How is your Summer reading going? I finished reading, Incantation by Alice Hoffman. It was a story about the persecution of the Jews and Muslims in Spain in the 1500's. It was very good.

I finished reading, Who Will Tell My Brother and it was GREAT! The ending is one that has me reflecting and isn't that what a good book should do? I challenge you to read it.Counting Coup by Joseph Medicine Crow was interesting listening to an elder sharing his experiences growing up on the reservation. I recommend this one too!

Read, Upon the Head of the Goat by Aranka Siegal. It is a story of a childhood in Hungary from 1936-1944. That's right... Holocaust.

The computer lab is NOT going to be up and running for the first week of school. Sorry... I am disappointed too but I will try to get us in to the lab in the library right away so that we can work on some great ideas to start the year with.

READ THIS!

My father looked at me for a long time--he just looked at me.  So this was the last he and I ever said to each other about Paul's death.

Indirectly, though, he was present in many of our conversations.  Once, for instance, my father asked me a series of questions that suddenly made me wonder whether I understood even my father whom I felt closer to than any man I had ever known.  "You like to tell true stories, don't you?"  he asked, and I answered, "Yes, I like to tell stories that are true."

Then he asked, "After you have finished your true stories sometime, why don't you make up a story and the people to go with it?

"Only then will you understand what happened and why.

"It is those we live with and love and should know who elude us."

Now nearly all those I love and did not understand when I was young are dead,  but I still reach out to them.

Of course, now I am too old to be much of a fisherman, and now of course I usually fish the big waters alone, although some friends think I shouldn't.  Like many fly fishermen in western Montana where the summer days are almost Arctic in length, I often do not start fishing until the cool of the evening.  Then in the Arctic half-light of the canyon, all existence fades to a being with my soul and memories and the sounds of the Big Blackfoot River and a four-count rhythm and the hope that a fish will rise.

Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it.  The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time.  On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops.  Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs.

I am haunted by waters.

DO YOU RECOGNIZE THIS?!?!?!?!?!