literature
Families and literature go hand in hand; fictional families to entertain, reflect and inspire.
Don’t Shelter Your Children From My Favorite Bedtime Story
I felt powerless as a little girl, growing up with a mother disabled by strokes. I felt helpless being raised by an alcoholic father. I felt discouraged by atmosphere at school that girls could not achieve as well as boys—nor should they try. I felt frustrated by society in the 1960’s which stressed that girls must always be lady-like, never rambunctious. I felt inadequate by the inference that women must be beautiful in order to be valued. I felt crestfallen by literature and media which never portrayed females as super-heroes...
By Karla Bowen Herman5 years ago in Families
Take me to the Shire
My mother read to me every night as a child. We would curl up on my bed together and she would read; it was our tradition. Even if I didn’t want the day to end, I couldn’t wait to get to bed and hear the next part of the story. I don’t remember the early books or stories, but there are two that greatly stand out in my mind and helped form my continuing love of reading.
By Eryn Milliken5 years ago in Families
Tolkien To Ride
Growing up in the ‘80s was pretty magical—pun intended, I suppose. Some of the best fantasy fiction and films emerged then—Willow, The Dark Crystal, The Neverending Story and before Peter Jackson, there was The Hobbit animated film. I grew up watching all of these. I am the youngest of 3 siblings, all of us born in the ‘70s; so Star Wars also informed so much of our childhood imaginations.
By Wendy Macario5 years ago in Families
Secrets
Leon’s mother remembered the Rebirth -- had lived through it, in fact. He would sit in rapt attention, curled up against her side in his small, grubby bed listening to her tell stories. Clean water readily available, stores with shelves and shelves of food there at any time without need for your own farm or any particular worry over violent thieves. She laid her head on top of his and whispered the secrets of the World Before, combing calloused fingers through his hair and remembering better days while he gazed at the sullied bronze of her locket hanging soft and warm against her chest, heart-shaped and bright in the darkness of his bedroom.
By E. M. Townsend5 years ago in Families
Missing Buttons
At the core of who we are, regardless of our differences, lies a common thread of desire - a desire to be considered valuable, worthy, enough. Begin to unravel this thread, and it will lead you to various attempts to increase our worth in the eyes of a society whom we have given the power to decide our value. It is as though value is subjective and transient, rather than intrinsically unalterable.
By Sarah Lamb5 years ago in Families
Mum's the Word
I remember the rainy fall nights, curled up with my mother and my favorite stuffed animal, along with the plethora of books beside my bed that my mother would pick from. The one book that always stuck out in the pile had a bright bumble bee yellow spine and it soon became one of my most memorable – Chrysanthemum, by Kevin Henkes.
By Sindy Siyarath5 years ago in Families
Bedtime Stories
Growing up neither one of my parents would read me a bed time story. I was told it didn't happen at all, but many of my classmates talked about how their parents read to them until they fell asleep. I was of course jealous of this, but smiled and said that was nice.
By Lawrence Edward Hinchee5 years ago in Families
THE AMAZING BEAN CAKE
When I was a little boy and was certain that monsters lived in my closet and crept out into my room at night, my father being more imaginative than my mother, would sometimes read me a bedtime story until I fell asleep but more often, he would make one up—he was good at that. The fairy tale that stands out in my mind foremost, which of course I’ve taken many liberties, is The Amazing Bean Cake. He would usually tell this story when I was very sad, like when my grandma, grandpa and my little puppy died. It was difficult not to smile and near the end of his story, it was impossible to stop laughing when he used his armpit for sound effects. Looking back, I think his telling this story also helped alleviate his own sadness.
By Len Sherman5 years ago in Families
Wish Upon a Star
“When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are. Anything your heart desires, will come to you.” I have a question for you. Did you only read this or did you end up singing it too? I would be surprised if you only read it, for it is such a well-known Disney song. Today, Disney advertisements no longer include the lyrics. Interestingly, the majority of society knows the words and sings along silently in their head to the music. We, as a society, have been raised with imagination and magic thanks to Mr. Disney. This is advertisement at its finest because the music and phrase was so memorable and gave hope to many who dared to dream. Disney, was a genius when it came to innovation. My favorite innovation was the first audio and picture book set for children. Vinyl records provided the audio version of the stories while the colorful pages of the book brought the words and imaginable worlds alive. In this collection, the book was actually a part of the album sleeve so they never got separated. Thinking back on it now as an adult, I loved how convenient and innovative the collection was. Mr. Disney did “Wish upon a star,” and his dreams came true so yes, even I can wish upon those same stars and I let the magic happen.
By Sheila L. Chingwa5 years ago in Families
Goodnight Moon
Goodnight Moon I remember the first time I saw a shooting star. The cool mountain air on my face, the strong smell of wet pine, the sound of the flowing creek and crackling campfire. Millions of shimmering sparkles dotting the vast darkness. I was watching a specific star, flashing blue and red and green. Sitting on my dad’s lap, the smell of Marlboro Menthols and engine grease strong on his denim jacket. Suddenly, in this exact spot, a streak of searing silver light streamed down the sky to the east. I remember thinking it was a firework. “Dad! A firework!” I had exclaimed excitedly. He jumped; I had been sitting quietly with him watching the sky for nearly 30 minutes. He chuckled, his hearty, raspy laugh I will never forget. “That’s a shooting star squirt, make a wish.” I looked into his suntanned face, his deep laugh lines, crow's feet, his rough black moustache peppered with grey, his deep green-blue eyes. A wish? I had heard of wishing on stars in my fairy tales. My father was a practical man. A hard-working blue collar, gun-slinging kind of man. I had never heard him speak of wishes. I squeezed my eyes shut and wished with my whole being.
By Violently Colored5 years ago in Families
