Beads and Braids

Beads and Braids was published as a supplementary reader with an HIV/AIDS theme. Copies may be obtained from Shuter and Shooter Publications, Pietermaritzburg, KZN, South Africa.

You can read the story here.

​I sat perfectly still on the mat under our jacaranda tree. My mother’s fingers, braiding my hair, felt soft and gentle. They made me want to sleep. But I didn’t. I didn’t even slouch. 

So That's What God is Like

Sadly, this book is out of print despite Janet Wilson's gorgeous paintings of Africa. Used copies can sometimes be found on Amazon.com or you can read the text here.

            Temba was the smallest in his family except for baby Hannah.  
When he took care of the goats with his big brother Sipo, his legs were too short to leap from rock to rock.  Temba had to climb down and clamber up the next rock.  
When Mama carried a heavy tin of water on her head to the tiny corn plants in the garden, Temba could only carry a little can.  Most of the water spilled on Temba.
   ​         Temba loved to go to church with Granny.  Granny had the biggest voice in the choir.  

Crossovers, sample chapter

 

Chapter 1

Okay, I was scared.  I admit it.  You would be, too, if you knew how guys talk in the locker room at hockey practice.  If anyone found out what I was doing at Rum River Ice Arena that early in the morning in the middle of summer vacation, I’d be dead meat.    

“See you tomorrow, Ben.”  Shannon held the door so I could get my bike through.  The heat of the sauna that is Minnesota summer hit me. It was just getting fired up at this hour.

 “Yeah.”  I scanned the parking lot to be sure no one was looking. I wouldn’t want anyone thinking I was like Norman B. Skagway, the Third, a.k.a. Skag the—well, you know what I mean.  I’m not.  But if one of the guys saw me coming out of the skating rink at this hour, he might ask questions.  I could hit harder than anybody else on the hockey team—they don’t call me ‘Copperhead’ just because of the color of my hair—but that’s not what I was doing there at that hour.

“Excuse me.”  Madeleine pushed past, dragging a pink suitcase on wheels with a goofy picture of a Barbie doll in figure skates on it.  

Her case ran over my toes.  “Ouch!”  

“Well, get out of the way!  Why do you bring your bike in here anyways?”  Maddie was only eight, but I guess hanging out with ‘big kids’ like Shannon made her think she was one of us.  “It’s not like anyone’s going to steal it.”  She flicked her yellow ponytail off her shoulder.

Shannon cleared her throat, and I tried not to look at her.  Nobody was on the tennis courts.  Only a couple old people in sweats jogged around the football field. 

“Bike thieves, huh?”  Shannon let the door swing shut. It caught my shoulder and squashed me between my bike and the doorframe.  She gave me a disgusted look.  “I may be new to Rum River, but I’m not stupid.  In a town this small someone would recognize your bike if it were stolen.”  I couldn’t exactly tell her that being recognized was what I was afraid of.

Skag reached from behind me and pushed the door open again.  “I’ll help you, Ben.”  He knew what kind of talk would go on in the locker room if anyone found out I was here.

The only other person in sight was Shannon’s mom, waiting in the SUV for Shannon to describe every minute of her practice.  She would be inside supervising if Shannon let her. 

 “Hey, Shannon,” Skag said as we stepped outside. “Wanna come over later and play computer games?  I got this really cool one.”

“Maybe.”  

Skag might have a name that made you want to puke, but his father got him all the latest electronic gizmos. I guess it wasn’t his fault he got stuck with that name, after all, he was ‘the Third.” But I couldn’t believe he had the guts to ask a drop-dead-gorgeous girl like Shannon over.  I chewed the inside of my cheek.  Why didn’t I ask her?

“See ya, Norman,” Shannon said. Skag was smiling when he started up the road.

“Bye, Ben,” Maddie called.  She heaved her pink case into the back of the SUV.  She wasn’t Shannon’s sister, just a neighbor, but she always rode with them.  Maddie had a crush on me.  I wished it were Shannon.  

On Writing Crossovers

How long does it take to write a novel? A month? A year? 

Sometime in the mid1990s an image of a boy with an infectious grin, standing victorious on the podium of a skating competition, started me writing.  I had to know who he was and how he got there.  I thought about him; I scratched notes; and eventually I borrowed a book about how to write and publish fiction, writing  practice exercises that were scenes from Ben’s life.  But that’s what it was—practice writing.  The 200-page manuscript sat in a drawer while I wrote The Wooden Ox and Between Two Worlds  As I was finishing Glastonbury Tor, I began to realize what was the real story within those pages of fantasy skating scenes. I sent GT to my agent and sat down and wrote Crossovers in a month, but it had already been ten years in the making.

Talk About Crossovers

A book group is a great way to help you to dig deeper into a story. Here are some questions to help you get started talking about Crossovers.

1.  What was Ben afraid of? Do you think his fears were justified? Why or why not?

2.  Why was it so hard for Ben to tell his parents what he was doing?

3.  The Bradleys had a system where the kids paid half of their sports expenses.  Mom said it was “so you will learn to spend money responsibly.”  Do you think that is a good system?  Why or why not?

4.  Ben says, “At school they were always telling us about how we could be anything.  What they meant was girls.  Girls could be anything.  But there were still things boys weren’t supposed to do.”  Do you think that is true of people you know? 

5.  In your school, what are boys “expected” to do?
What are they expected not to do?
What about girls?
What would your friends think of a girl who plays hockey or a boy who figure skates?

6.  “God is the Creator,” Mr. Bradley tells Ben.  “He thought up the whole idea of beauty—and God is not a sissy.”  How might that help Ben to think about his own artistic side?

7.  What kept Ben from being friendly to Skag in the first place?  Why was he able to change his mind at the end?

Crossovers

At school they’re always telling us about how we can be anything.  What they mean is girls.  Girls can be anything.  But there are still things boys aren’t supposed to do. Boys play drums or trumpet.  They don’t play flute or violin. Boys are doctors, not nurses; principals, not kindergarten teachers.  If that old movie Kindergarten Cop couldn’t change that, it’s going to take a lot more than Elvis What’s-his-name playing hockey to make it okay for me to figure skate.  Just ask Jason.

Talk about Between Two Worlds

1. What are some of the things that made Cristina feel like she didn’t belong in Minnesota?

2. How did the two sisters respond differently to the challenge of moving back and forth between worlds?

3. Why do you think Jason was so uninterested in anything Korean in the beginning?

4. Rob was openly hostile to Jason. In what ways was Lisa just as racist?

5. Have you ever felt like you didn’t belong? In what ways did you feel different? How did you handle your situation? With which character do you most identify—Cristina, Bete, Jason, Lisa or Rob?

6. Cristina’s parents made decisions for the family that weren’t necessarily what she would have chosen. How much should parents involve children in decisions that affect their lives such as where to live?

7. Growing up is an important change. Anthropologists talk about ‘rites of passage’—ceremonies that mark significant changes in life, such as Cristina’s fifteenth birthday party. How do young people in your community mark the transition from child to young adult?