Tuesdays...

I have a friend who says 'Things will be different next Tuesday'. It's her maxim for life and I remember it when things are tough on Thursday.

Last week was my weekus horribilis creatively; New Zealand Post Children's Book Award shortlistings do your head in, no matter how resilient you think you are. So I'm very pleased to say that on Saturday, The Red Poppy made the Storylines Notable Book list; we have not been forgotten.  I didn't really think about how great that was until today, because Sunday was spent in a state of anxiety with our son's impending surgery. He is 22 and needed a rib removed- not for any aesthetic reason as Marilyn Manson was rumoured to have done, but because he had an interesting condition called Paget- Schroetter disease or Thoracic Outlet Syndrome that caused some worrying blood clots last year. There is always a risk with surgery, but I'm happy to say that he had it yesterday and has come through it beautifully. Tuesday has arrived and here we are, looking forward to next week.

Whilst waiting for him to come out of the operating theatre I finished the book I was reading. Melinda Syzmanik's 'A Winter's Day in 1939' (Scholastic). It is a superb and haunting tale based on her father's own history. It's the story of Adam, a 12 year old Polish boy whose family are transported to work in Soviet labour camps during WW2. There is a particular scene in the book that stayed with me. It was a metaphor for me for the way I was feeling on Monday; small and helpless whilst danger sniffed all around; praying that death would leave and hope would be restored.

I find drawing a calming thing in times of stress, and drew what was there in my head from Melinda's words. The pencil was in my hand before I had a chance to refuse it. I can draw anywhere and a hospital waiting room is no exception.  I'm not often compelled to draw scenes from a novel, but the images she evokes are so vivid I couldn't help myself. A Winter's Day in 1939 is being launched in Wellington on Saturday at The Children's Bookshop in Kilbirnie at 3pm. I don't think anyone will mind if you pop along and buy a copy. Least of all you. 

Hidden Treasure

I'm quite busy at the moment; what with the launch of The Red Poppy tonight at the Children's Bookshop in Kilbirnie, working on another picture book for Scholastic and tearing the kitchen apart to create a nice clean space for new joinery. When I say 'I' in regard to the kitchen demolition, I mean Graham our builder who mercifully understands my appreciation of the layers of old wallpaper being uncovered in our 1910 villa. He stands aside whilst I photograph, peel and save patches of history, exclaiming all the while 'Oh, this is where they did a renovation in 1980, and this wonderful pattern from 1960 and... why this must be from the second world war, and this... wow that's on top of the original scrim!'

We have found no less than 7 layers of wallpaper paint and scrim; each telling its own particular story. This is more exciting for me than the prospect of a new kitchen (in which I will have no more excuses not to cook).

Graham beckoned me over yesterday and said 'Look what I found' and there, tucked in between the wallboards and floor were an old pocket knife and a Red Triangle Badge. I googled the latter and found out this information:

The minister of Internal Affairs approved the Y.M.C.A to hold a public appeal for funds to assist their war work. It was decided that the appeal would be known as "Red Triangle Day" to be held on March 15th, 1917. The YMCA undertook considerable work within New Zealand and especially overseas during the war, providing Christian based home comforts, accommodation, social and recreational facilities and entertainment, convalescent facilities, and canteens. Providing Christian based facilities and fellowship was seen as a necessary alternative to safeguard soldiers from often immoral and corrupting alternatives.

It is serendipitous (and just a little spooky) that we found the badge this week, and our Anzac book launch is today, March 14th, 95 years later almost to the day. I like to think it is a sign from the universe that our efforts are being recognised and those soldiers who were thrown to the lions in WW1 approve. We live today, as they would have hoped, in a country unaffected by the hardship and terror of war; long may it continue.