Cuite Cutie

This week the magic 8 ball of my site meter told me that I was having alot of visitors skipping off of Patrick and Teresa Neilson Hayden's blogsite to have a peek at that storefront on Windsor Place that was once, as I learned from Brooklyn Beat who grew up around here, the Asimov family candy store.

I want to tell you something. Listen up. Patrick Nielsen Hayden took his wife's name when he got married. Ok, moving on...

Not being an avid science fiction or fantasy fan I'd never heard of either Patrick or Teresa, but once I found out I decided to buy an anthology of fantasy literature selected for teens by him and Jane Yolen. Because I want to support a man who took his wife's name, and we could use some new horizons around here.

The name of the other editor, Jane Yolen sounded familiar but I couldn't quite remember where I'd seen it. I found out today, while purging our embarrassingly gimmicky collection of kidlit. We have Owl Moon, one book I like that my son actually permitted me to read to him, about a man taking his kid out at night to search for owls. I kept that one, it's not on the curb. I'm hoping that the kids will like the Neilson Hayden/Yolen anthology, but we'll see. I have to be very strong willed to get my choices aired. The little kids usually go for the books I most want to get rid off, for instance, the Little People School Bus lift the flap book. Am I heartless?

I tried several nights in a row to read my son this lovely book we have which explains how bees make honey because he seemed to want to know and I couldn't tell him. During the day he'd ask me how they do it, and then when it was reading time, he refused to read it with me. Or if he wanted to read it at some point during the day, I couldn't find it.

On Brooklyn Queens day we hung out for a spell at the John Cuite park, which people call cutie park, because no one's sure how to pronounce that name, and since it is most often enjoyed by cuties of the small variety even though the place has a bit of a desolate feel. We watched bees buzzing around a healthy patch of clover behind one of the benches, although we could barely hear them buzz because of the continual roar of traffic on the expressway a stone's throw away. Still, We had a chance to talk about the bees, this is what Brooklyn Queens Day and the fact that I was prevented from working allowed. There was too much we couldn't even fathom about the habits of the bees, of course, but it was a start. He's tasted that single clear globe of sweetness you get on your tongue when you pull back the honeysuckle's stigma through its spur, so we could start to talk about nectar. But I'm sure, there's alot more to say about that.