After that great trip to connect with my college roomie + Lanie readers in Boston, I checked in three arm-stretchingly heavy suitcases (full of books for Ethiopian kids) and flew down to JFK airport and off to Amsterdam and then Addis Ababa. Any opportunity to travel back to Ethiopia is total thrilldom. Alas, it also means
It happened again yesterday–as I talked over dinner in Boston with a group of families who had gathered in an American Girl salon, one of the girls was excited to point out that my real life story is actually somewhat like Dakota’s story in the books. (I was charmed at the store signing to hear
I met my granddaughter in Ethiopia, surrounded by cousins, aunts and uncles, and her other grandparents. Not too many books in that household. Stories, yes. Ethiopia has many ways to tell her stories. Names, for one. Hiwot, my daughter-in-law, was practically a baby when her mother and father, during the time of the communist government, were arrested and
“Why did your family go to Ethiopia?” I probably leave the door open for that question–the one I get all the time–because I’m never happy with the simple answer, which is that my parents worked for the Presbyterian church for 22 years. I want people to hear the story. To imagine what it was like for my dad
When my brother came over last night to tell Mom and me about his last day at a school where he has taught ESL for 20 years, Mom asked, “Did you cry?” I’m not sure Chris had time to cry. He and I are swamped with being part of the leadership team for the Fulbright-Hayes
I learned a lot, growing up in Ethiopia, about how loss punctures the heart. I don’t remember leaving Portland, Oregon, where I was born, but it was my first massive goodbye. My baby brother (who was born on my three-year-old birthday not long after my family arrived) died in Ethiopia when he was only a few
An article in yesterday’s Oregonian introduced me to the sweetness of bunny comfort care. Every week, Sarah Baran carries two baskets–filled with Cloey and Bitsey–to an assisted-living center. She says, “A bunny is soft, small fragile and completely vulnerable. They make people happy.” Oooo. Every day when I walked in the arboritum in Hesston, Kansas,
I’m still trying to absorb all the places I went this year (so far) and all the people I met and all the different chances I had to talk about Lanie, about getting kids outside, and about Ethiopia, where I learned to love being outside. American Girl created some charming teeny postcards and travel accessories for
Kids have asked me whether I longed–when I was a girl–to follow in the footsteps of Jane Goodall or to creep after wildlife on the savanna…the way Lanie longs. I always explain that I DID see roving animals on the savanna when I was a girl. So–as one student recently pointed out–I was more like Lanie’s friend
After such a swirly spring, I’m home celebrating the spirit of adventure and new ventures. A few years ago, my brother and I took 8 teachers to Ethiopia for a teacher-to-teacher sharing. Out of that came a Fulbright-Hayes grant, awarded to K-State (alma mater of one of the 8 teachers). I’m hard at work lining
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