Chester Nez and the Unbreakable Code by Joseph Bruchac & Illus Liz Amini-Holmes

Today is Native American Day. At least where we live in Northern New York, which is right next to the Awkwesasne Mohawk Reservation. (Or more commonly reffered to as "the rez.") I thought this was an everywhere kind of holiday, but when I looked it up, it isn't any kind of official thing. 

But it should be.

So here is a story about a remarkable man who happens to be Native American.

Betoli was only eight when he was sent to the residential schools. To be taught to act like a white man. And in the process, he was given a white man's name--Chester.

Life was not easy in the residential schools, as I am sure everyone is aware. All the things held precious by the Native Americans were stripped away, ridiculed, and forbidden. 

Even their language, such an elemental tool was wrong. According to the people who ran these schools anyway.

The Navajo language was forbidden. Speaking it was a punishable offense. 

But during the summers, Chester was able to go back to the Navajo lands and remember the things that made his people who they were. 

I love this page, showing Chester in the two different worlds. 

During WWII, the government needed a new code. Every other code had been broken and utilized by the enemies. 

The government decided the Navajo language might just be what they needed. Chester and his friends were called up. 

The government suddenly needed the language it had been trying to beat out of these Native American children and teens. 

The Navajo codetalkers, chose an English word for each letter of the alphabet. A for ant, etc then translated those words into Navajo. The code word for the letter "A" became Wol-la-chee. Which had no bearing on the common languages the enemies would have access to when trying to decode the message. 

In addition to creating the code, Navajo speakers were needed for decoding it on the front lines as well. 

While not actively engaged in fighting, the code talkers witnessed the horrible atrocities of war. 

Chester survived.

When he returned home, they did an enemy way ceremony to help him to relearn and recover the trail of beauty and the Right Way. 

The Navajo code had done much to help the Allied war efforts and played a role in winning WWII. 

Even though the Navajo Codetalkers were so vital to the war efforts, their work and their code were kept classified for over 20 years. 

Fortunately for him, Chester did not let it bother him. He became a painter. 

In 2005, sixty years after the end of WWII, Chester was one of five code talkers who received the Congressional Gold Medal.

Stranded at Plimoth Plantation 1626 by Gary Bowen

Not the first Thanksgiving, but sort of Thanksgiving-y. So here you are. 

I love the wood cut illustrations, which is why I picked it up. 

I love cloud faces blowing ships around. 

This book is the fictional diary of 13 year old Christopher Sears headed for Jamestown. As you may have suspected from the title, this book is about "Plimoth" not Jamestown. Because surprise! the ship crashed on the New England shore.  

Fortunately, Native Americans rescued the shipwrecked sailors and delivered them to the Pilgrims.

In the intervening year between ships, Christopher became immersed in the lives of the Pilgrims, recording the births, deaths, arrests, and excitements of their lives. While it is entirely fictional, it is researched enough to accurately depict life in Plimoth. (Why is there a "y" in Plymoth now? Did he just not know how to spell Plymoth? Clearly he had not installed grammarly on his notebook.)

Poor Christopher--enduring peeping Puritains. 

When I was dressing this morning, by accident my shirt went on inside out. Elinor Adams, who was peering into the house through a crack in the wall, screamed at me not to reverst it. She said to wear it that was for it was a sign of good luck. 

I am unaccustomed to this Puritan notion of constantly checking the wrongdoing  of others.

 You and me both, Christopher. How is it okay to spy on people getting dressed? I think they call if voyeurism these days. 

And Christopher burned his finger and ripped his pants, so not lucky, Elinor. Nice try. 

A death

I love order. I know it is super boring. But I do. 

Pretty marvelous sunset.

Inevitably, Christopher begins to wonder if maybe life would be better for him here in the place he is familiar with rather than the unknown Jamestown. But there is the small detail of being indentured to a Captain.... But with Captain Standish on his side, Christopher might just win out. 

For some reason, I was always fascinated by Plymoth. The Puritans were so... restrained and bizarre at the same time. The chance of actually surviving so minuscule. The whole idea so audacious. Also, I read a book I really loved named... Constance or something like that about a Puritan girl. And I was a history nerd. 

My Autumn Book by Wong Herbert Yee

To be honest, it doesn't much feel like autumn anymore. But technically, of course, it still is. Even if we have already had a snowday. Even if it has been in the single digits four nights this past week. It IS still autumn. 

So I am still putting up books about fall. While humming Christmas carols and sipping hot cocoa. At least in spirit. Ha!

(My husband is one of those grumpy people who dislikes Christmas carols in general and particularly before December 1st. And we are on day 28 of the Whole30, so strictly no hot cocoa for me. BUT if I could, I would be sipping hot cocoa and loudly singing carols. Because if temperatures near zero and six inches of snow on the ground don't mean winter, I have missed the point.) 

Herbert Wong Yee has some ridiculously cute books. He has one for each of the seasons. And of course, they caught my eye because they are little. (All books are more interesting when they are little.)

In this book, our little explorer is checking out the world for signs of fall. 

Okay, okay, this book should have been posted in September. But I am just getting around to it. No judging. It is STILL AUTUMN.

I love her quietness and photography skills. 

I was once that kid. My siblings might argue about the quietness thing, but I loved walks and taking pictures of outside things. 

Geese!

The geese around here seem to be just as surprised as we are by the early arrival of solid winter. They are flying high and long these days. 

Trees in fall finery.

Exulting!

After the joy of discovery, our little explorer heads up to her bedroom and lays out all her treasures and pictures. 

Then she makes an autumn book

To remember what fall was like

When winter has come. 

You know my feelings about cozy inside scenes. I LOVE THEM.

The Mushrooms Come by Joyce Sidman & Rick Allen

The Mushrooms Come

From moss and loam   

the mushrooms come.  

From bark on trees,     

from crumbling logs,  

From musty leaves     

 The mushrooms come.

    From vast pale networks

underground               

the shoulder up           

without a sound;          

  They spread their damp 

umbrella tops               

and loose their spores  

with silent pops.           

        Unbuttoning the forest floor,

the mushrooms come,  

the mushrooms come.  

Like noses pink          

in the midnight air,     

like giant's ears,          

like elfin hair,             

like ancient cities        

built on cliffs,              

the mushrooms come, 

the mushrooms come. 

The Sick Day by Patricia MacLachlan & Illus by Jane Dyer

I love Patricia MacLachlan, but I had never seen this one before. Which isn't surprising. She has written SO MANY books. 

There is definitely a 1990's vibe in this book, but it was so sweet I didn't mind! 

A little girl is feeling sick and spends the day with her father. 

Emily is not feeling well. She has a stomachache in her head and a headache in her throat. 

Her father asks if that is all. 

"My toe hurts where I stubbed it last year," she said.

A sick day it is then. 

Emily is a demanding patient, but her father is a willing slave. 

They do Emily's hair in bobbles.

Her father listens to her stomach to see if it is going to swallow up. He convinces Emily that it doesn't want to swallow up. And he does it in such a funny way that she laughs too hard and throws up. 

Stories are told.

Clear soup is finally drank down after Father puts a little giraffe in the soup because Emily doesn't like soup with nothing in it. 

Music is made and finally, Emily's sick day begins to draw to a close. 

Just in time for Emily to take care of Father on his sick day. 

She does all the things Father did for her. 

Mabel and Sam at Home by Linda Urban and Hadley Hooper

Mabel and her brother Sam are clearly in the midst of a move. 

Just like we have been! Which explains the lack of involvement on the blog. All that packing and cleaning and cleaning and unpacking takes a lot of time.

Fortunately, they have a limitless imagination

But mostly Mabel. Sam is a little skeptical of his big sister and her imaginings. Just like little brothers generally are. 

I love how the illustrations show the movement from reality to imagination.

After sailing for some time, Sam starts to wonder about getting back on land. Mabel warns him of the danger. 

But the siren call of the pizza delivery guy decides things. 

"They might be dangerous," said Captain Mabel. 

"Starving might be dangerous too," said First Mate Sam. 

Little brothers are so hard to control. 

First Mate Same did not hear.

He was already heading for land, "ahoying" at the inhabitants.

In the second mini-story in this book, Mabel is a tour guide, giving Sam an up close view of important things. 

Most of the things Tour Guide Mabel point out happen to be about her. 

"This is the famous table where the Peanut Butter and Chocolate Chip Sandwich was invented," said Mabel. 

"I eat those," said Sam.

"Yes," said Mabel. "But you at them second. Museums are about people who do things first."

 Being second is just no good Sam. 

Sam gets his own back though when he makes a unilateral decision to eat the "...Ancient Frosted Pitty-Pat of Calimari. The last one of its kind."

"And I am the first to discover it," said Sam. 

In the last story in the book, Mabel and Sam embark on a space odyssey just before bed. 

I love Sam. 

Then, the bold astronauts are made to head to bed. Even with alien noises echoing around. Or  maybe that is just Mr. Woofie who needs to go out. 

And then, a cozy, sleepy night in their new house. I adore cozy inside family scenes. They are just so... nice. And niceness is a rare quality in this world.