Washington – Karen Cushman

The meaning of home

Karen Cushman — Thu, 21 May 2015 11:55:37 +0000

Q: What does “home” means to you?

A: We live in the woods, on an island. Coming home from the big city, I really experience the importance of place. The closer the ferry gets to the island, the more relaxed I feel. My shoulders let go, my head empties. This place is where I leave traffic and crowds behind and become more me. This place, this island, nurtures and supports me. It is, therefore, pretty odd that after 13 years, I don’t think of this place as home. Home is still the Bay Area, California, where Leah grew up, where we had three cats and a dog, where we were a family together.

Magical Birds

Karen Cushman — Sat, 04 Oct 2014 12:22:45 +0000

Each Thursday as I head to my Pilates class, I pass these birds—not crows, not ravens, cravens—on the side of an empty building in Vashon. They make me smile each time. My friend, artist and performer Steffon Moody, painted them last May, free hand and in six hours (time lapse video). Aren’t they wonderful? The building will shortly be torn down to make room for a new art center. I will be in mourning but I’m sure he has something else artistic and wonderful up his sleeve.

Vashon Island Sheep Dog Trials

Karen Cushman — Mon, 25 Aug 2014 12:07:48 +0000

Vashon Sheepdog Trials, August 23, 2014. Now we have to wait until next year, sigh.

Expectation

Karen Cushman — Fri, 22 Aug 2014 11:52:10 +0000

The sheep are arriving for the Vashon Island Sheepdog Trials. Sun, beer, black and white dogs stalking sheep–a great time will be had by all.

An Amazing Journey

Karen Cushman — Thu, 29 May 2014 12:00:08 +0000

Catherine, Called Birdy is one of my favorite books to recommend. I know the reader will have an amazing journey through history with a strong, tenacious, witty, imaginative character. So often, once they have read Catherine, they come back for more of Karen’s books.

Congratulation, Karen your books are so essential for our Kids.

Thank you,
Nancy Katica
Vashon Bookshop

Stories of Arrival

Karen Cushman — Tue, 22 Apr 2014 12:00:25 +0000

In honor of Poetry Month (I know I’m late to the party, but it’s still April). I would like to share a poem from the Immigrant and Refugee Youth Voices Poetry Project at Foster High School in Tukwila, Washington. Poet and teaching artist Merna Hecht works each year with refugee students from war-torn countries as they struggle to find words to express their longing, their courage and resilience, and their hopes for the future. Hau Sian Khai is from Burma. He hopes he never forgets his home.

Where I Grew Up

by Hau Sian Khai

Sometimes I wish that my city in Burma was surrounded By cheerful green trees
weaving in the wind Fresh, bubbling blue water Clean, healthy air floating.

There are white, shiny bright tunics
Wondering around my city in Malaysia,
Long hairy beards like spider webs
Hurrying to the mosque for prayers.

Other times I think of
The smell of sea fish,
The smell of dead animals from hunger and cold, The smell of burning flames from
outdoor fires, The smells from garbage, awful funky animal smells.

The struggle of hunger,
The struggle of sickness
And dying, needing a cure,
The struggle of war,
People forced to move away from home,
Carrying their belongings and valuables
Like heavy, giant rocks.

For more information or to order a copy of the anthology, see Merna Hecht’s website.