This is an entirely unique and perhaps the definitive children’s book on the subject of war. It is written by a concerned author with forty years expertise in child development and children’s literature. This is not the kind of book that is designed for light bedtime or story time reading. Rather, it is something that should be in every therapist’s office, on every library shelf, in every teacher’s cabinet, and in every parent’s closet for when the need or curiosity arises. In this time of perpetual war, this book fills a critical void for children and, just as possibly, for adults. It is honest and heart-wrenching and is dedicated to the young victims of war and to those who have tried to stop the victimization.
"Although billed as a children’s book, Not for Hurting speaks to the hearts and minds of individuals, of all ages, who deal with the confused emotions that war engenders in so many of us. Through his tone and detailed narrative, Alan Weber effectively connects his reader to the story. This poignant little book will elicit empathy from the strongest of readers." - Chris Crowe Professor of Writing and Literature Regular Amazon Reviewer Author of Forget Your Age: You Can Do This (forthcoming in 2015)
|Product dimensions:||8.50(w) x 11.00(h) x 0.09(d)|
Read an Excerpt
Not for Hurting
By Alan M. Weber, Ashley Pate
AuthorHouseCopyright © 2015 Alan M. Weber
All rights reserved.
"Okay, Olivia, it's pick up time."
My day care teacher, Ms. Friedman, was telling me to clean up and get ready to go home. So I put the book I was looking at back on the shelf and got on line. I like books.
Spencer and Emily were pushing each other to be first.
Ms. Friedman went over to them and said, "We use our words, not our fists." She said that a lot. Spencer and Emily stopped fighting. That made me feel happy. I don't like fighting; it makes my tummy feel funny.
On the drive home, I tried to remember everything that happened in day care to tell my mommy. When I told her about Spencer and Emily fighting and what my teacher said, Mommy said that my teacher was very smart. Mommy asked me, "What was that class rule you told me about?"
I thought and thought, and then I remembered it:
"Hands are for helping, not for hurting."
When we got home, I went to my room. But I couldn't find anything to do. I really wanted somebody to play with me.
"I'm bored," I said to myself out loud, but nobody was listening to me.
So I went to Jimmy's room. He was my second oldest brother, but he was bigger than me. He was playing with one of his war games on his game system.
"That's stupid," I said to myself out loud, but I don't think Jimmy was listening to me.
Mommy was in the living room. She was watching TV. There was all of this shooting and exploding stuff, and my mom was watching it very hard.
"That's no fun," I said to myself out loud, but Mommy wasn't listening to me, she didn't even know I was standing there.
So then I went to the kitchen. Daddy was cooking dinner.
"I'm lonely," I said out loud to myself. But I didn't say it out loud enough, because Daddy looked too busy to listen to me.
When I went back through the living room, there was a commercial on TV, and Mommy noticed me.
"What's the matter, Olivia?" she asked me.
"I want to do something with somebody and nobody's listening to me," I told her.
"Would you like me to read you a story?" Mommy asked.
"Yeah," I said, "my favorite one!"
"Okay," Mommy said, and she went to get the book from the shelf. She turned off the TV and sat down, and I cuddled up to her on the couch.
"The Story of Ferdinand, by Munro Leaf," she read.
"Once upon a time in Spain there was a little bull and his name was Ferdinand. All the other bulls he lived with would run and jump and butt their heads together, but not Ferdinand. He liked to sit just quietly and smell the flowers."
I couldn't wait until the part when Ferdinand was brought to the bull ring to fight, because that's what they said bulls are good for, but he wouldn't fight. I liked that part best, because the first time my mom read it I was scared that Ferdinand would get hurt or hurt somebody else. But he didn't!
I got really comfy. But just then the door bell rang, and Mommy put the book down to go answer it.
Excerpted from Not for Hurting by Alan M. Weber, Ashley Pate. Copyright © 2015 Alan M. Weber. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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