Mourning those I never met

Originally published January 24, 2016

Mourning those I never met

This January seems crueler than most, and I am not referencing the bitter cold temperatures. Instead, I mourn the loss of three artists whose work inspires, entertains and consoles me.

David Bowie died Jan. 10 at the age of 69 after battling cancer. His music influenced so many in a career that included 26 studio albums and 22 films.

Want to witness a glimmer of his talent? Search online for a video sharing Bowie and Freddie Mercury’s performance of “Under Pressure” stripped down to just their vocal tracks. The power of their voices absolutely mesmerizes me, especially when so many performers now rely on software that perfects and polishes their work.

Bowie wrote his own elegy in his final album, Blackstar, released just days before he died. His song, “Lazarus,” opens with “Look up here, I’m in heaven” and closes with “Oh, I’ll be free. Ain’t that just like me.”

In another song from that album, “I Can’t Give Everything Away,” Bowie sings,

“Seeing more and feeling less

Saying no but meaning yes

This is all I ever meant

That’s the message that I sent.”

Another blow came when stage actor, film star and director Alan Rickman died on Jan. 14, also at the age of 69 and after treatment for cancer.

Rickman, who met his wife, Rima, at 19, first pursued a career in graphic arts before following his passion for acting in his 20s. He performed on stage to hone his craft, joining the Royal Shakespeare Company at the age of 32. Rickman, while respected as a stage thespian, did not break into Hollywood until he was in his 40s, playing villain Hans Gruber in the movie DieHard, and offering the first of so many memorable screen deaths. He perfectly embodied the role of Professor Severus Snape in the Harry Potter series and appeared in more than 60 roles on television or film.

British scientists declared his rich and deep voice as “perfect” in 2008, with standards that measured tone, speed, frequency, intonation, words per minute and pauses. He played the archangel Metatron, who serves as the voice of God, rather brilliant casting in the movie “Dogma” by Kevin Smith.

In a fantastic article in The Washington Post, Michael Cavna wrote that Bowie and Rickman shared a “profoundly simple gift” – their generosity. Not just their money, but also the far more valuable commodity of their talent and time by offering those gifts to other performers and artists.

Glenn Frey, a founding member of the 1970s rock band, the Eagles, died at the age of 67 on Jan. 18 due to complications from rheumatoid arthritis and other ailments. In an interview, Frey told Piers Morgan that he considered “One of These Nights” to be his defining song. The song speaks to those trying to find,

“Someone to be kind to

In between the dark and the light.”

A singer, songwriter, guitarist and actor, Frey also played the piano. Between his solo career and songs with the Eagles, Frey released 24 Top 40 singles in his career.

While it may seem weird to mourn the death of celebrities — people I never met — sociologists can explain this grief.

Feeling a sense of loss and sadness for well-known figures is part of a parasocial relationship, a term coined in the 1950s to describe the feelings of closeness with someone you’ve never met.

We identify with public figures, and though the relationship is one-sided, that is part of the appeal — it offers us acceptance without the complications of real world interactions.

When we mourn a personal loss, funerals help us process our grief and express our emotions. But when a celebrity dies, attending the funeral is not an option, unless it is televised or recorded and shared. I woke up early to watch the funeral of Princess Diana, and watching the memorial service for Jim Henson made me smile and cry.

Social media allows fans to mourn together. Dean Aarón Podestá (@JeSuisDean) tweeted this on Jan. 10. “If you’re ever sad, just remember the world is 4.543 billion years old and you somehow managed to exist at the same time as David Bowie.”

People who knew Bowie, Rickman and Frey shared stories of them, and offered condolences to those who knew and loved them.

These deaths also remind us of our own losses. When Jimmy Stewart passed away, my tears were not just for him, but a release valve for the loss of my paternal grandfather.

While I strive to leave my biases out of my news writing, I confess that I selected the news stories published in the Daily Citizen announcing the loss of these three artists. Consider it one of the ways I paid homage to them for sharing their talents with the world, and one of the ways I coped with losing them.

Those who create share a bit of their souls in their work. And they breathe a bit of life into those creations and set them free for others to experience. Their work helps connect us – the emotions invoked by music, poetry, performances and other forms of art remind us of our own feelings of love, heartache, anger, loneliness, joy, sadness and more.

Pay homage to them by listening to their music or watching their movies. What they created carries on, offering humans something close to achieving immortality.

Original column

Trying to curb an appetite

Originally published November 19, 2016

Trying to curb an appetite

I tend to eat my feelings.

I eat in celebration.

Birthdays and weddings mean cake and sometimes ice cream, pie or other treats. My sister celebrated her birthday this week, and although I could not celebrate in person with her, I opted to eat ice cream in her honor. She is two years younger than I, and I remember her birth because someone at the hospital gave me an ice cream cup with a wooden spoon. I found that far more memorable than peeking through a window at my new sister.

I also seek comfort food when feeling down—mac and cheese, warm and creamy soups, something sweet, something salty (or both.) Foods that stick to the ribs and leave you feeling sated and sleepy.

My willpower disappears around certain foods, including potato chips and French onion dip, cheese puffs, garlic bread and pints of premium ice cream. The nutrition label on ice cream pints tells us it has four servings. I consider it a win if I manage two. My solution is to rarely buy those foods, but sometimes a craving for them cannot be denied. Or I make the mistake of shopping for groceries while hungry.

I fully acknowledge my addiction to cheese and chocolate. I do best when I allow myself one serving of chocolate a day—almost always dark chocolate (antioxidants for the win!) and confess to being a chocolate snob. (There is drawer dedicated to chocolate in my refrigerator, which may qualify me as a chocoholic.)

Many of my bad eating habits started in middle school. I disliked the lunches served at school, so I would barely eat. By the time I arrived home after school or after basketball or track practice, I both ate too much and ate far too fast.

I’ve been physically active for more than three years now, and exercise at least 4 to 5 times a week. I’m stronger than I have ever been in my life, but my weight still places me in the obese category when figuring my body mass index. I know the problem is food – from portion control, not enough vegetable servings, eating on the run and too often only drinking coffee instead of a complete breakfast.

When I make the time to track my food intake, it opens my eyes to the importance of portions, finding a good balance of carbs, fat and protein and limiting my sugar and salt intake.

I quit regular soda consumption nearly four years ago, which helps, but still need to work on drinking enough water each day. I find it easier to drink water during the summer when hot weather reminds me to find ways to cool down.

While I love to cook (and really need to learn to use my baking skills for good and not evil), I need to learn to make smaller meals now that I live on my own, and need to take the time to better plan them. I am no longer the picky child who would only eat peas, corn and potatoes as my vegetable options. Roasted brussels sprouts, broccoli and cauliflower taste amazing, but I confess to being lazy in the kitchen when it comes to veggies. If someone else does the work I’m more than happy to eat a salad.

Magazines, TV shows and the Internet inundate us with nutrition tips and advice, which can feel overwhelming. Starting small helps. Make one change until it becomes a habit, and then trying something else. Allow yourself one cheat meal a month where you don’t count calories.

I swapped out sugar in my coffee for stevia, but still require cream or milk in it. I use less butter and bacon fat while cooking in favor of healthier oils. I make salad dressing from scratch so I know what I am eating.

What works for you?

 Original story

Strive to celebrate differences

Originally published November 11, 2016

Strive to celebrate differences

Why do people fear and reject differences? In a time when we are so connected through the internet, how do we justify holding on to biases, stereotypes and prejudices?

For many years, I admit I carried a bias against people with tattoos.

I’m unsure of the root of my bias. Perhaps I bought into the common stereotype that those with tattoos were criminals or belong to gangs. Or that those with tattoos like pain, live unconventional lives or seek attention. A lower back tattoo has the unfortunate bias of a “tramp stamp.”

I used to say I would never get a tattoo, both because of my bias, but also because of my dislike of needles and knowing people who got a tattoo on a whim and came to regret it.

While human civilization has a mixed view of tattoos, the practice of tattooing dates back to at least the fourth millennium BC. Some are tribal and serve as a rite of passage. Sailors often got a tattoo to signify their first crossing of the equator. And World War II found tattoos used in one of the worst ways possible- to identify people held prisoner at the Auschwitz concentration camp.

I met someone with many visible tattoos and confess she intimidated me at first.

Then I got to know her, and I found her to be one of the sweetest souls I have ever met. I learned the stories behind her tattoos and now consider her a dear friend.

So, I began to change my mind and accept tattoos as a form of art and self-expression. After losing my father, I found myself considering a tattoo as a memorial to him.

A friend of the family sent my mother a dragonfly charm and a lovely story with the message that any time you see a dragonfly, it is your loved one checking in with you. So I considered getting a dragonfly tattoo. But it did not feel right, or say anything to me about my father. I donated a toy last December to Ultimate Arts’ Tats 4 Tots, which gave me a gift certificate toward a tattoo. And I finally found the inspiration for a memorial to my father in his photographs. He loved visiting Maroon Bells in Colorado and photographed them in every season. And he signed one of his photos when he framed it.

The staff at Ultimate Arts, after reviewing my idea for a tattoo, suggested Jim as the tattoo artist who could make my vision a reality.

While the tattoo would be bigger than I first expected, I chose my left shoulder as the canvas for it. Not only was it above my heart, but I cherish the memory of Dad’s hand on my shoulder as he taught me to ride a bike.

My tattoo session took nearly four hours, and while it was uncomfortable, it was not unbearable. The result turned out even more beautiful than I expected, rich in detail. While it is not always visible to others, I know it is there.

Unfortunately, some may judge me for the tattoo. Justin Douglas, who used to serve as the pastor of Living Hope Community Church in Fox Lake recently wrote an amazing blog post, “You Know God Hates Tattoos, Right?” that can be found on his web page and does a far better job than I could do of confronting the issue of that judgment.

We all have biases, find ourselves falling back on stereotypes and hold on to prejudices.

But we can be better.

We can do better.

We can question ourselves about why we fear differences, and hopefully change our minds and open our hearts. H. Jackson Brown wrote, “Remember that everyone you meet is afraid of something, loves something and has lost something.”

I hope we can seek that which connects us to others and learn to embrace differences, not fear them.

Online:

To read Justin Douglas' blog post, “You Know God Hates Tattoos Right?!” visit:

http://pastorjustindouglas.com/2016/08/30/you-know-god-hates-tattoos-right/

Night Shift

Originally published in 2008

The Chief of Police congratulated me on taking a "boring night and turning it into an interesting story." So here is the story from my night riding along with a police officer on Friday, June 13, 2008.

Night Shift

Sgt. Craig Freitag helps keep the peace in Randolph 

RANDOLPH, Wis. - The streets of Randolph are typically quiet at night, and the Randolph Police Department works hard to keep it that way. Sergeant Craig Freitag, who has worked for the police department for two and a half years, usually works the late shift, patrolling village streets on foot or in his squad car. Although Freitag has an office at the police department, he doesn't spend much time there. 

"It's kind of like our office," Freitag said of the squad car.
He worked from 7:30 p.m. on Friday, June 13, to the early morning hours of Saturday. Freitag's shift began with him checking the accuracy of the radar used to apprehend speeders and making sure the squad car is safe to drive. He said that Friday nights in the summer are busy, with a lot of north bound traffic on Highway 73 heading for lake homes. Before five minutes had passed in his shift, he had pulled over a vehicle for traveling 14 miles over the speed limit.****

"Radar detectors are worthless," said Freitag. He said that by the time a detector goes off, police radar has already captured a vehicle's speed.
Freitag also said that police departments don't have quotas to meet.
"I don't care if I write one ticket, zero or 20," said Freitag. "I get paid the same."
Freitag said that what is important is his presence, reminding drivers of the need to slow down and pay attention. He said he sees too many people drive by talking on cell phones.
"You can tell when they are not paying attention," Freitag.
Within 10 minutes, he pulled over another vehicle for speeding 14 miles over the limit. By the end of his shift, he has pulled over two vehicles for speeding 16 miles over the limit, and a third for speeding 21 miles over the limit.
"I wish I would have started from day one of being a cop, just writing the excuses down. They never get old." Freitag said that the excuse from one of the drivers caught going 16 over was "I just want to get home."
The person going 21 mph over the limit used the excuse that they were lost.
"Going 16 (and 21) over in a residential area is excessive," said Freitag.
The fines for speeding 16 and 21 over in Randolph are $109 and $159. Working for a small police department requires officers to wear a lot of different hats, from working an animal control call to investigating a crime.
"One day you're a detective, the next you are a patrol officer. In a bigger department, you're taking calls - that's it," said Freitag. "One night you may go from call to call...the next night you may be trying to find something and work on reports or do a foot patrol."
Freitag also serves as the Drug Abuse Resistance Education (DARE) officer for the police department, going into schools to talk to students about how to resist peer pressure and live productive drug and violence-free lives.
"At work and on patrol you see a lot of negativity, people being rude or intoxicated," said Freitag, who enjoys going into the schools. "It breaks up the week by going in there, it's all positive. I enjoy that."
"Tomorrow will be a different day," said Freitag. "That's why I like going to work - I don't know what to expect. Things were quiet for Freitag on his Friday the 13th shift. Other than the traffic stops, he answered one call for a noise complaint and secured an open door at the high school at 1 a.m. Freitag, originally from Barneveld, said that he has a way of coping with the negativity he sees on the job.
"You leave it at work and forget about it," Freitag said.


****My apologies to friends and family in Illinois, but anyone who drives to Northern Wisconsin on a weekend or holiday will appreciate the source of my attitude. The first car pulled over was a Lincoln Navigator. I was asked if the driver should receive a warning or a ticket. The driver was clocked going 14 over, and he had plates from the state to the south.
"He's from Illinois," I told the sergeant. "Let's give him a ticket."

Kitchen Chemistry

Originally published in April 2005

 Kitchen chemistry

“Has trouble following directions” was a comment found on some of my earliest report cards. I blame my overactive imagination and tendency to daydream more than the my sometimes-contrary nature. When the situation calls for it, I can follow directions, though I don’t like being told what to do and tend to dig in my heels in certain situations. 

When it comes to cooking, it is very rare for me to follow recipe directions to a “T.” If I’m cooking something new, I look up recipes for it in multiple cookbooks or on the Internet, and then cobble together a recipe of my own. I’m the kitchen equivalent of a mad scientist testing a new formula, but instead of a lab coat, I sport an apron. Some experiments yield success, and others are abject failures.
The only recipes I don’t fiddle with are ones that I already know produce excellent results, like the caramel brownies recipe from the mother of my childhood best friend, or any recipe from my grandmother.
While I love to cook and try new things, the hustle and bustle of everyday life doesn’t leave a lot of time to experiment, and the limited counter space in my kitchen doesn’t give me a lot of room to maneuver.
In December, I first tried an Italian Cream Cake made by The Cheesecake Factory for a warehouse store. The combination of delicate cake and rich marscapone cheese filling was divine. I sampled the cake again in late January and was inspired to try to make it on my own.
My cookbook shelf in the kitchen overflows with books and recipes I’ve snipped out over the years that I wanted to try. Most have yet to be tested or tampered with, but I recently came across a recipe for “Lemon Tiramisu Cake” that looked similar to the Italian Cream Cake. I decided to whip it up.
It was a great opportunity to use my copper mixing bowl, a birthday gift from my parents after I watched “Good Eats” on the Food Network. Alton Brown is a fun source for cooking advice, and copper bowls are supposed to great for beating egg whites. As the daughter of a former copper mining engineer, I tend to favor anything made of copper.
Following Brown’s advice to use three bowls to separate eggs, I soon had cracked the six eggs the recipe called for. After allowing the eggs to come to room temperature, I poured the whites into the copper bowl with a pinch of salt and a bit of cream of tartar and broke out the hand mixer. Gradually adding sugar, I soon had a bowl full of glossy peaks that reminded me of winter snowdrifts in my backyard on a sunny day.
The yolks, vanilla extract and flour were folded into the meringue. The recipe also called for lemon extract, but I don’t keep any in the house, as my inner food snob turns up her nose at artificial flavors. My springform pan, greased and lined with greased wax paper, was soon filled up with a light and luscious batter.
The cake rose beautifully, and I soon had it cooling on my wire rack while I worked on the filling, making it with marscapone cheese and lemon curd. The recipe also called for whipped cream and ricotta cheese, but I substituted light cream cheese instead. It also called for a lot more powdered sugar than I was willing to use.
My parents raised me to appreciate the natural flavor of things, especially when it comes to whipped cream. We use sugar sparingly, preferring to taste the cream, not have it be something so sweet it makes your teeth hurt.
When the cake was cool, I cut it in half and slathered on the filling. The remaining lemon curd was used as a glaze for the top of the cake, and then I dusted the cake with powdered sugar.
The results were delicious, if not quite right just yet. Next time I’ll obey the recipe and use cake flour instead of just sifting all-purpose flour, and I’ll add some lemon zest to the batter. I think I’ll also reduce by half the number of yolks the recipe calls for. Perhaps instead I can use the yolks while trying to make lemon curd from scratch.
My usual preference for cake is chocolate, though I have made banana cake and love my mother’s oatmeal cake. Still, there is something delightful about this recipe with its cheesecake-like filling. It fits the season, the perfect cake for spring, light and delicate with a rich, lemony filling. 

I closed my column with information about some upcoming brat fries and bake sales that the Randolph Chamber of Commerce is holding as fundraisers, with the promise that I'll make the cake for a few of them. I'll be whipping together the cake again tonight, as I'm working all day at a brat fry/bake sale tomorrow.

In the crease

Originally Published on  November 10, 2007

In the crease

My favorite college mascot will always be the Michigan Tech Husky. My parents took me to Michigan Tech hockey games before I was walking on my own, so I was delighted when my aunt called last month and offered me first dibs on her season hockey tickets for the match-up between the Badgers and Huskies. 

I gleefully accepted, and then invited my friend Jenny, who graduated from UW. When my son learned that I was going to a Tech hockey game without him, he was upset, so I wound up calling the MTU ticket office and buying tickets for the Friday game too. I neglected to check the calendar first, and the Husky/Badger games in Madison fell on a weekend he would be with his father.
The other male Husky hockey fan in my family, my father, was more than happy to use the extra ticket. We met on Friday on the east side of Madison, and drove downtown to the Kohl Center together. Our seats were three rows back from the team bench, so by the end of the first period we were using four of our senses to take in the game: the chill of the air in the ice arena, the sounds of skates on ice and the puck hitting sticks, the sight of the hockey players checking each other into the glass...and the smell.
After many seasons of being in the bottom of the pack in the Western Collegiate Hockey Association, the Huskies were the top team in the WCHA going into Friday’s game. It was very satisfying to be there for the win.
There was just a small group of Tech fans clustered behind the team, easy targets for the sometimes humorous but too often unsportsmanlike conduct of Badger hockey fans (particularly the student section.)
Walking down State Street before the Saturday game, I spotted members of the MTU pep band, sporting their distinctive black and gold overalls.
I couldn’t resist shouting “Go Tech” to them. They stood out again in the Kohl Center, prompting the student Badger fans to point them out while chanting a word that is a euphemism for a body part.
In a break between periods, a sweet motorcycle was rolled onto the ice as the finale to a contest. Three contestants were given keys to try, and the one who started the bike would win. In the row ahead of us were two couples. The female halves of the couples were both at least three points higher on a 1-10 scale than their boyfriends. They were having an animated conversation about the bikes, and turned around and included Jenny and I in it.
"Hockey and motorcycles," said the cuter of the two guys. "What else is there to talk about?"
"Food and sex," I said.
He nodded sagely and asked his girlfriend if she wanted to switch topics.
When the second period started, MTU scored in the first 30 seconds. I jumped to my feet and cheered, the only person on my feet in that corner and level of the Kohl Center.
The guy I'd talked to turned around and said "What the f@&k?"
I told him I went to MTU, and he replied, "I don't give a shit."
It was amusing, but he turned out to be a pretty decent guy, though he gave me crap when the Badgers scored. At the end, when it was obvious the Badgers would win, he turned around and said it was a good game, shook my hand, telling me that Tech was a much better team now than it had been in previous years.
Though MTU lost to the Badgers on Saturday, it was still an exciting game to watch, even if my aunt and uncle’s tickets had me deep in Badger territory. 

Letting go of a light from the past

Originally published in September 2005

Letting go of a light from the past

In previous columns, I think I’ve established that I am a pack rat. I collect books, still have some of my childhood toys, and pretty much have held on to anything I’ve written since about the seventh grade. I’ve also got a streak of thriftiness, often holding on to things I think I may have a use for some day.

My closets and cupboards are neat and organized, but chaos can be found on the dining room table, bathroom counter top, and mostly in my room.
My room is always a work in progress. I’ve got file boxes piled on file boxes, and many projects going at once. It’s not only where I sleep, but also where I have my computer, exercise bike, a reading chair, the television and my birthday gift to me, an X-Box.
I’m working to conquer the clutter and may soon burn out the motor in my shredder as I get rid of old bank records and things on file that I don’t need anymore.
Countless books have been written on the subject of clutter, and I own about two or three. There are believed to be many psychological reasons for clutter, ranging from it being a manifestation of depression or anxiety, or as a symptom of Attention-Deficit Disorder or Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. Some research suggests that people use clutter as a way to avoid dealing with other people. We also develop an emotional attachment to things.
I’ve always had a good memory. I can vividly recall the home I lived in from kindergarten to fourth grade, remembering details that surprise my parents.
I think my house may be as cluttered as my memory is. Take a walk through my home with me, and I can fill you in on the history of things, from where I got them, how long I’ve had them and even who I was with.
My fiend of a cat, Zoopie, took the decision out of my hands on what to do with an one item I’ve had for about 20 years.
When I was about 10 or 11, I bought a night light for my room. Yes, that seems a bit old to have a night light, but it was a porcelain-like figure of a woman leaning against a full grown unicorn, with a baby unicorn frolicking at her feet. Being the horse-crazy girl that I was, I loved it and had to have it.
The night light was purchased at a jewelry store in the Mesa Mall in Grand Junction, Colo. My family and I were visiting our friends, the Niemalas that day. Their daughter, Dana, is between my sister and me in age and the three of us were as thick as thieves. I saw the light in an ad in the newspaper and we made a trip to the mall. I know that Dana’s mother, Janet, was with us that day. It’s a memory made poignant since that lovely woman passed away several years ago.
I remember the store, and though the mall has grown and changed since then, I bet I could still lead you to the corner where it stood, where the main hall intersected one that went to a sporting goods store on one end and Mervyn’s at the other. I also purchased a pen that had a digital watch that is long since gone.
Over the years, the night light stood on a dresser in my room, making the move from Colorado to Michigan. The baby unicorn’s horn broke off and was glued back on. The light was packed away for a few years while I was in college. When I moved into my own home, it returned to its place on my dresser. I’d reclaimed my bedroom set from my parents that Mom had purchased from a co-worker when I was a teen. The dresser had a vanity mirror surrounded by knick knack shelves.
When I moved in 2003, I got rid of that bedroom set. Most things displayed on the shelves have a new home, but I didn’t have a free outlet plug for the night light.
The light was left in a box in the basement. Zoopiecat, on a mission to explore and get into places she doesn’t belong, knocked that box down last week.
The night light fell out and hit the floor, shattering the head of the big unicorn into fragments too tiny to find.
Perhaps if I had been able to let go of the night light two years ago, it would now be watching over some other horse-crazy little girl at night while she dreams.
Instead, it has been sitting on my kitchen counter for the last week. I need to toss it in the trash.
And now that I have remembered it here, I can.

Discover the magic of reading

Originally published June 21, 2003

Discover the magic of reading

I love books. When I pick up a good one, it is hard to pry it out of my hands until the last page has been turned.
As a child, I would hide under the covers of my bed with a flashlight and a book because I just could not fall asleep without finding out how a story ends. My mother is still convinced that’s the reason I need glasses.
As an adult, I never seem to have enough time to read. There is a tall stack of books on the bedside table waiting to be read, and I keep a running list of books that I want to pick up from the library. I have outgrown the need to belong to music clubs, but I am still an easy target for book club offers that appear in my mailbox.
I have passed on my love of reading to my son, and together we have not only read some of my old favorites, but also discovered a lot great new stories, including the Harry Potter series.
I did not want to read Harry Potter at first, as whenever something gets a lot of hype in the media, my contrary nature makes me want to avoid it. However, when trailers for the first movie began to appear; my son was so intrigued by it that I decided we really should read the book before going to the movie. He was too young to read it himself, so I read it aloud. It was the first chapter book I read to him, as previously he could not seem to sit still for books unless they had pictures.
From the first chapter, we both were captivated by the story. When it was over, we moved on to the second book.
Knowing how much trouble I have putting down a book, I swore to myself that I would only read the book with my son. No reading ahead allowed. I was able to keep that promise until, 50 pages from the end of book three, my son fell asleep. At that point, I was too caught up in the story to resist, and I finished the book. Then I made the mistake of picking up the fourth book at 11 o'clock at night. I think I got about an hour of sleep and only made it through work the next day with steady hits of caffeine.

Harry Potter, Public Enemy No. 1?
According to the American Library Association, the books in the Harry Potter series are more challenged than “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn” or “Catcher in the Rye.” Having read the series, I have trouble understanding that. Have the opponents of the books actually read them, or have they just heard that the word "witch" is inside; therefore they must be bad books?
The Harry Potter series touches on the importance of family and friendships, standing up to bullies and facing your fears in a way that captures the imagination of children and adults alike. The series has pulled kids away from television and computer screens back into the pages of a book.
To me, that's a wonderful thing.
I do believe it is just as important for parents to know what their children are reading as it is to know what they watch on television. Mom learned that when I was 13 after my younger sister picked up a V.C. Andrews book I had finished and then used a few colorful phrases from it to call me names. Mom demanded to know where she had heard those phrases, then read the book herself. After that, those books were no longer allowed in the house. To encourage me to read something better, she offered me a $1 for each "classic" book I read. As a parent now, I’m considering a similar offer to get my son out of his comic book phase. Because I believe it is important for adults to know what kids are reading, I highly encourage everyone to read the Harry Potter series.
Discover for yourself what all the hype is about.
You’ll be surprised at how much you enjoy them. Don’t dismiss them as bad because they contain wizards, witches, and magic. I could write a series of columns on my views of censorship, books being banned and book burnings, but I won’t.
Today, book five in the Harry Potter series has been released. I am avoiding the rush to the bookstores and will wait impatiently for the copy I pre-ordered from Amazon.com back in March to arrive. This time, I am holding myself to the promise of only reading it aloud to my son.
I need my sleep.

(Note- We got 70 pages into book 5 when my voice began to give. My son had to leave to spend the weekend with his father, and granted me a special dispensation to read ahead. I had it finished that night.)