Anticipating the Interrogation

     For a split-second, Phoebe is satisfied, full, and happy.   Just then a wave of disgust and fear makes her feel as sorry as a favela rat.  This humid terror grows worse at noon when she hears her father’s booming call, "Where’s my lemon meringue pie?!"  Soon afterward, he begins the search for his pie, and for the empty culprit who ate it.

     Phoebe knows that her father will be furious with her if he finds out what she did.  She imagines his rage, and hides in her room behind the bed.  She sends magic thoughts to him, asking him not to use the belt if he finds out.  It leaves bruises.  When he uses the belt on her brother, it makes her so angry that she bunches up her fists until her knuckles turn white.  Her anger surges like a tsunami tide.

     Then she hears laughter from outside.  The laughter gives rise to drum beats with a rhythm for dancing.  The Festa do São João offers a distraction, while the Forró drummers gather below her balcony window.  Music changes her mood, reducing her anger to tears of regret and fear.     

     Downstairs in the kitchen, the interrogation begins…

Lemon Meringue Pie Lie - Day 3

The Lemon Meringue Pie Lie
By Julie Fowler


March 2011
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

This book is dedicated to:
children of all ages, who believe in the power and the purpose of emotion.

A mentira tem pernas curtas. "The lie has short legs." —Brazilian proverb

The Text
Throughout The Lemon Meringue Pie Lie are many boldface font Brazilian Portuguese words. If you would like to know the meanings of these words, they can be found defined alphabetically in the back of this book.

Foreword
This story is a cathartic, bicultural, sometimes linguistically-driven work of fiction. It is my hope that people around the world will come to understand the often misunderstood power of belief signaled by emotion and action.

It is my prayer that we all will teach our children early to manifest positive self-esteem not through food, but through careful guidance in the ways of the universe.

Namaste, Aloha, Blessings to you

     Though Phoebe Welsh smiles, she is as sad as a mosquito struggling to prick through steel mesh. At eight years old, she has just moved to Salvador, Bahía, Brazil where her new home dances on a cobblestone street above the bluest ocean and the whitest sand beach. She has a view of the
Bay of all Saints, La Escola Panamericana, and the kids on the street in front of her house. Phoebe feels a bone-crunching loneliness despite being surrounded by lovely people. Worst of all, she truly believes she is all alone.
      She wears a uniform to the Pan American School on Campo Grande. The uniform: a stiff, shiny, white button-up blouse, denim skorts, and black soccer cleats, make her look like a reluctant pineapple plant in a field of banana trees . She looks at the photos of Pelé in school history magazines, pretending to understand Portuguese. She plays soccer like him on the school’s lower field, but not very well. Phoebe believes she is an outsider. She believes that no one will listen to the sadness she feels. The Brazilian kids stare curiously at her and her younger brother, Kyle. Portuguese is filled with unfamiliar sounds flowing fast from the kids’ mouths. Months have passed since they left California for Bahía.

Day Two

       Dear Reader Just in case you weren't sure what this blog was for (I wasn't, until just now), I am keeping this blog to generate some interest in my current project: The Lemon Meringue Pie Lie.  I spent, "whoa!", six hours today trying to connect with people who might be interested in The Lemon Meringue Pie Lie or who might know someone else who is.

      According to my two most knowledgeable friends, the audience is pretty small: possibly 30 percent of the population are interested in the psychology of emotion in children.  So I turned to the school who was interested in my real education...

March 30, 2011

Dear Fellow Educators,

     This letter is a belated follow-up to some correspondence that I wrote about three years ago regarding a book called The Lemon Meringue Pie Lie (once called Zabumbinha). The Escola Panamericana is a part of this book. I included the school because it was a nurturing part of my life just ten or so years after it opened. I was there in Bahía during 1969, thru 1972. During that time Pelé was the national rage, we danced in the streets during Festa de São João, contemplated Yemanjá, and the school was tiny compared to what I see today on the Pan American School, Bahia website.

      I am finally just beginning to talk about the ideas in the book and I have this blog  attached to my Facebook page.  I believe that the blog is probably only suitable to secondary students and adults.
     I intend to self-publish The Lemon Meringue Pie Lie within the year.  I am reaching out to you, to see if there is a teacher or teachers who you think may be interested in looking at the project. I can see the book’s vocabulary fitting nicely with your world culture classes or foreign language classes and perhaps with a Psychology class. I offer the book as an accolade and a tool. Look where my Pan American education took me!
      In exchange, I would be deeply grateful, if the students and teachers who come into contact with the book make constructive reviews of both the writing and the artwork. I am truly interested in their thoughts and suggestions. It is my hope that they won’t be shy! Once I publish it, perhaps anyone who likes the book will think of purchasing a hardcopy or an e-copy. 

      If you are interested in reading the book so that you may offer a review, I will give you more information on how to get a .pdf excerpt.  All you need to do is let me know you are interested.

--Wake