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Post by Mini Mia on Dec 4, 2016 21:25:39 GMT -6
Yeah. I've peeked on occasion and kicked myself.
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Post by Scrappy Amazon on Dec 16, 2016 22:19:05 GMT -6
WOOHOO! Just finished chapter 5! Ok first thing that strikes me is that I miss living on my grandparents farm in Indiana. 40 acres of pure bliss wrapped in a daydream. I had freedom to run and play and disappear until dinner time. All the neighbors knew me and if they didn't, they knew my grandparents. If I got tired or thirsty or lost all I had to do was wander up to the nearest farm and tell them who my grandparents were and they would feed me or let me drink from the outside pump or call someone to come get me or even take me home. It was a great childhood and I would not have traded that for anything.
So all the descriptions of what I can only describe as shenanigans from the kids during summer brings back great memories.
Also the stupid teacher who wants the little girl to stop reading?! What the f-word?! I had a teacher like that who didn't like how I held my pencil and would tape my fingers in the "proper" place while I wrote. It's hard to keep in mind that they are just people too.
ACK!! No spoilers!! I have not seen the movie or until now read the book!
I'm at an age that I can say that when I have ever heard that word it was ALWAYS meant to be a slur. It makes me uncomfortable and I have always told people around me that they should use it in my presence. Though those people have been few and far between. My mom has actually asked people to leave our house that have used it. It's something I have always identified as being "wrong" like stealing or cheating. You just don't do it and you will be in trouble if you do. It wasn't until much later that I understood that there is a difference in the meaning depending on time and that there are some places that accept it as an everyday part of language.
OMG...even if I find a book that I dislike enough to stop reading I would NEVER read the last page!
I am having trouble with reading the word but I am working on recognizing that it serves a purpose in the story and how it makes the characters more real.They don't know the difference they don't know it's bad.
One more thing I'm finding interesting. Crazy people are considered better than black people......It's ok to be crazy but not ok to be black. WTF
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Post by Phalon on Dec 17, 2016 10:09:59 GMT -6
Whoo-Hoo!! I'll get back to this later, though. I've got one day to get a bunch of Christmas stuff done, and I can't believe it's already 11am!
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Post by Mini Mia on Dec 17, 2016 20:21:24 GMT -6
Very sorry. I had seen the movie many times over, beginning from my teens? I probably saw it earlier, but never paid much attention to it. I finally got the book and read it. IIRC, this is my second reading.
I read all 5 chapters weeks ago, I just haven't reread them to try and pick it apart for a discussion. Will do that this weekend.
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Post by Mini Mia on Dec 20, 2016 1:47:29 GMT -6
Okay. I've reread chapter one, and I've jotted some stuff down. Not sure if it will make any sense. Will post it if I can figure out how to put it together ... and after rereading this thread.
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Post by Phalon on Dec 20, 2016 8:25:04 GMT -6
Same here. Leave the house in the morning and not return until dinner, or in the case that you happened to be at another kid's house at the time of their dinner, not show up back home until dark. Our house was often the neighborhood home base because it was centrally located; I think Mom must have fed an army of kids on a weekly basis every summer. And the elaborate adventures of make-believe that could last all summer long! Ours almost always revolved around our bikes; every kid had a name for their bike, as if they were actual characters. It cracked me up when the kids in the book gave their long-running "game" a name - "Chapter XXV, Book II of One Man's Family" - it was that kind of stuff we did.
Some friends and I were talking a couple of weeks ago as to what we feel personally makes a good story, whether it be a book or a movie. For me, something - emotions of the characters, the setting, an experience - has to resonate with me somehow. Summertime as a kid in this story, really resonated with me.
More on this later - I've got to get to the grocery, or apparently my family will starve (eye-roll).
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Post by Mini Mia on Dec 20, 2016 18:54:02 GMT -6
Reread chapter two, and jotted stuff down.
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Post by Phalon on Dec 21, 2016 7:21:44 GMT -6
You know what's kind of interesting, Ladies? The three of us were each born in different decades (I believe), and grew up in different parts of the country, which may have lead to different experiences in this matter.
Mom's parents were Hungarian immigrants. She was born and spent the first 30-some years of her life in Detroit; Dad grew up very poor in rural Pennsylvania, and his family - his parents and all 15 of their kids - moved to Detroit probably around the time Dad was ten. Mom and Dad married in their 30s and lived in Mom's tiny one bedroom house in the city; when I was born, they moved a little more than an hour and a half NW of Detroit to a little island of suburbia in the middle of farmland. They still had strong ties to the city - they both had friends there, Mom had her bowling league which she participated in (dragging my brother and I along with her) until it became too difficult once we started school; Dad worked in Detroit until the time he retired.
They lived through both of Detroit's infamous Race Riots - one in '43, and the other in '67 (they were already out in the burbs by the time the '67 riots occurred), and I'm sure the tensions of riots affected them.
I don't remember the '67 riots of course (I was three), but it was but shortly after, when I was in kindergarten, that I had my first experience with the "n" word. You know how you remember very specific things from your childhood right down to the tiniest details - it usually happens when it was something spectacular or something traumatic; this was one of those traumatic experiences to my 5 year old self. It was around this time of year, and I was over at my friend's house a couple of houses down from ours. We had one of those bags of mixed nuts that always seem to be popular around Christmas time, and were cracking them out of the shells with one of those holiday nutcracker man things; for whatever reason we found this highly entertaining. She said her Dad's favorites were Brazil nuts - only she called them n***** toes. Of course we had a bag of nuts at home (Mom used to put nuts and fruit in our stockings), and I proudly told Mom, "I know what those are called - n***** toes!" Mom had a fit - 'We do not use that word, and you are never, ever to say it again!!!! If I ever hear you, I'll wash your mouth out with Lava' (you had to do something extremely bad to be threatened with Lava soap). The thing was, she never explained why it was so horrible, and for long time afterward (by a little kid's standard), I thought it was the Brazil nuts that were so bad.
The next school year was the first time I met a black child - which was the result of "forced busing". The busing practice didn't last long - not even the entire year - and it wasn't until I was a senior in high-school that our school had black students. There were exactly four black kids in a HUGE high-school, and to give you an idea of exactly how disproportionate this was - my graduating class was close to 700 students; my brother's class graduation ceremonies were held in the Pontiac Silver Dome, the stadium where the Detroit Lions played football at the time. Four kids out of a couple thousand. I wonder how they felt? They were all very popular kids, but I wonder if they ever felt any racial undertones that weren't outwardly apparent.
After high school is when I went into the Army, and was really my first experience with cultural diversity. It was also my first experience seeing racism and hearing firsthand the "n" word used as a slur.
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Post by Mini Mia on Dec 21, 2016 18:56:39 GMT -6
I was born in '58. Shortly after I was born, we moved to Jackson, MI. We lived there until I was 5-1/2, and then moved back. Second grade is when I first recall coming into direct contact with any 'colored' person. The colored school was being condemned, and so the children from that school were integrated into the 'white' schools.
I remember the feeling that something awful was going to happen. The adults would whisper about it, but would hush up when children were near. I never managed to get any snippets of information that would help me to know just what the bad thing was. I remember going to school that awful day, fearing the worst ... then four colored kids came into the classroom and I was flooded with relief. THAT? That was the awful thing? Two colored boys, and two colored girls?
One of the girls was the tallest kid in class. And I was the shortest. She and I hit it off like long lost sisters. It was like we had always known each other. Like we knew each other from past lives. That is when I learned, or remember learning, that we are not all considered equal. Our parents wouldn't let up spend the night with each other, or even just go over to each others' houses for a few hours. She and I had no problems with each other, but our parents feared for us in the presence of the other family. Then her family moved away, and mine moved the next town over.
I don't recall my parents being full-on racist, but Dad didn't believe the two should mix. He had brothers who didn't set good examples for their kids though. When we went to, or drove through, a town that was mostly 'colored' they used the 'n' word, and they made fun of 'them.' I, having been teased for being short and cross-eyed, was more sensitive to those being picked on ... and I just didn't see myself as superior, or them as inferior.
I didn't come to fear colored people until I was around 10, maybe? The town with the higher population of colored people had an uprising occur. One night the police station was shot up. There were soldiers and tanks that came in to keep the peace. When my aunt took us kids to the library, I remember seeing the fresh gouges in the brick outer walls of the police station. The sidewalks were crowded with long lines of colored people who were allowed to march around the blocks in protest. To this day it still makes me nervous to find myself outnumbered by black people. For the longest time I couldn't figure out why that was. But when I commented on it once while in a different town with a high population of black people, my niece said it didn't make her nervous ... and it brought back my memories of the soldiers and tanks and large numbers of black protesters. Now that I understand it, I can shake it off.
Years later, when I was 16 and getting my driver's permit, there was a small group of black kids at the courthouse near me. I kept glancing at one of the girls. I was afraid to take a good look, I didn't want to get into trouble with them. After taking the driver's test, Mom said that one of the girls asked her who I was. She said I probably wouldn't remember her from second grade. I was very unhappy that we hadn't had the chance to connect again. I still think of her and wonder where our friendship would have led us.
... ... ...
There is one incident where I realized I did a bad thing, and that I should never do it again. Before my Mom and aunts got washing machines, we'd all meet up at the laundry mat. One time, we kids were playing outside, and a little black boy, much younger than most of us, was watching. I could see he really wanted to join in, so I invited him into our group. One cousin saw this little kid as nothing more than a stray dog to toy with. He didn't treat him too well, and laughed at him as though he were something to use for our entertainment.
I felt so bad for this little boy, and regretted inviting him to play with us. I was relieved when someone called him home to eat. He didn't return. I don't think he realized what was going on. I remember him as having fun, all smiles, and not wanting to go home. But this experience taught me that I needed to be extra careful should there ever be a next time. To this day I think back on that moment and feel regret at putting that little boy is such a predicament.
... ... ...
This is what I remember calling 'n' toes growing up: i.imgur.com/oDQiN.jpg
*** A small chocolate candy with white cream filling. A very popular treat during the 1960's. ***
Cream Drops / Creme Drops
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Post by Phalon on Dec 22, 2016 11:57:15 GMT -6
I experienced the same emotions about busing - as a little kid, you hear adults talking to each other, but no one explains to the child exactly what's going on, so she's left with only her imagination to fill in the details, and you know how wild a kid's imagination can be. To say I had an active imagination as a kid is a gross understatement. I think parents can sometimes do a great disservice to their kids by not explaining things (like Mom did with the Brazil nuts). I'm sure it's an attempt by grownups to shield children from the terrible things that happen in the world, but sometimes it backfires.
I honestly had to drill the busing issue because my memory of it is very, very vague. I remember my dad, who only on the rarest of occasions yelled, being absolutely furious - "We moved out here so our kids could go to good schools, and now they want to put them on a bus for two hours, and send them back to the city?!!!!" I remember being afraid that I'd be thrown on a bus against my will, to be carted off to some horrid, far-away place. When the day came, I remember buses lined in our school parking lot, and Mom driving me, my friend and her older brother and sister to our school - which we could see at the end of the street; it was only a five minute walk - ten if we "dawdled". My brother only had a half day of afternoon kindergarten, so he wasn't there for the morning drive, but was crammed into the car with all us on the way home. I didn't understand it then, but after drilling, I'm assuming it was because of the protests. At the time, I had no idea it was about desegregation, or even what that was; I didn't know it involved sending white kids from the burbs to black schools in the city, and in their place, bus black kids into the burbs from the city.
My parents didn't hold prejudices; I never heard either of them say a racist thing ever. Both growing up in Detroit and working there as adults, they had black neighbors, co-workers, and friends - sometimes they'd come out to visit us, I remember sometimes going to visit them. For my parents, the busing issue meant the possibility of taking their kids out of a community they had moved to specifically for the schools (even now, the schools in my hometown rank among the best in the state), and putting them on a bus for a long ride back to a city where the school system was in decline - actually, according to what I learned in the drill, Detroit's schools weren't just in decline, they'd already failed. I think though, after reading a few articles, that our busing didn't occur in conjunction with Detroit - the time frame (1971) and shorter distance makes it more likely it was kids from Pontiac who came to our school. Busing occurred within those two districts and also across district lines - we were closer to the Pontiac district. I don't remember knowing anyone personally who got bused out of our school (were they chosen by lottery; I couldn't find any reference to that either).
Other than the fear of being sent away, the other thing I clearly remember was the little black girl who ended up in our 1st grade class. The teacher assigned a "helper" each day to show the girl where things were in the classroom, to go to the lunchroom with, and to play with at recess. I remember the day I was "helper" and lining up with her to go out to recess, I told her the swings were the best thing, and we held hands, making a mad dash to the swing set on the "little kids" side of the playground (the "big kids" playground was only for 4th-6th grades). There was only one swing left, and we took turns pushing each other, then running under the swing when whoever was on it got high enough. That's it - all that fear leading up to nothing more dangerous than getting hit in the head by a swing.
Apparently there was danger I wasn't aware of though - I just read the KKK blew up ten empty Pontiac school buses. I don't remember if the busing lasted a day, a week, or a month. It didn't last long at all, and I only remember that one specific day playing with the little girl on the swing set.
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Post by Mini Mia on Dec 22, 2016 19:41:57 GMT -6
There is a county, a few counties over from me, that black people from this area will go around when traveling. I wasn't aware of this until a co-worker who moved here from New Orleans told me of an incident that happened to her, and a Church member told me of an incident he had witnessed in this county.
The co-worker was with a black woman ... I can't remember if they were friends, or if her husband and this woman's husband were friends/co-workers ... anyhoo, they were out driving, and my co-worker drove into this county and stopped at a gas station and went inside for to buy a soda, or something. My co-worker said the black woman stayed in the car, and seemed visibly nervous. When my co-worker got back home, the other woman's husband jumped her and told her she could have gotten his wife killed/injured.
The Church member told about a time he was driving through this county, and he stopped to get a soda from an outside machine. He just opened it and started drinking. He said there was a woman who also bought a soda from the machine, but she took a wet wipe out of her purse, mumbling bitterly that some 'n' had probably touched it and contaminated it.
These were both told to me in the 90s, and I was shocked to learn this still went on, and so close to home. As I had mentioned before, due to the conflict that took place when I was a child, I do get nervous when outnumbered by black people. And in the late 90s/early 00s I went with my cousin to Memphis for his doctor's appointment. At one point in one such trip we drove through a side town to find a place to eat. We noticed a lot of black people out and about, and they tended to give us a double-take, which made me even more nervous. We spot a MacDonald's and stop in to eat, and it too is full of black people who gave us a 'look' that I took to mean, "We don't get many white people in these parts. You must be lost." We ate and left and didn't have any problems other than the people being a bit surprised and leery. Such a shame that there should still have that air of 'difference' between us.
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Post by Scrappy Amazon on Dec 31, 2016 9:02:46 GMT -6
Almost to chapter 9. Did we have another chapter limit?
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Post by Mini Mia on Jan 1, 2017 2:31:35 GMT -6
When have we ever followed any rules around here?
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Post by Phalon on Jan 1, 2017 9:06:52 GMT -6
I haven't read any further than chapter 5 - it's all LX's fault. She picked up the book when she got home for Christmas break, and started reading. It's a reread for her - she said she read it in English class as a freshman in high school, and at age 14, was too young to understand some of the themes in the book. She's been hoarding the book since.
Pfft! Who am I trying to kid? She wanted to keep it, but it's a borrowed copy, so I ran out to the used bookstore here in town, and found a nice hardbound copy to give her for Christmas (it's got illustrations and an Afterward, which I was oh-so-tempted to read, but refrained). But even with two copies in the house, I haven't gone further than chapter five.
Now that the holidays are over though, (LX goes back today. Sniff.), how about we say we'll get through chapters 6-10 by this coming weekend?
Oh! But first one more thing about chapters 1-5. When I'm older, I want to be Miss Maude! I could see myself puttering around in my gardens, doling out wisdom laced with sarcasm to the neighborhood kidlets along with culinary treats. No homemade baked goods from me though - they will get juice boxes and burnt microwaved popcorn.
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Post by Scrappy Amazon on Jan 1, 2017 19:44:39 GMT -6
When will you stop burning popcorn?
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Post by Mini Mia on Jan 1, 2017 20:32:36 GMT -6
Yeah. I haven't gotten past chapter 5 either. I haven't even gotten around to posting the thoughts I jotted down on my reread.
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Post by Phalon on Jan 3, 2017 21:56:53 GMT -6
HA! When I stop popping it.
Post away. I imagine some things that occurred in the first chapters may be referenced later on. We can always discuss them as we go along.
I had to keep telling LX to keep her comments to herself while she was reading; she wanted to discuss some of it, but I didn't want things spoiled before I got to them.
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Post by Mini Mia on Jan 4, 2017 17:50:31 GMT -6
I got an idea today to do a search for: To Kill A Mockingbird Group Discussion Questions. Since I'm the only one who has read the book once, and seen the movie several times, I'll try and pick out questions for the chapters we've read as a group so far. Work for you two?
[Edit]
It seems all the questions I checked out are for the book as a whole, and not chapter by chapter as you're reading. Seems this will have to wait until we've read the book. ... Another search for later use: To Kill A Mockingbird Readers Guide
[/Edit]
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Post by Phalon on Jan 7, 2017 8:35:03 GMT -6
Joxie, if you drill "Chapter by Chapter discussion of To Kill a Mockingbird" a bunch of sites come up with chapter questions. I checked a couple and they're all PDF files though, so no way to post the links. (I didn't read the questions just in case they would give something away.)
LX texted me last night saying she finished reading - and loved it. She didn't go into detail, but she said something about the ending regarding emotions. Not going say more than that for Scrappy's sake, because she hasn't read the book either.
Are we ready to discuss chapters 6-10?
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Post by Scrappy Amazon on Jan 7, 2017 8:54:08 GMT -6
Made it to part two last night. All I have to say is grrrrr.
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Post by Mini Mia on Jan 7, 2017 19:40:39 GMT -6
Everyone can jump in as they please ... we never followed any rules here anyhow. And I have no idea how to run a book discussion anyways. I will see what questions I can find per chapter though to help get this party started.
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Post by Mini Mia on Jan 7, 2017 22:42:25 GMT -6
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Post by Phalon on Jan 8, 2017 7:37:19 GMT -6
I haven't read chapter 10 yet, but after Scrappy posted she'd read up to Part Two, I looked ahead - Part One is only one more chapter, so I'll post my thoughts after finishing that (I meant to do it last night, but got sucked into watching a movie instead).
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Post by Mini Mia on Jan 8, 2017 22:04:39 GMT -6
I'll catch up. No problem.
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Post by Phalon on Jan 10, 2017 22:46:54 GMT -6
I still haven't gotten around to reading the final two chapters of Part One yet, but watching President Obama's Farewell Speech tonight, he mentioned Atticus, so I thought this portion of his speech would be a good addition to this thread. The quote he used, I believe is from chapter three.
"If our democracy is to work in this increasingly diverse nation, each one of us must try to heed the advice of one of the great characters in American fiction, Atticus Finch, who said "You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view - until you climb into his skin and walk around in it."
For blacks and other minorities, it means tying our own struggles for justice to the challenges that a lot of people in this country face - the refugee, the immigrant, the rural poor, the transgender American, and also the middle-aged white man who from the outside may seem like he's got all the advantages, but who's seen his world upended by economic, cultural, and technological change.
For white Americans, it means acknowledging that the effects of slavery and Jim Crow didn't suddenly vanish in the '60s; that when minority groups voice discontent, they're not just engaging in reverse racism or practicing political correctness; that when they wage peaceful protest, they're not demanding special treatment, but the equal treatment our Founders promised.
For native-born Americans, it means reminding ourselves that the stereotypes about immigrants today were said, almost word for word, about the Irish, Italians, and Poles. America wasn't weakened by the presence of these newcomers; they embraced this nation's creed, and it was strengthened.
So regardless of the station we occupy; we have to try harder; to start with the premise that each of our fellow citizens loves this country just as much as we do; that they value hard work and family like we do; that their children are just as curious and hopeful and worthy of love as our own." ~ Barrack Obama
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Post by Phalon on Jan 11, 2017 22:57:09 GMT -6
Just finished Part One. Thoughts tomorrow.
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Post by Scrappy Amazon on Mar 12, 2017 8:36:52 GMT -6
I am half way through the trial.....anyone else?
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Post by Phalon on Mar 13, 2017 7:12:32 GMT -6
Hey, Scrappy!
I've been meaning to get back in here...and get back to the book! I moved it back to the book shelves to get it out of the way when I was dusting one day, got busy with other things, didn't quite forget about it, but reading got shelved also for the time being (pulling it back out now, and putting it on the end table so it's in plain view!)
I started into the trial, but didn't get very far before I got waylaid. Will start reading again tonight.
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Post by Mini Mia on Mar 15, 2017 23:53:33 GMT -6
I put the book in another room when I had company visit one weekend ... and, "out of sight, out of mind." I have it next to the couch once again.
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Post by Phalon on Mar 19, 2017 8:35:16 GMT -6
I finished the trial last night, and a few chapters into the aftermath. I may have to reread the last chapter or so that I read though; it was late, and I had a pulsating headache.
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