thanks so much. Good morning, hello, hello, hello, out there. I think everybody's in and most of you have food
before I introduce the next person, I just want to say, I hope you all had a great time last night, wherever you were, the book swap. Dinner was a blast. I think I got to sit at the best table. We laughed so hard, and that is the best thing for the soul. So thank you all who are at my table. It was amazing, and we have a huge, fabulous day in store for you. And now I would like to introduce Kathy Berner, who many of you know from Blue Willow books. Kathy has been probably one of the biggest supporters of ABA and of children's, the Book Council, and I bet you've been to every single Institute, haven't you? Every kids Institute? Yeah. And so I'm going to bring Kathy up, who will introduce our morning speaker. Thank you, Kathy. Applause.
Thank you, Joy morning, y'all, I just have to shout out all the booksellers who are here for the first time. What a joy to see so many new faces in the room. And I don't know if they're here in the room, but I do want to shout out Dara and David from class bookstore in Houston, Texas. They started, yes, Arthur. Arthur is David, but they had a brainchild, and they started the Houston book call in April, and it transformed our April business. It was like December, and that idea from people who are new to the field reminds me every day that there are always ideas to be had in conversation. So thank you for that. That was amazing. I love being a bookseller. It is, I think, the best job in the world. I especially love the joys of discovery and connection. I know many of you in the room love the same feeling when you're reading something new and your brain starts to hum because you think it's special, and then you know it's special, and then you get to talk about it with your colleagues, and then you get to hand sell it, and then you get to bring the author to school visits, and then you get to do an in store event. And you keep that discovery and connection alive. Renee Watson and her books provide both of those joys to readers from all age levels, from picture books like summer is here, the 1619 project born on the water, to the delightful Ryan Hart series that fills me with joy every time I see that girl on the cover, to the award winning Some places more than others, to her upcoming novel, all the blues in the sky, which is in the words of our book selling colleague, Nicole Brinkley, an earnest balm to the soul for young readers who want a sincere, hopeful meditation on grief. Friends, I read it in one sitting, and it has changed me. Rene's work truly exemplifies rudine Sims Bishop's example of books being both mirrors and Windows. Her books reflect readers experiences back to them and allow readers a peek into the lives of others, leading to the empathy of that sliding glass door. Her work like Renee herself, is gorgeous and engaging, and I am so glad to know both Renee and her books. Please join me in welcoming Renee to the stage. You
you. Good morning. I am so honored to be here. Thank you for that beautiful introduction. I would like to begin with a quote by Angelo, my greatest hope is that I laugh as much as I cry. My greatest hope is that I laugh as much as I cry. I think that that is profound wisdom, that she is not hoping that she'll never cry, but she's hoping that she'll have as much laughter as the tears here, Maya pretty much guarantees that there will be a lot of sorrow in this life. I agree with her, and this is why I tell stories. I do not write for children to escape reality. I write to help them cope with it. I believe young readers need to see characters who face devastating circumstances in healthy ways and all the blues in the sky. The character sage is grieving the sudden death of her best friend. She is 13, and she wants to be a pilot one day. So so much of what she sees about the world is through looking at it by comparing it to what she's learning about flying after learning about the different layers of the sky, the different shades of blue pilots. Pilots see many shades of blue in the sky, light blue, medium blue, vibrant, bright blue, white, blue, violent blue, a blue, deep and mysterious mixed with gray, a blue that melts and sheds and morphs into purples and pinks. Everyone looks at those blue skies and loves them. Everyone loves those beautiful blue skies, but sometimes, sometimes the sky is dark blue, black, blue, midnight blue, and sometimes life is blue too. Blue is the empty chair at the desk in the classroom where my best friend used to sit. Blue is the ache in my heart when I pick up the phone to call her and remember she is gone, gone. Blue is aunt Emmy's warm hugs. Blue is a hot mug of cocoa on a cold winter day. Blue is all the calm, all the heartbreak, all the hope, all the tears, all the laughter, maybe, just maybe blue, not red, is the color of love, with all its mood and passion and emotion for all the blues in the sky, there are as many blues in the heart. I want to talk about all the blues we carry. I can look out at you and I get a sense of your style. I see how you style your hair. I can kind of guess how tall you are, but I don't know what memories you hold. I don't know what losses you have had. I don't know who you're mourning. I don't know what recipes have been passed down generation after generation. This time you cried. I don't know what brings you, belly aching, laughter, what your favorite movie is, your favorite song, but it's all here in this room with us. We carry our stories, our histories, who we are, the essence of what we've been through with us everywhere we go. And I believe that young people carry their stories with them too. As our young people are learning and growing and finding their voices and processing what is happening in this world as they grieve, I want them to have a safe space to heal, to be seen, to be validated. I hope that my books are the hug a child needs, that my characters become their friends, that they hear me encouraging them through every line, every word. I see you. You can survive this I see you. Yes, yes. I know it's hard. I know I see you, but it's okay. It's okay to have questions, it's okay to keep dreaming. It's okay to have wild, big dreams. It's okay to cry, it's okay to be sad. I see you. I see here are some characters. Here's Jade and Ryan and Nala and sage. See how they rise. See you can rise too. Our young people need to know they can rise, that it won't always hurt this bad, that they can hold many time, that a bad day, a hard moment, a traumatic experience, doesn't define who they are. I believe they need to have books where they see characters grappling with intense feelings while holding on to joy and gratefulness, because, as Maya Angelou alluded to, along with the tears, there can be laughter. So let's talk about laughing as much as we cry. I want to talk about joy as resistance. Dr Robert Hayden describes joy as unreasonable happiness because it doesn't need a reason. It is a happiness that is based on nothing. In other words, it doesn't need a cause or an effect in order to exist. Happiness is brought by external things. Joy is internal. Joy does not change. When circumstances change, Joy is the inner knowing, a kind of peace that anchors the soul when chaos is erupting. I am the descendant of enslaved people. They left me a legacy of joy, of making a way out of no way. In the midst of brutality, they somehow found a way to sing, a way to communicate with each other, hidden messages for survival. They passed down their know how, through oral histories and art, they saw a future for future generations that would be better than the one they were living. Somehow they knew the current reality, the very real, painful, unjust reality they were enduring, would not could not last always I am talking about that kind of hope, that kind of joy, the kind of joy that is able to laugh and love and celebrate in times like these, the kind of joy that accompanies faith and resolve, the kind of joy that says even in the midst of wars and hate crimes, myths and racism, in the midst of book banning, any ratio of marginalized voices, even while grieving, we will not give up. We will press on, even with tears in our eyes, even with heavy hearts. We will fight. We will in all the blues in the sky. Sage is anchored by the wisdom and love from her aunt Emmy, who knows a thing or two about grief and is not afraid to have honest conversations about living and loss. This is a moment that they are talking and having a conversation about grief on any and I go to Chelsea Market. We try on jewelry, we know we are not going to buy taste samples and people watch. There's an even mix of tourists and locals, and we can tell by who keeps stopping to take pictures and ooh and ah. I miss her all the time. I say, you always will. Aunt any tells me really I ask not as an actual question, but because I am surprised aunt ENI is being so honest. Most times adults tell me it'll get better or Time will heal. But on any says you will miss her every day of your life. Sometimes the memories will bring tears, sometimes a smile. The memories won't always overwhelm you. They will bring comfort too. Is that how it is with you? Do you miss grandma every day, every single day, and she's been gone for 40 years. I think about this aunt, ENI, has been living 40 years without her sister, and dad has been without his mom most of his life. And I never knew this woman who is my grandmother 40 years and But isn't that a beautiful thing to have experienced, the kind of love that never truly leaves, that only grows and grows in the past 40 years? Aunt Emmy has cried and worried and prayed and dreamed and planned and failed and succeeded and laughed and celebrated and raised children and moved and worked and retired on vacation and volunteered and read and sang and walked and talked and remembered and reflected and dipped her toes in the ocean and watched snow fall and got caught out in the rain and loved and grieved. And every day she got up, and every day she got up,
our young people need to know that they can get up, that they can survive, that they can do hard things, and I believe books can show them how I often reflect on the words of James Baldwin, who said, You think your pain and heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read it was books that taught me that the things that tormented me most were The very things that connected me with all the people who were alive or had ever been alive. I believe reading is a form of listening, of taking in someone else's story. It is bearing witness of connection past and present to all who were alive, who are alive. I want our young readers to feel connected to the writers, poets and artists who left a blueprint on how to survive this world when times are discouraging and frustrating or confusing. For me, I turned to poets during the Great Depression and the civil rights movement during wars and protests. Poets like Gwendolyn Brooks, Martina, Spada, Sandra, Cisneros, Audre Lorde, leaned into their joy and penned verses about hope, faith, perseverance, when the worst things were happening in our nation. They wrote about dreams. Yes, they also wrote about struggle, but they celebrated life, as if to say, this hate will not steal my laugh, this sadness will not destroy my soul. Yes, there are protest poems, the dirges, the Proclamations, but there are also poems like the reason I love chocolate by Nikki Giovanni, Gary Soto's old about food and tennis shoes. These poems taught me how to hold on to my joy, how to say, I am not the tragic thing to or my people. My hope for all booksellers, educators and storytellers, is that we put the humanity of our students, families and communities that we serve at the center of our work, they need us to remember and acknowledge not only their pain, but their joy too. Let's remember that someone somewhere loves the young person we are handing a book to. Someone somewhere has big, wild dreams for that young person. It is never lost on me, writing for someone's child, someone's best thing, someone's hope, someone's tomorrow. I try my best to handle this privilege with care. I try to create books that are a soft landing, a healing space, if you know anything about me, on my right, and I love definitions, and I love unpacking them. Does healing mean? Healing verb, to make healthy whole, to restore and conflicts between people or groups to settle, to reconcile, to make well again, to mend, to repair, to strengthen. I believe words all of these things, words, mend, repair, strengthen. Words heal us, teach us, inspire us, stories, honor the past and prepare us for the future. Everywhere we go, we bring our stories with us, and our young people have stories they are carrying with them, questions about their hurt feelings over being bullied or teased they are having Middle School friendship dramas, panic over pimples and fear about how the divorce of their parents will forever change their life. They have lost pets, family members, teachers, neighbors. They have survived a pandemic. They are living life and feeling all the feelings I hope, and let them express those feelings that we help them name disappointments and give them permission to feel. I hope we do right by them and encourage them not to be in denial of the pain, but to also be grateful for the simple things that we encourage them to look around their neighborhood, their community, and find joy, find something to praise. I hope we do right by them and teach them that life is not all good or all bad. Life is a mixture of both, sometimes on the same day, the best and worst things are happening all at once. I hope we do right by them and make space for them to be whole people, that we let boys know it's okay to cry, that stop telling girls to smile, that we not only affirm black girls with phrases like black girl magic, but that we allow black girls to be regular, not magical, but human, that we let them know don't have over perform or do great things to earn acceptance. I hope we adjust how we talk about grief and change that we are honest and tell our children there is no moving on from grief. There was only living with it. So June is a very special month for me. 14 years ago, this month, my very first book was published. And thank you. And this marks the 14th anniversary of my first middle grade novel, which is what mama left me, and since then,
I feel this is a full circle moment, being here in New Orleans talking with all of you about grief and joy, because my first picture book, A place where hurricanes happen, takes place here in New Orleans, and is about life before, during and after Hurricane Katrina, based on poetry workshops and art making projects I did with young people in Gretna. And I'm deeply touched that I got to come back to this city give the books to the young people who inspired the story, I feel like my whole career, I've been exploring loss and joy in my first middle grade novel. What mama left me the character serenity is grieving the loss of her mother. There's a scene where she explodes in anger and is asking her Grandmother, why do bad things happen? And this is the conversation that they have, serenity, baby, who told you life was going to be fair? Now, I know you haven't baked with me in the kitchen for a while, but you do remember the main ingredients for a cake, don't you? I really don't feel like talking about her cookbook right now, but I say yes, and what are they? Well, you need eggs, flour, oil, I tell her, right? Grandma says, Now tell me, would you eat a raw egg? Of course not. Grandma, would you take a spoonful of flour and eat it or drink a cup of oil? I get grossed out just thinking about it, grandma, that's nasty. Exactly. Those things don't taste good all by themselves, do they? No, but what happens when you mix all those ingredients together, add some sweetness and flavor and bacon in the oven. Grandma asked it tastes good? I answer. Grandma smiles real good if I'm baking it, then she takes my hands. Serenity, baby, it's the same with life, the deaths of us friends, hurting your feelings. There are all kinds of things that happen in life that don't feel good. They're just downright awful. But I know from experience that all those hard, hurtful things get combined with the good, joyful things, and somehow the good outweighs the bad. Grandma shifts her weight and makes herself more comfortable. You know how many times I've cried in my life? So many I can't count. But guess what? I can't count the laughter either. I've had plenty of both. Serenity. It's been a tough year, I know, but it won't always hurt this bad. Grandma lets go of my hand. The next time you look at a cake with all that pretty frosting. I want you to think about what it took to get it to look that good. She makes eye contact with me. It's the same with life. You never know what not so sweet things have happened in someone's life, even the life you think is perfect, love and loss, bitter, sweet, sorrow and joy. I've been exploring these topics, and you have all come along with me to bear witness to these stories, and I'm so thankful and thankful for you sharing them with your communities. I want to share some more of Sage's words from all the blues in the sky before I close, here she is contemplating the lessons she has learned about grief, and she's giving herself and the reader permission to hold the weight of loss and love. Here are her words. Maybe people are like flowers, no matter how beautiful they are, no matter how much they are loved, they are not here to stay. Maybe the same seasons come and go. Is a promise that always flowers bloom. When adults tell you about dying, they don't mention that your best friend could die, they talk about your pet or an elderly neighbor or your grandpa or your grandma, and when they tell you about dying, they tell you it's okay to cry, it's okay to be angry. They even tell you it's okay to laugh and still have fun, but they don't tell you that all the sadness and anger and laughter don't wait their turn. No. Sometimes sadness and anger and laughter come all at once on the same day, sometimes in a burst, sometimes a slow trickle. They don't tell you that. Sometimes you don't even know what to call what you're feeling because you've never felt it before. They don't tell you that bad things and sad things and terrible things happen, sometimes once, sometimes twice, sometimes countless times in a lifetime. Maybe they don't tell you this because they don't know or maybe because there are so many things to teach a child, they forget to mention this. If I live long enough to become an adult, and if I have children when I'm an adult, I will tell them. I will tell them as much as I can about all the loss, but also all the love and all the crushes and the belly aching laughs. And I will tell them that whenever love is involved, any loss, big or small, predicted or unexpected is a great loss. And I will tell them to love without regret, and I will tell them it's okay to cry, it's okay to love. I will tell them it's okay to feel it all friends, what you do is no small thing. Thank you for persevering through a pandemic, thank you for taking stands against book banning, for coordinating author visits and public events in your communities, for enduring all of your own personal sorrows and still be in a safe space, a beacon of light in your neighborhoods and communities. Yes, what you do is no small thing. The books you curate display enhancing young readers give our young people space to heal, to rest, to be seen, to exhale, to dream, to hold both joy and sorrow, loss and love. Thank you. Thank You.