Arlene Bice blog

Heart Valve Replaced with No Pain

2012-01-19T06:45:00.001-08:00

I heard Angelo’s words in my head and carried his tripleby-pass experience, from back in the late 80s or early 90s (forgive me ondates) with me the entire time that I was recuperating. Of course I watched himstruggling to heal but I had no idea what he was really feeling or suffering.It’s not like he would ever complain about something like that. He saved hiscomplaints for more mundane things. Now I have an idea.

But I didn’t have the pain I think he had. NO PAIN. I’mstill sore inside but of course. I had a rather blaze’ attitude about the wholething until the anesthesiologist explained what he was going to do to me. I gota bit serious then, but I had seen myself healing in my mind’s eye so Icouldn’t get too intense about it regardless of the great respect I have forthese knowledgeable and skillful people who held my life in their hands,literally.

In between anesthesia (as I understand it and I’m medicallyblank) he gave me what he called a ‘giggle gas’ (again I’m remembering with afuzzy mind) this is where the patient tends to rattle on about whatever.

“Oh, my God! What didI talk about?” I asked with great anticipation. He smiled and said “PickleBall. And furthermore everyone in the OR talked about it for two hours becausethey had no clue just what it is.”

I also remember telling my pacing, anxious son just beforethe surgery not to worry because I’d had no visitors. Both my mother andbrother had visitors i.e. loved ones who passed away, come to them for a periodof time before they, too passed away. It must be a family tradition.

Watching a Man Who Loves His Work

2012-01-18T06:23:00.000-08:00

It’s great to watch a man wholoves his work. It shines out of him without his even being aware of it. Atleast it seems that way to me. That’s how I felt as I watched Dr. Donald Glowercome into my Duke U. hospital room each morning, once as early as 5 a.m. (like hecouldn’t bear to wait for another moment to pass) to check his work, as in the sutures, etc.resulting from his replacing a deteriorating heart valve recently. And I have acertificate to prove that a cow gave his life to save mine. Noble animal.

The entire week was a joyfulexperience for me. It wasn’t only the doctors who impressed me it was theentire 3300 patient care floor, RNs, those who take your blood, wheeled me to x-rayeach day, cleaned my room, and the receptionist at the point of the floor,right across from my room. A camaraderieblanketed the floor.

The floor is laid out in atriangle, which works very well; the receptionist point, as I thought of it,was certainly an oasis of cheer at the entry position. Many patients were inpain, some struggling with other problems added to their heart repairs butresponded to any bit of sunshine sent their way. It’s encouraging. There werealways bantering, merriment and joking going on in this area and I loved lyingin my bed listening to the flow of playfulness going on. I felt it veryimportant and encouragement in the middle of struggling back to normalcy.

I talked and listened toeveryone. How did they choose the medical field, how long did they work here,who were they, what plans did they have for that night. I do admit to onenoticeable difference. They all looked like they should be in high school!

A Dead Body For The Queen

2012-01-03T12:51:00.000-08:00

Sounds like the title for a good mystery novel but in fact adead body has been found in the garden on the Estate of Sandringham, the Norfolk retreat of QueenElizabeth in England. The Queen and her entourage are there enjoyingthe season. At least they were until now.

So Agatha Christie, where are you? We need your expertise onthe case! Morse is gone. Inspector Lewis and Detective Sergeant Hathaway won’tleave Oxford. The DCI Barnabys, both past and present along with DC Ben Jonesare small village coppers. Mrs. Bradley can’t be found. Hercule Poirot is inBelgium and Zen is in Italy. Father Brown is in church.

Lord Peter Wimsey, Inspector Alleyn, or Inspector Lynley,the 8^th Earl of Asherton and his brilliant partner Barbara Havers couldbe called. They would fit right in. Wait a minute! Stop the clock, bring outthe cell phones and call Rosemary and Thyme……they could solve the crime, catchthe killer and then fix any damage done to the garden. Then all Brits can sleepsafe in their beds again, even the Queen.

Recipes & Remembrances Cookbook

2012-01-02T12:10:00.000-08:00

The Warrenton Woman’s Club Recipes & Remembrances Cookbook started out as a fund raiser for this all-volunteer community service group. We’re still working on raising those funds to benefit students with scholarships in our part of North Carolina. But, as so often happens along the way of doing one thing good; another pops-up. Several retail shops and restaurants in Warrenton agreed to place our cookbooks on their shelves to make buying them convenient for their customers. That means we now have the business district included in our volunteer project.

Families and friends have cheerfully jumped in to help us too, including sending us orders via email. Our WWC Recipes & Remembrances Cookbook is already in Colorado; Bordentown, New Jersey; Florida, and Texas offering little stories for the cook to read while the Sweet Potato Biscuits are baking. H-m-m-m. Can you smell them? Add the Creamy Squash & Red Lentil Stew to warm and comfort tummies this winter in your house.

Jane Austen Readers

2011-12-24T08:53:00.000-08:00

Recently I finished reading A Truth Universally Acknowledged; 33 Great Writers on Why We Read Jane Austen, edited by Susannah Carson. I found it to be more thoughtful to read at leisure rather than trying to read straight through cover to cover, like a novel. Ideas and responses were varied. Since I have read the JA novels multiple times since I found her, I enjoyed seeing the impressions they made on famous writers.

A.S.Byatt discusses the different family structures of the Bertram, Price and Norris families in Mansfield Park. C.S. Lewis states that Mansfield Park and Persuasion are JA’s only two novels where the heroine does not deceive herself.

It is also interesting to read which writers preferred which of her novels. W. Somerset Maugham loved P & P; Emma offended him. Martin Amis remarked of “this tizzy of zealous suspense actually survives repeated readings” referring to P & P. Louis Auchincloss tells us that his favorites changed as he moved through different chapters of his own life. In his youth, Emma and P & P were the best; in middle age they were S & S and Mansfield Park; still later it was Persuasion. David Lodge implies that re-reading Emma is far superior to reading it the first time.

At sixty, Virginia Woolf discussed JA. This book is almost like having an intelligent discussion on a favorite subject. It may be one-sided but it sometimes brings new sight into familiar words. And, if you have only seen the movies made of her novels, do yourself a great favor and read them. You’ll not regret it.

Holiday Season

2011-12-20T09:24:00.000-08:00

It’s been too long since I’ve written a word for the Blog or anything else. My mind has been on everything other than putting words together on a string to make sense and stir ideas in others. But that cannot last. My fingers crave the keyboard as much as my mouth craves the taste of good, dark chocolate after a stretch of doing without it.

I have read and returned a few emails with comments, quite unexpected from the senders, I’m sure. REALLY, why be offended when someone says Happy Holidays instead of Merry Christmas. Doesn’t our separation of church and state allow us plenty of room to include all the religions nestled in our country? Have we Christens become such elitists that we cannot be generous and include all others who celebrate their religious holidays on or near the same time as Christens do? Have we become so paranoid that we cannot share a happy comment with someone who worships differently than we do?

All the world religions have the word love in their fundamental teaching. It’s time we follow it and cease negative comments from those who have not studied religions other than the one they follow. It isn't them against us.......it is 'all of us'.

It’s time, now more than ever for all of us to be generous and loving to all peoples. Happy Holidays, whichever one your are celebrating.

Thanks for Books

2011-11-23T05:42:00.000-08:00

There will be a lot of thanks given for the love of family, friends, food, and warm, dry shelter and I, too am thankful for those things. But I am also very thankful for books; for words that writers have put together on a string so that I may enjoy, learn and expand my field of compassion and understanding. I’m especially thankful for modern medical technology and medicine that has given me sight from Macular Degeneration Wet, when as recently as fifteen years ago, I would have had darkness.

I’ve just finished reading Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand. It’s the true story of Louie Zamperini, his unruly youth that led him to be a record-setting runner before joining up to fight in the Pacific in World War II. The story includes how he was adrift in the Pacific Ocean before being picked up by the Japanese and sent to POW camps. It also follows one particularly brutal war criminal Watanabe, after the war ended. As in Seabiscuit, Hillenbrand does a fine job of stringing her words together.

We, as Americans have much to be thankful for.

Readers & Writers

2011-11-22T09:30:00.000-08:00

Books without readers would be useless. Which means that readers are just as important as writers. Yes, some writers make lots of money but most writers, I think, write because the words and thoughts are within them, bursting to get out. Writing in a journal can later recall a memory possibly forgotten; to write can be healing; to write and be read is very gratifying; to write and be remembered is a star to reach for.

Books shared stretch the written word to places they may not have gone. Now that I’ve learned about Bookcrossing.com, I’m spreading the written word around. My first book about pets, has gone to Texas and then to Florida. This week I’m sending one to the Cook Islands in the Pacific. Wow. Check the program out at: http://www.bookcrossing.com/about

Italian Hot Dogs

2011-10-25T06:58:00.000-07:00

Wow! AOL featured Italian Hot Dogs on their newsfeed this week. They made the mistake of inserting onions in with the potatoes and peppers which is NOT how Tony Goes made them. And he made the best. The Casino restaurant was THE place to buy them in Trenton, New Jersey. The internet tells me the place is still there. Though I know Tony Goes must be gone or be the oldest man in the US of A.

Now that the Warrenton Woman’s Club Cookbook is available, you can find the recipe for Italian Hot Dogs in there, the way Tony Goes made them, complete on Torpedo rolls. If you can find those rolls anywhere. Remember them? H-m-m-m. The aroma floated through the air at the Italian People’s Bakery up the street from the Casino. The cookbook has 240 pages of some 400 and more recipes of various kinds from all over the States plus tips, helpful hints, quick fixes, basics, terms, and more. It sells for $15 plus $2 S/H per book.

The Italian Hot Dog has become the Jersey Dog, very different from Nathan’s, the Coney Island Hot Dog, the Michigan Dog steamed with a meat sauce on it, and Texas Weiners (my mom’s favorite) the list goes on and on. As American as apple pie? No, the hot dog!

Collecting Menus

2011-10-22T09:51:00.000-07:00

It’s true. I like eating out, not every night and not just out, but in good restaurants. This doesn’t mean expensive, but eating from the hands of chefs that care, that take the time to use fresh ingredients wherever possible and use herbs instead of just adding more salt.

So I’m always trying new spots to add to my favorite places. Yesterday on the spur of the moment, I popped into the car and drove to Raleigh to take a few photos of haunted places that will be featured in my almost-ready-for-the-publisher book. I planned to just zip in, point & shoot and zip out again. Alas! I was denied entrance to the grounds until two hours later.

What to do, now? Well, why not have an early lunch. I headed for one of my favorites when I haven’t researched another restaurant, Vic’s Italian on Blake Street. Missing one parking spot, I drove around the two blocks to get back to it and whoa……….there sat a new place that the not-quite-good German place vacated. I checked a little closer before opening the door to Troy Mezze Lounge.

The walls are painted a quiet red (oxymoron) in the wrapped bar area where the bar stools stand on an angle, tilted a bit outward, which gives a very welcoming appearance. Four lamps hang on long chains over the bar, laced with fancy designed metal that gives off a cozy light. The dining room has a sponged wall that appears to be the same red. The décor is very tasteful and not overly intrusive.

Clay Pot of lamb and fresh vegetables in their own juices, with herbs and topped with just enough cheese are plated with rice or bulgar pilaf and a touch of red cabbage was my delicious choice. Their website is: http://www.troyml.com/index.htm

Jenna tendered me all the attention I needed and gave me a tub to take home half my Clay Pot so I could sample their delicious Figmusi-Samolina Pecan Fig cake topped with mascarpone & fresh strawberry slices. It was a generous slice, so I took half of that for later, too.

Book Collecting in Warrenton NC

2011-10-17T08:04:00.000-07:00

Now that I’m on a fixed income with living costs rising (I remember Mom complaining about this and not paying attention) I have curbed my book collecting to only those I will use in research and of course, Jane Austen related books.

Soon after I arrived in North Carolina, I managed to pull out my credit card for a few at Oakley Hall Antiques. One of the books, a first edition of 1962, “The Way We Were” by Mary Polk was inscribed to Mary Jane from one of the book’s minor characters, Fairfax Polk Mitchell. A treasure, indeed, even though the cost was much higher than the original price. It was still reasonable. I justify this expenditure on my limited budget by telling myself that it’s important to learn the history of where I live.

Believing in continuing self-education, I also bought a 1953 first edition “Southern Accent” by Warrenton native, William T. Polk. Only the dust jacket is a bit worn, the book is in fine condition. A soft cover of “Poems of the Great South” edited by Jim Stratz and Jerry Medina went onto the pile also. Life without poetry is not a good life.

Another book or two finished out the purchase of the day. While Dot was tallying up and zipping my card, we began talking. She filled me in on some western North Carolina history where she was raised, then followed with some local history. From there we talked about books, business, fashion, people and movies. An hour later my head was filled with lots of good stuff, my bag with great treasures and my heart was full. I love shopping in places where the welcome is gracious and the personal touch is used generously.

Adventures in Book Collecting

2011-10-16T10:18:00.000-07:00

Adventures have happened to me over the years, all in the quest of building my personal library. Nearly driving off the mountain above Bath, England comes to mind immediately. I had already bought a few books in Bath and decided that exploring the area around it, was a good idea. That was just before I found myself on a single lane dirt road that ran around the side of the mountain and a car came approaching me. I froze. To my right were trees, bushes and a drop down about 500 feet. I wasn’t about to move. The other driver, probably a resident and used to such moments, unkindly drove with a part of her car half way up the mountainside to get around me.

Who thinks of England being a mountainous country? Again I came close to falling off the mountain but this time I drove to a seaside town in Cornwall to see where Daphne Du Maurier lived after she became famous for her fiction. The coast of Cornwall is breathtakingly beautiful with areas of sheer rock jutting out over the smashing waves breaking on huge boulders below. The road I was on overlooked a village nestled on the shoreline, between rising rock on both sides.

The streets that led off my road ran down to the sea. Straight down. ‘Well, I thought, the townspeople must drive down those streets or they wouldn’t be there, right?’ I turned my English, gear-shift-on-the-left car into the street and thought I was going to fall end over front down the macadam! As the car sped on without my foot on the gas, I spotted a street to my right, made an instant decision and swerved the car around the corner, and around the next corner again heading back up off this damn mountain! Gears were grinding, the car screeching in protest, sweating more than I was. People passing by on the sidewalks raised their heads to look at me in wonder, eyes wide but not as wide as mine. I wasn’t sure my car couldn’t make it. I kept pressing on the accelerator, finally reaching the overlook road. Whew.

I found a spot to pull over, put the car in park, got out and kissed the ground while thanking the Angels in the same breath. Another quick decision made-I’d leave Du Maurier for another time.

BookCrossing

2011-09-21T14:42:00.000-07:00

Examining each book as it came into my bookshop and before it went onto the shelf was part of my daily routine. I was always delighted to come across an inscription inside a book and surprised when some of the locations it came from were half way across country or further. So I was especially pleased when my writing friend Jyoti Wind sent me the web address of an article Pulp In The Wild: The BookCrossing Edition by Laura K. Curtis.
BookCrossing is the official/tracking way of leaving a book for someone to pick up, read and pass along. It’s your choice of book, your choice of where to leave it and fate for whoever picks it up. This is almost like playing hide and seek as a child. Such fun. For all the hows and whys and wherefores, check out the website at: http://www.bookcrossing.com/howto.

The Goats

2011-09-15T08:30:00.000-07:00

Church Hill Road runs from NC Hwy 158 connecting to Hubquarter Road. Along the way is a fenced-in field with an old, old building shell (former house, maybe) weathered and falling down. This is where the goats live; all sizes and probably all ages. I love these goats! Driving by, seeing these goats wander in and out of that shell reassures me that peace can exist in the world, my world anyway.

On occasion these goats have gotten out of the fence. There are times when I must stop my car and wait patiently because they are crossing the road like school children getting to the other side where the grass or weeds are greener. Always, I think instantly of ‘stopping to smell the roses.’ It also reminds me of Cary Grant and Grace Kelly driving around France slowly falling in love with each other and the French countryside. But they were surrounded by sheep flooding the road.

Then there are the times when I suddenly slow my car down to a crawl because the goats are grazing roadside. Very peacefully, the daddy of them all with his horns and goatee (?) kind of looking over his herd is nibbling away. Not a care in the world. Lovely to see.

But recently I see the house that accompanies this field is vacated. Empty. Windows gone. The goats seemed to be gone, too. I miss them terribly. It’s another reminder of how we as a people depend on the acts of others, even those we don’t know to enlighten our lives and how we are affected when they are gone. Then a surprise! They aren’t gone after all! They must have been grazing in another field unseen from the road.

The Calendar

2011-09-14T05:50:00.000-07:00

Any person who loses themselves in genealogy knows about the date 1752 as one that puts a kink in some research. Or at least draws their attention. It makes the researcher pay attention to birthdays and can confuse the issue.

It was this day, the 14th of September 1752, in Merrie Olde England that they began to adhere to the Gregorian Calendar leaving the Julian Calendar behind. In doing so, they lost 11 days. Just vanished. Don’t bother to look for them, ‘cause they aren’t there. January 1 also became New Year’s Day instead of the March 25 date they had used previously.

Think it doesn’t matter since a day lived is a day to remember? Not so. Many people rioted since they lost those 11 days with no pay for work not done but still had to pay a full month of rent. It was serious business that affected lots of people.

The quote, “Live a day at a time” takes on new meaning when you think of days disappearing.

Earthquake at Lake Gaston

2011-08-24T05:02:00.000-07:00

The earthquake was really scary. I was on the computer. At first it sounded like the rumble of a heater, but I have electric and no heat on this time of year. I also thought of gas lines blowing up but there are no gas lines out here. No dishwasher was going or washer or dryer. I immediately went to the doorway, the strongest spot in the house, not knowing if that made a difference in a double-wide. The ENTIRE house rumbled and shook! The girls ran under the bed before it even started. I knew it was not a cyclone because it was bright and sunny outside. I thought maybe a great wind but the trees stood perfectly still. Whew! It lasted probably a few minutes. It seemed longer of course. Scary.

When it was over, it was over. Peace and tranquility stood outside my door. The forest was as lovely as usual. Nothing was amiss here along Lake Gaston. But one item had fallen from the bookshelves in the library. H-m-m. It was real.

A Writer's Vacation

2011-08-02T19:39:00.000-07:00

Writer’s Market sent out an email asking what writer’s do for a vacation. I’m sure he will get a variety of answers. Mine is to do research, especially in reference to a particular manuscript I’m working on or plan to do in the near future.

A few months ago I was on Bald Head Island with my girlfriends, the Broad Strokes. We’re all artists and close friends, who planned this long, 5-day Thursday through Monday "weekend" for months. A week didn’t go past us all winter when we didn’t talk about it. What we were going to do, what foods we would bring and who was going to cook which meals and when, were discussed. Clothes. Bathing suits. Evening entertainments. People we would be meeting. Howling at the moon. Beach walks and golf cart rides. We had our time fully packed, no time would be wasted. Every moment counted. Our female bonding would strengthen.

Ten days before we were to leave, I received a notice about a Landmarks Conference of the Revolutionary War being held Thursday through Saturday in Walterboro, South Carolina relating to my guy, Major Thomas Fraser. It included where he walked, rode, and fought. Yikes! What a dilemma.

I pleaded with my girlfriends to not be angry with me. I HAD to go. I’m a writer. I HAD to be there, to see Major Fraser charging down the dirt road in battle. I HAD to hear the whinny of the horses, the clanging of the swords clashing against each other in life claiming battle.

Because they are true friends, they released me for Friday and Saturday; sent me on my way to do what I HAD to do. A writer’s vacation.

City Excitement

2011-07-29T17:33:00.000-07:00

Certain cities exude excitement. Business carried me to Raleigh today so my friend Judy and I met at the fabulous restaurant Sitti Restaurant on Wilmington & Hargett Streets for lunch. While driving into Downtown Raleigh, I pick up the energy of this beautiful, clean, artistic city life. People are walking along the streets and tables outside restaurants are filled, even in this 100^ plus heat. Inside Sitti where the cuisine is Lebanese cooked with fresh ingredients, they are packed with people of all ages, excitedly sharing meals and exchanging news and ideas. People are actually waiting for tables to free up so they can be seated!

Driving out of the city, I notice statuary I had not seen before; Gandi outside the Marbles Kids Museum among them. I spot fountains pouring out water profusely, which seem to cool down the temperature outside my air conditioned car. Old buildings, next to newer designed and built, seem to complement each other like multi-generational families, looking different but respecting each other.

It’s exciting to drive into the city but I head back to the country for peace, creativity, and tranquility. Still, it’s nice to know it is there and I can access it when I need a touch of city life.

Coming To An End

2011-07-26T05:02:00.000-07:00

The end of compiling recipes and collecting ads for the Warrenton Woman’s Club Cookbook is near. It’s been a lot of work and very time consuming; even costly since I always feel compelled to buy a little something when I’m soliciting ads. And I JUST HAD to eat in the few restaurants I visited, again for recipes and ads. Work is so-o-o-o pleasant! Egads, I’d make a terrible salesperson, having my paycheck spent before I got back to the office.

So as I type the last few recipes still dribbling in, I’m nibbling the last recipe that I made on Sunday. I kid myself by saying that I’m taste-testing, when I’m really adding another delightful recipe to my own collection. With this new book coming out in October, I think I’ll be adding a whole lot of new recipes. This is a great idea because nearly every gathering I go to, is a potluck affair. And now I have new foods to present.

Food and Memories

2011-07-24T05:41:00.000-07:00

I’m nearly finished with “Food and What Feeds Us” by A Weeks Worth of Women; edited by Jyoti Wind. I’ll be sorry to have it end but will refer to it often, I’m sure. I’ll also be trying some of the recipes listed, almost as a secondary thought. Memories, stories, and thoughts about foods were written by seven women over their lifetimes. These women grew up in various areas of the country, had very different backgrounds and experiences that influenced what they ate and how. I believe they all live in the Boulder, Colorado area now. Their stories open new doors to lives lived by others.

Photos of each of the women; Patricia Jordan, Annette Price, Terra Rafael, Mary Randall, Prema Rose, Jyoti Wind, and Jesse Wolfe are in the back of the book. I feel that I’ve come to know them by switching back and forth, matching the picture with the story. Brava to everyone of them.

Recipes & Remembrances Cookbook

2011-07-22T05:41:00.000-07:00

Recipes & Remembrances is nearly complete. The finished cookbook will be quite different than other local cookbooks because we’ve invited our friends and families living throughout the country to contribute their favorite recipes, too. This includes those who are chefs and professionals.

We’ve also included an area for personal notes that will add to the pleasure of reading the cookbook even when you are using it for just cooking. After all, cooking itself is very personal.

There are also some recipes from our past history in the form of favorite recipes from the First Ladies of our Land. Since Martha Washington was our first “First Lady”, her recipe was the first entered. Others follow.

So I’m certain, our cookbook will become an heirloom, handed down from generation to generation like the genealogy of a family. That’s what we are, a family of cooks and recorders of our own history.

Food as a Stamp

2011-06-29T12:14:00.000-07:00

How we prepare food and present it, is as important to those of us who love to cook, as the style of clothing one wears, is to a fashion maven. Recipes are a guideline after one gets the hang of cooking. From there we add a little of this herb and ignore that spice in the list of ingredients. Perhaps we’ll follow the recipe to a tee, but go heavier on one spice because we love it so; or add a different vegetable or two, or vary the fruit that is listed. It becomes an original creation. It doesn’t always work but it is always worth a try. It’s called exploring.

So, by simply changing an herb or adding something to the original recipe, or plating the food in a different manner, we put our own personal stamp on the food being prepared. It’s like the initials of a clothing designer.

RECIPES REMEMBERED

2011-06-28T09:15:00.000-07:00

Recipes made become memories. I mean, who doesn’t have a personal story about a holiday dinner. True, some of them were disasters but after time passes, they become remembrances to laugh over together and to share with others. Many of our family/friend stories revolve around food. Have we not gathered together to share a meal and to share our stories while we eat that meal? The wine we drank with the food (after I grew up) made the stories flow a bit easier and maybe a bit exaggerated, but who checks anyway.

Birthdays. My mother always allowed my two brothers and me to choose our menu for our birthdays. She didn’t say “choose your menu” rather she said, “What do you want for your birthday supper?” That always came before what kind of cake did we want. These were hard choices to make for a child with a healthy appetite. Mom was a dynamite cook.

For me it came down to Southern Fried Chicken --with Milk Gravy –she made the best, or Fried Ripe Tomatoes, Mashed Potatoes, & Milk Gravy. She was always nervous, fearing someone knocking on the door when we were eating the fried tomato dinner, thinking it looked like mush and didn’t look proper enough for a dinner. I could have cared less what it looked like. Ahhh. Memories of youth.

2011-06-27T14:40:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I get sidetracked from my present writing project, which has been to complete my “Ghosts of Upper Piedmont & Beyond” (working title) by the end of June. It isn’t going to happen. I’ve been writing at least three hours a day on “Recipes & Remembrances” a fund raising cookbook for my Woman’s Club. The press for its completion is the desire to have it available for sale before the Christmas season. We all know that is key to the success of sales which of course is the goal of this project.

Staying true to my desire in writing about local history and memories, our cookbook has a section for a personal note at the end of each recipe entered. Hence, the title. Recipes are sometimes personal. Who hasn’t remarked at the Thanksgiving (or Christmas, Hanukkah, Easter, etc.) table “As long as I can remember, we’ve had this dish on our table come each _____ holiday.”

In addition to recipes, I also have several items that I use in cooking or serving that are dear to me because of who gave them to me. Using those pieces keeps me connected to the giver even if I don’t see them often or if they have passed away.

Lord Cornwallis's March in 1780

2011-05-25T04:48:00.000-07:00

Lord Cornwallis’s march to and retreat from Charlotte in 1780 into the “Hornet’s Nest” was the subject for the walking tour last Saturday in Charlotte. My guy, Major Thomas Fraser has not been listed anywhere that I have found, to have participated in this situation. Still, I want the complete picture of the American Revolution in the south so I can better understand my subject; the Major.

Bill Anderson had pulled together eleven commentators to tell the story of four main roads: Providence, Camden (later So. Blvd., Polk St. Lancaster Hwy.), Nations Ford, and the road to Bigger’s Ferry (later US 49 and So. Tryon St.). The story included five major events, two in September 1780: the British Advance, and the American withdrawal from Providence Road; three in October 1780: the British camp in Charlotte, followed by the British retreat along Nations Ford Road and the American advance to New Providence on Providence Road.

We began and ended the tour at the historic Providence Presbyterian Church. Multiple commentators limited their time to five minutes each at the particular stops along the way. for further information on this American Revolution tour: http://elehistory.com, and American Revolution reading plus other conferences and more: www.southerncampaign.org

2011-04-27T16:10:00.001-07:00

Book Tour Schedule
Heads Up for my readers in New Jersey. My upcoming Book Tour begins on
Friday 6th May, 5 --7 pm at the Old Bookshop of Bordentown (NJ);
Saturday 7th May 11--4 pm at Allaire State Park, Farmingdale, NJ (NJ History Day);
Tuesday 10 May 7 pm at Bordentown Historical Society in Bordentown.

Now that the snow has finally left New Jersey for the season, anyway…….a friend is coming to stay with my two literary cats, Lady Jane and Mz Lizzie allowing me to spend a week in the north country breaking bread and sipping wine with my good friends in between bookings and interviews.

The excitement builds, the magnetic pull of Bordentown is still as strong as ever.

Book Tour Schedule

2011-04-24T15:50:00.000-07:00

Heads Up for my readers in New Jersey. My upcoming Book Tour begins on
Friday 6th May, 5 --7 pm at the Old Bookshop of Bordentown (NJ);
Saturday 7th May 11--4 pm at Allaire State Park, Farmingdale, NJ (NJ History Day);
Tuesday 10 May 7 pm at Bordentown Historical Society in Bordentown.

Now that the snow has finally left New Jersey for the season, anyway…….a friend is coming to stay with my two literary cats, Lady Jane and Mz Lizzie allowing me to spend a week in the north country breaking bread and sipping wine with my good friends in between bookings and interviews.

The excitement builds, the magnetic pull of Bordentown is still as strong as ever.

Rev War Books, Reading & Researching

2011-04-22T06:36:00.000-07:00

Further researching for Major Fraser’s took me to the E-Zine of Southern Campaigns of the Revolutionary War, by Charles B. Baxley, editor & publisher. (http://southerncampaign.org/mag.php) There I found articles by various writers with keen interest in this area of history. Devotees are still reading the tons of archived papers and journals that lay in repositories nearly forgotten. Often an unpublished skirmish or a battle seen through the eyes of another soldier or militia man will discover facts unknown. Women also kept diaries that reveal important details.

The Diary of the American War, A Hessian Journal by Captain Johann Ewald, edited by Joseph P. Tustin is a book I kept close to me because he describes the terrain, the attitudes of the non-military locals as well as the battles and drew maps. He served in both the northern and southern campaigns. His personal touch to a war fought by a hired army from a foreign land adds an extra something to the story. Jim Piecuch writes of accounts from both sides of the military in his The Battle of Camden and his Blood Be Upon Your Head. Reading for research just carries me from one book to another to another, etc. Isn’t life great?

Revolutionary War South Carolina Research

2011-04-20T05:30:00.000-07:00

The Landmarks Conference of the Revolutionary War this past weekend brought me into ecstasy. I actually stood on various grounds in South Carolina where my Major Fraser fought against the Continentals. True, I’m extremely happy that his side lost and we became Americans to make our own rules and guidelines, called government. True also, that the Major captured Isaac Hayne who was an American hero who should have received much more acclaim than he has gotten. (He was hanged as a violator of his parole from the British forces.) Also it’s true that the Major finally saw the light and became an American himself. Some folks just take a bit longer to get to the best place.

Some of my excitement rose from seeing Parker’s Ferry unchanged in over two hundred years. We stood on the main road from Savannah to Charlestown (Charleston) and it is still a dirt road that leads to the crossing. There are no buildings to be seen from the spot, only flora and fauna. Except for distant power lines, the area is probably much the same as it was then.

When I described these places in Major Fraser’s I leaned on Parker’s Guide to the Revolutionary War in South Carolina by Jack Parker to get my bearings in a land I hadn’t been to before. I could see the relationship of one location to another by his maps and descriptions. I could trace the Major’s footsteps, and horse shoes, with my imagination, to be right there with him. Parker’s Guide simplified my struggle in researching. It is a treasure for anyone interested in the war that made us Americans.

Words, Beautiful Words

2011-04-19T09:12:00.000-07:00

http://thesaurus.com/ is my newest home page on my laptop. It is just a delight for a person who loves the written word. Who has time to loll about looking for words to drool over? Thesaurus has it right there in front of me so if I see a word or quote or word history that teases my eye, I can pop right onto it, get it into my system and go back to the work I’m involved in.

Somewhere in there today, my trail took me from why, how and when capital and small case letters are used, to beautiful words voted on by readers. Serendipity was one word chosen. Say it. The word just rolls around my tongue almost pushing me into singing it. Lovely…. this also happens to be another beautiful word to me that sends my mind into graciousness and a time gone past. Probably my favorite word is delightful. I do hope folks don’t get annoyed by my use (over use?) of it. When I say or write delightful or delighted, I feel it. Just delightful. I don’t think it is possible to say that word with a frown on my face.

Prince Lucien Murat Photo

2011-03-25T04:53:00.000-07:00

One beef that I have about Prince Murat is the portrait that is always displayed of him. Printed descriptions of him say that he was tall, handsome, carried a debonair attitude, and personable to a point that friends would loan him money never expecting it to be repaid. Now that is personality.

The photos I have seen of his father, Prince (Joachim) Murat I, show him to be very handsome with oodles of curly black hair and a trifle of a smile sneaking out of a formal pose. But the photos I have seen of his son Lucien show a man that I certainly would not seek out, even at a town social get-together. I mean really, must publishers always show pictures of once-famous people when they are aged and grossly out of shape? Age may have made them refined like fine wines but by that time they don’t usually look as good as the label on that fine old bottle.

It rather reminds me of Mr. Darcy. As Austen wrote, “would he have been so handsome if he were not quite so rich?”

Austen, Bronte & Gaskell

2011-03-24T18:52:00.001-07:00

Any comparison between the writing of Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte is ludicrous. Bronte was born a year before Austen died. They wrote about entirely different time periods and their story lines took other paths. Enormous changes took place in England all through the nineteenth century including societal alterations. It’s like comparing oranges and apples; they are both fruit, but…….

And then we have Elizabeth Gaskell whose first novel stressing the plight of the poor was published in 1848, taking another tack altogether. This was a year after Bronte’s Jane Eyre was released. Even they did not consider themselves rivals on the literary scene. How delightful it is for me, to picture Gaskell and Bronte coming together to discuss writing, poets, life, and loss.

Even then writers sought out the company of other writers. Just imagine what it would be like to lunch with Austen, the three Brontes and Gaskell all at the same table. A-h-h-h.

Charlotte Bronte & Jane Eyre

2011-03-22T09:14:00.000-07:00

Like Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte put life as she lived it, into her novels. So when you read her biography and one that I especially liked is Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell’s, The Life of Charlotte Bronte, you can see where all her material for Jane Eyre came from.

Charlotte passed away after only a year of the marriage she so wanted when she was young. Her father Reverend Patrick Bronte and her husband Reverend Arthur Bell Nicholls had asked Gaskell if she would write the biography. Charlotte’s friend from her early school days, Ellen Nussey had recommended Ms. Gaskell to them. She wanted the articles written about Charlotte containing falsehoods refuted and felt choosing the right biographer was important. She also knew that Gaskell and Charlotte had been dear friends.

Oh, The People I Meet

2011-03-21T20:05:00.000-07:00

Oh, the people I meet. Researching a subject for a book often takes me deep into the subject’s history and family, gathering information I won’t be able to use per se, but letting it lay in my mind to form images and environment about the subject I’m researching. This may sound like a government document, but it latches on to me like a small child tugging at my shirt wanting attention.

Prince Murat and his family did that to me. He dragged me to Europe after the rise of Emperor Louis Napoleon III ca.1850 where I found him and his family to be fascinating although part of the self-serving aristocracy. He was tenacious but never did manage to re-coup the crown of Naples that his father held and lost his life over. His cousin Napoleon III discouraged him from seeking claims.

His daughters became part of the Court of Empress Eugenie and all it entailed. The elder daughter Caroline Laetitia drifted away from the center of the Court forming a great dislike of the Empress in later years. Princess Anne remained close to the Empress even years after she and the Emperor were ousted from France. Here is the website that shows the Empress surrounded by her Court including the beautiful and elegant Princesses Murat: http://www.abcgallery.com/W/winterhalter/winterhalter15.html

New Jane Eyre

2011-03-13T06:05:00.000-07:00

Just when I think we have the utmost performance of Jane Eyre, a new movie version is being released this year. BBC films are introducing Mia Wasikowska and Michael Fassbender in the lead roles. I do hope they put the two hours allotted for the story to good use. We have a good chance of it since it is BBC. Let’s be honest Hollywood CANNOT do the classics as well as the Brits.

The first thing they do is dummy down the language into modern lingo. Guess they don’t believe Americans have the intelligence to understand nineteenth century English. Or the American (plus Kiera Knightly) actors they choose aren’t good enough to speak it. Ack.

I IMDB’d Ruth Wilson and find that she has been doing some good screen work. Hopefully she will break the bad habit of Jane Eyres not going on to film popularity. Also I received comments that the new Jane Eyre is a fine one. I’m so excited that I can hardly wait to see it.

Here is more info from IMDB of Jane Eyres made:
Jane Eyre (1910/I) Jane Eyre (1914/II) The Castle of Thornfield (1915) Woman and Wife (1918)
Jane Eyre (1921) Jane Eyre (1934) Jane Eyre (1943) Sangdil (1952) "Jane Eyre" (1955)
"Jane Eyre" (1956) Jane Eyre (1961) (TV) "Jane Eyre" (1963) Jane Eyre (1968)
Jane Eyre (1970) (TV) "Jane Eyre" (1973) "Jane Eyre" (1983) Jane Eyre (1996)
Jane Eyre (1997) (TV) "Jane Eyre" (2006)

Jane Eyre

2011-03-12T19:07:00.000-08:00

These past ten days I’ve been watching the four Jane Eyre DVDs that I have. Timothy Dalton in 1983 may be an old film without modern movie making amenities but his and Zelah Clarke’s acting are superb

Charlotte Gainsbourg gives a sadly wooden performance opposite William Hurt in the 1996 version. I can never tell by looking at her facial expressions just what she is feeling. Jane Eyre must have felt anguish, terror, love, passion, even anger, surely despair. But you never see it in her performance. Alas the film tries to squeeze a long story into a short film. Bah.

Ciaran Hinds and Samantha Morton do a fine job (Gemma Jones is always fine) in 1997. But the cream of all the depictions is Toby Stephens and Ruth Wilson in 2006. Everything about this version is exquisite including the scenery, music and cast.

I can barely watch one without following up with the others, to compare, to critique, to savor the best parts. They are quite unequal dramas trying to tell the basically same story but sadly failing to do so. Each Mr. Rochester is excellent exuding the personality, frustration and agony that pours out from him. All the supporting casts are fulfilling in their portrayals. Alas all the Jane Eyres are not so equal. Three are excellent in my estimation.

Somehow the Mr. Rochesters go on to other leading roles, but the Jane Eyre actors don’t seem to be able to further their careers. What gives with that?

I think it is time to re-read the book again. Like Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte (and her sister’s) books can be read over and over again bringing forth the same enjoyment and actually finding something new that I had not noticed before.

Arlene Bice blog: Major Fraser's

2011-03-11T06:18:00.000-08:00

Arlene Bice blog: Major Fraser's

Major Fraser's

2011-03-11T05:58:00.000-08:00

It’s close to the time when Major Fraser’s is released upon the world. So a sneak preview is in order. The story begins in Olde England, back in the 1600s when life was enormously different than we know it today. It slides into West Jersey focusing on Bordentown. Colonial times move into the Revolutionary War period when our Scottish import, Major Fraser, enters the picture. Our Bordentown superstars become involved. The Major gets transferred to the south, mainly South Carolina. In between his fighting the Rebels (yes, he fought aggressively for the Brits) he falls in love with a gracious, young southern belle. The war ends, our story in Bordentown blossoms, then moves with our characters to France, to Italy and back to England again.

Time moves on, so our tale moves forward, back to Bordentown again where it all wraps up rather happily.

Quotes & Writing

2011-03-10T11:29:00.000-08:00

Often I will read a quote of someone’s and be off and writing. I came across this quote and immediately thought of the last manuscript that I sent off for publishing.

"Be able to meet any deadline, even if your work is done less well than it would be if you had all the time you would have preferred." Marilyn vos Savant

That is exactly what I did, noting that I had been working on Major Fraser’s for six years. It was time to call a halt to any more additions, corrections and re-writes. No more stumbling onto a new piece of information that absolutely must be added. Do or die. Well, the very afternoon of sending my baby off, I began to think, ‘maybe I should have’ and ‘I wish I could change’ etc. You get the idea. It will rumble my stomach until I see the new born baby in my hands. And then I will probably think, ‘H-m-m. I should have’ and ‘darn, I wish I had….’

Oscars

2011-02-28T05:09:00.000-08:00

Something wonderful happened at the Kodak Theatre last night. A movie won four Oscars. The King's Speech won an Oscar for Best Picture and it had NO violence and NO explicit, instructional SEX in it. NO guns exploded on-screen to create momentary deafness in the eardrums, NO one was beaten up, scarred or mutilated. NO one was tortured or cut into little pieces. NO cars drove through the market upsetting apple carts, scattering people from the screen, etc.

Egads, could this generation of movie goers be refining their tastes in entertainment? Are we becoming an enlightened people?

BOOK PHOTOS

2011-02-25T19:38:00.000-08:00

So okay, here’s the deal. I planned to have twenty photos including maps in Major Fraser’s. I had them all arranged, altered from color to black & white, lined up as I wanted them placed in the book. Captions were written and ready. Permissions to publish them were received. But as the Universe commands, plans go awry.

I spent four days trying to upload the photos into the body of the manuscript where I wanted them to be. Success, well almost. As soon as they were placed and I was worn out from the day’s efforts, I closed my laptop…and lost them all. @!&#*

On the third day I began placing map one in the book and put the caption next to it instead of doing all the photos then adding the captions. Easy. The second map was not so easy, but was placed. I started on the photos and havoc broke out. When the captions were placed, the photos moved around on their own volition or at least that is how it seemed. They moved up and down and sometimes just disappeared. When I settled the photo the captions disintegrated. And I had not even gotten to the pixel stuff yet.

It was time for a life threatening choice. Lose the photos or get ulcers. Another hard lesson. In my next book, now approaching the last third of the manuscript, I’ll have a professional photographer handle that end.

Birthing a Book

2011-02-24T19:59:00.000-08:00

Okay, okay. It is all true. Writing a book is like birthing a baby. First forming the creative idea =getting pregnant, going through the nine month gestation (which takes a lot longer with a manuscript) =actually writing, finding just the right name =then exploding into labor =which is the last step of editing, proof reading and all that goes with it; egads, pulling out the hair and all =before holding that little creation in your hands =The Book.

Whew! I’ve had the heartburn, the indigestion, the tossing and turning during the sleepless nights when my characters drove me a bit nutty, the aches, the pains and the final push which brings it all together and comes into a form. Major Fraser's is coming soon, it is in the hands of the printer.

But it is looking good even though the planned photos did not get into the book. Two are posted. And already I am seeing things that I should have done differently……….just like raising kids.

Cats in the Window

2011-02-02T14:58:00.000-08:00

Don’t you just love cats in the window…….it’s a welcome sign like some people put a candle in the window. It is a picture of Welcome Home. At least that’s how I feel when I see the girls waiting for me to return from where ever I’ve been. I would often like to take them with me, but my cats just don’t travel well like most dogs do. I notice down here in North Carolina everyone has dogs and they all travel along with their heads out the window or riding along in the back of the pick-up. Neat. I guess cats and dogs are just as different as men and women.

Same Words, Different Meaning

2011-01-31T06:14:00.000-08:00

Have you ever read an article or column and then discussed it with a friend or acquaintance only to find that you absorbed such different information from the written words that you question whether you both read the same article?

It is true. We draw from the written words what interests us and the rest often fades away to be picked up by someone else. Sometimes the very same words give different meanings to different people even without the voice inflections when spoken. Again it is probably because we are applying the information to what is familiar to us. Or to what we are seeking.

So just when you think you are writing clearly and precisely, the words can send out messages that readers are reading differently. This can be extremely dismaying when you are trying to send a particular sentiment that you don’t want to be mis-construed. Ah.. …. Language.

Cats Sleeping

2011-01-29T09:59:00.001-08:00

When I look at my girls, Mz. Lizzie and Lady Jane, curled up on the bed next to me while I write on the computer, I wonder about all this sleeping they do. They are perfectly content to curl up cozily for an hour, awaken to stretch; look over at me, ho-hum –she-is-still-there and then drift back to sleep. They may purr as if they were happily spending time in deep dreams that they refuse to share but if I stand up to get some herb tea, they are up on their feet with the expression “What is going on?”

When I think about it, maybe my girls had a rough former life and are catching up on their rest in this one in order to energize in preparation for the next one. H-m-m-m. I wonder what their last lifetimes were like. Was their past life working nights? Were they cats then or different animals or people?

Email Forwarding

2011-01-29T05:11:00.000-08:00

I am sure my friends think that they are including me in their joy by sharing a Forward message they received from 49,000 other people before them. All with their email addresses listed. This makes it easy for hackers to gather Spam email lists easily, adding mine to their list.

And I wonder what goes through their minds or if even they read all the way to the bottom of the message where it states: You have ten minutes to forward this message to ten people (or 100, or 1,000.) If you do not forward this message in that time period you will be cast down, given bad luck, walk under a rain cloud, be tortured with nightmares for ten years, etc. You get the picture I am sure.

So out of the goodness of their hearts, thinking they are sending me the good luck to win the lottery, make Cinderella wishes, prayers to protect all my family and friends from disasters, and so on, they are instead condemning me to hell.

I have them all fooled. I no longer open any of those forwards. But I would love a simple "hey, how's it going?" email.

Reading On the PC and more.....

2011-01-28T06:38:00.000-08:00

Knowing my inflamed reaction to women not receiving equal rights and probably because so much of my writing is of the past when such laws were outrageous, a friend recommended the e-book of Seneca Falls and the Origins of the Women’s Rights Movement by Sally Gregory McMillen. It just so happens that I was also reading Nike is a Goddess, the History of Women in Sports edited by Lissa Smith at the time. Some stories in that book relate the difficulties women suffered while trying to participate in their favorite sports. Connected-ness. That happens all the time. Just like Google, one thing leads to another which leads to another, etc. All connected by an unseen thread. Because then I came across the E-book, the biography of Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Eighty Years and More. Immediately I downloaded it into my folder titled BOOKS lest I lose it somewhere.

I love reading from my computer while I’m sitting in bed –which is the only warm spot in my house these nights. It’s easy and restful on the eyes, while reading a hard copy book late at night tires my eyes and puts me to sleep before I’m ready to give up absorbing these printed words.

All this means, is that I’m ready to move, again, into the 21st century and look for an E-reader to buy, to expand my reading experience, to take advantage of ‘out-of-copyright-books to download, so they will not be forgotten just because they are old and out of print. These treasures have so much information in them that should be read and saved and then passed on to someone else.

Late New Year Resolutions

2011-01-27T05:06:00.000-08:00

It’s a bit late in the year to be revealing my New Year’s resolutions but here goes: The first and the one that I completed immediately lest I weaken and fail is the reduction of time and work put into volunteering. In short this means my serving on Director’s Boards and committees. I loved what I was doing and the people I was serving with and felt this was a big part of responsibility. But it was taking me away from writing and that is like draining all blood from my body. And who can live without blood?

It isn’t easy to resign from organizations that are important to the area I live in. Feelings of ‘letting people down’ crept over me, sitting on my shoulders and adding weight to my body/mind that I don’t need. But it had to be done. I thought long and hard on the subject, holding the thoughts of serving suspended on a platter like Lady Justice and in the other suspended platter, lay writing counter balancing it. The writing won making my decision necessary.

Still I mourn the loss of these activities as I fight the word ‘guilt’ and knowing that there is always someone to step up and fill that void.

Leaves Falling

2010-11-25T04:58:00.000-08:00

Leaves are falling
like huge colored snowflakes,
silent, steady.

Falling in sheets
looking oddly stunning
with their colors.

Adding to the carpet
thick on the ground like
homemade quilts

A patchwork in design
scraps stitched together
in unison.

Keeping the earth warm
until scooped up for bonfires
of memories.

Undressing the trees
leaving dark, bare branches
lifting upward.

2010-11-22T10:00:00.000-08:00

It has been noted several times that Jane Austen poked fun at clergymen in her novels. Yet her father was a clergyman and her favorite brother became a clergyman after his bank in London failed. Jane adored both men.

In England, clergymen of the day (late 1700s and early1800s) in small local parishes, were rather casual. They didn’t have the responsibilities of today’s churchmen. There was no counseling of parishioners, devoutly religious sermons personally written or strictness of church guidelines. Their income did not necessarily come from the collection plate but from the surrounding farmers who paid in cash rather than produce.

Positions as parish clergymen were often bought from the wealthy landowner on whose land the parish church stood. He was the man living in the usually huge ‘country manor’ or in a castle. He would have owned the nearby town where the shopkeepers would pay him rent. He also collected rent from local farmers, from land he owned in Wales or Ireland and from land owned in the American colonies until the Revolutionary War ended that hold. Often he would be in parliament.

Jane Austen's Financial Position

2010-11-21T05:55:00.000-08:00

Friend Rebecca sent a reference to me from the book At Home about Jane Austen’s family, quoting “that she grew up in what she considered to be an embarrassingly deficient rectory at Steventon in Hampshire, but it had a drawing room, a kitchen, a parlor, a study, library, and seven bedrooms—hardly a hardship posting.”

What Bill Bryson did not note was that the Austens were landed gentry without a large income. It must be noted that she had seven brothers and one sister. After feeding and clothing all of them, the boys needed extended educations, brother George was mentally deficient and was sent to another family nearby to be raised, and two of the boys went into the navy. All these positions had to be paid for.

At one time, Jane and her sister Cassandra were sent away to school so their bedroom could be used for paying students. Mr. and Mrs. Austen ran a boarding school for boys to acquire more income. Jane became so ill that the girls had to return home. She nearly died from the incident so they stayed home after that. More than once she commented that she grew up with all boys, first with her brothers then with the added school boys. Hence she was a tomboy, good at physical outdoor play.

Also, once her father died, their income was cut off completely. Her brothers then became responsible for her, her mother and her sister. She desperately wanted to earn her own money but her brothers did not think it seemly. She was gentry.

A Too Busy Life

2010-11-14T13:26:00.000-08:00

Sometimes life gets too, too busy. That’s what October was this year. I allowed myself to get overloaded with committee work which crowded what my goal of being here in beautiful, inspiring Macon, North Carolina to write full time.

October said good-bye with a spooky Halloween night and November entered in with more glorious shocking colors of brilliant reds, rusts, oranges, and golden yellows, standing side by side like soldiers of different armies. I was able to finish wrapping up my latest manuscript. Tidying up five years of work, padding it down and laying it in the drawer to ferment for a month before shipping it off to the publisher is finally here.

Now it’s time to update blog spots and such while the child (manuscript) enters its last month before coming public. Time to put what I’ve recently learned in classes to work. Check out my efforts of bringing photos to my blog starting with my original and revised books of Life & Labyrinth. Side by side. Enjoy.

Yet More Books to Love

2010-10-09T11:01:00.000-07:00

And then there are biographies. There are so many fascinating biographies about people from all different generations and countries and reasons to read them. A good writer will tell all, the bad-or controversial- along with the good and let us judge which is which. The writer will let the story unfold with a flowing movement revealing the life, holding our attention. Not easy to do but necessary.

The person need not have been famous to be interesting. I write in past tense because I prefer reading about people who have already passed away. Their lives are over. There is no need to protect or hide anything. The flaws and failures make the final successes even more worthy. No embarrassment is considered. And it is the misadventures that create the fascination.

After all, a person who experienced no challenges, who glides through life with no losses, no pain and no scars is a very boring person indeed.

More About Books

2010-10-06T06:23:00.000-07:00

Also I love history. Not the dry, flaky history that used to be taught in high school although I loved history even then. But the history with real people showing particular strengths and weaknesses that I can identify with. Events that happened always had reasons. Like the mystery stories, who, what, where, when and why. Again I don’t need the play by play details of a battle fought and the individual result, i.e. bodies whacked to pieces, eyeballs hanging out, etc. Ugh.

But the inner workings of events, how they came about, the personalities of the key figures and their relationship to each other. Everyone has a story and the players in history had theirs. They are the ones who created the chronicle of their day. History wasn’t necessarily made by physical events but by individuals and their reactions to moments that happened to them. A slight? An embarrassment? An insult? A misunderstanding?

The personal is what brings history to life. The surface must be scratched to find the untold tales. After all it’s what our whole foundation is built on. Because it is a foundation we can learn from the mistakes of earlier leaders, rulers, and the average person who cared.

A Good Book

2010-10-05T06:04:00.000-07:00

I love a mystery. A puzzle. A whodunit. Something that I can work along the lines with the author, trying to figure out who, what, where and most important, why. Challenge. But I want believable characters with common sense in settings I can visualize as everyday even if the story is set in Victorian times. Wealthy or not doesn’t make a difference. Gory details of a demented mind are not necessary to tell me when a body is dead. The author can state the weapon of choice but I don’t need a picture drawn for me. I can do that in my own imagination.

If I see the plot line and know the perpetrator of dark deeds early on, the joy is slain. No sense in finishing the story…unless it is a red herring with an unexpected twist. Ahh. The plot thickens.

Further, we are so fortunate to have more women writing novels of all genres today. This happening has all but eliminated the ‘dumb female’ character in stories. I used to choke on that depiction of a woman character, one who was running a household or holding down an intelligent job being portrayed as stupid. Ugh.

Of course even really good interesting mysteries aren’t always remembered. The authors are, particularly when they write many books and I can look for them by the author's name. The pleasure is simply in reading them. But the novels of the originator of the mystery novels Wilkie Collins and present-day novelist Sharyn McCrumb’s stories I remember. And also, of course, Agatha Christie’s.

Sunday Deer

2010-10-04T05:55:00.000-07:00

Sunday night after an early dinner, I decided to go for a walk to replace the morning walk I missed and to change my schedule a bit. It’s my habit, to look deep into the forest as I go along the paved road. It’s always so peaceful, full of something I’m not aware of. My thoughts tend to deepen as I get lost in the moment.

Suddenly a flash of movement lurched through the wood at a high rate of speed. Startled, I jumped. But it was just a doe racing between the trees. Like me, she was alone. Nothing was chasing it. I imagine it was out for a bit of exercise after dinner as I was. It’s delightful and somehow reassuring to see a connection between us.

Puccini for Deer

2010-10-01T07:28:00.000-07:00

Favorite Puccini Arias by Marton, Scotto and Te Kanawa was soaring from my sound system this morning at 10 a.m. as I sat at my kitchen table for a coffee break from cleaning the house. The windows were wide open for this fresh, crisp air to flow in. I glanced up to see a doe with her three fawn, heads bent, nibbling the sodden grass. My breath stopped at such beauty, such a sign of peace and gracefulness. One head down, one head up, one looking around, the other in between. Then Te Kanawa peeled out those glorious high notes of O Mio Babbino Caro. All four heads jolted up, eyes looked straight at me, ears twitched straining to hear this heart rending sound.

Mesmerized. The deer stood like statues, listening. They seemed to be as moved by the music as I am. When the aria ended the doe turned and leapt like a ballet dancer from the yard. Her fawn following her lead in dutiful obedience like the echoes of the music itself.

Respect of Title

2010-09-27T06:09:00.000-07:00

Equality has long been a strong belief. As a result I cannot imagine calling anyone “Lord” or “Lady” anything. I’m determined to reject the idea of separate classes in society. I left titles behind in my young adulthood with a casual way of talking to anyone and everyone. But living in the south I’m beginning to feel a little differently on my harsh outlines about stated behavior.

I read an article by Denise R. Kaye is Sunday’s New & Observer titled ‘Respect: Please we are not on a first name basis.’ I newly agree with her. I have been greatly impressed by the good manners of the youth that I’ve encountered here in North Carolina. By youth I mean from four years up through the teens and even into the twenty-somethings. I’ve also experienced moments of embarrassment when I’ve called someone by their first name after just being introduced. Especially a person who I think is older than I am. (Just when I think there aren’t any.) I have no idea where that moment of feeling came from. In Jersey I wouldn’t have given it a second thought. But here I do. It seems right and fitting.

Today I see Mr., Ms. and Miss as titles of respect not as a mark of difference in class.

Fall Meditation

2010-09-26T05:35:00.000-07:00

From guest writer, Jyoti Wind
www.starshine-galaxy.com
www.writes-of-passage.blogspot.com

Go into nature…a backyard, a park, the beach. If you can, put your back up against a tree or sit next to a bush; lay your heart on the earth at the beach or in a garden or meadow. Give to the earth and trees the energy that churns inside of you, either too much or too stuck.

Just let it flow out. The earth will grow flowers with it.
Then receive the earth’s energies, through the trees or the earth herself,
Breathe long and deep, in and out…giving, receiving. Let it heal you.

Changes

2010-09-25T06:38:00.000-07:00

Inspired by a newsletter note from Jyoti Wind, I thought about her words on change. Life does knock us unexpectedly sometimes. While we may be dreading the future in one area, a tragedy happens in another. What we do and how we do it comes from deep within us. Often we don’t even know we had such strength but it’s there in all of us. We just have to dig for it.

Sharing our thoughts and feelings do help to heal those deep wounds that life tosses at us. It’s the flow between friends that keep the wound clean so a heavy scab doesn’t settle from that anguish, just a light mark left to keep a memory alive to draw on when we need it.

Women of World War II

2010-09-22T04:56:00.000-07:00

What I really wanted to write about two days ago is the book I just finished reading, A Life of Secrets: Vera Atkins and the Missing Agents of WWII by Sarah Helm. It’s this story that moved me into thinking about women and our place in the world. The changes for women from the 1940s has been remarkable but weren’t brought about by gentlemen patting us on the head and calling us ‘little ladies.’

A book that can raise my ire, to get me stomping around the house in a rage is a book well-written and factual. It isn’t only that the women (radio operators) dropped behind enemy lines into France during that war were beaten, tortured, of course raped-violent men always rape-and tossed into gas ovens. That was certainly terrible but it was a fate suffered by men also and the women did volunteer for the duty.

After the war was finally ended the men in power wanted to keep the bravery of these women, some in their early 20s, secret. “Brush it under the rug and hide it,” they said. “Don’t let anyone know that we used women.” After all, the women who were allowed into military service uniforms were not allowed to actually carry weapons. Yuck. And the radio operators weren’t military. They were civilians.

Like a detective Vera Atkins traced each girl that she recruited from her department who did not return home after the war. She found out what happened to each one, how they died and where they died. She fought for honors and medals for them when the men of the military didn’t want to even acknowledge their existence. Regardless of who or what Ms. Atkins was, she did the right thing by these women. This all happened in England but that patronizing attitude was universal.

We have come a long way.

Jane Austen Calendar

2010-09-21T06:46:00.000-07:00

Usually I buy two beautiful-quality- works-of-art-calendars each year online from Pomegranate. They hang side-by-side because I’m always working with various dates. My favorite for a few years now is The Reading Woman depicting various paintings by many different artists. I Love that whole series of calendars and boxed note cards so every year I look for them. Yesterday I was in Barnes & Noble. Since they have always carried the Pomegranate line I headed for the calendar section. I also buy a couple calendars for birthday gifts. Ugh. Not very many calendars offered at all. I’m grossly disappointed because I thought of saving the cost of shipping.

As I was walking away, the corner of my eye caught the words “Jane Austen.” My heart started pumping in excitement. I have looked each year wondering why no one has ever produced a good quality Jane Austen calendar. I mean she has been the hottest thing going, again, for at least fifteen years! Her name is everywhere. The only calendar I’ve ever seen was a puny offering from the Jane Austen Centre in Bath. That one has an exploded dollar amount, or pound really, exchanged into dollars.

My mind raced. Perhaps it will feature Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle, Emma Thompson and Hugh Grant or Amanda Root or …………..Egads! The calendar is Jane Austen and the Zombies! That's enough to make me scream!!!!!!!!!

Women of the Western World

2010-09-20T05:16:00.000-07:00

In the decades since I came to the adult age (sometimes if feels like 200 years ago and others only two) women have made tremendous strides in taking a rightful place in the leadership and formation of our futures. Since the Dalai Lama stated last summer during his Peace Summit in Vancouver that western women are chosen to save the world I’ve begun to think about how far we have come. It hasn’t been easy for many of us.

Many of those that have taken the dais to balance out the power men have always assumed, are aiming at peace, nurturing, and using the heart as well as the head as guidelines. This is not to say that the world should turn to mush but that intelligence, respect, honesty, and that inner wisdom are utilized in connecting to other cultures and leaderships.

War, aggression, and atomic weapons have not won any country peace for their citizens. Perhaps this is the time for the birth of the Divine Feminine. Think of it. Art, poetry, music, beauty, and learning instead of violence, bombs, the boom of fighter jets and destruction.

What a world we could live in.

Painting the Past

2010-09-19T12:09:00.000-07:00

I stand at my easel with brush in hand
facing a blank canvas, ready for the image to emerge.
Today I’ll re-create a scene or castle
or perhaps a medieval doorway I’ve discovered.
Scenes from the past, echoes of another time.

Stories resting quietly just below
the surface, waiting to be told with the brilliant
colors of oil. Or written out,
a painting of written words. Words to accompany
the oils as notes on a page to the musician.

My tale will rest on top of the stories
of men, builders with rock and stone and cast iron.
Monuments left behind to remind us
of triumphs and sorrows of those who loved, lived
and left behind their eternal imprint.

Impressions for me to research, to learn,
to seek, to know their stories are the same as mine.
Heavy, thick, large oaken doors
with black cast iron hardware closing with echoes
bellowing down the stone laden halls.

Announcing that I am here to uncover
the secrets of the past. Though I feel the deep-rooted
emotions vibrating into every room
I stand in ready to absorb. My promise is to enlighten
those that care, but I know…..

the only difference of then and now are the accessories.

Spanish/Portuguese Cod Chowder

2010-09-18T14:00:00.000-07:00

Well, autumn is here whether the Weather Gods know it or not. Last week I bought some cod from Trader Joe’s (bless the originator of Trader Joe’s as often as I curse Sam Walton’s business practices) and have been anxious to make some good Spanish/Portuguese Cod Chowder. Today was the day.

I sautéed in olive oil (the gift from the Healthy Skin God) some thinly sliced onions, adding thinly sliced garlic, (please don’t burn) adding some cubed Golden Yukon potatoes, adding some good quality dry vermouth, adding a quart of fish stock (if you don’t make your own from shrimp peels and lobster claws and shells and of fish heads and bones, use water mixed with chicken broth—NOT CUBES) adding some fresh, if possible, or good canned tomatoes, adding a bay leaf, one or two whole cloves, parsley, tarragon, a bay leaf and marjoram. Simmer for approximately an hour.

Add chunks of cod (it’s a blessing of Trader Joe’s that I can get this here,) taste and add sea salt and dried hot pepper flakes to suit your self. Simmer for ten more minutes. While you are waiting with a glass of good, chilled white wine that will improve your taste buds, toast a slender slice of bread-I used a rosemary/olive oil bread-brushed with butter or olive oil. Lay this on top of the chowder after it is in your favorite soup bowl.

I don’t use measurements but I made enough-that’s a bowl full for me for at least two or three days because it is even better the next day or day after that. Adjust amounts to your own likings. Go wild! Be adventurous! Put your own personal imprint on it! Enjoy!

Cats

2010-09-17T07:08:00.000-07:00

I know why there are so many books to choose from when looking for something to read on cats. I smile when I see Lady Jane stretched out under the cloth-covered center table in the entry room of my house. The folds of the burgundy damask add a graceful look to the room and Jane adds a feeling of home to it.

Chuckles cut loose from me when I see her white paw reaching out from under the guest room bed. She’s found a cool spot in summer and warm one in winter. Not to mention the peace of that room between visits of dear friends.

Laughter fills the room when Jane practically sits up for some treats. Whoever heard of a cat acting like a dog? But she loves food. And she talks now. Really!

Jane comes to me when her bowl is getting low on food. She wouldn’t do that two years ago. She would notify her sister and Lizzie would come after me demanding that I follow her to the bowl. And she would never come to me for stroking or to smell the food I’m about to eat as she always does now.

A few years ago the fur along the back ridge of her body became matted. I thought it was a part of her breed. She’s a big cat, rescued from the wilds of Bordentown, New Jersey. Well, the wilds being that her mom and dad were feral cats. But she is definitely part Manx. The Manx cats I researched on line looked just like Jane's back. My dog-grooming friend Laura suggested that she trim Jane of the matted fur. A new cat emerged! It changed her personality completely. So I brush her nearly every day and watch closely for any beginning of clumps forming.

It seems my pets must suffer from my mistakes just like my kids did. Fortunately they love me just like my kids do in spite of my imperfections.

Nighttime on Lake Gaston

2010-06-30T06:00:00.000-07:00

There is something special about riding in a boat on Lake Gaston at night-such as10:00 pm last night. The stars filled the sky just as the poets write about them. They were full of the same sparkle as the diamonds they are always compared to. Pam, Laura and I tried to pick out the different constellations. The Dippers were easy. Pam found the Hunter. Lily just cuddled up and watched/listened to us. I think she was tuckered out from all the earlier activity.

Lights from the houses lining the lake splashed light across the water in streaks. The outline of the trees created a darker than dark vision waiting for the artist to paint it. Not another boat parted the water, only us heading back home after a lovely gathering of friends. It was a magical moment to be tucked away and remembered again at a later date.

Reading Biographies

2010-05-15T06:51:00.000-07:00

If you are reading biographies of writers it is so much better if you read their writings and vice versa. Reading the work pulls you in, reading the biography leads you to where the works originated and festered and came out on paper in the form of a story.

Since I’ve learned that, I’ve applied it to reading the biographies of artists. Now that I’m reading the biography of John Singer Sargent I’ve laid out five books that contain pictures of some of his paintings on the table next to where I sit. Unfortunately the same paintings are repeated in a couple of the books. It’s a pity they couldn’t have chosen others from the 3000 plus canvases he painted. I lay the books open to the pages where his paintings are featured. It makes a difference. As I read the background of how the painting came to be, I look at the pictures and it pulls everything together. It’s like getting to know someone inside out.

Americn Roots Musical Showcase

2010-05-10T08:19:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday proved to be a new experience for me, sort of anyway. The Musical Showcase for the New Harmonies Traveling Exhibit rocked with music affirming the exhibit at the library. Emcee Sherman Johnson happily gathered people together, introduced the performers and kept the show moving like a brook sparkling along. First up were performers for the Haliwa-Saponi with the Native flute, then hand drums. My mind went immediately back to a few rock concerts I attended in my younger years. The Armory (gorgeous in its new look) vibrated with sound. It was exhilarating!
A pleasant softer sound of Colonial music performed a cappella by Dolores Clark brought the movie “The Songcatcher” to mind. Smiles and giggles broke out when she sang “I Wish I Were A Single Girl Again.”
Freida Egerton and many of her regulars represented the Ridgeway Opry House with some Country and Bluegrass. She played the dulcimer and gave a bit of history. Joe B Cutchins poured out the Blues with a smooth bounce to it. The natural progression of American music, which is what this is all about, led us to the Street Genie, Freddie Greene playing Jazz with his soul bleeding through his instruments.
Always enjoyable Steve Hyman sang some Rhythm & Blues. I remembered that he’s appearing at the upcoming Pawfest on May 16 at Magnolia Manor. We wound down with Gospel, actually wound up because the sound was an outburst for most of the groups but creamy when The Royal Jubilee Singers came on stage. These four gentlemen also sang a cappella, are all in their eighty’s and put me in mind of the Ink Spots and the Platters. They were just delightful. As were the Bullocks, Arnetta Yancey, the Ayscues and the Warrenton Echoes who ended the program with style and grace.
It was a grand day. We ran from 3 pm to 7:30. Folks were coming and going, sometimes fitting parts of the program into their pre-scheduled day. I watched Emily Shaw moving from place to place wherever she was needed just like she has done since she dropped into this project. She’s earned high commendations for all her efforts to be so successful.

New Harmonies, American Roots Music

2010-05-03T06:08:00.000-07:00

Last Friday was docent training day for us New Harmonies’ volunteers at the library in Warrenton. Now I understand the high excitement Dr. Sue Loper and Emily Shaw have been showing. This is an impressive exhibit to explore as well as look at. Some musical instruments can be played, including a pair of spoons, (my step-father was great with spoons, playing them up and down my arm, on my head, etc.) an old time radio emits music as well as some buttons pushed bring forth music to reminisce. Headphones are also available for listening to the various music venues.

The roots of American music are represented by the various groups who brought music together with backgrounds from Native Americans, West African slaves and early European immigrants. The Blues, Gospel, Blue Grass, Country and Western lead us up to Rock ‘n Roll, Folk and Protest music. It’s all there and more for everyone to enjoy with no more effort than to walk in during library hours Monday through Saturday until the middle of June.

Ancestral Homes

2010-04-27T04:44:00.000-07:00

One of the homes on the House Tour has been owned 144 years by the same family! Another was occupied by three different pharmacist’s families (two of them related) beginning prior to the War Between the States followed by a family who lived there for 50 years.

This is awesome to me since I’ve lived in seven different houses in my lifetime and knew none of my relatives older than my mother and father. Esteem for the large portraits hanging proudly on the walls of these historic homes is at the top of my list. Again, I have one photo of one grandmother and grandfather and two pictures of a great-grandmother. All are snapshot size. I long for more. I want history and lineage.

Walls Talk

2010-04-25T18:17:00.000-07:00

Houses hold the imprint of families that lived in them for as long as they stand. And when they fall they probably take that imprint back into the ground with them. Sometimes I will get a message when I enter a home but rarely when surrounded by the crowds swarming into the houses with me on the Preservation Warren County, North Carolina House Tour this past Saturday.

I split up my tour and visited a few on Sunday when I seemed to miss the groups. As I sauntered from the ‘newer’ section of a few homes-meaning added on in the 1800s or even 1900s- into the original sections built in the 1700s a different feeling emanated from the rooms.

Walls talk. We only need to listen.

Down Garden Paths

2010-04-24T12:00:00.000-07:00

A dear friend blessed me with about seventy books on art that stirred up a new excitement in me. It’s like stepping through a lovely arbor to a magical place full of beauty and wonder and witnessing the perseverance of artists who couldn’t breathe unless the scent of paint, turpentine and canvas was in the air.
It’s difficult to know which book to start absorbing. Somehow ‘Down Garden Paths’ by William H. Gerdts landed on top. So begins my education on American Impressionists and the impact exterior gardens made on artists. The French Impressionists have long been my favorites and I’ve read and watched (on DVDs) about their personal lives as well as their painting ones. One influences the other.
Now I find myself going from the book to the internet to search out Childe Hassam, John Singer Sargent and Celia Thaxter. The art of Winslow Homer wakens me. I knew only of his sea work. Philip Leslie Hale’s ‘The Crimson Rambler’ brings tender moments to my mind.
A thread appears linking me back to Bordentown. In Candace Wheeler’s group of creative geniuses pops up the names of the Century Gilders. This is the same Gilder family that lived on Crosswicks Street, the same family where each child was extremely talented in the arts, in writing and traveling including exploration.

Newly Retired

2010-03-11T05:55:00.000-08:00

The other night I overheard a conversation while I was sitting in a restaurant. The woman had recently retired. She said rather forlornly, “I can’t get out of my nightgown in the morning.” I glanced across the aisle to see her dazed expression. Like a slap across the face to wake me up, it forced me to think of when I first sold my bookshop.

I was in the habit of working 5 ½ to 6 days a week. In December it was always seven days of ten-hours-a-day with only Christmas Day off. The day after was just as busy as the day before. No complaint. I loved it. And then I sold the business with plans to start a brand new adventure by moving out of state.

In the meantime I woke in the morning with no destination, no demands on my time, no need to be anywhere in particular. I woke in the morning without having to jump into the shower and rush to get ready. I was in shock without knowing it. All these great blocks of time were in front of me and I didn’t know how to respond to them. It was like being in the middle of a joyful festival then being plunked away and put into solitary.

O f course it passed. Soon memorable lunch dates, dinner parties and outings came before the frenzy of packing up, closing accounts, etc. but it was that shock of ‘dead time’ that I vividly remember.

Battle of the Waxhaws

2010-03-01T06:05:00.000-08:00

This past weekend I attended a seminar in Lancaster, South Carolina on the debate of the Battle of the Waxhaws also known as Buford’s Defeat/Massacre/Battleground. A “massacre or not” was the question. That question raised passionate responses from opposing thoughts and beliefs at the conference. But the passion that resulted from this battle back during the Revolutionary War brought many Patriots off the fence and into uniform. It also tagged Lt.Col. Banastre Tarleton with the nickname ‘Bloody Ban’ that he carried the rest of his life.

Aside from all the information I learned, it was great to discuss the Revolutionary War with like-minded people at the Friday night Reception. It isn’t easy to find to folks discuss the eighteenth century on an everyday basis. I also came away with a packet jammed full of relevant reading/research material and, of course, a few more signed books to add to my constantly growing collection. I also drooled over the beautiful art work available for purchasing. Alas, sometimes one has to choose………. Many thanks to the folks at the Andrew Jackson State Park for this interesting day. I'll be returning to the area for some more exploring.

Cards

2010-02-24T07:37:00.000-08:00

I love cards. Selecting the perfect card to send, reflecting my personality to the personality of the eventual receiver is a joy. Not every friend of mine would appreciate an Edward Gorey card. But a few of them get it……..the minute they see the image they’ll turn to the back and read the little comment that goes with it.

Some of my friends are lovers of art as I am. Still there are those that I’ll send a card from my box of Monet while others will receive a Van Gogh. Yet others will get a card from my assorted “Woman Reading” box with images from several different artists. The right picture to fit the occasion and the receiver. A-h-h-h.

As I finally tie up my 2009 Christmas cards with a pretty satin ribbon today, I look them over getting pleasure a second time from a card once dispatched. Most cards I can tell who sent it to me without even opening the card just by looking at the image and by knowing my friend well.

They are all treasures to be put away for a time then brought out later to enjoy again, like a love letter but one without the romance. They are reminders of one who lived at a certain time in a certain place in my life. A recorder of events as sure as the log of a ship or the facts of a biography.

Snowbound

2010-02-05T06:15:00.000-08:00

It is the beauty of snow that stays with me. The soft snow bringing peace outside the window sent me into my library to pick the “Snow Falling on Silence” by Marina Raye CD off my shelf. Her music enhances the feminine voice of beauty in winter. Nature sounds float out from my computer penetrating my skin; settling inside where it is needed most.

Even though my experience of life is very different, I seek the book of John Greenleaf Whittier poetry on the shelf. I couldn’t possibly watch the snow filtering down from the white sky without thinking of Snowbound the poem learned in high school. It was truly learned so that it rises to the surface at times like this, so many years since I first read the poem.

Being snowbound is good for reading, thinking, cooking, and writing. Actually I even found time to clean out my closet in response to the message from the universe to be “letting go of stuff you no longer need…clothes, household items, attitudes and beliefs that no longer serve you.” I quote from Jyoti Wind’s Astro Update.
Paintings appear in front of my eyes when I drive through the forests into town for some real live people and talk after spending six days housebound. The forest shows up best when snow is on the ground. It is easier to see deep into the woods. The depth is revealed but the secrets remain her own.

Now that the roads are clear again I hear we are expecting another snowfall coming tonight. This time I’ll build a bigger snowman.

January Lists

2010-01-22T07:44:00.000-08:00

It is January and instead of making resolutions, I make lists. First I carry and update my lists from 2009 to 2010 files. Always when I do that, I find new lists must be made. One of the new lists is the Books on CD that I’ve read, well, listened to anyway. I first started keeping a list of the books I’ve read in my book discussion groups back in 1999 when the group met in my shop. The books reviewed for my Register-News column have always been kept on a separate list. That’s good for looking back and checking so I don’t review the same ones.

But this year for the first time since I have bought my first computer in the early 90s I am making a list of all the email addresses in my phone book. I’m trimming my sails, cutting out that $11.99 monthly AOL bill that I pay to keep my same email address even though my telephone service is Embarq. I hate to do this. It’s almost a feeling of disloyalty running through my system. And what if someone from way back when wants to contact me and I no longer answer to their email? Will they know how to get in touch? What horrors will I have to face with this change of address? Is this a life-changing thing that I plan to do?

Decisions, decisions are heavy weights indeed.

How It Happens

2009-12-11T13:16:00.000-08:00

I write lists of things I need to do and when I need to do them, places I need to go in the order I need to go there, items I need to buy, but not before I need to buy them and other tidbits in my life that I don’t want to lose track. Petersburg, Virginia was in the middle of my Places to Go list.

Yet a couple weeks ago I found myself driving to Petersburg to follow up on some research I was doing for a story but had set aside to finish later. The story was second on my list, not the one I was immediately writing. I wound up in the interesting War Between the States Siege Museum which has all to do with, of course, the ten-month siege of Petersburg during that same war.

The research I wanted for this area was on the Revolutionary War period. So how did I come to be here? Once I spotted the sign in front of the building I was drawn in. The stories represented inside told of the stamina and determination of a town and its people. The docent was obviously enjoying the telling and showing.

I somehow fell into conversation with a couple as I was readying to leave. They were also slowly heading for the exit. The subject of ghosts and hauntings popped into our conversation.

The lady had a haunting experience to tell me. The docent overheard us and followed up with a story of her own. Synchronicity. Still at work.

Ashes

2009-12-09T08:57:00.000-08:00

Does anyone else out there remember hauling ashes from the coal furnace in the basement to the icy/snowy sidewalk in front of the house? This was the answer of the times, to help keep folks from slipping, sliding and falling. Those were the days of pulling galoshes over top of our shoes with snap buckles closing them. One weak buckle always broke leaving a gap. Ugh. I hated pulling those boots on but it had to be done.

The stocking cap my cousin Wilma knitted for me, gloves and scarves dried on radiators (still the best heat, I think) while we drank hot cocoa to warm up before going out into the snow to get cold and wet all over again. Snow ball fights and snow igloos were as much a part of the Christmas season as the tree, the gifts and memorizing a piece for Sunday school.

The Story Behind

2009-11-04T16:25:00.000-08:00

There is a story behind everything. Think about it. When you bought a certain painting, or piece of pottery, or stained glass, maybe it was gifted to you. What is the story that goes with it? There is a story to be told inside the painting and each person looking at it may interpret it differently. Then there’s the story about how it came into your possession.

How about the story in your memory about the scar on your knee or how my two kittens, now cats, came to lighten my life and teach me about unconditional love. Your first taste of ice cream, remember it? What's the story?

Most times we don’t even think about such things or we think that our stories are all the same. Ho-hum. But that isn’t true. The differences are what make our stories interesting to others. It’s our differences that kick up fascination. It’s our setting apart that creates compassion and understanding. It’s stuff that makes a story.

Autumn Scenes

2009-10-31T19:04:00.000-07:00

Courthouse Square was a thick carpet of brilliantly colored autumn leaves when I pulled along the curb on Friday. The scene immediately took me back to the 70s when I bought a thick shag carpet for my first house in Bordentown. It was like walking on fire but soft and comfy-my carpet and the Courthouse leaves, too.

Funny, how a view in front of me can take me to a completely different place. The old movie with Rock Hudson and Jane Wyman where he is a temporary gardener filling in for a friend, is another autumn scene that pops into my head at this time of year. I haven’t seen that movie in probably 40 years and don’t even remember the title of it, yet a few scenes stick in my mind waiting to be rekindled. The other vivid scene from that movie was one of the old barn remodeled into a gorgeous home-think roaring fire in a huge stone fireplace and deep, untouched snow outside. A-h-h. The beauties of life.

Chapel Hill Excursion

2009-09-30T06:32:00.000-07:00

Actually I was going to Durham to a particular outdoor furniture place that I’ve never been able to find open when I’ve been there early in the week. This is Saturday, what retail shop isn’t open then? This one. H-m-m. I drove over an hour to get here, no sense in wasting the gas I’ve already used, so, on to Chapel Hill.
Driving south on 15/501 as the map directed brought me around and back to a part of Durham I’d not seen before but a friend told me about the day before. Wow! Again, not to be defeated I stopped for a light lunch at Fishmonger’s and jumped onto 15/501 again.
This time I didn’t take the route through the town but stayed on the highway to Franklin Street and bingo! I finally found Chapel Hill. This has culminated a few years of saying “Yes, I want to explore Chapel Hill, maybe tomorrow, next week, later, in a month, etc.”
Saturday afternoon and the shops and restaurants were filled. Even the book shop had paying customers lined up in front of me. This was good to see after all the gloom and doom I hear daily about the economy. I even found a tiny little shop offering Cannoli. The gentleman said it was made with Italian hands by way of New York. After tasting it later that night, I knew he was telling me the truth.

Autumn Roadsides

2009-09-21T14:40:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday the early morning fog still clung to the trees and bushes in the distance creating a beautiful but eerie backdrop for the ghostly-castle-in-Scotland-mystery I was listening to in the SUV. I was driving into Warrenton to shop at the Farmers’ Market downtown. The scene cast up beauty instead of spookiness. The autumn golden-yellow colored flowers adorned the roadside in thick bunches running all along the edges of the blacktop for miles. I continue to be overwhelmed with the abundance of wildflowers wherever I drive this September. Well behind the blooms that look like Black-eyed Susans are tall stems of greenery topped in clusters of little white flowers. These are tucked into the edges of the forests, in masses. A florist couldn’t have arranged them more stunningly for any amount of money. And they are there just for looking.

Obviously the grass cutting road crews have beauty in their souls. They trim the grass closely but go around the buttery flowers leaving a feast for drivers and their passengers for which I am thankful.

Pandolfi Concert

2009-09-20T21:47:00.000-07:00

This afternoon I went to Cherry Hill to the Thomas Pandolfi Piano Concert. The grand piano is set up in the center hallway. I sat in the room to the right where I could watch his hands and expressions while he played. His first selection "Apres Une Lecture du Dante" by Franz Liszt thundered throughout the manor. I could feel the descent into Hell as Liszt intended it to be. As I watched Pandolfi play with vigor and intensity and later Chopin’s work, it felt as though George Sand, Chopin and Liszt along with his long-time lover, Countess Maria d’Agoult were in the room.

They spent many hours in the salons of the wealthy in France, Liszt playing with passion almost violently, Chopin often played with delicacy on the keys. Picnics, social events and visits to Aurore’s (George Sand) estate were part of their lives. Time eroded the lovers; Sand leaving Chopin and Liszt leaving d’Agoult, even Sand and d’Agoult became public enemies, but for some time music kept them close. Liszt and Chopin remained close friends until Chopin’s early demise from his ill health. Yes, Thomas Pandolfi played beautifully bringing the spirits of these four friends into the rooms of Cherry Hill.

Learning at Skidmore

2009-07-02T12:57:00.000-07:00

I've heard it over and over from workshop leaders, in books and from authors-read what you write. Find books that settle inside you for their style and content. Read them. Copy paragraphs that grab at you. Write them out. Feel them. Taste them. Then take what you learn and go from there putting your own self into it. Let your mind flow. Use what you learn. See what you look at. Listen to what you hear. Taste what you eat and feel what you touch. Re-live it.

Passing Away Too Soon

2009-07-01T04:15:00.001-07:00

Seeing on my PC that Farrah Fawcett passed away followed next by Michael Jackson, tweaked my mind. Both from illnesses though different in nature. But I wonder if they completed all they set out to accomplish while on earth in this lifetime. Lives seemingly cut short make me think about that. I don't really believe their lives were cut short even though they are both younger than me. I think their ending on earth came at exactly the moment designated at birth, but I'm not so sure they did do all they wanted to do in this lifetime.

Now that I'm beyond the sixty year mark I'm fully aware that I have less time ahead of me than behind me. I have at least four books in mind that need writing, two that are well along in being completed. When I think of the literary important Jane Austen, ‘passing over’ leaving Sanditon unfinished, I shudder.

Procrastination, get thee behind me!

Last Day of June

2009-06-30T06:08:00.001-07:00

This is it, the last day in June. By the end of the day I’ll have made it through another year of Junes. It’s the best and the worst of months. It brings my Annual ‘Remember the Magic’ Writing Conference and it brings the anniversaries of the ‘passing over’ of three loved ones.
June brings the songs of the birds close to me while I sit in the early morning on my deck. It brings the joy of the squirrels and rabbits playing on the grass and the slight sway of the tall pines. It brings the strawberries for picking and the gardenias scenting the air with sweetness.

Last Day of June

2009-06-30T06:01:00.000-07:00

June brings the songs of the birds close to me while I sit in the early morning on my deck. It brings the joy of the squirrels and rabbits playing on the grass and the slight sway of the tall pines. It brings the strawberries for picking and the gardenias scenting the air with sweetness.

Tears

2009-06-27T04:21:00.000-07:00

On my recent check-up visit to Duke Eye Center, I learned that we have different liquids in our eyes, tears and an eye wash (when we blink). As age creeps over us,(egads, she mentioned 40 years of age) the eye wash dries. That's where eye drops come in. They help keep the eye fluid. At least this is how I understand it.

Tears are something else. I learned not to cry at a young age. It was that 'growing up with all boys in the neighborhood' thing. "Only sissies cry." they taunted.

I was too young to realize that boys don't know any better than many men do. Crying is healthy. I'd held back tears for so many years that I think they just backed up and overflowed........like a sewer system. Once I started crying, about 15 years ago, I haven't stopped. When people see this they get embarrassed.

"No, no." I tell them. "It's okay. When the tears want to fall, I let them. It releases my emotions and feels good." Not to worry.

If you have a hard time trying to cry, to release those deeply buried disappointments and hurts, try this: play some songs that bring back those memories of painful experiences-the ones you worked so hard to forget. If it doesn't work the first time, try it again and again. Eventually you'll clean out all that moldy yuk festering inside ........ just like the guy does with the toilet plunger.

Reading as a Writer

2009-06-26T06:07:00.000-07:00

It's true. Once I became a writer I began to read differently. Oh, I still read for enjoyment. I may get lost in a story but only until a passage is especially poetic. Then I sit up, take note maybe even place a 'sticky' under the paragraph so I can return to it for further pleasure. I'll re-read it aloud this time to my two girls (darling cats) letting the words roll around my tongue before I swallow them.

Or it may be just a word that stands out and I'm unable to just roll over it including its meaning in the sentence containing it. A word that demands I look it up in the dictionary, now. When the worth of the word is revealed I realise no other word could have been more suitable and I amaze over the cleverness of the author.

Reading Michael Ondaatje's Divisadero is like that. I have several stickies underscoring paragraphs that just reached out and made me pay attention. The man writes prose like a poet; creates scenes like an artist. It's a pleasure to read the words he strings together.

Writers' Group

2009-06-25T07:09:00.000-07:00

For those who are nearby, a Writer's Group is meeting at the Warren County Memorial Library on Front St. in Warrenton, NC on the first Tuesday of the month at 6:00 until 8:00. Come early or later but join us in writing practices whether you are writing fiction, memoir, poetry or some thing else. There's no cost. Bring paper, pen or laptop.

Farmer as Poet

2009-06-24T18:00:00.000-07:00

Today on my way to somewhere else, I passed a freshly turned field being readied for planting. But near the roadway the farmer created a small island by plowing around an area of Queen Anne's Lace. The wildflowers swayed in the breeze as if they were celebrating the farmer's recognition of their beauty and the joy they extended to anyone who took a moment to look. Surely the farmer is a poet or an artist or perhaps just someone who sees beauty when it pops out of the ground.

Spring as Art

2009-03-24T05:05:00.000-07:00

The fields have become vast stretches of Kelly green again, creating a background, framing the brilliant yellow daffodils, the cherry pink blossoms and white Bradford Pear trees. It’s as though huge hands have framed a piece of art by an Impressionist.

A week before-the-five-day-rain, brilliant colors of early blooming flowers and trees, perked up the nearly undressed forests and sleeping farmland. An image of encouragement appears, that the blossoms are seeking the artist’s brush to continue coloring the earth, fulfilling a partnership.

It seemed as though the ground was waiting for a splash of water to bring it to life (it got a bucketful instead) to make it smile just as I suddenly become content quenching a thirst after a dry run.

This week Van Gogh comes to mind as splotches of amethyst appear in the pastures. I’m seeing what his talent recreated on canvas for us to enjoy all winter. In spring we can see the original.

Books on CD

2009-03-23T06:56:00.000-07:00

I’ve reawakened my idea of listening to books on CD. It was great to listen to a story as I was trekking to New Jersey for a long weekend. I arrived without a trace of being tired and without realizing how much time had passed. But when I returned home, I placed the idea in a drawer somewhere to be used for my next long-distance travel.

A few weeks ago as I prepared for an hour fifteen minute drive to Raleigh-not considered long distance now that I live in NC -the idea of books on CD popped into my head. I stopped at the library on the way and restored a good habit.

I took note that whenever I get into my car I’m driving at least 20 minutes and usually longer. That's enough time to get back into the story easily. Now, if I can find some of my favorite authors.........

Images

2009-03-21T12:33:00.000-07:00

Maureen McCarthy Draper once said “Music itself is an image, if you think of an image as Ezra Pound did, as presenting “an intellectual and emotional complex in an instant of time” . . . .Perhaps the soul needs images more than answers.”
I play music CDs on my computer. In the evening as I sit in my bedroom/office the music soothes my daily chores as I read my current book. The monitor flashes brilliant colors and shapes and images. If my book is absorbing, I ignore the images, but not Mz Lizzie. She is fascinated.
When I show her photos of other cats, she sends me an incredulous look, as if to say “what are you doing?’ That’s just before she raises her chin and majestically strides away from me. But the ‘light’ show on the computer will keep her mesmerized for an hour.

Baby is Born

2009-03-07T05:49:00.000-08:00

The Baby is Born! And a relief it is, too. “Pieces of Me” has become “Life & Labyrinth” a name even more fitting once the manuscript came together. It’s a bit like changing your name from the one you carry to honor that old respectable aunt/uncle. You know the names, out-dated and conjuring up images of a stuffy, old codger before anyone gets to meet you personally.

Or you were named after your mother or father so all your life you’re called junior, butch, buddy or number two. Maybe you picked up a nickname to distinguish you from the original, so no one knows your name anyway, unlike being at “Cheers” where everyone knows your name.

Even after the senior passes on, you’re stuck with the derivative. So I say cheers to anyone changing their name to one they like. So, it’s “Life & Labyrinth” now available to you at the Old Bookshop of Bordentown on Farnsworth Ave, Amazon.com and hopefully soon to be at
Barnes & Noble in the Hamilton Marketplace. Or if you can’t get to those places, you can order one from me. Enjoy.

Empathy

2009-01-23T06:01:00.000-08:00

Empathy is understanding. Compassion grasps empathy by the hand to walk together. Once a person has traveled a difficult road that others trod upon, she commends their triumph of overcoming all the obstacles. Her barriers may be different but still she recognizes the struggle.

Understanding includes those who have had sorrow in their lives but not the denial of rights that belong to them but not given. It’s difficult to see the other person’s hardship when it is so different from your own. Like choosing clothes for a holiday in the Caribbean when it’s snowing outside, there’s always an un-necessary sweater packed in there somewhere.

Sometimes it’s challenging but empathy, compassion and the extended hand are rewards in themselves.

No-Name Recipe

2009-01-22T06:38:00.000-08:00

From my upcoming book "Pieces of Me"

NO NAME RECIPE

peanut butter * walnut halves * dried dates * sugar touched by cinnamon

I place the items to the side of the old wooden table-top, cleared now of the crossword puzzle from last Sunday’s newspaper and the antique brass candle-holder containing a taper. I’m lucky enough to have stocked up on tapers when I could still buy them at wholesale prices. The holder was a gift from Mona, who in the winter invites me for dinner served in her simple colonial dining room, lit only by candlelight, as authentically colonial as the dinner served.
I’ve also moved the wooden bowl hollowed out and hand-painted on the outside, by the loving hands of a true craftsman. This too, was a gift, but from Norma who began as a customer in my shop and became a very generous friend.
These items are removed and the table scrubbed clean of cat fur wisps from my two girls, Mz Lizzie and Lady Jane. They give me the same great joy as the Bennet sisters in Pride and Prejudice for which they were named. They love to watch me cook and bake from the safe distance of a nearby wooden wine rack stand, a gift to my late husband still in use long after he has passed.
I cup a date in my left palm, holding the paring knife in my right. The sharp tip of the knife slits the date open like a pocket sewn closed in error. A small swipe of peanut butter fills the gaping hole easily before I reach for the walnut recently plucked from the ground under my neighbor’s huge, ancient walnut tree. It was necessary to scoot the squirrels away to get the walnuts. They don’t give them up easily even though the tree will give us thousands more this year. As soon as I brought my little treasures home, I spread them out thinly on a cookie sheet, blackened with age and use, roasting the nuts on low heat for an hour or so.
The date and peanut butter embrace the newly received walnut half, not quite closing around it. Next I roll the piece into the cinnamon tinted sugar waiting in the shallow bowl with the images of Toulouse-Lautrec posters reminding me of another century. My friend Tom encouraged me to buy a whole set of them, knowing I would always treasure them as I do his pieces of artwork that I own.
The finished product is placed next to her sisters on the cut glass tray, a lovely platter salvaged from an unlovely time, an angry divorce, but now garnishing a shelf, patiently waiting for a lifetime of happy use.

P S: Cream cheese may be substituted for the peanut butter but nothing can substitute the friends that will share my creation.

Day After the President's Inauguration

2009-01-21T09:05:00.000-08:00

Bits and pieces of the televised Presidential Inauguration Day intermittently stopped my working. I paused, turned and watched. I wept when President Obama stated, “forty years ago my father could not have entered the White House by the front door.”

As a person who has struggled to feed my kids, to stop foreclosure on my house and to be considered a second-class citizen by nature of being a woman, I applaud our new President. I’ve stood in a room of a hundred dark skinned people and appreciated being invited to the occasion. I’ve waited in line with a hundred East Indians at a New York book-signing and was the only redhead with skin coloring of my Celtic ancestors, there. Everyone else had black hair and a darker complexion including the author.

Empathy has come to me through self-education and just being open to the thoughts and dreams of others struggling to improve their situation and increase their education. President Obama opens the door for many who have earned the right to become first class citizens at last.