Sara Holbrook author/poet/educator
February 10, 2007
Williamsport, PA is the birthplace of the Little League. Proudly smiling from the trophy case at Jackson Elementary was this snowman made of baseballs, the perfect metaphor for a baseball town in chilly February. I spent two days at Jackson — one day with the students and one with the teachers. Warm and receptive,
January 27, 2007
Ben reaches out to grab the teeth of a T Rex at the Cleveland Natural History Museum. As the sign says, looking down the throat of what was probably the largest animal to ever roam the planet isn’t something too many did and lived to tell about it during Sue’s 20 years.
January 24, 2007
You can’t get much cooler than a snowman in a beret and a yellow leopard shirt stickin’ to the grey skies with uplifted arms. No sun? Who needs it.
Came home from South Carolina to find this cat jiving in the front yard, Frankensteined to life by none other than my stepson Frank. Dog food
January 24, 2007
White Knoll Middle looks like your typical school from the outside. Bell, flag pole, parking lot. You get the picture. But unless and until you go inside, you have no idea what a happenin’ place it is.
And these kids, they are alive with poetry, writing, literacy, checking books out of the library and questions!
January 22, 2007
This is a picture of Hector (big dog) and Suzi (little dog). They come from totally different hoods. Hector is from East 185th Street in Cleveland and has a lot of what you might call street smarts. For instance, he was homeless and looking for a place to hang out and when he saw
January 18, 2007
I don’t think there exists a parent who has ever stood civilly in line at the grocery store who has not (at least) once sworn to abandon some obnoxious, not nearly as smart as he thinks he is, back-talking, self-conscious, can’t plan beyond lunch teenager while at the same time buying Fruitloops. Kick that
January 12, 2007
And you know what? Even thought this blog “nags me like the goblin bee that will not state its sting” (thank you emily) I haven’t found time to write. I don’t even know what to write about first. Maybe first I better go back and catch up on the trip to Croatia, which was amazing.
December 12, 2006
When we boarded the Croatian Airlines flight from Frankfurt to Zagreb, all these men started boarding who were quite tall, high cheek bones and narrow eyes — just like Michael, whose grandfather came from Croatia. It was as if we had found his tribe. Cross the border into Italy and genetics takes 6-8 inches
December 12, 2006
Croatia does dark like West Virginia does dark. Real dark. Mountainous dark. Winding two lane roads through total blackness. Dark. So when we finally reached the outskirts of Pula after passing countless exclamation point signs and 20 (you read that right) tunnels en route from the airport in Zagreb, we really felt like we’d accomplished
December 11, 2006
That little figure in the purple fleece is me standing in front of our hotel in Franfurt, which was not intended to be a stop on our way. This was not the easy part of the trip to Croatia. This was the smelly, expensive part. In fact, Michael wanted to burn that fleece. This