Writing for Children

Read to Me

by Regina Montana

An article about a new program sponsored by the ASPCA recently appeared in the newspaper.  It described how volunteers are reading to abused dogs in preparing them for adoption.   I was very moved and wrote the following poem.

Read to Me

People hurt me.

I never knew why.

I want to forget.

I have to try.

I’m in a shelter now.

It’s different here.

They bring lots of books.

I have less fear.

If you read to me,

you’ll see my heart.

Your voice will heal.

I’ll find a new start.

I’m just a dog.

Don’t throw me away.

Please read to me.

I’ll be whole one day.

On July 2, 2016 an uninvited guest showed up in our front yard.  I was aghast as my husband called out to come quickly to the top of our driveway.  He had been weeding alongside a small evergreen tree when his gloved hand came within an inch of a four-foot long black snake that then slithered away from us as we looked on in amazement.  But not before it stopped and coiled up, ready to strike in case we dared come any closer.

I grabbed my iPhone and began to videotape the snake as he made his way toward cover, narrating for my grandson the arrival of this most unwelcomed visitor.  Attempting to mask the fear in my voice, I told him the snake was just being a snake and trying to get away from us.   We watched as the nearly 48-inch-long, maybe even 60 inch-long, black creature disappeared into some low-lying brush.

My cousin, a Master Gardner, later said it might be a Black Racer and if it were, it would be beneficial for our yard since this species will eat small rodents, frogs and voles.  I have to admit it’s a very cool name for an animal that does not summon a lot of positive feeling when seen in the wild, or in one’s backyard.  I like to think of my surroundings as a haven for robins, cardinals, chipmunks and squirrels, not crawling reptiles.

I prefer to see them in a controlled environment – behind glass in a zoo.  I have no problem with an occasional garter snake;  they are fairly cute.  Last year one made his home in a narrow opening between a sliding door and cement step leading out to a patio.  I could peer out at him every so often and see him in the crack where he apparently enjoyed some welcomed shade.   I made up stories about him for my grandson and named him Sherman.  When we no longer could find him, I explained he had most likely returned to his family in the woods.

This year may be different.  I’ll have to come up with an endearing story, this time about the four-footer.  It won’t be easy, but calling him a Black Racer (even if he is not that species) will light up the eyes of this five-year-old, hopefully making him less fearful and allowing his imagination to run wild, conjuring up all kinds of possibilities as to the snake’s whereabouts and activities.  I, on the other hand, will be very happy never to see him again.  The reality is, however, that he is very likely somewhere in the yard, as afraid of meeting me as I am of him.

Black Racer makes it into our local newspaper, The Gazette

On December 16, 2015 we lost our beloved mother, grandmother, great grandmother, mother-in-law and friend, Marie Montana. She will be missed forever by many people and looked up to as a role model by just about anyone who had the privilege of knowing her.   I loved her as if she were my own mother and will remember her gentle style, loving care, concern, modesty and kindness.  She had it all and then some.   I have no memory of a negative or critical comment toward me, her daughter-in-law.   Sandy, Jerry and I all called her “Mom” since there was never a question in our minds that she was like a mother to each of us.  She would always say, “Isn’t that beautiful” if you related the most ordinary event to her.  Of course looking back some of the ordinary events in life are the most beautiful.  Thank you, dear mother Marie, for all you gave and all you were to us.  We will never forget you and we look forward to being with you again in heaven.

Sometimes you are called to act.  As I was passing by my daughter’s bedroom a few  years ago, I was focused on her doll cabinet, filled with dolls that hadn’t been played with in years.  I thought how sad it was that they sat there month after month, year after year with no one touching them or enjoying their beauty.  It was then that I remembered the hundreds of refugees pouring into Germany and an idea was born.   All these children arriving in the middle of the night, after treacherous journeys must be filled with lots of emotions and traumas after leaving their homelands.  What joy it would be for them to have a small doll or stuffed animal greet them in this foreign country, now their new home – at least for a while. And so on December 6, 2015 at 9:00 in the morning, a church project began as parishioners brought boxes of toys to our hall to be sent to Passau, Germany.  The city of Passau lies in southern Germany and migrants were arriving and crossing the border.  I know that these donations of toys from my parish of Holy Name of Mary will brighten the faces of children who had to flee the violence of their homes and serve as a small welcome gift as they arrive in this new country.

Dec. 22, 2015 – Today we received word that our boxes have arrived and Frau Beate Heindl sent some photos of children with the stuffed animals. We are so thrilled to share the following photo.

June 1, 2022 – So today it is 7 years later and a story called  A TEA PARTY FAR AWAY has undergone many revisions. This picture book will tell the story of Maddie, a second grader, who has to decide whether to donate her treasured possessions when her teacher suggests a drive to send toys to children arriving at the southern border of the U.S.