I Survived the Battle of D-Day, 1944: An exciting account of D-Day from a child's point of view

I Survived the Battle of D-Day, 1944 by Lauren Tarshis
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

An exciting account of D-Day from a child's point of view

I read this book as part of a kids' book club. It was chosen, by popular vote, by five young boys ranging from 9 to 11. I'm glad we chose this book. Boys tend to get excited about World War II. I don't know what it is about war and boys. Even my son, whom I haven't exposed to any sort of violent media in the past, somehow made everything into guns, even paper. I was hesitant at first. However, while I was reading it, I soon saw the appeal. It also describes a tender relationship between a son and a mother a boy's longing for his best friend who was taken away by the Nazis. It was also timely to read this book while we are all going through the effects of the Covid-19 pandemic. It's the first time that kids are going through something challenging on a global level. The assignments I gave the group were: a time capsule, a recreation of a fortified castle described in the book (using coloring materials, blocks, or even Minecraft), and a decoding of a Caesar Cipher. Overall, a great book for young boys.

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Green

Green
by Justine C. Tajonera

Mr. Ying, our consultant, always signed his documents
with green ink. It was as distinctive as the bold strokes
of his signature itself. I bought myself a green pen
today. And as I write I think of newly cut grass and
the sap encrusted leaves of mango trees and the line of
water near the beach that borders the darkness of deep
water and the long stretch where you can wade and the
crinkly looking seaweed that are in abundance in May.
I think of your birthday which is today. Maybe
I should have written on your card in green. There
won't be a reply. I know it already. So, I should
have written in the color of stalks, hopeful for
the blooming of flowers.

Heartbeat

by Justine C. Tajonera

Last week, as I trudged up
and down the chilly streets
of Kyoto,
marveling at flowers
that would never bloom
here,
I hardly heard
you.

Yesterday, I finally
listened.

There is no reason
that I shouldn't hope
for the
best,

that I shouldn't
see what this is
all for.

I join my hands
with yours,
close my
eyes,
and listen
to the beating
of our
hearts.

The song we make,
no matter how brief
or how long,
will be
beautiful.

(March 16, 2010)
Image of dragonflies in a translucent origami heart from http://www.flickr.com/photos/deafredbear/244241210/

Windmills

by Justine C. Tajonera

The beach was paved
with windmills,
white and tall
stretching into
the horizon.

It was like I was
in a different world:
post-apocalyptic
Japanese anime
or Scandinavian coastline,
anywhere
but here.

Anything massive
or environmental
or a machine
that actually works
couldn't come
from
here.

Little faith,
accumulated losses,
a history of
disappointment
color these blank,
white windmills
of the North.

Like the blowing arm
of nature,
collectively unleashing
its amoral force,
circumstances threaten
to drown
my hope.

But an ember
remains.

It is slow to fan,
dragging in pace,
but it is there.
I hold out my hands
harnessing
what approaches.

Our time

will come.

(Nov. 4, 2009)
Contemplation on the windmills of Ilocos Norte

The Lights Along Granada Street

By Justine C. Tajonera

I know the season has changed
because of the lights along
Granada Street.
Every year, Christmas
parols light up
the road
on either side.

And even when
I feel overwhelmed,
tired, and resigned,
something inside me
turns on
with the lights.

It might be years of
conditioning.
Or it might be
hope.

Whenever we turn
the corner,
I know that
something lifts
from my shoulders.

(Oct. 16, 2009)

Parol - Traditional Philippine Christmas lanterns

Image sourced from beta.irri.org