"If a man asks for your shirt, give him your coat also."--Jesus, from the Bible
The workplace provides endless opportunities to put yoga principles into practice. Yesterday it was asteya or honor or non-stealing, however you like to define it. One of my colleagues approached me and asked to assume part of my job assignment simply because she wants to perform that function to build her resume. It looks fun to her and she wants to be helpful. My colleague recently completed a graduate program in library science. She wants the professional growth experience for herself. I can’t blame her for that. Besides that, I really, really like her. She's the one of the gentlest souls I know.
First thoughts: Mine. I was here first--all the stuff we teach our kids when another kid tries to take their toy. Second thoughts: Fear of loss. Fear that I will become more disposable if I give up part of what I do.
After a recent round of layoffs (and the looming threat of another round later this year) her offer felt more like a threat or a theft than assistance. If I gave away part of my responsibilities, wouldn't I be a greater layoff target later this year? We had already lost a teammate earlier this month and all our teammate's tasks were in flux, waiting to be re-assigned or cancelled. Although I'm spread pretty thin, I wondered why she sought work that is already covered (theoretically)—why my work? Her offer also chipped away at the justification for the flexible work schedule my boss configured to accommodate another part-time job I have in a family-owned business where my schedule varies.
I knew that a defensive reaction might place me in the ranks of the barracudas as far as my librarian colleagues were concerned. I suspect they already view my tendency to extrapolate meaning from such things as a trait that belongs back in the business world where I once worked full-time. They swap duties and delegate work without giving a second thought to consulting their bosses or considering fundamentals like job descriptions. This practice is endemic to public libraries and librarians as part of a fluid atmosphere we strive to create for ourselves and others. It's a trait I enjoy most of the time. I paused to examine whether my colleague's offer is the right place for me to practice asteya or whether it is her chance to do so.
I scan myself to determine whether I am out of bounds on this one, readily finding four other opportunities in the past week where I practiced asteya with pleasure: two bridal shower gifts, a going away present for our laid-off colleague, and a meal for a family in need. Could it be that the opportunity I resist offers the greater potential for personal growth for me AND my younger colleague? Mentoring her and receiving some help at the same time may be the right place to be. The question is: how often are people like me struggling with these issues at work due to tight market conditions for jobs? And how can leaders coach them through it? What do you think?
June 25, 2009
December 21, 2008
Keep the glass half full in 2009
My Dad has never liked Chicago. It wouldn’t make him unhappy if Cook County lobbied for statehood and won it. As far as he’s concerned, they can have everything north of Springfield for themselves. Dad probably shudders every time he thinks about raising a kid who loves Chicago enough to visit at least twice a year. He lives four hours “downstate” (as they say in Chicago) just 100 miles or so from St. Louis, where Cardinal fans are one of the few things more abundant than people who bash Chicago. That’s why it’s so surprising that Dad is a lifelong Cubs fan. “Everyone around here roots for the Cards,” he said when I asked him about that. “I guess I wanted to be different.” That’s how I feel when I listen to the news these days—like a contrarian.
Normally, I can wrap myself around fear in a heartbeat. It’s easy and somewhat legitimate to do that in today’s circumstances. What’s harder, but so much better for us, is to remember who we are and where we came from. Most adults today were loved and taught by people who survived and thrived through hardship—people who saved baggies and cottage cheese containers, folded foil and wrapping paper, and stretched a gallon of milk by mixing it with its powdered version and water.
Carrying Meals on Wheels to the elderly when they themselves are elderly, they never retire or quit. They resole their shoes, install their own windows, clean their own gutters, reupholster furniture, and eat from gardens for as long as they possibly can. They never paid others to do what they could do themselves. They expected life to be tough because it was. As kids, some remember nearly dying from delight when they got an orange at Christmas. Surely we learned something from them that will propel us forward!
When our family got together over Thanksgiving, my brothers and I were remembering Flossie Miller, an elderly widow who lived next door when we were kids. As far as we could tell, Mrs. Miller lived mostly on savings, (it may have been millions or next to nothing) Social Security and the $1 piano lessons she gave us. She didn’t have a car and she was too old to walk, so she sent my brothers to the store for mush, bread and sweet milk. (People of her generation referred to whole milk as sweet milk.) We can’t remember much else on the grocery list, so we imagine those things made up the bulk of her diet. Mrs. Miller accomplished a lot with very, very little. She handled herself as a refined and proper lady, in need of no one’s pity even with what seemed a meager existence. I think about her example and I know we’ll make it no matter what.
Just before his death in October, Studs Terkel, author of Hard Times: An Oral History of the Great Depression, had this to say about the current state of affairs: “I think if we don’t remember what happened in the past and if we don’t remember there’s a way out, it’ll be an iffy question as to which way we go. The lessons of the Great Depression? Don’t blame yourself. Turn to others. Take part in the community. The big boys are not that bright.” He says it well, especially for a guy from Chicago. Right Dad?
Normally, I can wrap myself around fear in a heartbeat. It’s easy and somewhat legitimate to do that in today’s circumstances. What’s harder, but so much better for us, is to remember who we are and where we came from. Most adults today were loved and taught by people who survived and thrived through hardship—people who saved baggies and cottage cheese containers, folded foil and wrapping paper, and stretched a gallon of milk by mixing it with its powdered version and water.
Carrying Meals on Wheels to the elderly when they themselves are elderly, they never retire or quit. They resole their shoes, install their own windows, clean their own gutters, reupholster furniture, and eat from gardens for as long as they possibly can. They never paid others to do what they could do themselves. They expected life to be tough because it was. As kids, some remember nearly dying from delight when they got an orange at Christmas. Surely we learned something from them that will propel us forward!
When our family got together over Thanksgiving, my brothers and I were remembering Flossie Miller, an elderly widow who lived next door when we were kids. As far as we could tell, Mrs. Miller lived mostly on savings, (it may have been millions or next to nothing) Social Security and the $1 piano lessons she gave us. She didn’t have a car and she was too old to walk, so she sent my brothers to the store for mush, bread and sweet milk. (People of her generation referred to whole milk as sweet milk.) We can’t remember much else on the grocery list, so we imagine those things made up the bulk of her diet. Mrs. Miller accomplished a lot with very, very little. She handled herself as a refined and proper lady, in need of no one’s pity even with what seemed a meager existence. I think about her example and I know we’ll make it no matter what.
Just before his death in October, Studs Terkel, author of Hard Times: An Oral History of the Great Depression, had this to say about the current state of affairs: “I think if we don’t remember what happened in the past and if we don’t remember there’s a way out, it’ll be an iffy question as to which way we go. The lessons of the Great Depression? Don’t blame yourself. Turn to others. Take part in the community. The big boys are not that bright.” He says it well, especially for a guy from Chicago. Right Dad?
November 15, 2008
Books for mining more out of life
I spent a whole week with my mother and father recently. Studying them that long gave me a lot to think about. In my mind, the three of us are approximately the same age—48 and holding. Of course, I know that’s a ridiculous mental proposition. Now in their 70s, Mom and Dad have covered some ground. Yet things that happened decades ago seem like yesterday to them.
Just last week, Dad said he dreamed about me and my three brothers exactly as we were when the youngest of us was a toddler. In the dream we appeared to him just as we were, in vivid detail. It is almost as though we are etched deeply in his memory at every age we have ever been. It must be an odd feeling, waking up and realizing that your toddler is actually in his forties. Odder still, I can easily put myself in their place, wondering how life could have zoomed by me so quickly. Seventy doesn't seem all that far away.
If this is how it’s to be, why not grab hold of life and live it all-out? Why not ditch all the fears and doubts now? Don’t wait for December 31 to write your New Year’s resolutions. Start planning 2009 today. Make a promise to live a life of few regrets.
Here are four great books to change your attitude, get you off your duff, and inspire your own quest. All four are full of practical exercises, new thinking, and unknown resources that can help you mine what you really want out of life. Beware: they may revise what seems possible to you.
The Passion Test, by Janet Bray Attwood and Chris Attwood
(Figure out what’s important to you, get past the excuses, and DO it.)
http://www.thepassiontest.com/TPT/Home/index.cfm
Steering by Starlight: Find Your Right Life, No Matter What!, by Martha Beck
(Especially good for people who are stuck somehow and can’t imagine a way out.)
http://marthabeck.com/
The 4-Hour Workweek: Escape 9 to 5, Live Anywhere, and Join the New Rich, by Timothy Ferriss. (Talk about throwing out all the rules!)
http://www.fourhourworkweek.com/
The Secret, by Rhonda Byrne. (The wisdom of the ages packed into one book.)
http://thesecret.tv/
Just last week, Dad said he dreamed about me and my three brothers exactly as we were when the youngest of us was a toddler. In the dream we appeared to him just as we were, in vivid detail. It is almost as though we are etched deeply in his memory at every age we have ever been. It must be an odd feeling, waking up and realizing that your toddler is actually in his forties. Odder still, I can easily put myself in their place, wondering how life could have zoomed by me so quickly. Seventy doesn't seem all that far away.
If this is how it’s to be, why not grab hold of life and live it all-out? Why not ditch all the fears and doubts now? Don’t wait for December 31 to write your New Year’s resolutions. Start planning 2009 today. Make a promise to live a life of few regrets.
Here are four great books to change your attitude, get you off your duff, and inspire your own quest. All four are full of practical exercises, new thinking, and unknown resources that can help you mine what you really want out of life. Beware: they may revise what seems possible to you.
The Passion Test, by Janet Bray Attwood and Chris Attwood
(Figure out what’s important to you, get past the excuses, and DO it.)
http://www.thepassiontest.com/TPT/Home/index.cfm
Steering by Starlight: Find Your Right Life, No Matter What!, by Martha Beck
(Especially good for people who are stuck somehow and can’t imagine a way out.)
http://marthabeck.com/
The 4-Hour Workweek: Escape 9 to 5, Live Anywhere, and Join the New Rich, by Timothy Ferriss. (Talk about throwing out all the rules!)
http://www.fourhourworkweek.com/
The Secret, by Rhonda Byrne. (The wisdom of the ages packed into one book.)
http://thesecret.tv/
February 28, 2008
Parables from the golf course: 12 tips for the professional communicator
I know nothing about sports, but several years ago I started learning to play golf. It’s a game that so closely parallels the beauty and cruelty of life that I find endless meaning in it. When I can’t play golf, I find myself thinking about the game. I’m starting to realize that the lessons of golf also apply to good communication. Here are a dozen lessons I learned on the golf course:
Lesson 1 — Style is no substitute for substance.
I’ve spent hundreds of dollars on golf lessons. People say that I have a beautiful swing. That’s of small comfort to me because I only hit the ball 150 yards at my very best. The truth of the matter is I haven’t got the real stuff of a solid swing yet. No matter how good it looks, it isn’t true, it isn’t reliable, it isn’t right. Something is missing. It’s the same with communication. A lot of organizations say wonderful things, but they can’t live up to them. As communicators, we have to help our organizations speak the truth as plainly as possible, no matter what’s in the corporate air.
Lesson 2 — Like good communication, golf unites people.
That’s why people combine golf and business. I never understood this until I played. I’ve played with complete strangers, teenagers, couples, and old men, all with varying degrees of talent. When you’re as bad as I am, there is nothing like playing in a best-ball scramble and seeing your team use one of your shots to earn a birdie. On its own, a shot might be worthless. But when the team’s best players put their ball in the sand or brush, my shot down the middle of the fairway, 150 yards from the hole, is useful. I finally understand what all the high-fiving in sports is about. It’s physical shorthand for saying, “We are one and we are good.” That’s what good communication does. It helps people rally around the same cause. It builds upon the synergies of all the players.
Lesson 3 — The relationship between ability and desire is not always direct.
I am not naturally athletic. But I believe that to some degree people can master things for which they have no talent. That’s what keeps me playing golf. My desire far outstrips my ability, so I try to practice a lot. I know people who are incredibly gifted but have no passion for their talent so they don’t practice. Being a true professional means you must practice, whether you are good or average. Whether you feel like it or not. You have to keep showing up and trying or you will never get better.
Lesson 4 — Every good player must learn the fundamentals.
The only way you can be consistent is to know the fundamental aspects of the game. Unless you do, every success will seem like a fluke. The game is hard enough without that burden. Learn the fundamentals, review them and practice them often. They’ll never let you down. Besides that, people will show more respect for you on the course if you know the rules of the game.
Lesson 5 — Few are good in every aspect of the game.
I have been thrilled by my performance on the fairway but disappointed when I got to the green. Sometimes my putts far outnumber my fairway shots. Why? I don’t practice one of the most important aspects of golf — the short strokes that put the ball in the hole. I focus on the long ball but forget that it’s the precision of the putt that can make or break my game. I lose sight of the details. That can happen with communication too. Find the things you do really well and do them as much as you can, but keep improving on your weaknesses.
.
Lesson 6 — Progress is not always a straight line upward.
One summer my husband and I played golf with my brother and his wife for the first time. The course was so beautiful, I was so relaxed and played so well that I thought I might have turned the corner on golf. Two days later I went to the course with great expectations. That’s when I learned the harshest lesson in golf — that excellence can be elusive. Cherish your successes. Revel in the things you do on behalf of your clients or your organization, but don’t expect to win a Gold Quill or write a Pulitzer every time you work. It can take a lot of the fun out of the game when you do that. Playing for fun is important. Sometimes we do our best work when we don’t place a lot of unnecessary pressure on ourselves.
Lesson 7 — Remember the past and learn to calibrate your swing.
You should always know how far you can hit the ball based on your past performance. Don’t pay attention to the clubs other people use. You have to know how far you can hit the ball with every club in your bag. Everyone must memorize what’s best for them and apply it to the game that’s in front of them. In golf and in communication, brevity is good. Taking too many practice swings can make the other players restless.
Lesson 8 — Disregard Lesson 7.
Put the past behind you. You can be your own worst enemy if you don’t. I’ve ruined a beautiful day of golf because I couldn’t take my mind off mistakes on the previous hole. I’ve seen other people do the same thing. It’s easy to let your mistakes become an inferno. Pretty soon, you’re playing with a scorch-and-burn mentality. Nothing good can come from that.
Lesson 9 — Even gifted players will make serious mistakes.
Their desire for progress or victory causes them to take risky shots and make bad decisions. When they’re a little arrogant about their game, it’s difficult for others to resist gloating over their mistakes or telling them what they should have done. When their mistakes hurt others, it’s especially hard not to shame them. I once played a round of golf just ahead of a group of serious golfers who were determined to speed up play. When their impatience reached a crescendo, one player got out of his cart and started yelling at the sluggish group two holes ahead of him. He hadn’t realized what we could plainly see. The group beyond ours included a physically handicapped player whose difficulties slowed the pace of play.
People should be accountable for their mistakes, but as communicators, we can play a unique role in these situations. We can help people learn from mistakes and move forward without bludgeoning people who already know they are wrong. We shouldn’t be afraid or embarrassed to associate with people or organizations just because they’ve made a mistake. Sometimes that’s when they need us most. Both golf and communication are about being your best and helping others be their best. The best communication has many winners and few, if any, losers. And good players learn quickly that they must not strut.
Lesson 10 — Be careful who you listen to and don’t let anyone convince you there are shortcuts to becoming a pro.
When I started hitting the ball consistently to the left, a friend told me to compensate by aiming my body a little to the right. That way, she reasoned, the ball would end up near the target. Though my friend is wise in many ways and she can drive the ball further than any woman I know, she has never really studied golf. She is my friend so I don’t contradict her. I just silently refer myself back to Lesson 4 — learn the fundamentals. Aiming your body at the target is one of the fundamental rules of golf. That’s true in communication, too.
Lesson 11 — Wisdom comes from surprising sources.
If a six-year old can accurately guess the club that Tiger Woods will use on a certain hole, maybe I should reconsider Lesson 10. A few years ago, a friend’s six-year old son was watching Tiger play the Masters on television. Somehow he accurately guessed Tiger’s club choice on a difficult shot. He had only been living a year longer than I had been playing golf and he had the wisdom to assess Tiger’s dilemma. Imagine that. Our prejudices can cause us to misjudge a situation or a person and harm our decisions. As communicators, sometimes we have to dig a little deeper to get the right answers. We can find solutions in unexpected places and among surprising people.
Lesson 12 — Unlikely things can happen.
Easy shots can be missed. Impossible shots can be made. Both of these things happen to all players. Knowing this keeps us on our toes. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my work that I could have prevented if I’d been more careful on the easy shots. But I still believe that one day I might be good enough to step up to the tee, take a slow, deliberate swing and get a hole-in-one. It’s not likely, but it is possible.
Lesson 1 — Style is no substitute for substance.
I’ve spent hundreds of dollars on golf lessons. People say that I have a beautiful swing. That’s of small comfort to me because I only hit the ball 150 yards at my very best. The truth of the matter is I haven’t got the real stuff of a solid swing yet. No matter how good it looks, it isn’t true, it isn’t reliable, it isn’t right. Something is missing. It’s the same with communication. A lot of organizations say wonderful things, but they can’t live up to them. As communicators, we have to help our organizations speak the truth as plainly as possible, no matter what’s in the corporate air.
Lesson 2 — Like good communication, golf unites people.
That’s why people combine golf and business. I never understood this until I played. I’ve played with complete strangers, teenagers, couples, and old men, all with varying degrees of talent. When you’re as bad as I am, there is nothing like playing in a best-ball scramble and seeing your team use one of your shots to earn a birdie. On its own, a shot might be worthless. But when the team’s best players put their ball in the sand or brush, my shot down the middle of the fairway, 150 yards from the hole, is useful. I finally understand what all the high-fiving in sports is about. It’s physical shorthand for saying, “We are one and we are good.” That’s what good communication does. It helps people rally around the same cause. It builds upon the synergies of all the players.
Lesson 3 — The relationship between ability and desire is not always direct.
I am not naturally athletic. But I believe that to some degree people can master things for which they have no talent. That’s what keeps me playing golf. My desire far outstrips my ability, so I try to practice a lot. I know people who are incredibly gifted but have no passion for their talent so they don’t practice. Being a true professional means you must practice, whether you are good or average. Whether you feel like it or not. You have to keep showing up and trying or you will never get better.
Lesson 4 — Every good player must learn the fundamentals.
The only way you can be consistent is to know the fundamental aspects of the game. Unless you do, every success will seem like a fluke. The game is hard enough without that burden. Learn the fundamentals, review them and practice them often. They’ll never let you down. Besides that, people will show more respect for you on the course if you know the rules of the game.
Lesson 5 — Few are good in every aspect of the game.
I have been thrilled by my performance on the fairway but disappointed when I got to the green. Sometimes my putts far outnumber my fairway shots. Why? I don’t practice one of the most important aspects of golf — the short strokes that put the ball in the hole. I focus on the long ball but forget that it’s the precision of the putt that can make or break my game. I lose sight of the details. That can happen with communication too. Find the things you do really well and do them as much as you can, but keep improving on your weaknesses.
.
Lesson 6 — Progress is not always a straight line upward.
One summer my husband and I played golf with my brother and his wife for the first time. The course was so beautiful, I was so relaxed and played so well that I thought I might have turned the corner on golf. Two days later I went to the course with great expectations. That’s when I learned the harshest lesson in golf — that excellence can be elusive. Cherish your successes. Revel in the things you do on behalf of your clients or your organization, but don’t expect to win a Gold Quill or write a Pulitzer every time you work. It can take a lot of the fun out of the game when you do that. Playing for fun is important. Sometimes we do our best work when we don’t place a lot of unnecessary pressure on ourselves.
Lesson 7 — Remember the past and learn to calibrate your swing.
You should always know how far you can hit the ball based on your past performance. Don’t pay attention to the clubs other people use. You have to know how far you can hit the ball with every club in your bag. Everyone must memorize what’s best for them and apply it to the game that’s in front of them. In golf and in communication, brevity is good. Taking too many practice swings can make the other players restless.
Lesson 8 — Disregard Lesson 7.
Put the past behind you. You can be your own worst enemy if you don’t. I’ve ruined a beautiful day of golf because I couldn’t take my mind off mistakes on the previous hole. I’ve seen other people do the same thing. It’s easy to let your mistakes become an inferno. Pretty soon, you’re playing with a scorch-and-burn mentality. Nothing good can come from that.
Lesson 9 — Even gifted players will make serious mistakes.
Their desire for progress or victory causes them to take risky shots and make bad decisions. When they’re a little arrogant about their game, it’s difficult for others to resist gloating over their mistakes or telling them what they should have done. When their mistakes hurt others, it’s especially hard not to shame them. I once played a round of golf just ahead of a group of serious golfers who were determined to speed up play. When their impatience reached a crescendo, one player got out of his cart and started yelling at the sluggish group two holes ahead of him. He hadn’t realized what we could plainly see. The group beyond ours included a physically handicapped player whose difficulties slowed the pace of play.
People should be accountable for their mistakes, but as communicators, we can play a unique role in these situations. We can help people learn from mistakes and move forward without bludgeoning people who already know they are wrong. We shouldn’t be afraid or embarrassed to associate with people or organizations just because they’ve made a mistake. Sometimes that’s when they need us most. Both golf and communication are about being your best and helping others be their best. The best communication has many winners and few, if any, losers. And good players learn quickly that they must not strut.
Lesson 10 — Be careful who you listen to and don’t let anyone convince you there are shortcuts to becoming a pro.
When I started hitting the ball consistently to the left, a friend told me to compensate by aiming my body a little to the right. That way, she reasoned, the ball would end up near the target. Though my friend is wise in many ways and she can drive the ball further than any woman I know, she has never really studied golf. She is my friend so I don’t contradict her. I just silently refer myself back to Lesson 4 — learn the fundamentals. Aiming your body at the target is one of the fundamental rules of golf. That’s true in communication, too.
Lesson 11 — Wisdom comes from surprising sources.
If a six-year old can accurately guess the club that Tiger Woods will use on a certain hole, maybe I should reconsider Lesson 10. A few years ago, a friend’s six-year old son was watching Tiger play the Masters on television. Somehow he accurately guessed Tiger’s club choice on a difficult shot. He had only been living a year longer than I had been playing golf and he had the wisdom to assess Tiger’s dilemma. Imagine that. Our prejudices can cause us to misjudge a situation or a person and harm our decisions. As communicators, sometimes we have to dig a little deeper to get the right answers. We can find solutions in unexpected places and among surprising people.
Lesson 12 — Unlikely things can happen.
Easy shots can be missed. Impossible shots can be made. Both of these things happen to all players. Knowing this keeps us on our toes. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my work that I could have prevented if I’d been more careful on the easy shots. But I still believe that one day I might be good enough to step up to the tee, take a slow, deliberate swing and get a hole-in-one. It’s not likely, but it is possible.
February 21, 2008
Katherine Applegate's newest novel
It's easy to cherish a friend who allows you to have a good, long cry without being affected by the ugliness of sadness unleashed in its liquid form. Every now and then, a book comes along that offers a similar kindness, immersing and indulging us in its great sadness for our own good.
Home of the Brave, Katherine Applegate's first stand-alone novel for children, has that distinction. In the sparest writing possible, Applegate, who also wrote the enormously popular Animorph series for children, brings forth Kek, a Sudanese boy who comes to America after his country is overrun with violence and chaos. Through Kek's eyes, readers see the incredible abundance of America. Revealing Kek's mind, Home of the Brave turns the American world-perspective upside down, yet remains patriotic and heroic. As an example of a cultural identity that's far from our own, Kek sees advancing age and wrinkles as a badge of honor. Here, he describes a new friend:
"She has many wrinkles
to show her great knowledge
of the world."
I am usually tempted to say that children shouldn't read sad books. In this case, I make an exception. Maybe our kids will be better adults than we are, learning suffering and horror from a gentle child who manages to avoid becoming hateful and angry. Perhaps as adults they'll feel a greater call to action than we have when they read the headlines of some future disaster in a poor and distant country. Kids and adults will walk away from this book more aware of their blessings, more convicted about sharing the world's resources with our brothers and sisters both here and abroad. Add Kek to your list of friends with whom you can have a good cry.
For more information on Katherine Applegate's latest releases, visit her web site, http://www.katherineapplegate.com/nonflash.html
Home of the Brave, Katherine Applegate's first stand-alone novel for children, has that distinction. In the sparest writing possible, Applegate, who also wrote the enormously popular Animorph series for children, brings forth Kek, a Sudanese boy who comes to America after his country is overrun with violence and chaos. Through Kek's eyes, readers see the incredible abundance of America. Revealing Kek's mind, Home of the Brave turns the American world-perspective upside down, yet remains patriotic and heroic. As an example of a cultural identity that's far from our own, Kek sees advancing age and wrinkles as a badge of honor. Here, he describes a new friend:
"She has many wrinkles
to show her great knowledge
of the world."
I am usually tempted to say that children shouldn't read sad books. In this case, I make an exception. Maybe our kids will be better adults than we are, learning suffering and horror from a gentle child who manages to avoid becoming hateful and angry. Perhaps as adults they'll feel a greater call to action than we have when they read the headlines of some future disaster in a poor and distant country. Kids and adults will walk away from this book more aware of their blessings, more convicted about sharing the world's resources with our brothers and sisters both here and abroad. Add Kek to your list of friends with whom you can have a good cry.
For more information on Katherine Applegate's latest releases, visit her web site, http://www.katherineapplegate.com/nonflash.html
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