Letters to the editor

South Harwich

I worked at the Lawrence Public Library for many years. I started a book club that still continues. Yearly topics changed: authors from Latin America, books that changed the world, etc. I worked very hard to get library books from across the state. Now, two or three times during the warm weather, I have book events where you introduce a book that you loved (or hated).

Louise Sandberg

Reading

The book club I am in has 16 members. We started over seven years ago. Ages range from late 30s to late 70s. We read one book a month with the person that picks the book hosting. We come from all different backgrounds but have become great friends and supporters outside of the club. Some of us travel together. I love that I read books that I would otherwise steer away from. Books clubs are not for everyone but I’m sure glad I decided to join and rekindle my love of reading.

petesfav

posted on bostonglobe.com

Our book club started at my backyard picnic table in 1985. Neighborhood women who worked, raised kids, and craved community... still meeting together 10 months [per] year in 2024. Some have moved, others have joined, but the joy of supporting other people through life using different books has continued.

nm2nm2

posted on bostonglobe.com

For those looking for a book group, try your library. Most have at least a few going at all times.

Barbara Boucher

Rodgers Memorial Library, Hudson, New Hampshire

I taught in Stoneham while I was getting my PhD and used to stop in to the zoo on a regular basis (“Untold Tales from the Stone Zoo,” June 2). I was always kind of amazed by it — a really good zoo in a suburb, which was unusual for that time.

Jan Mattimoe

Somerville

The article was purely subjective because animals can’t speak for themselves. [BYU’s Ballard Brief author Madison] Coleman writes that captivity is “a form of mistreatment because it goes against animals’ natural adaptations and thus is inherently detrimental to their well-being. Humans profiting off captive animals, especially when visitors are allowed to interact with the animals or watch them perform. . . . is the main driver of animal mistreatment.”

Robin Marie Shepherd

Rye, New Hampshire

I am newly returned to the Boston area after about 40 years away. What delight I took in “Untold Tales from the Stone Zoo.” My son was born 42 years ago at Brigham and Women’s. Our gang of new parents who prepped together bonded quickly and stayed friends, some of us to the present day. At a reunion after all the kids had been born, gag gifts were handed out. Jonah was named the baby who “most closely resembles the baby gorilla at the Stone Zoo.” That gorilla was probably Quito, born June 1, 1981. Jonah received a puppet; I still have it.

Ellen Cutler

East Boston

Ever since we met when I joined Stone Zoo as a volunteer in 1980, Sandy Elliott has been a role model and inspiration to all. She has remained constant in her efforts to provide support, expertise, and commitment to co-workers and zoo visitors alike. I want to thank Sandy for her efforts to maintain natural habitat exhibits — where visitors can learn about the interconnection of all living things. Her sensitivity to both animal and human needs is truly appreciated.

Tina Cross

Former education director for Zoo New England

These tales illustrate the unhappiness of the animals: Nisha, the llama who spits at and charges people; Betty, the orangutan who hates people, especially her keepers (note the word); Major, the polar bear who finds ways to avoid going back into his den at night; the colobus monkeys who for many years had not seen sunlight or experienced fresh air and who were frightened when finally offered access. Along with the growing concern over agribusinesses’ confinement of livestock, I wish we could understand how the same is true for zoo animals.

Cindie Umans

Lexington

I was a frequent visitor to the Stone Zoo as a child. Betty the orangutan’s enclosure had a small opening between the glass and metal — just small enough to push a piece of popcorn in for her. If she saw you had some, she would actually tap on the glass to get your attention, then point the hole, then point to her mouth! You’d push your popcorn in, she’d eat it, then stare at you and wait for more. If you didn’t give her more, she would repeat: tap, point, tap, point. If you couldn’t push it in she would pick up a stick and push it into her side of the hole — she was showing you to get a stick to push the food in. She was so incredibly smart!

Louise Bellucci

Brimfield

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