislodges from her throat.

The prince in The Sleeping Beauty does kiss the enchanted princess, but as he was born long after she fell asleep, he has no previous connection with her, nor does he need to fight the wicked enchantress or enlist the aid of the helpful fairies as none of them has a role in the story beyond her fateful birthday. Romance does not come into the stories much despite so many tales including a wedding; with few exceptions, if love occurs, it is at first sight, with no time for the couple to get to know each other, and more often marriage is awarded to a stranger as a prize for completing some heroic task. The strangest example of this is in the closing story, The Frog Prince, in which a frog becomes a prince after the cruel, spoiled child whose toy he rescued throws him against the wall – and then he marries her.

Thematic connections can be found among many of the 30 stories, several of which were unfamiliar to me. Ingenuity, perseverance, kindness to the disenfranchised and loyalty are four virtues that are praised in multiple tales. Humor comes into some of the tales as well, particularly in the stories of Hans in Luck, the world’s most ineffective barterer, and Clever Grethel, whose brilliant manipulation of others’ dialogue reminds me of young Kevin McAllister in Home Alone. Remarkable animals are also common, with my favorite being the wish-granting fish The Fisherman and His Wife, a funny cautionary tale against excessive greed and lack of assertiveness.

Despite the presence of violence in many of the stories, there’s really only one story whose ending I would really classify as unhappy, and it still is happy for one of the characters, just not the one readers might expect. In other cases, the tales proceed with little conflict; the trio of short elf tales toward the end is particularly tranquil.

Adding to my appreciation of this collection are the illustrations by Kevin Tong, which are black and white, with bold silhouettes at the ends of stories and more detailed drawings at the beginning, though only a few tales feature these larger pictures. Even these tend to deal mostly with archetypal figures; for instance, we see Little Red Cap wandering down a path in a woodland landscape inside the shape of a wolf’s head, and the dwarves’ cozy cottage stands inside an outline of Snow White’s silhouette.

You might want to restrict yourself to reading one or two of these stories at a time; it would be easy to stretch the 250-page book out for a month that way, since each is self-contained, and such an approach minimizes the risk of the tales running together in your mind. I only took a week to read it, but I’m sure this is a book whose tales I’ll be returning to, especially as the series progresses. More characters are coming on board all the time, and it’s interesting to compare how those who originated with these tales differ from their prime time counterparts. Of course, this book is limited to stories collected by the German Grimm Brothers, so characters from such tales as the French Beauty and the Beast and the Italian Pinocchio are missing, but many of the show’s denizens can be found within these pages.

All of these stories have a timeless quality about them, and I suspect they will still be enjoyed for many generations. While most of the characters are not terribly complex, they make excellent springboards for creative embroidery by writers like Horowitz and Kitsis. Reading them can easily encourage further creativity, whether it’s by way of crafting new fairy tales, writing about these characters’ other adventures or furnishing illustrations. This book would make a great addition to a classroom shelf, especially for slightly older students who might find the format more appealingly grown-up than the more common picture book-style editions. Kids and adults alike can appreciate these tales, just as television viewers across a spectrum of ages can enjoy the series as a family. I’m so glad that these stories remain such a powerful part of the cultural landscape.

The World According to Mister Rogers Is a Nice World Indeed

Last weekend, I had a wonderful visit with my grandparents, and it occurred to me that my grandpa shares many of the traits that made Fred Rogers such a beloved figure: empathy, gentleness, compassion, a childlike spirit, the role of minister. I got the itch to reread I’m Proud of You, a book chronicling the friendship one man shared with Fred Rogers, mostly through correspondence and phone calls, so I searched my shelves, but instead, I found The World According to Mister Rogers: Important Things to Remember, which collects more than 150 quotes from the children’s television sage grouped into four chapters.

The Courage to Be Yourself includes quotes about personal authenticity in the face of challenges. Several quotes recall Rogers’ childhood and the positive example that others – particularly his grandfather, Fred McFeely – set for him, while others deal with the constant process of discovering oneself. His tone is both encouraging and humble. For instance, I love, “Little by little we human beings are confronted with situations that give us more and more clues that we aren’t perfect.”

In Understanding Love, we find quotes relating to the importance and mystery of love. He talks about how hard it is to love others sometimes but how worthwhile that struggle is. Several of the quotes in this section are spread across two pages, including the touching song It’s You I Like, which reminds us to seek out and recognize the uniqueness of each person we encounter. The second chapter flows naturally from the first, as evidenced in its closing thought: “When we love a person, we accept him or her exactly as is: the lovely with the unlovely, the strong along with the fearful, the true mixed in with the facade, and of course, the only way we can do it is by accepting ourselves that way.”

In The Challenges of Inner Discipline, he addresses the value of channeling emotions in ways that are productive and methods of turning wishes into reality. It is in this chapter that he shares the story of his early encounter with a famous songwriter who praised his songs but told him to come back when he had a barrelful. This important tidbit serves as impetus to always keep working at your goals no matter how happy you are with what you’ve accomplished.

Finally, We Are All Neighbors focuses on the connections among people and how much better the world would be if everyone took the time to see the value in those they meet. This is the chapter that includes the lyrics to Won’t You Be My Neighbor?, arguably the most famous of his songs, and it also includes discussion of some of his personal heroes, both famous and not, and the inspiring observation that “the ultimate happiness is being able sometimes, somehow to help our neighbor become a hero too.”

You can read through the book in a couple of hours, though it’s worth taking a while to digest each quote. I could see this being a great text for use with a response journal. Many of the quotes say similar things, but they are distinct enough that each makes an impact. Some quotes are only a sentence long, while others span several paragraphs. This is a nice book to have handy on a coffee table or in some other place where people might pick it up and leaf through it. The longest continuous stretch of writing is the nine-page-long foreword penned by Fred’s widow Joanne, who details their more than 50 years together from their college days, and this provides an intimate, insightful peek at the man whose words fill the rest of the book.

While people of any age could take something valuable from this collection, the quotes and anecdotes are not geared specifically toward children. Rather, I would say that the book’s primary audience is made up of those who grew up with Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood and could use an extra dose of the reassurance it provided now that they are adults. Reading this book produces a calming effect similar to watching that gentle, affirming children’s program or to spending time with two terrific grandparents.

On Presidents' Day, Read About Lincoln's Handy Hat

Today is Presidents' Day, a holiday to honor America's presidents, particularly George Washington and Abraham Lincoln, whose birthdays are in February. I tend to think of Lincoln much more on his birthday, February 12, which is also my birthday, but I thought this would be a good day to review a Lincoln book I received for my birthday. While it was written specifically for beginning readers, Lincoln enthusiasts of any age can find enjoyment in Mr. Lincoln's Hat.

This 48-page book written by Martha Brenner and illustrated by Donald Cook focuses mostly on Lincoln's early adulthood. The hat, which is such an iconic element of Lincoln's image, is both a useful and comical prop. Brenner explains in simple, appealing language how useful Lincoln's hat was to him as a means of keeping track of all his papers. The portrait that emerges through the several sentences per page is that of a very smart but rather scatterbrained man who did not take himself too seriously. At the same time, he was deeply committed to certain causes, and his folksy manner was an asset to him as he championed them.

Brenner effectively uses repetition, both for the sake of clarity and humor, to weave her tale of the different ways in which Lincoln's hat came in handy and played some sort of role in famous incidents in his life. She cites several specific events, including a murder trial and another trial that served as an early indication of his loathing for slavery. She also includes several funny stories, such the time that some mischievous boys strung a rope up to knock his hat off his head and another time when a judge fined him for whispering a joke during a trial then rescinded the fine after finding the joke hilarious himself.

The illustrations have a soft quality to them and are rich in detail. Many of them, such as the cover illustration depicting him running down the street after his hat and scattered letters, have a humorous quality to them. This is a great book to use in order to introduce children to other aspects of Lincoln's life before his presidency, and its whimsical quality adds to the appeal.

I've seen many books about Lincoln for this age group. Several focus on his childhood or upon his presidency. Others follow him throughout his life, showing how his early love of reading or of animals helped shape the decisions he made later. This book has elements of both those approaches, as it zeroes in on a particular time in Lincoln's life but does so through the lens of a specific object of importance to him. This focus works very well, and as a lifelong Lincoln fan and a bit of a scatterbrain, I found myself both entertained and tempted to try his unique organizational system for myself.

Linus Fills the Air With Christmas Cheer

In 2011, Hallmark introduced one of the most charming and ingenious sets of Christmas decorations I have ever encountered. Entitled the Wireless Peanuts Band, this merry group consisted of four beloved characters, each of which played the primary melody on two songs and backup on the rest. As long as they were within close range of each other, the figures interacted with each other without the aid of cords or any other connecting device. We had so much fun with the quartet that we decided to leave them up all year.

We were delighted, then, to discover that a fifth member had been added to the set we’d considered complete. As soon as Mom and I spied Linus, we snatched him up, and he now sits happily on the piano with the rest. Like them, he wears a red Santa hat with white trim. His shoes are brown, while his pants and scarf are red and his pants are green. In his hand, he clutches a trumpet, and unlike the other two characters playing air-powered instruments, he wears a wide smile.

Linus is made of hard plastic and stands about four inches tall. He sways forward and backward at the point of the bottom of his coat when he feels the spirit in the music he is playing. Like the others, he stands flat on a platform made to look like a wood paneled floor. This platform is about three and a half inches long, three inches wide and just over an inch tall. It is the same size as the others in the series, except that Schroeder’s is slightly longer to accommodate his piano. Near the front is the button that you must push to activate each song.

Because Charlie Brown already plays the saxophone, Linus’s trumpet doesn’t add something dramatically different to the group, but it is still a welcome addition. What’s more, he brings with him two songs of his own: Joy to the World and We Wish You a Merry Christmas. I find that Lucy’s accompaniment shines most clearly in the first and Schroeder’s in the second, but the group as a whole sounds nice together.

Encountering Linus in December was a sweet surprise prompting me to wonder whether other characters might turn up in future years. Now that we’ve got Charlie Brown, Schroeder, Snoopy, Lucy and Linus, I could imagine them adding folks like Peppermint Patty, Marcie, Sally and Pigpen. While the sound might become a bit cluttered with so many participants, I certainly would snatch up any others they add to the series. I also find myself hoping they’ll do something like this for other sets of characters such as the Pooh gang. For now, though, I am very happy with the five characters I have, and I look forward to them serenading me throughout the year.

The Boy Who Hated Valentine's Day Will Change His Mind

While I enjoy Valentine’s Day every year, it was always most fun for me when I was in elementary school.  Those were the days of decorating cardboard mailboxes, sitting down and carefully choosing – or, if you were really artistic, making – Valentines for each classmate and coming home the next day with a full box of your own.  I still have dozens of old-school Valentines sitting in a plastic tub with all the other cards I’ve received over the years.  The signatures of my long-ago classmates and the heavy dose of 80s pop culture in the small perforated cards that most kids preferred make me smile when nostalgia compels me to peruse them.

Reading The Boy Who Hated Valentine’s Day took me back to those days.  In this picture book written by Sally Wittman and illustrated by Chaya Burstein, Ben is the titular character.  The reason he hates the holiday is twofold.  First, he hates it because a bullying classmate convinces him that it’s for sissies, and he feels embarrassed about loving it.  Second, he hates it because he spends so much time berating Valentine’s Day that none of his classmates give him cards.  Thus, he begins to develop a different kind of dislike for the day.

The following year, Ben recalls his disappointment at the lack of cards around the same time he discovers his burgeoning artistic talent.  When his dad jokingly suggests he take up a career in counterfeiting, Ben comes up with a complex plan to avoid the humiliation of last year.  While it is clever in its way, wouldn’t it make more sense to simply renounce his renouncing of Valentine’s Day?  Surely he realizes that the only reason he didn’t get any cards last year is that everyone thought he didn’t want them.

Then again, when people are dealing with hurt feelings, they don’t always behave in the most logical fashion.  What matters is that Ben approaches his next Valentine’s Day with a spirit of resentfulness, but he channels that bitterness into creativity and then is compelled into a compassionate act that brings him a much happier holiday than he anticipated.  The story becomes a doorway to a wonderful approach to the world: if you feel have been slighted, instead of stewing in your own juices, try to reach out to someone else in a similar position.  Chances are that you will both be happier as a result.

This is a cute story with a good message and three well-defined characters.  The familiar situation of an elementary school card exchange makes it relatable for many kids, while Burstein’s illustrations have an appealingly old-fashioned look to them.  As people get older, many become disenfranchised with Valentine’s Day for a variety of reasons, but for an eight-year-old, the holiday ought to be innocent fun.  Perhaps, as Wittman proposes, it might even be the catalyst for a new friendship, and that truly is something to celebrate.