Sunday, August 2, 2020

Susan Cerulean's Single Bird


LUCY BURDETTE: I know I mentioned to you all a while back that my fabulous older sister, my Irish twin (11 months difference), would be launching a book in 2020. Well, yay! It's here and we get to host her. I HAVE BEEN ASSIGNED THE SINGLE BIRD is a memoir based on the years she spent caring for our father when he had dementia, and based on her devotion to caring for the natural world. It's a beautiful, thoughtful must-read book and I'm thrilled to welcome her...

SUSAN CERULEAN: One of the things that kept me going as a caregiver for my father during the years that he battled dementia were moments of unexpected kindness. A favorite encounter I remember was with a young nurse’s aide in my father’s assisted living facility, and that’s what I’d like to share with you today.

Afterward, I’d love to hear what kindnesses—expected and unexpected--have made the unbearable, bearable, in your own life.

Toward the end of my Dad's life, he became an unreliable narrator of his own life, and less able physically, than ever before. I had hired extra caregivers to be with him all day, every day of the week, whenever I couldn’t be with him myself. 


Still, I worried about the long stretch of hours, from 8 o’clock when our paid caregivers helped him to bed, until 8 in morning, when another returned. Other residents’ families whispered rumors of rough treatment at night; how was I to know if he was truly safe?
At 4 a.m. one morning, I was awakened by a nightmare in which my father was calling me and pleading for help. I slipped out of bed, pulled on my clothes, and drove the two miles to his residence. The facility’s massive front door was locked, so I sneaked through a low hedge of boxwood shrubbery, and let myself in through the kitchen. I hoped I wouldn't startle the staff. 

No one moved about the silent facility, but through Dad’s open door a triangle of light lit the hall. A young woman was making up his bed. She heard the door creak, and turned to face me. Her name tag read “Iclene.” She smiled at me, somehow unsurprised. 

“Your father’s bed was soaking wet so I got him up and changed him,” she said. “We check on them all night long.”

Dad was dressed in daytime clothes, resting in the recliner, awake and calm. Iclene bundled up the soiled sheets, and left the room. I crouched beside Dad’s chair, took his hand. “Iclene seems very kind,” I said. “How are you doing?” 

“Sue, ask her if there’s some food we could eat together for breakfast,” he said. 

I'd been wanting to meet Iclene. I’d been told she sang to Dad by the gas log fire in the living room, in the middle of the night sometimes, when he couldn’t sleep. I found her in the kitchen. She wore black plastic glasses, was very tall, and kept eye contact as we talked. 

While I unwrapped wheat bread to make toast, I asked her about herself. Iclene was 24 years old, a student of nursing at Tallahassee Community College, an employee at Dad’s facility, and a member of Bethel AME Missionary Church on Tennessee Street. “You'll find me there every Wednesday and Sunday night,” she said. 

The young woman stood very still, like a graceful forest animal, her hands folded together in front of her diaphragm, as if she were at that moment—perhaps in all moments--in prayer. And it was true.
“I pray for strength all the time,” she said. “I ask Him for strength. He gives me what I need.” 

The bread popped up in the toaster. Iclene reached in the industrial refrigerator for butter. 

“He got me this job,” she said, referring up to the ceiling, to God. So I know he'll give me the strength to do it.” I’d heard Iclene worked the 11-7 shift four nights a week. 



When I returned to Dad with his toast, he was dozing. I set the plate of food on a bedside table and slipped out the door. In the parking lot, a rim of light in the east caught me by surprise.

“Wheep,” called a great crested flycatcher from high in the pines.

As I drove home, I felt myself drop into peace. Confronted by overwhelming kindness, my fear for my father fell away.


Question: What kindnesses—expected and unexpected--have made the unbearable, bearable, in your own life?

--This essay is excerpted from I Have Been Assigned the Single Bird: A Daughter's Memoir by Susan Cerulean, published by the University of Georgia press and now available from your favorite independent bookseller.


Lucy again: We would love to have you attend our joint sisters event on August 9 at 5 pm, moderated by our own Red Hallie Ephron and sponsored by RJ Julia Booksellers in Madison CT. You will need to register here, but the event is free!


SUSAN CERULEAN is a writer, naturalist, and advocate who divides her time between Indian Pass and Tallahassee, Florida.  Her latest book, I Have Been Assigned the Single Bird: A Daughter’s Memoir (Georgia, 2020) will be released on August 1.  Sign up for her monthly newsletter at https://comingtopass.com/

You can also find her on Facebook and Instagram   


55 comments:

  1. Congratulations on your new book, Susan . . . this is a heartwarming story; how wonderful that such good-hearted people were caring for your father. The kindnesses of others, particularly in difficult times, are truly special. Sometimes it’s simply a hug, or an ear to listen, or just being there . . . all of these have touched my life and [I suspect yours as well]. The world is filled with caring people . . . .

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    1. Joan, thank you. Sometimes gestures like you mention can get us through the hardest of times!

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  2. So beautifully written. Thanks for sharing, and congrats on the book coming out.

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    1. Thank you, Mark! It's such an honor to get to share this story with my beloved sister, and all of you on Jungle Red. You are my virtual book launch!

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  3. Congratulations on your latest book. The excerpt reads like the touch of silk flowing over the heart. A beautiful story.

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    1. Kait! I'm going to write your comment in my journal! Even the hardest story wants to be described as a "touch of silk flowing over the heart!" And that is how that night I wrote about unfolded....Thank you, Kait.

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  4. That is lovely, Susan. Thank you for sharing it.

    I did a lot for a dear friend in her eighties in her last years as she grew more frail and was finally bedridden with multiple myeloma. She had a strong southern will until the end, and I was often touched by small kindnesses and understanding from some of her caregivers despite Annie's bossiness. On the other hand, she taught me about grace. She never wanted to dwell on her own pain and suffering, and always turned it around and wanted to know how I was.

    As an aside, I'm glad in a way she died last September and didn't have to go through the awful isolation and fear of the pandemic in nursing homes.

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    1. Two things, Edith. No three. No,four. First, thank you for responding. Second, wasn't Annie fortunate to have you there--we will all wish we had a friend like you at the end of our lives. And yes, these times are horrifying for frail folks confined in nursing homes now--I don't know what we would have done if Dad was inaccessible to us just when he needed us so badly. And finally, we MUST return to our professional caregivers the salaries and benefits they so deserve.

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    2. When she would thank me, I reminded her that I couldn't do those little everyday things for my own mom in California, and that someone would do it for me when the time came - maybe my sons or maybe a younger friend.

      Oh yes - adequate compensation is much deserved.

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  5. There are few things so difficult as caring for a parent with dementia. I was lucky in this. Neither of our mothers had Alzheimer's. But I see so many who do. I had a very unusual conversation years ago. A young resident from Kashmir was doing a ride along, and we discussed dementia. She was very excited that we were going to see my patient with Alzheimer's Disease. She only knew of this condition from textbooks, had never seen anyone suffering with dementia. She thought the reason for that was two-fold. First, there were no nursing homes. Frail elderly were taken care of in the home by the family. Secondly, lifespans were much less. People didn't live as long, or if they did, they were very healthy, didn't have the usual ills of old age, including dementia. I thought that was very interesting. Congratulations on your new book, Susan. I look forward to reading it.

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    1. Ann, that's astounding, isn't it? I have to agree with her. Imagine a country with no dementias. Scientists are now making strong connections between life long exposure to toxic chemicals, and Parkinson's. We probably have much more to learn about the pesticides and herbicides we use, and our long term brain and body health.

      Thank you for sharing, Ann. I'm curious about what kind of medicine you practiced? Both my sister Lucy and I have adult children who are practicing medicine in the Emergency Departments of Los Angeles right now. We worry so much about them.

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    2. I am a nurse, hospice. I retired some years ago but you don’t stop being a nurse any more than you can stop being a mother!

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  6. Congratulations on your new release! Your blog brought back so many memories of my Dad in the "memory care" unit. When he wasn't trying to decipher the elevator key code to leave the place, he was fiddling with his cassette recorder (Thirties radio drama) and thumping his feet in time to the big band music a local pianist played once a week. He forgot the names of his grandchildren, though knew the names of all the family dogs. The nurses were kind, caring, and patient. They cried when he died.

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    1. that's so sweet Margaret. Our dad was in several memory care units and it seems like there was always an "inmate" (as my grandmother used to call them) hovering by the door hoping to score the code and bolt...

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  7. Congratulations on I Have Been Assigned The Single Bird. Your post touched my heart.
    When my dad had dementia, he was lucky to be taken care of by his second wife who had practiced in social services .
    She was fifteen years younger and in good health and loved him very much. My brothers and I witnessed how difficult it became as the years passed. We took turns some week-ends with dad to give her a break. She kept him home with her to the end . We will never forget what she did for him.
    Susan, I'm curious about your title. It may be my French upbringing but I don't understand the relation. Has " the single bird " a particular significance ?

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    1. Danielle, your stepmom was a real angel on Earth, wasn't she?

      Here are some thoughts about the title.

      All of my book titles, including Single Bird, offer themselves when I am free-writing; they often emerge early in the process, from an intuitive part of my brain. This often happens for chapter titles, as well. That’s the easy part! Then comes the work of trusting an unusual title, and wrapping my story around it, like a core. In this case, it was clear to me what the title points to—the frustration (and the intimacy) of having a big ambition to “save the birds” or “save the world” or “save my father.” Some people actually do save things, it seems to me: people who recover endangered species, or acquire and protect large swaths of landscape from development. Since I haven’t achieved those things, it’s been my job to look carefully at the loss of precious, beautiful life, and help others see it, too.

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    2. WOW ! Thank you for what you do and for your explanation.

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  8. Congratulations on your book, Susan!What a beautifully written way to honor not only your father but the people who cared for him so lovingly. A blessing to cherish.

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  9. Awwww, Margaret....you add memories to my memories. He must have been one special person if the nurses were so attached.

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  10. Susan, I just finished reading your book and it was one of those books I actually made myself SLOW DOWN ... first to appreciate what you were saying and second to delay running out of more pages to read. I have friends succumbing to dementia, I'm a birder and terrified by what's happening to our planet. (Love the cover - reminds me of my first view of an oyster catcher, emerging from the woods onto the beach on Cuttyhunk Island and there they were, birds that look ridiculously like a flamboyant, oversized "drinking bird" toy that you set up beside a glass of water and they dip their beaks? It's a good thing when a bird makes you gasp and laugh at the same time.

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  11. Hallie, it means so much to hear this from you. I so admire your brilliant writing. Please, let's spend some time together with the wild birds when this is all over....

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  12. Moments of grace. They allow us to see the shining spirit of one another, and I so wish we had more of them, or at the very least we stopped to note them deeply in our soul when they happen.

    My memory of a kindness is in a different vein, but I've never forgotten the strength it gave me, and I've tried to pay it forward to others in similar situations. I was in the hotel restroom, trying to stop shaking right before I was to give a big keynote speech in front of about 400 people. I'd never done anything like that before, and was terrified. An acquaintance, a woman with lots of experience in speaking, including on TV, came into the restroom and noticed my white face. She asked me what was wrong, and when I told her she enfolded me in her arms and told me I'd be fine. And I was. Just having her connect with me was enough to pull me back to center.

    Susan, I want to take this opportunity to thank you for all you do for the health of the planet. It's vital work, and we so desperately need all the help we can get right now. Even the smallest act can make a difference, and all of us need to pull together to save ourselves.

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    1. Oh Karen, your words are a moment of grace for me, right now! That's a beautiful memory. I will hold on to it this week when I start giving virtual talks. It's hard to speak to an audience, for sure, but I can't imagine how it will work with only a computer screen!! Scary.

      And about those moments of grace--they are more noticeable when we are in a hard situation. Let' all make a vow to notice and create them intentionally in this ever so tough time in our country and on our planet....

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  13. Susan, I just love the excerpt from your book and agree with Hallie, the cover is gorgeous. I admit, I've been escaping into stories for the last 4 months, but have to read your book now after reading that piece.

    I believe that am a member of every national nature organization that is active in the US. Although I can't say that I am a knowledgeable birder, I am a true lover of birds and other wildlife. It disturbs me that people can ignore the importance of the natural world in favor of profits, and that they disregard the effects of chemical fertilizers and weed killers on our long term health and that of our children.

    Kindness is catching, although it's beginning to seem as though an entire party is missing the gene. I was eighteen when my mother died. People whom I barely knew poured into our house all week to tell stories, warm and funny about her arrival from New York City into our little town. I will never forget one woman telling a story that even had my grief stricken dad laughing. It was the most memorable part of a shockingly sad time.

    Susan, your book is on my TBR list!

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  14. Judy, THANK YOU for all you shared. Our mother died when we were young, too, and anything people did for us made such a difference. I salute you joining in all those nature organizations...nonprofits work so hard,and on such a shoestring.

    I have a feeling this book will appeal to you, Judy. Thanks for writing in...

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  15. My Mom has dementia and is in another city, living at home, with 24 hour caregivers. On one of my visits, she was agitated and was giving one of her caregivers a hard time as she was getting her ready for bed, and Mary was so understanding and gentle with her. When we got Mom settled in bed, she said "I love you, Mary," and Mary said "I love you too, Mrs. Warren." We have been truly blessed with my Mom's caregivers.

    Thanks Roberta and Susan for your post today ~

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    1. It's very hard not to be near her, I'm sure Celia. that's a wonderful story

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  16. Celia, that is so touching....it's a disease that touches so many millions of us in our country. We are an unseen tribe...

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  17. Oh, your essay is so surprisingly peaceful, thank you. I wish you could have met my husband‘s first wife – – I know that sounds strange but there you have it. She was lovely, A lawyer, who gave up practicing law to turn to her print making. She died a year ago, and before she did, she wrote a book called THE MEMORY PALACE, which is not only a chronicle of her understanding of her fatal disease, but about a woman who takes a job as a writer/historian at the museum of extinct birds. Please look up Barbara Milman’s book— I think she would have been another kindred spirit to you. And look, especially, at the cover. One of her prints, of a single bird.
    So wonderful of you to be here today – – it is always a treat.

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    1. Hank, I will order that tomorrow from my indie bookstore! Wow. Sounds amazing. All of these connections are so affirming. Thank you all so much for having me on your site.

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    2. Hank, I just looked her up. Talk about a kindred spirit...I think we should celebrate Barbara Milman today, too....here's her obituary.

      Barbara Milman
      1941-2019

      It was just a year before her death on July 24 that the artist Barbara Milman published "The Memory Palace", her illustrated novella "interweaving fantasy, the natural world," in the words of a reviewer, "and the reflections of a narrator who is facing death – her own and that of the planet—with courage, humor and outrage." She was 78.
      The book capped Milman's double career, the first as a lawyer, beginning with civil rights work in the Mississippi of the 1960s; private practice with her first husband, Jonathan Shapiro, and others in Boston; as counsel to a Massachusetts Commission investigating corruption in the state's public housing program, and ending as chief counsel to the California Fair Political Practices Commission and its Assembly Rules Committee in 1993.
      In 1994, she made a complete switch, quitting the bar to devote full time to the art that she said was always her great love, particularly printmaking and handmade artist's books, much of it created in her studio in El Cerrito, CA. Later she told an interviewer that her legal career was "a 25-year detour."
      Over time, she produced more than 36 artist books in small editions. They are notable for their mix of printmaking, collage, and digital techniques, often in counterpoint with short but powerful texts and striking page designs. They're now in the collections of the Art Institute of Chicago, the National Museum of Women in the Arts and Yad Vashem in Jerusalem and figure in the Special Collections of over 35 university libraries. Perhaps her most important work was the artist's book "Light in the Shadows", later issued as an illustrated volume with the same name by Jonathan David Publishers.
      She had scores of solo exhibitions, was artist in residence at institutions both in this country and in Europe, taught printmaking and won numerous awards.
      "My printmaking," she wrote, "is based on traditional relief, especially linocuts, which I mix with other printmaking techniques, including digitally based methods. My artist's books combine hand printmaking with digital and photographic elements. I transfer images between the prints and the artist books. The works in the two media complement and reinforce each other."
      But the art, like much of the legal work, was always infused with social passion, the Holocaust, prisoners' rights, and particularly, in recent years, the environment and the extinction of species. The ironic theme of "The Memory Palace" is a museum devoted to extinct birds and the stories they tell about their own extinction. Not coincidentally, perhaps, her second husband, Daniel Rancour-Laferriere, a writer and Russian scholar, whom she married in 1979, is a birder.
      Barbara Milman was born on June 2, 1941, in Great Neck, N.Y., the daughter of Howard and Charlotte (Cohen) Milman. She is a graduate cum laude of Harvard in 1963 and of the Columbia University Law School, in 1966. She leaves her husband, two children, Paul Shapiro of Brooklyn, N.Y., and Lara Shapiro of Marina del Rey, CA., two grandchildren, a sister, Dorothy Mermin, of Ithaca, N.Y., and a brother, Andrew Milman of Melbourne, Fla.

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    3. Susan, you are incredible. This is the most touching and generous thing I have ever seen. Thank you. So honored that you would look for the book.

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    4. Hank, what an amazing woman she was!

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    5. Really, she was so interesting and wonderful. thanks for sharing that sue!

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    6. She sounds like a wonderful person. Brought tears to my eyes. Thank you for sharing!

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    7. What an extraordinary person.

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    8. Oh, thank you. I am so touched. Truly. Thank you. And Jonathan is so grateful. This is..wonderful. And the book is astonishing.

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  18. Susan, I am looking forward to reading your book and sharing your journey through the pages. We have been extremely fortunate as a family--dementia has so far not affected our elders. During a difficult time near the end of our mother's life, a minister took the appearance of a rainbow as a blessing. He was able to give my mom the peace she was seeking. Shortly thereafter, my father was dying and wanted to come home from the hospital. The staff did not feel that he should be allowed to leave. It was hard to know what was best. A social worker spoke with us,and she was very sympathetic. A few minutes after she left us, she called on her cell phone. "Look out the window!" There was a rainbow, of course, covering the hospital. Her kindness has never been forgotten--she had heard the story of the first rainbow and thought seeing this one might be a sign to listen to what our hearts were telling us. And yes, we brought him home where he wanted to be.

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  19. What a story of a miracle. That's beautiful Flora. Thank you for your support....

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  20. Susan, congratulations on your beautiful book! And thank you for today's essay--you've provided my Sunday morning "moment of grace." I, too, have been a birder since my teens. My undergrad degree is in biology and my plan was to become an ornithologist. Obviously, life had other ideas, but birds are part of my daily joy.

    Both of my parents had dementia, so at first I wasn't sure that I could read your book, but having read your essay, I think it is a must for me. My parents caregivers were unfailingly kind, but what immediately sprang to my mind were the hospice nurses who cared for my mom the last few nights of her life. They were Nigerian, one had been a biologist there, the other a chemist. They were so kind as they supported my mom--and me--through to the end.

    And now I'm going to look up your book!

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    1. P.S. Susan, I meant to say, I love your title, and it makes perfect sense to me.

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  21. Deborah....you Reds are women after my own heart. Birders, and daughters. And doesn't it make all the difference in the world, when you have the kind of heart-filled, skillful Hospice people at the hardest time of all. You will relate to the hospice experience in my book--not just my Dad, but also coming upon a bird "hospice" situation... Thank you for your reflections Deb

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  22. What a beautiful little vignette, Susan
    I remember after my father’s funeral coming out and seeing a duck wsy up in a tree. Somehow this was do incongruous that i saw it as a metaphor of hope

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  23. I don't think that's incongruous at all, Rhys...we are all connected....xo

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  24. Congratulations on your new book, Susan. Reading your beautiful piece here assures me that your book is a beautiful work, too. I think having someone do a kindness for someone I love, especially for my children or grandchildren, means the most to me. Really, they’re doing a kindness for me, too, because the well-being of those we love is usually what worries us most.

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    1. That's so true, Kathy, especially in these times..the wellbeing of all we love concerns us.

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  25. Susan, your writing is so lovely, and a very timely read for me. My family is undergoing a difficult time as we wait to see if our dad, who has Parkinsons, will be able to go home after a short-term stint in rehab, or will need the kind of help he can't get at home. It's stressful, and made more so since no one can visit him. Your excerpt is a reminder that sooner or later, we're all dependent on the kindness of strangers - so it behooves us to practice kindness whenever we can.

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    1. Julia, that's a sobering thought, and indeed a challenging time for your family. I bet it's especially hard for your dad, feeling so vulnerable and alone. I am holding him and all of you in my heart.

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  26. Lucy, you do look like twins! My grandmother had an "Irish twin" - she was born in September and her brother was born in July!

    Susan, welcome to Jungle Reds and congratulations on your new book! I am definitely adding your book to my reading list!

    Happy Sunday!

    Diana

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  27. Thank you so much, Diana! You are a powerhouse of awesome writers and readers, that's for sure!

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  28. Those kindnesses ripple out and help so many more. When my mom was sick, my students rallied with books, cards, prayers, and kindness. When I said thank you, one said, "Remember last year when I needed help and you gave it? Well, now it's your turn." The comparison of caring for a loved one and caring for our (should be beloved) earth is spot on.

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