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National cultural heritage months often highlight superficial elements such as food, arts, crafts, and music, but behind these celebrations lie generations of pioneers who have shaped the historical and cultural heritage of America. Over the past seven years, in championing cultural awareness, the San Francisco Public Library has collaborated with the Asian American Studies Department at San Francisco State University, The Association of Chinese Teachers, and other community organizations to commemorate Asian Pacific Islander American (APIA) Heritage Month every year in May. This annual program illustrates how efforts led by APIAs have contributed to the historical, cultural, and literary landscape of America, affording them the recognition they deserve. Multicollaborative efforts led to the creation of a premiere APIA Biography Project (apiabiography.sfsu.edu) – a digital repository of instructional resources that educators across the nation can adapt to their curriculum. By bridging collaboration, public engagement, and community partnerships, public libraries unify multiple constituencies to educate the public on the diverse communities they serve.

LIBRARIANS do not desire tribute because, in the clenched antagonisms of to‐day, they carry on their normal work, so far as that is possible. Happy are those who have been allowed to continue their whole‐time devotion to library service, because there has seldom if ever been so much opportunity for good work. In some areas it must be limited, because the dark hours are hours of perpetual air raids or warnings of them, and our people in the more exposed towns cannot be expected to attend evening lectures, talks or recitals. A certain amount of afternoon work is possible, if there is adequate shelter in or adjacent to libraries. The confinement to their homes of our readers affords opportunities to persuade them to read, if persuasion is necessary. First we can instil into folk the desirability of always carrying a book, so that when they are caught by a warning they have something with which to wile away the time in the shelter. Then, there appears a chance of drawing attention to the books which we ought to have read but have not, and our readers may be urged to make black‐out hours profitable by special Studies. Few recent publications are better designed for this than the twenty‐one “Suggestions” which have just come from Leeds. Each consists of a four‐page leaflet, three pages bearing carefully selected and annotated titles, and they are on the subjects that matter—Modern Poetry, Voyages, Modern Thought, Without Passport (travel in Continental Europe), Humour, Amateur Drama, Popular Science, Kitchen Ranging, and so on—the range is great; and we believe these are worthy of national circulation. Reverting to lectures, Bristol has arranged its usual excellent programmes for adults and children respectively.

We began this chapter with storied experiences of relationships with children and youth and of questions around tensions they can experience as they make home, familial, community, and school transitions. These questions included: Why do we do it this way? Who decides? Can’t I think about what's best for my child? For Aboriginal children? As Khea, Jennifer, and Brenda Mary storied the experiences noted earlier, and as we collectively inquired into their stories, attentive to the intergenerational narrative reverberations of colonization made visible, it was their attentiveness to the particular life of a youth, Robbie; of a child, Rachel; and of a grandchild that we were first drawn. Their deep yearnings for something different in schools also turned our attention toward the counterstories to live by which they were composing. Across Khea's, Jennifer's, and Brenda Mary's earlier storied experiences the counterstories to live by around which they were threading new possible intergenerational narrative reverberations were focused on understanding children and youth as composing lives shaped by multiple contexts, that is, lives shaped through multiple relationships in places in and outside of school. This need for understanding the multiple places and relationships shaping the lives of children and youth as they enter into schools is, as shown in the earlier noted stories, vital in Aboriginal families and communities given the ways in which the narrative of colonization continues to reverberate in present lives.

Our Mi’kmaq and Anishinabe Elders, Sister Dorothy and Florence, remind us of the centrality of family in our lives and who we are becoming. When children are taken away from their families and familial contexts the suffering endured by the children, parents, family members, and community is unbearable. This removal of Aboriginal children from families, communities, and the places they knew was unnecessary. Aboriginal people have always known what they want for their children: “We all agree that respect is one of the foundations of what defines our values of our people.” This teaching of respect given to us by the Elders has sustained us in the past and in the present. These teachings will continue to sustain us into the future. The stories of our parents have sustained us too. When our mothers and fathers urged us to not lose our languages they were reminding us of who we are and where we come from. In this way they were giving us a legacy of being proud of our language, of our traditions, and of our ways of being Aboriginal people. It is as we claim and reconnect with these stories of the Elders and our ancestors that we know ways forward (Archibald, 2008; Cajete, 2001; Restoule, 2000).

The purpose of this paper is to provide some background and context to MacInnis’ 33-year life as a marketing academic and to share some of the trials, tribulations and joys that have characterized her professional career.

This paper is autobiographical, highlighting some key aspects of MacInnis’ career, including the various educational, administrative, editorial, teaching and consulting roles she has held and how they have influenced her development as a scholar.

MacInnis emphasizes the importance of doing what is interesting, sticking with topics you love and working with people who inspire you and are great collaborators. We continually evolve as scholars in light of the continual changes in academic knowledge and in the world of marketing. Those changes provide exciting and enticing career opportunities.

Everyone should follow their own path. She has been fortunate to pursue a number of different roles in the profession, but she has learned to differentiate which activities best match who she is as an individual. Debbie would encourage others to do the same.

We can contribute most when we understand ourselves, our strengths, our weaknesses and the other aspects of our lives that make life meaningful to us.

The essay offered here reflects Debbie’s path alone. Her hope is that by articulating her history, she can share with others the range of opportunities available in the field. There is no one way to succeed, and while she is not sure that her choices have made her the most successful that she could be, they are the choices she has made and she is happy to have learned both about the world and herself through these choices.

This paper describes the personal history and intellectual development of Morris B. Holbrook (MBH), a participant in the field of marketing academics in general and consumer research in particular.

The paper pursues an approach characterized by historical autoethnographic subjective personal introspection or HASPI.

The paper reports the personal history of MBH and – via HASPI – interprets various aspects of key participants and major themes that emerged over the course of his career.

The main implication is that every scholar in the field of marketing pursues a different light, follows a unique path, plays by idiosyncratic rules, and deserves individual attention, consideration, and respect … like a cat that carries its own leash.

In the case of MBH, like (say) a jazz musician, whatever value he might have depends on his originality.