The Tomas Rivera Award comes to my home--in Mexico!

I was so concentrated this afternoon; I had sketches that I wanted to send out today as if a curse would fall upon me if I didn't send them out right before everybody at Candlewick left for the long weekend. I didn't even noticed that there was a frenzy of emails in my inbox from people asking me where, oh, where could they call my sister Magaly because they had great news to announce.

What To Do With A Paleta is this year's winner of the Tomas Rivera Book Award!

Now let me say that the Tomas Rivera Award people are humans of high caliber. They are some of the most caring, enthusiastic, and smart people I have ever known. They champion books as if they were sacred. They throw celebrations as for royalty. And now they could even make dreams come true: My sister Magaly lives in Mexico, could they... would it be possible... for them to make happen for my sister to come receive the award in person?

We are talking visiting visa for a Mexican here. Could they make it possible?

I am making this my dream.

How to talk to kids about death, in Haiti and at home--would it work for me?

I stumbled upon this article at the Tablet: A New Read On Jewish Life, because it mentions one of my books. But I found the discussion fascinating.

Here is the direct link t the posting:http://www.tabletmag.com/life-and-religion/24799/falling-down/

I remember my first time learning that all will die some day, and my despair at trying to grasp the idea that everyone I loved, including myself, were in danger of dying some day. It was New Years; people were braking piñatas and toasting for good life, and I was scared. Non of my parents reassurances--that it will probably wouldn't happen for me in a long time--made me feel safer.

Years latter, when one of my favorite uncles died, I remember that my father struggled over my sisters and my questions of whether he could be sure that our beloved uncle was gone forever. I remember his answer: My uncle's body was still here but his soul had flown away. He was still here (which was the answer I wanted), but he wasn't (which broke my heart)? I was even more confused now! Is it perhaps that ambiguity allows room for false hopes(hope that hurts)?

Being a parent is a heroic job.