Cheryl R E A V I S, Writing Life...

Backlist: THE WINTER HEART

2012-01-13T09:54:00.005-05:00

Another backlist book has been called forth for digital release, this time the SPRING BRIDES anthology, which includes my novella, THE WINTER HEART, as well as novellas by Judith Stacy and Pam Crooks. It will be available in the usual digital formats, Kindle, Nook, Kobo, etc. on February 15 2012 and can be pre-ordered now. LINK TO amazon.com

Progress Report on the New Book

2012-01-09T15:23:00.003-05:00

The line edits are finished and approved, and the new release, THE SOLDIER'S WIFE, is now in production. (The setting for the book is the Blue Ridge Mountains, in case you're wondering what the picture has to do with anything.) I believe the release date will be August 2012.

PRIME SUSPECT and Me

2012-01-09T06:50:00.004-05:00

NBC has axed PRIME SUSPECT. Why? Well, apparently because the writing is superb, the casting, excellent, and the acting absolutely stunning.

Maria Bello's "Jane" is much more sympathetic than Helen Mirren's "Jane." I know this because I watched ALL the episodes of both versions. I gave this new "upstart" NBC version a chance, thinking all the while that it couldn't possibly compare to the British one. (What can I say? I'm a PBS viewer--I'm accustomed to excellence.) Well, it not only "compared," it "surpassed." The humanity Bello brought to the character when the plot dealt with a traumatized child was Emmy-worthy at the very least. And, her relationship with the men in her squad who are determined not to respect her has been riveting.

If all that's not enough, there were the complex relationships with her father, her younger sister, her "significant other" and his little boy -- not to mention the viper of an ex-wife. Every character in this drama is three-dimensional.

THEN, there is the complexity of Maria Bello's "Jane" herself. "Jane" is a strong woman. She is not a woman trying to behave like a man. Believe me, the official poster (see above) -- which makes her look like a bounty-hunter-slash-biker-chick (whose idea was that, anyway?) -- says nothing about the excellent dramatic quality of this show or her fearlessness or her vulnerability, all of which made the viewer, i.e. ME, care about what happened to her and to the men who hate her and who love her.

Sadly, there is nothing I can do about this travesty but vent. And make a suggestion: MOVE IT TO THE USA NETWORK.

NBC, I am axing your Thursday at 10 PM time slot out of my DVR -- and you're not getting it back.

HAPPY 2012

2011-12-31T22:20:00.006-05:00

I'm just sitting here--waiting for 2012 to arrive, listening for the neighbors' fireworks. And the shotguns. In recent years, the county seems to have revived its old German custom of shooting the New Year. It was really noisy last year. Maybe all that shooting is what made 2011 run by so fast. I don't know where the time went, do you?

I've remembered too late that I don't have the makings of the customary New Year's Good Luck Meal in the cupboard, and there won't be any real restaurants open on Sunday that will serve it. Can't get ham, black-eyed peas, and collard greens at Mickey D's or Burger King.

Even so, let me wish all of you a very Happy and Healthy 2012, and may all your dreams come true. (I should have one--possibly two--books out in 2012. That would definitely work for me in the "dream come true department." Having a book released never gets old.)

Take care. And if you happen to have a New Year's Good Luck Meal at your house tomorrow, take a couple of extra bites for me.

'Til next time...

Re-Remembering A Christmas Past...

2011-12-22T08:20:00.004-05:00

What is this? It's a photo of one of the neighbor's Christmas lights, taken very early in the morning in a foggy rain. The "fog" part makes me "hark back," as the late Johnny Carson used to say, something I would do anyway because it's that time of year. Yes, once again, I'm thinking of our family's Almost Christmas Stranger.

It was damp and foggy the night she showed up--December 23rd, hence the "almost" Christmas Stranger tag. How many years ago now? Half a century? No, more than that, actually. I've posted about her before. This is the link if you'd like to read it (or reread it, as the case may be). My late sister-in-law's recipe for a wonderful Lemon Fruit Cake is also included in that post. She made one every Christmas, and I miss her and them. (Let's just say I am not a baker.)

I'm looking forward to Christmas with the family--or most of the family. My nephew, the world traveler, has made it home from Cairo for the holiday, but I don't think I'll be able to see him, at least not close enough to hug the stuffing out of him as I am wont to do. I've managed to catch a cold, one of the messy kinds with lots of coughing, hacking and sneezing, and the last thing I need to do is give it to him just in time for his long flight back. I may have already given it to two of the Grands. (The boys refused my precautionary "air hugs" in lieu of the real thing.)

Now I'm going to get busy with the presents-wrapping. I'm going to put the Christmas music on and go to town with the colorful paper and the ribbon. Might even drink some russian tea in the process (very good for colds, don't you know). Oh, and I'm probably going to "mind write" on the new book while I'm at it. Busy hands, in my case, will almost always lead to story plotting. It's just part of my creative process--or it's a survival technique. Like "Maynard G. Krebs" (who?), I never want to think about "Work!"

All of you take care. Merry Christmas and have a wonderful Holiday Season.

'Til next time...

Getting Christmas-y

2011-12-08T13:42:00.003-05:00

The DH and Grand #3 decorated the Christmas tree one afternoon last week. I think they did a spectacular job. You can't tell it on this picture, but they outdid themselves with the "icicles." (Long, narrow, dangle-y silver strands.) I was beta reading with Grand #1 on a Big Important Grade Thesis Paper and didn't really look up when the DH asked, "How much of this do you want us to use?" In retrospect, "All of it" might not have been the best response.

In any event, they had a good time, and I love the generously icicle-ed tree. I need lots of color and shine, and I got it.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Learning Something New...

2011-11-28T10:44:00.003-05:00

Until a few days ago, I had no idea what "murmuration" was. I don't think I'd ever heard/seen the word before. If you don't know either or if do know and you'd like to see an amazing video example, click HERE.

On Not Being Tolstoy...

2011-11-18T22:03:00.002-05:00

The last of my "Cinda Richards" backlist is finally up on amazon.com--which is actually my first published romance novel. I've been thinking a lot about what an experience that was all those years ago, finally seeing something I'd written in print.

No, that's not quite right. I'd had other things in print prior to this--literary short stories published in "little magazines," an anthology, chapbooks, etc., sometimes to good reviews. Sometimes, even the rejection slips were glowing.

Oh, yes. I was known to hang out with the literary crowd. I won short story contests, gave readings here and there, went to teas as an honored guest in Charlotte, Raleigh, Greensboro, Norfolk. I remember one such tea where the tea service was taller than most of the people attending. It was nice. And not the least bit lucrative.

Now if you know anything about the romance genre at all, you know that it is the consummate redheaded stepchild of publishing. The literati don't read romances, or if they do, they don't admit it. EVER. And what's more, they don't want you to waste your time reading "those books" either. It just won't do.

So I'm safe in saying that many of my literary acquaintances were surprised to learn that I'd written an about-to-be-published romance novel. Some were genuinely congratulatory (I think). Some assumed it was a vanity press project and were astounded to learn that a large New York publishing house had paid me to write it. And some wanted to kindly--and not so kindly--"save" me from whatever mental aberration was responsible for this particular craziness.

It was a bit of a...burden.

Here is my most favorite "helpful" remark: "Well, it's nice you got paid, but you know, Cheryl, it's hardly the Great American Novel."

Now here's the thing. I worked on it as if it was. I didn't "write down." I didn't condescend. I didn't wear a paper bag over my head. I didn't use a pen name for any reason other than the publisher required it. Instead, I learned the perimeters of the genre and I did the very best job I knew how to do.

Which brings us to the other thing. The title. Can you imagine the response in this rarified literary environment to a romance novel titled THIS SIDE OF PARADISE? And no it wasn't my idea. It was just one of those many things TPTB decide and the writer has to live with. I like to think, though, that F. Scott just might have cut me a little slack. We do, after all, have the same birthday.

Till next time...

Veterans Day 11-11-11

2011-11-11T08:31:00.004-05:00

This is a photograph of my mother, my aunt, and my two cousins, once removed. It was taken during the early days of World War II.

The young man (my cousin) was home on leave. He was in the navy, and I believe it was his last chance to see everyone before he "shipped out."

This was "before my time," but I'm still struck by the emotions I sense whenever I look at the photograph. Part of it has to do with the way my mother and her sister and cousin are standing, as if they are trying to shield him from things to come, and part of it has to do with my mother's sad face.

He returned from the War safely. His brother, who was also there that day but not in this photograph, did not. People in the family have told me that his mother believed he was incapable of taking the life of another human being, no matter the circumstances, and that he knew, in the way soldiers sometimes do, that he would not return.

This is my own personal connection to Veterans Day and Memorial Day. And it's a big part of the reason why I always, always vote.

I wanted to share it with you...

This Makes Me Happy...

2011-11-06T11:43:00.003-05:00

DA/SBTB Bestseller List

by NED on OCTOBER 30, 2011 · 1 COMMENT · in BESTSELLER LIST

TAGS: BESTSELLER LISTS

Lord and Lady Spy by Shana Galen Amazon | nook | Sony | Kobo
The Mistress Deception by Susan Napier Amazon | nook | Sony | Kobo
Among the Living by Jordan Castillo Price Amazon | nook | Sony | Kobo
I Love the Earl by Caroline Linden Amazon | nook | Sony | Kobo
Real Men Will by Victoria Dahl Amazon | nook | Sony | Kobo
The Long Way Home by Cheryl Reavis Amazon | nook | Sony | Kobo
Something Different by S A Reid Amazon | nook | Sony | Kobo
Doukakis’s Apprentice by Sarah Morgan Amazon | nook | Sony | Kobo
Unclaimed by Courtney Milan Amazon | nook | Sony | Kobo

Vintage Kindle-Version Books Update

2011-11-05T10:50:00.003-04:00

SUCH ROUGH SPLENDOR, another of my vintage "Cinda Richards" romances, is now available on amazon. My first "Cinda Richards" romance, THIS SIDE OF PARADISE, should be added soon.

The Most Vintage of the Vintage...

2011-10-25T09:45:00.007-04:00

COMING SOON...

a re-release of my very first novel writing as "Cinda Richards":

THIS SIDE OF PARADISE

in Kindle format

(This is kind of exciting. Déja vu all over again.)

To Be Followed By...

another vintage "Cinda Richards" novel

SUCH ROUGH SPLENDOR

also in Kindle format

available only at amazon.com

The Poets

2011-10-15T08:05:00.003-04:00

I like poetry. I would say I love poetry, but I'm trying not to gush. Part of my admiration has to do with a rampant envy of the poet's way with words and their ability to convey the human condition with such emotion. Not just the poem itself, but the titles as well. I have a hard time titling. I just don't seem to have the kind of mind it takes to "allude" in such a profound way. My thought processes are too literal. I think it must be a "nurse thing," the years of having to observe and chart exactly what's happening or suffer dire consequences.

I am selective about the poetry I read, though. I prefer the imagery and response of "observer poets" to the ones who fall on the thorns of life and bleed.

In any event, here are some of the intriguing titles I have admired:

THE BLACK CHAMBER by Donald Hall

COME, THIEF: Poems by Jane Hirshfield

EUROPEAN BLUES by Louis Jenkins

FIRST WORDS by Joyce Sutphen. And from this body of work, a poem called "On the Way to the Farm I Think of My Sister." Click HERE if you'd like to hear it.

Vintage Cheryl Reavis Update

2011-09-29T12:40:00.009-04:00

These are the three "Cinda Richards" books now available on amazon.com in the Kindle format. There are two more coming: THIS SIDE OF PARADISE (my first romance novel) and SUCH ROUGH SPLENDOR.

And let me say thank you to those of you who have bought the first three. Bless your hearts. I am thrilled.

A Rose Is A Rose...

2011-09-25T10:02:00.003-04:00

This is just to show you that I actually do other things besides obsessing about paying the bills. (Read: shamelessly trying to entice everyone on the planet into buying "Cheryl Reavis" and "Cinda Richards" books).

I root roses. Sometimes successfully. This one was rooted from a cutting from a neighbor's rose bush. I started the process last year. (I use the ziplock bag method.) The cutting looked viable by early spring, so it was potted, fed and put outside after the threat of frost. And now it is blooming. Three whole roses. I love the color, and it actually has a whiff of the rose scent. I don't know what kind of rose it is, but I like it.

Now if I could just root a camelia. So far it's Cheryl, 0. The article I read about camelia-rooting said they will root in 3 to 6 months -- or never. I can definitely vouch for the "never" part. I used to work with a nurse who rooted them by placing the cuttings in a sandbox with a Mason jar over them. Alas, no. She rooted them, I rot them. I should probably go read about camelias some more. In the meantime...

That's it for this time.

Coming Sooner...

2011-09-22T12:02:00.004-04:00

Vintage Cheryl Reavis (writing as "Cinda Richards") NOW AVAILABLE on amazon.com, Kindle format...

Coming Soon...

2011-09-16T20:21:00.007-04:00

...my entire "Cinda Richards" backlist.

All five books written as "Cinda Richards" for the lost and gone forever SECOND CHANCE AT LOVE line are going to be released in the Kindle format: THIS SIDE OF PARADISE, DILLON'S PROMISE, FIRE UNDER HEAVEN, ONE FROM THE HEART, and SUCH ROUGH SPLENDOR.

I'm not sure when--I haven't approved the covers yet--but they're coming.

Nostalgia rules! (I hope)

Medicine Man

2011-09-15T09:38:00.002-04:00

The digital version of MEDICINE MAN is NOW AVAILABLE...

The Writer and His or Her Cat...

2011-09-04T13:16:00.003-04:00

I used to try to write around TWO of these persistent creatures. Sometimes they hit me in tandem. Sometimes one after the other. Always, they eventually got whatever it was they wanted: food--not THIS food, THAT food; food bowl's not empty but it's close enough to worry us; water in a cup not the water bowl; closed door opened; open door closed; "Help! You've misplaced the other cat!" or "There's a cricket in the bathtub!!!" or "Get up! I want to sit where you're sitting!"

And so on...

Anyway, I do love the "Simon's Cat" videos on YouTube. Click on the TWO above to see them.

Irene, Good Night...

2011-08-26T21:55:00.004-04:00

So far, so good regarding the hurricane. I thought for a time this afternoon we were going to get rain from the feeder bands, but we didn't, even though the sky grew quite dark.

So it looks like the Weather People are correct. We're going to be "breezy" here, and that's all. Having been through Hugo, this is more than fine with me.

So take care, everyone -- especially those of you in Irene's path -- and stay safe. An earthquake and a hurricane in the same week is a bit much, don't you think?

Another Backlist Book Available

2011-08-22T22:31:00.005-04:00

Another backlist book will be released in digital format (Kindle, Nook, and others).

THE MEDICINE MAN can be pre-ordered now from amazon.com and Barnes & Noble. It will be available September 15, 2011.

Once Upon A Time...

2011-07-19T17:58:00.007-04:00

...there was teacher named Mrs. Isenhour. She taught the 1st Grade at Rockwell School in Rockwell NC. This was a long, long time ago, and I have the picture to prove it.

Now I ask you, were we not adorable? (Click on the photo to see it full size.) Little did I know, when I stood between Victor and Tommy on the first row--in what was easily the ugliest dress I owned, with the one pocket stuffed full of who-knows-what--that I would one day be the school nurse at that same school. Needless to say, I never thought I'd be a romance writer. (A WHAT?)

And what a quirky thing one's memory can be. Some of these children, I remember well. Some, I remember their faces, but not their names. Some--even though I know who they are--I have no memory of their having been in my same class that year, when clearly they were because they're right there in the photograph. I remember a lot of personality traits, whom I liked and whom I didn't, who was a bully, who cried all the time, who colored beautifully, who ate paste, who couldn't read no matter what, who got smacked on the legs for talking in the reading circle (a-hem).

Some of them are dead now. Some became teachers like Mrs. Isenhour, some became nurses, secretaries, business men, a banker, farmers, textile workers, housewives. Some went to Vietnam.

Anyway, I found this yesterday--I'd been looking for it for YEARS--and I thought I'd share it with you. Truth be told, I miss The Good Old Days...

even with the ugly dress.

2011-06-29T12:25:00.002-04:00

Another book added to those now available in digital format, a Civil War historical, THE BARTERED BRIDE, set in Rowan County, North Carolina. It is available in Kindle and Nook formats.

Five Backlist Digital Releases

2011-06-18T09:49:00.015-04:00

Google Alert and Facebook Friend, Lynn Mershon Calvin, tell me I will have five backlist books in the Barnes & Noble Nook eBook format released on July 15, 2011 -- available for pre-ordering now.

HARRIGAN'S BRIDE is a Civil War historical set in Virginia and North Carolina. One of my very nice readers named her little girl after the heroine in this book. Both the heroine and I were truly honored -- we got pictures and everything. (THE BRIDE FAIR, which has a Salisbury NC setting, is part of the Blogger Bundle Volume V collection -- see the column on the right. THE PRISONER, also with a Salisbury NC setting, hasn't been released in digital format.)

MEGGIE'S BABY and MOTHER TO BE are from the Navajo "Family Blessing" series.

THE LONG WAY HOME and LITTLE DARLING are from the Fort Bragg series. Another very nice reader once wrote to advise me that she was going out with a Fort Bragg paratrooper -- something she would NEVER have done if she hadn't read these books -- the 82nd Airborne owes me more than it knows. Besides that, influencing somebody's dating choices, even inadvertently, is a HUGE responsibility. Read LITTLE DARLING first. And be careful who you go out with, paratrooper or not.

I haven't heard yet whether the books be available in digital formats elsewhere--but then I didn't hear about the Nook thing either. Google Alert and real live person, Lynn, very helpfully found it for me. (Thanks, Lynn.)

If you haven't read them, I hope you'll consider doing so. If you have, I hope you'll consider doing so again.

UPDATE: These books are now available for pre-ordering on amazon.com in the Kindle format.

Interesting Find--A Maid's Memories of Biltmore House

2011-06-07T08:48:00.006-04:00

My late sister-in-law once knew a woman who had worked as a maid in the Biltmore House in Asheville. I believe she was in her 90s at the time my sister-in-law knew her.

I recently happened upon a piece of notebook paper where my sister-in-law had written down what the woman had told her. There's no mention of the ocean blue walls but it looks as if the rest of what she said about the furniture was accurate:

"...Servant's Bedrooms--At any one time 80 servants might be employed at Biltmore, where they lived near their work stations in separate halls according to sex and "rank." The bedrooms along the corridor represented the private quarters for female members of the staff--cooks, house maids, and scullery maids. The rooms were airy and comfortable with split-seat chairs, chestnut dressers and wardrobes, and iron beds and washstands holding monogrammed chamber sets (pitcher, washbowl, chamber pot, slop bucket).

Service dress depended on the job and the time of day. The maids wore pink uniforms with white collars and cuffs in the AM and black with white trim in the PM. A cook's helper wore a red-checked pinafore and a dust cap..."

I've read that George Vanderbilt didn't like to actually see the staff, regardless of what they were wearing--hence the narrow passageway between the walls in the family's part of the house--sort of like a hall within a hall. I've also read this about one of our first ladies, only staff had to scurry to the nearest room and close the door when she came and went. (One can only assume that good servants will know their place, so of course they wouldn't mind.) (Yes, I'm rolling my eyes.)

It's been quite a few years since I've been on the Biltmore House tour -- and that was a Christmastime bus tour with my BFF, Jo. I never saw so many Christmas trees in my life. The time before that, my son was five. I distinctly remember him reaching across a velvet robe and giving a rare and, I expect, priceless world globe a big spin. The guard standing there probably does, too. I also expect that the globe was subsequently set farther back or removed altogether, once they understood what a temptation such things are to little boys, velvet rope or no velvet rope.

Maybe I should go to Biltmore again. To tell you the truth, though, while stunningly beautiful and worthy of being the backdrop for a number of movies, the experience always makes me feel sad. The place isn't in ruins, and yet it is--if that makes sense.

Might be a book in it, though....

Bulletin From The Antique Pickers

2011-05-31T08:57:00.004-04:00

You may remember when I told you about the DH and our antiques restorer neighbor being at Cline's Antiques on Hwy. 49 the same time as members of a film crew buying props for a new movie about to be filmed somewhere in the state. Which was quite enough information for him and not NEARLY enough for me.

So he has returned from his latest trip to Cline's with this intelligence: The name of the movie starts with the letter "A".

This is good to know, I guess. Not particularly helpful, but still.

If any of you happen to hear about a movie being made here with a title that begins with an "A," do let me know. Or maybe not. The only other tidbit the DH had to report was that they plan to burn all the props they bought in a big pile--with a baby crib in the middle of it. Doesn't really sound like my kind of movie.

Til next time...

UPDATE: I think I've found out the name of the movie. It's ARTEMIS.

(It does start with the letter "A," doesn't it? Now to find out what it's about...

MEMORIAL DAY 2011

2011-05-30T09:57:00.004-04:00

The flag is out in remembrance of those in my family and in yours who died for this country. Rest In Peace. You are not forgotten.

The 2011 Cheryl Reavis Backyard Flower Tour

2011-04-29T22:30:00.015-04:00

I'm going to show you how Mammaw Rose's roses and irises are doing this year.

This one is a surprise. It must have gotten left behind when my legacy iris bulbs were moved from the shade to full sun a few years ago. And this year it was big enough to bloom. Nice color, don't you think?

And these are Mammaw Rose's antique roses. The tall ones in the back were transplanted -- a volunteer sprout that was growing around the original bush. The ones in the forefront I rooted from a cutting. (I've told you before how surprised I was --I didn't know I could "root.")

This iris reminds me of pineapple sherbet. The one that reminds me of peach ice cream hasn't bloomed yet. (I don't know. Maybe I do have a cold dessert fixation.)

Here is an assortment of her irises:

And isn't this one something:

One of the rooted roses:

And a mixed bouquet of cuttings from around the yard. That's a white peony, the only one blooming at the moment. It's a surprise, too, one that missed the big Peony Relocation from shade to sunlight. It had a flower anyway, shady place or not. Heard about that "Bloom where you're planted" thing, I guess.

I hope you're blooming where you're planted.

Till next time...

P.S.

2011-04-15T10:32:00.004-04:00

I forgot to tell you that the DH went "antique picking" earlier this week. Why is this of note? Well, there were several people at his favorite haunt (Cline's on US Hwy. 49), who were buying. AND, according to the Cline Helpers, they had a very large budget. Which they apparently needed because they were buying props for a movie.

The DH didn't ask what movie, of course -- or anything else for that matter. I don't think anybody on the premises did. (It's really true. Men are not as curious as we are.) In any event, this is at least as interesting to me as when a crew came to O. O. Rufty's in Salisbury to buy props for The Color Purple.

(I wonder what movie?)

(The DH is sure he didn't see any movie stars.)

So What's New?

2011-04-15T08:18:00.004-04:00

I'm pretty sure you've noticed, as I have, that one is constantly either having to get something in a row:

OR...

Something in gear:

Sometimes one has to do both. That would be the case here at the moment. Why, you may wonder? Because I've been offered a contract for two books, historicals this time around.

So how am I doing? Okay, I think. The ducks are behaving as well as ducks are able and the gears are on the high side of rusty but turning. I think we're getting there. I'm at least in the "emotional zones" of the characters, which means they've gotten the cobwebs out of their hair, the dust beaten out of their costumes, and they are up and around and breathing. Now comes the hard part: What am I going to do to them? HOW am I going to run them up a tree and then throw rocks at them? (To quote a writer whose face and kind mentoring I remember well but whose name, regretfully, I do not.) It's very helpful advice if you want to be a genre writer. The problem, of course, is that it's hard. I know this comes as a surprise to many, but it is, especially if you want to use the writing style I use: Logical, Linear, Lean -- and still put the reader firmly into a "And then what happened?" mindset . No, really. It's hard. Hard, hard, HARD. I know this because I wouldn't stagger around the house looking like Munch's "The Scream" if it wasn't.

So. I'll give you progress reports, and here's the first:

I'm a couple of pages into Chapter Two of Not Yet Titled Book Number One.

Until next time...

Pending Spring

2011-03-26T11:51:00.002-04:00

The violets are blooming. See? These particular ones are my favorites because they're like the cloisonne enamel violet on my mother's lost locket. It looked as real as these do and had an amethyst in the center. A truly striking piece of jewelry. (But what HAPPENED to it?)

Anyway, violets are a true harbinger of Spring. And hyacinths, daffodils, forsythia, redbuds, Bartlett pear trees -- all of which are blooming. (My perpetual sneezing can attest to that.) The azaleas are on the verge. (Of blooming, not sneezing.) It's cold and rainy here today (Blackberry Winter-ish), but hopefully that won't slow them down too much. My daffodils didn't bloom at all this year. The foliage looks great, but no flowers. I think maybe they don't get enough sun. Of course, the hyacinths all around them are doing fine, so maybe that's not it.

I saw copies of THE MUSIC BOX on the shelf at Walmart yesterday -- always a thrill. And an added obsession. Now I have to go look every day to see if anyone's bought a copy. (It's how we writers roll.)

So. That's it for this time. It's back to the cookstove for me -- I'm making my rainy day special chicken and rice soup for lunch...

Slogging Around In The Past

2011-03-02T09:35:00.004-05:00

I've been hunting through some things -- legacies from my late sister-in-law. I was looking for odds and ends for my son to use to "stage" his house for prospective buyers. Pictures and pitchers. Two Bob Timberlakes and some ceramics that would reflect both the content of the Timberlake prints and the color scheme of the room as a whole.

While I was at it, I also uncovered a very bad, mildewed painting I'd done decades ago, one I'd completely forgotten about. Looking at it now, this truth is painfully clear. I needed lessons. I knew nothing about perspective. Or color values. Or how not to make the ground look like a yellowish, greenish brown ocean. I didn't know how to paint.

But, as you can see, I didn't let that stope me. I remember quite well that had a good time anyway.

I still don't know how to paint, but I found all my painting supplies the other day and at some point I may give it another whirl. Even if the ground looks like an ocean.

I'll even let you see it.

'Til next time...

THE MUSIC BOX (An Excerpt)

2011-02-12T17:41:00.007-05:00

Navajo policeman Ben Toomey was out of his element and knee-deep in something worse than Window Rock's usual chaos. Wealthy Eden Trevoy, the little visitor he'd once adored, was back on the reservation, all grown-up—and tangled in secrets about her lost heritage. She needed Ben's help, and somehow he just couldn't turn her away.

But Ben's People said the outsider would never fit into his world, and Eden had her own doubts about her newfound heritage. Yet as Eden learned more about where she came from, she discovered where she truly belonged…with Ben.

Excerpt: © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

IT took him the better part of a day to find the way into the arroyo. He had only been there once, when he was a boy, and while the terrain hadn't changed all that much, he had. All those years ago, he had navigated the narrow slit between the great rocks easily, but now he could barely fit himself into the small crevice that led to the place where he thought Edna Trevoy would be. He was reasonably certain that he had finally found the actual entrance, but the daylight was rapidly fading, and he decided that the path was too treacherous to attempt alone in the dark. He tried calling out to her, knowing that if she had indeed gone to the ledge and the wall where the spiral petroglyphs were, the sound of his voice would likely never penetrate the rocky overhang.

In spite of his sense of urgency, there was nothing to do but wait for somebody to catch up with him. As it was, he would have a lot of explaining to do. The entire time he'd been looking for this place, he had gone over and over in his mind how he would justify his being out here to the lieutenant. He had decided that he would say first that he'd gone on alone because he hadn't wanted to waste any more time. He would say that the whole situation was crazy, that he hadn't seen Professor Trevoy in years. He would say that there had to be some serious reason why she would tell people she was going to this almost inaccessible place in the big canyon and that the only other person who knew the way in was Navajo tribal police officer, Ben Toomey. She'd apparently been very specific about that part, leaving her colleagues to think that he had gone with her.

They'd been so certain that, when she didn't return after two days, they'd called the tribal police to find out if said officer had given anyone a specific itinerary.

He had been happily minding his own business when the call came in—no, actually, he'd been minding the business of a beautiful clerk-typist named Angelina, who had just been assigned to the station to help catch up on a records backlog. At first, he had been amused by the obvious mistake concerning his whereabouts. Here he was standing around drinking coffee and being relentlessly witty and cute for the new personnel, and these people thought he was off on some kind of expedition with an archaeo-astronomy professor his father had worked for when Toomey was a boy. Very funny.

Except that the professor wasn't a practical joke kind of woman, and after a moment or two, he remembered that. She was precise, exacting and no-nonsense. Her long interest in the Anasazi ruins had been in the Old Ones' use of astronomy and their possible observatories, rather than their trash heaps and potsherds. She had wanted to know how they marked time and the summer and winter solstices. He'd once seen her uncover the mathematical precision of a ruined building by the positions of its seemingly random tiny windows. He'd seen her locate nearly the exact center of a ruin simply by snapping her fingers and listening to the echoes. She had that kind of mind, the kind that wouldn't do anything so out of character as to pointedly mention a certain Navajo police officer and then disappear.

Crazy, he thought again.

He walked back to the police utility vehicle to call in to the dispatcher. He had made a point of giving his position as exactly as he could all along the way. It was the only thing he could think of that might temper Lieutenant Singer's anticipated aggravation with him. Regardless of the fact that he was the logical person to come out here, Toomey hadn't waited to be officially assigned. He had taken matters into his own hands, because Lucas Singer had been out of the building and unavailable when the call came in. It was not a wise decision for anyone as far down in the pecking order as Toomey was. And the lieutenant wouldn't cut him any slack, because Toomey had been entirely too helpful in getting Captain Johnny Becenti—whose job it was to tell both of them what to do—married to Lucas's sister, Lillian. It was Toomey's understanding—now—that Becenti and Lucas Singer had barely tolerated each other for years—which explained why Lucas was still somewhat less than thrilled with the marriage and the junior officer who had done his part to bring it about.

Toomey sighed. Well, perhaps he hadn't done all that much. Mostly, he'd just kept his mouth shut about what he knew and when he knew it. It was almost impossible not to tell anyone—a couple as unlikely and mismatched as Becenti and Lucas's too-good-for-the-rez lawyer sister was big news. In fact, the People were still talking about it. But Toomey had managed to stay silent, even under the onslaught of questions from longtime tribal police dispatcher and resident busybody, Mary Skeets. And he had learned a thing or two in the process. How to stand up under Mary Skeets's intense interrogation, for one thing, and how totally unpredictable male-female relationships could be, for another. It didn't seem to matter how indifferent and unreceptive a man thought he was to becoming involved with a particular woman. If she was the right woman, she could still turn him completely around. The problem was whether or not the man could survive the turning.

Toomey sighed again. He had decided all the things he would tell the lieutenant about his one-man quest to locate Edna Trevoy, but there was one thing he wouldn't tell him. He wouldn't say how uneasy all this business with Dr. Trevoy had made him. He was still uneasy, out of harmony, caught knee-deep in something that was not in keeping with the usual chaos of his life and something that he didn't begin to understand. He didn't like surprises, and he was increasingly certain he was about to get one.

He waited what seemed a long time for the dispatcher to respond. He kept hoping that he hadn't gotten into one of those ever-changing pockets of interference that wreaked havoc with radio communications on the rez.

The dispatcher—Mary Skeets—finally answered him. The professor was still lost, she said—unless he had found her. Her tone of voice suggested that his current situation would be much improved if he had.

"No, Mary," he said. "I think I've located the entrance into the arroyo, but I can't be absolutely sure in the dark. I'm going to wait until the others get here before I go in. Does the lieutenant want to talk to me?"

"Oh, yeah," she assured him, and it was clear to him that he might as well accept the fact that he was always going to be in trouble with Lucas Singer. And it wasn't that Toomey did it deliberately—well, today he had done it deliberately, but there were mitigating circumstances.

"Okay," he said. "Put him on."

"My information is that the lieutenant is on his way out to where you are," Mary advised him, and he closed his eyes and cringed. Being lectured via the radio and having half the tribal police force hear it was one thing. Facing Lucas Singer in person was something else again.

"Okay," he said again, because there was a chance Lucas was hearing the transmission even now—but he didn't mean it. He signed off and got out of the utility vehicle, looking back down the dirt track in the direction he had come for headlights. He didn't see anything yet.

What if this isn't the way in?

The thought presented itself with great authority and led to a host of other notions that were equally unsettling. What if the lieutenant couldn't find him. What if the lieutenant did find him? He had no idea which would be worse. What if he'd gone off by himself like this, dragged Lucas Singer all the way out here, and it wasn't the right place? If so, he was pretty sure he could kiss town life goodbye. The lieutenant would have him shipped off to some tribal police outpost so fast he wouldn't know what hit him. It would be months before he'd be able to have any kind of social life again. No flirting with Angelina around the coffeepot, no hope of taking her out dancing, no nothing.

He checked his flashlight to make sure it was still working, then walked back to the slit in the rocks. If Edna Trevoy had gone in there, then why? It was true that the two of them were likely the only people who knew that the wall with the petroglyphs existed; she'd called it her "ace in the hole" and sworn him to secrecy. He had happened upon it when his father was working as a guide and gofer for her. Young Ben Toomey had been allowed to come along on this particular trek because he was interested in the search for ruined watchtowers and faded glyphs and because he knew how to stay out of the way and not cause trouble—a trait he earnestly wished had followed him into his adulthood. Even so, he had been a boy with time on his hands that day, and he had gone into the slit between the huge rocks simply because it was there and he could. He had realized immediately that there was more to the place than first met the eye. He had kept going, following the narrow, winding path, knowing instinctively that he was perhaps the first human to do so in nearly a thousand years.

He finally came out at the big overhang with the decorated rock wall beneath it. The pictograph was clearly visible. Four spirals and a handprint. And some kind of mark above them he couldn't recognize. The professor was particularly interested in spirals, and he knew she would be interested in this. It had taken some doing to tell her about it, because she had been more than a little annoyed by his abrupt disappearance.

Eventually, she had listened long enough to understand that he had found something for her, and she had let him lead her in. Incredibly, she had wept at the sight of it. She kept moving from glyph to glyph, wiping her eyes on her shirtsleeve, so overcome with emotion that she would have actually placed her hand exactly on the ancient handprint if he hadn't stopped her. He had believed in the evil that came from the dead then, and he'd tried to protect her from it, surprising himself and her with his audacity. But she had seemed…touched, he supposed ...

Blue Birds Singin' A Song, Nothin' But Blue Birds...

2011-02-10T17:36:00.006-05:00

I have friends around the country who have rarely-to-never seen a bluebird.

Since several pairs are wintering in the yard this year, I thought I'd show you some:

Aren't they beautiful?

(I did MUCH better with the camera this time, didn't I?)

Oh, yes, before I forget. The other two birds hanging out at the feeder are house finches.

The Round House in Rockwell NC

2011-01-23T14:49:00.004-05:00

I came across this clipping of "The Round House," as it was known in the small town where I grew up. The photo isn't all that clear, but I'm going to share it with you anyway. Actually, I may be sharing it with you again. I can't remember if I've blogged about this structure before not.

The house was located on US Highway 52, and it was unusual not just because of the round architecture, but also because the kitchen was separate from the main house. My fey mother tells me it was not haunted. (The haunted house was the "Heilig House," several doors down.) The entire structure was demolished, I believe, in the 1960s.

The house was actually in the family for a number of years (which is why Mom is sure there were no ghosts), and it's the backdrop for a number of old sepia family photos. My great grandfather (Wagner) lived there for a time, and according to the family oral history, he used to sit on the porch and play his fiddle for the assorted children in the neighborhood -- when he wasn't feuding with one of his daughters. The house later belonged to a great uncle (Beaver), but he "lost" it. Details are sketchy as to how that came about, but it's said that he took the loss very hard. It so happened that the subsequent house he and my great aunt and their children moved to afterward had a clear view of "The Round House" from a certain point in the side yard. My great uncle would often sit there in the late afternoon, facing in that direction, pining for the house, the women in the family opined.

I have a very dim memory of having been inside it, but I remember well the box camera "picture-taking" that placed it so often in the background. In one I was posed with a dog I didn't want to be posed with -- because it had very bad breath. I think it may have been my dog, but I'm not sure about that detail. I am sure, however, that it needed a Tic-Tac.

So. That's all for this time...

Deena Rose Moore

2011-01-13T19:39:00.002-05:00

Deena Rose Moore

1950-2010

She was "Deena the Poet" to me. She had her first poem published in 1979. "Here it is!" she wrote in the margin of my copy of the anthology. "Long time in coming but I feel I have arrived! Deena"

The poem was called "Blind Trust," and as Deena said, here it is:

BLIND TRUST

Thorns of green eyes scratch

The beauty of the woman above

Perched with grace on a wire

Embraced by admiration

Entranced with the beat

Lady trimmed in red

Towering above the crowd

Banked by a canvas enclosure

Darkness is hers alone

Seeing no obstacles in her night

As the band plays on

Each step dependent

On their melodic vision

Only one man below

holds the hand of fate

He lives in a house

Built of silence--

When the music stopped,

She died

2010-12-31T22:48:00.003-05:00

It's almost 2011. I'm already hearing shotguns being fired -- an old German custom here. I can remember my grandfather doing it, but I never quite understood why we needed to shoot the New Year. I'm sure there's a reason, though.

In any event, Happy New Year! (Remember to eat ham hocks, collard greens, and black-eyed peas January 1 so you'll have good luck.)

Snow...

2010-12-26T21:21:00.006-05:00

It snowed at my house. All night and into the morning...

Christmas In The Foyer

2010-12-24T08:56:00.004-05:00

I suddenly remembered that I had a little already-decorated Christmas tree and actually managed to find it amid the renovation upheaval. So here it is in the foyer being all cheerful and Christmas-y. I like it. This is much better than no decorations at all. I was considering going to Ace Hardware and buying an official "Charlie Brown" tree for $9.99, and I'm glad I don't have to -- though it certainly would have matched the decor.

Anyway, I'm feeling the Christmas Spirit now and sending it to all of you.

Merry Christmas. Happy Holidays. Happy New Year.

(Now I'm off to assemble the potato salad...)

It's Time To Remember The Almost Christmas Stranger

2010-12-16T08:36:00.006-05:00

It's almost Christmas Eve Eve again, the time when my mom and I remember our family's long ago "almost Christmas stranger." (My baby sister was too young to remember that night.)

Here's the link to the story if you haven't already read it. There is also the recipe for my late sister-in-law's wonderful Christmas cake.

Feeling Better...

2010-12-11T12:56:00.004-05:00

I'm leaning more toward feeling "good" now, so I thought I'd show you something uplifting in case you're not.

Bluebirds.

In the birdbath.

I love bluebirds -- as you may already know. I had to work to ignore how very cold and windy it was when this photo was taken, though. There was ice floating in the birdbath water, but they don't seem to be wired to care as far as I could tell, keeping their eyes on the prize instead and focusing on the end result. (Clean feathers?) I must say they looked very fluffy and spiffy afterward.

I am so behind on all things Christmasy because of the "under the weather" episode. And the house is still mid-renovation. (Invisible shower leak rotted the floor.) I have no place to put a Christmas tree because of all the furniture and fixture relocation necessary to make room for the carpenter, et al. to do their work. There's a toilet in the bedroom, rolled-up floor covering, an unpacked shower door and sink in the hall. There's also a sink on the front porch (among other things).

But I'm not going to worry about it. I'll just make do with photos from "Christmases Ago." (see below)

I could put a bow on the front porch sink, I guess. Maybe a little greenery. Or a poinsettia. If the songs are correct, Santa already knows where I am without it. (I'm hoping he'll bring me somebody who'll want to "manga" my entire rights-reverted backlist.)

In any event, I hope your holiday preparations are going well, and I'm wishing you all a very Merry Christmas and a decidedly Happy Holiday Season.

Oh, Bother.

2010-11-29T11:49:00.002-05:00

Under the weather. (Blah and Ow.)

Missed Thanksgiving.

Carpenters working on water-damaged floors.

Can't find ANYTHING.

Need haircut.

Thus concludes The Official Whine Session for the day...

FYI: RWA Pins

2010-11-18T13:28:00.007-05:00

The apparently now discontinued RWA-PAN Pin:

Cheerleading of Yore

2010-11-08T12:19:00.006-05:00

My recent venture into JV-Football Spectatorship (EVERY single game + scrimmage) has made me recognize how far "cheerleading" has come. Back in the day it was pretty much a matter of popularity, voice volume, and nerve. Candidates cheered before the student body and then there was a school-wide vote. AND one's family had to have a certain cash flow in order to make the honor, should it be bestowed, possible. It cost money to dre$$ the part.

It still costs money, but now cheerleading is clearly a highly skilled discipline if not an actual sport. No cheerleader could do those kinds of gymnastic moves when I was in high school, and as a result, none of them ever had to get a joint "iced" or wrapped on the sidelines as if they were actually playing the game. And rather than there being a "razzle-dazzle showtime" where fans merely watch and listen, the old cheerleading simplicity always invited serious group participation. I didn't see much of that in any of the games I attended.

I happened to find a mimeographed (you know what that is, right?) sheet of the absolute FIRST cheers for the newly consolidated East Rowan High School tucked away in one of my old yearbooks. Some of them I no longer understand, like the ones where truck-ing, and camel-ing, or Susie Q-ing is called for on the field. (What?) And there's a particular word in one of them that doesn't mean now what it meant then. Modern day cheers seem to be all about positive reenforcement. We're the absolute "BEST," even if we're down six TDs.

ANYWAY, here are some of the antiques -- and don't laugh. I mean it:

E H S

E H S

East Rowan High School,

Yes, Yes, YES!!!!!

BLUE RED WHITE

Let’s go Blue

Lets go red

Let’s go white

Let’s fight, fight, FIGHT!

1 2 3 4

1 - 2 - 3 - 4

Who you gonna yell for

M-U-S-T-A-N-G-S

Mustangs, Mustangs

Fight, fight FIGHT!

WITH A V WITH AN I

With a V with an I

With a C, T, O

With an R, with a Y

With a GO TEAM GO!

All hail VICTORY

VICTORY, VICTORY is our cry

V-I-C-T-O-R-Y

We will win it

You doggone right

East Rowan Mustangs

Fight, Fight, FIGHT!

FIRST YOU BOOGIE WOOGIE

First you boogie woogie

Then you truck on down

East Rowan is going to town,

Susie Q to the left

Susie Q to the right

Come on team

Fight, Fight, FIGHT!

WE’RE FROM EAST HIGH

We’re from East High

And we couldn’t be prouder,

If you can’t hear us now,

We’ll shout a little louder.

(Repeat 4 times)

And in closing, the original and probably long-forgotten school song:

EAST ROWAN HIGH SCHOOL SONG

Our school all cheers for Mustangs

Yea, we hail thee

To thee we will be true,

Cheers for Mustangs

Yea, we hail thee,

On to victory.

The Mustangs, yes, they are the greatest

They fight right to the end!

We will always raise our banner

For DEAR OLD EAST ROWAN!!!!!

And THAT is all for this time. (Tell me you're not laughing.)

Found History (963rd Field Artillery-WW II 1944)

2010-10-22T08:46:00.007-04:00

My late father had a number of photographs taken while he was a cannoneer in the 963 Field Artillery during World War II. Most of them have been lost in the shuffle of time.

But I found two the other day, two he had sent to my mother while he was overseas. I can't imagine how he managed to get film developed in the middle of a war, but he apparently did. I believe these were taken sometime around the Battle of the Bulge. He was twenty years old and he hadn't heard the news yet that he had a baby girl. Both photos are labeled.

"Loading the gun" this one says on the back. I believe he's the one on the right helping with the ramrod.

And this one says: "Firing the gun." He may be the one kneeling with his head turned away from the noise.

Both notations are written in unfaded blue-black ink. He had a very nice handwriting, my father. I'm struck by this because I've seen very few things he'd actually written. None of his letters survive. There are the brief captions on the backs of these two photographs, and a note in a velvet jewelry box containing a gold locket embellished with mother-of-pearl and an real-looking enameled violet with an amethyst center he'd given my mother during their wartime courtship.

It said simply: "To the one I love."

Link to another photo.

THE MUSIC BOX

2010-10-07T10:42:00.005-04:00

BOOK NEWS: A Reissue

THE MUSIC BOX, formerly a Silhouette Special Edition titled TENDERLY, will be released in April 2011. It's currently available for pre-ordering on amazon.com and Barnes & Noble and Borders.

More Fauna

2010-10-02T10:32:00.003-04:00

I've been wondering how tree frogs manage to get inside the house. Apparently they knock and wait for somebody to answer:

Rilke's Book of Hours I, 59...

2010-09-22T19:21:00.003-04:00

God speaks to each of us as he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.

These are the words we dimly hear:

You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.

Flare up like flame
and make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don't let yourself lose me.

Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.

Give me your hand.
—Rilke's Book of Hours, I, 59

The Rose in The Jelly Jar

2010-09-15T20:17:00.003-04:00

Still test driving the camera. This is one of the roses I rooted last year (or was it the year before?).

Anyway, the cutting came from my late mother-in-law's very antique rose bush. The best thing about it? It smells like a rose. And it definitely does a lot for a jelly far. Oh, and it's sitting on a desk my grandfather made for me when I was a little girl.

Trying Out A New Camera

2010-09-13T20:44:00.010-04:00

If you've read this blog for a while, you are aware of the difficulties I've had taking digital photographs. So now I'm try a new and different camera (Happy Birthday to me) and you get to see the first results.

First we have the transplanted mulberry bush sapling in the back yard. It was touch and go for a while, but it finally seems to be happy in its new location. Now all I need are some silk worms:

Scenery along the way while waiting patiently in the "Car Rider" line to pick up Grand #3. If you time it right, you never have to sit in the sun. If not, you bake:

And this one? I think it must be Glinda's ride. (The Good Witch of the North?) (sigh):

(I didn't say I was getting any better. I just said I had a new camera.)

Thursday Night Lights

2010-09-10T11:22:00.005-04:00

Yes. Well. It was that kind of game. ::sigh::

I did get to see Grandson #1 play, and that's about the best I can say of the experience. I am learning, though. About football. Not about taking photos with a digital camera. (I really should go to some kind of digital picture-taking class.)

So what am I learning? I'm learning that JV football is not the sport of gentlemen. Hickory Ridge High School, the opposing team in this instance, rode to victory in a hale of personal penalty fouls and one for unsportsmanlike conduct. I was not happy with this, but the dh assures me that the point is to win, not to "play nice." I see.

I'm learning that old loyalties run deep. The dh wanted to sit on the Hickory Ridge side because the visitor side was far, far away. Good heavens, no. This old Mustang could not do that. (The dh was a Boyden "Yellow Jacket," so he wasn't seeing the problem here.) I had to sit with my own kind, even if it was a hike and a half to get to the visiting team bleachers and even if I was a Mustang WAY back in the day.

And, I learned that when one's team is seriously losing, minutes turn into dog minutes. It was agony, I tell you. Or maybe it was the Old Mustang Hip Joints On Metal Stadium Seating. (Ow) Suffice it to say it was a...long...evening...

That's it for this time.

At The Game... (Or Where Is He?)

2010-09-03T21:57:00.004-04:00

The JV Mustangs played their second game Thursday evening. The weather was nice if a bit muggy, and the heaviness of the air was not helped by the overuse of cologne among some of the nearby spectators. Still, it seemed to have kept the mosquitoes away, so that was good.

As you can see in this photograph, the cheerleaders were cheering, and so were the football persons. The question was where was my football person? He always seems to disappear about the time I snap the picture. I'm not sure, but I think he's approximately under No. 71's elbow.

Re: the game itself, I thought the team moved the ball nicely -- lots of those "downs." As for the final score, neither I nor they want to talk about it. ::sigh::

IN THE BACKYARD...

2010-08-27T11:10:00.004-04:00

...there is a pecan tree. As I've mentioned before, my late father started this tree from seed. He liked to do that with lemon trees, orange trees, avocado trees, grape vines, and of course, pecans.

The tree is loaded with pecans this year. See? He'd be very pleased, but as I've also mentioned before, I never get to eat any because of the squirrels. Their policy apparently is to harvest early and often. They've already started their bite and toss assessment operation, which will continue until the nuts are mature enough to suit them, at which point it's every squirrel for himself and the tree gets picked clean.

The best I can do is take a picture. (Sigh)

LIST: 10 UPLIFTING MOVIES (Maybe)

2010-08-22T10:28:00.014-04:00

Do I agree with the list? Are these movies "uplifting"? Well, let's see:

UNDER THE TUSCAN SUN: Yes. Very. I have the DVD and watch it often. It's one of my favorite movies mostly because it follows one of my favorite writing themes: The making of a family where no family existed before.

TOOTSIE: I can't say I remember being "uplifted." What I remember is Dustin Hoffman's amazing acting ability. Uplifted or not, it's a movie worth seeing for that alone.

SOUND OF MUSIC: Well, here's the thing. I love the song "My Favorite Things." (I have a musical globe that plays it.) But I never liked the movie. I know I'm supposed to. EVERYBODY loves SOM. But I didn't. I think it was "the Captain." He was a very scary man, and I never got over it.

SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION: Yes, on the "uplifting," and yes, on the complex and riveting plot and the stellar acting. I should get the DVD. I don't know why I haven't.

LOVE, ACTUALLY: Yes. I love this movie and I have the DVD. I make a point to watch it around Christmastime. Love the father-son relationship.

IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE: Okay, I'm not crazy about this movie, either, and for pretty much the same reason. I saw it when I was too young, and James Stewart when he was Mean Father and Husband scared me. I still don't like to watch it, even though everything turns out just fine in the end and he's not mean anymore. I'm just not the least bit "uplifted."

BABE: Yes. "Babe" is a sweet movie. The sequel, not so much.

UP, THE BLIND SIDE, and BREAKING AWAY, I haven't seen these -- but hopefully I will. I can always use a little "uplifting." Hopefully.

We're the Mustangs, We Can Win!

2010-08-14T11:17:00.006-04:00

What a sensation -- seeing my grandson play football for the same high school where both his dad and I went. Same field. Same bleachers. Not the same Cheryl, however. (I forgot how hard stadium seats are. Yikes.)

Want to see him? He's Number 51 (dark blue). (Go Mustangs!)

SEPTEMBER

2010-08-10T13:51:00.004-04:00

I first remember reading Rosamunde Pilchur's work -- her short stories -- in GOOD HOUSEKEEPING magazine. I didn't read any of her novels until much later, and I confess that I completely missed her Mills & Boon-slash-Jane Fraser period.

The later novels are the ones that fed my appreciation of her work. For one thing, I like "cozies," i.e., family sagas that make the reader care about what happens to the story people therein, sans the car chases, explosions, and gratuitous s-e-x.

And I like to "travel" when I read, to be transported "Somewhere Else," to feel that I'm actually there and learning new things, all the while being completely entertained.

Finally, I like the Cornwall roots, I think because of the Cornish miners who emigrated here to work the mines in Gold Hill. (As I've said before -- maybe -- two of my great-great grandfathers had dealings with with gold mines -- one as an owner, one as a miner.)

I loved THE SHELL SEEKERS, and I read WINTER SOLSTICE while keeping a vigil at my late sister-in-law's bedside.

But SEPTEMBER is the one that speaks to me most, simply because of this one passage:

"...Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Call me by the old familiar name. Speak of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference in your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word it always was. Let it be spoken without effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident? Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner. All is well."

Cheryl's Food Awards, Fast and Otherwise

2010-08-08T13:13:00.004-04:00

Kent Bernhardt, a popular local radio personality, gave out his "Foodie" Awards recently. Since I didn't agree with any of them, I thought I'd do My Own.

Cheryl's "Foodies" go to:

Darrell's in Rockwell: The Small Hotdog, All The Way (Slaw, mustard, chili, onions)

Darrell's in Rockwell Again: The Hamburger Club Sandwich

Darrell's in Rockwell Again: The Hershey Cake (Yum!)

Darrell's in Rockwell Again: The Banana Pudding (Likewise)

Captain D's: Hushpuppies (They taste like real, oniony hushpuppies and not cake.)

Richard's in Salisbury: The fries

Richard's in Salisbury Again: The Small Hotdog, All The Way (Slaw, mustard, chili, onions)

The Farmhouse in Salisbury: The Farmhouse Burger, No Cheese

The Farmhouse in Salisbury Again: The fries

The Cookout in Salisbury: The BLT

The Cookout in Salisbury Again: The Hotdog All The Way (Slaw, mustard, chili, onions)

McDonald's: The Southwest Salad

Zaxby's: The Roadhouse Salad

(I used to like their chicken salad, but apparently they decided it would be better without garlic.) (No)

Johnny's in Rockwell: The iced tea. (Fish and crustacean-eating people tell me the seafood there is excellent. I wouldn't know.)

Taco Bell: Their original taco (Please. Don't try to "improve" it.)

I'm am a big barbecue fan and a number of these restaurants have barbecue. Unfortunately, the barbecue isn't consistent. Sometimes it's great, many times, not so much. Ergo, nobody get's Cheryl's "Foodie" Award for barbecue. Maybe later.

Cheryl's "Eeek, No" Award goes to Wendy's New Apple Chicken salad (It's the cheese. Strong blue cheese does NOT belong on that salad), Subway's Orchard Chicken Salad Sub (I won't go into detail), and Taco Bell's New Cantina Taco. (It's the wrap. And the filling.)

That's it for this time. Happy eating...

Into The Photo Archives (Again)

2010-08-06T09:18:00.003-04:00

I've been poking around in the Reavis Family Photo Archives again and I thought I'd show you this one. This is the Reavis home place where the dh grew up. His late mother loved irises and roses, and she filled every possible space in their back yard with them. This was before my time, so I never got to see the iris-rose garden in its heyday, but I'm told people used to ride by in their cars on Sunday afternoons just to see them when they were in bloom.

She was a strong woman, my late mother-in-law. Widowed young and left with a toddler boy and two teenage daughters, she held the family together. She worked in the cotton mill, took care of her children, and she still found the time to do this. I wish I'd told her how much I admired her...

...Tiger, Oh My...

2010-07-31T12:08:00.008-04:00

The latest Beloved Critter, immediately post-suturing in MawMaw's ER. (Detached muzzle, it was.)

It was all very traumatic, but as you can see, he's definitely smiling.

So what else is new? I finished reading Maggie O'Farrell's AFTER YOU'D GONE. Stayed up WAY too late doing it, but it's that kind of book. I just had to know WHAT ALICE SAW.

It's written in much the same style as THE WIVES OF HENRY OADES -- transition-free "soundbite-slash-tweet" prose only with more head, and verb tense, and time and place hopping. But it was immediately compelling and stayed that way. The writing is visual. The writing is emotional -- sometimes gut-wrenchingly so. And I very much appreciated Ms. O'Farrell's respect for her reader in that she didn't resort to the almost obligatory, literary "gotcha, you blockhead -- didn't see that coming, did ya?" plot twist at the end. (You know who your are. Okay, yes, I'm thinking of ATONEMENT. And maybe THE MAGUS, though pretty much all of that had the "You Blockhead" feel.)

Anyway.

The bottom line is that I truly enjoyed AFTER YOU'D GONE. I'm glad I found it. My only complaint is that I read it as an Adobe Digital Edition downloaded from the North Carolina Digital Library, and there were a significan number of typos.

Other news: My FAVORITE HOUSEGUEST is here. Once again, I'm working hard to keep him fed. He's way past the needing a Beloved Critter sutured stage ("Dot," the Beagle, that would be), but well into the Bottomless Pit one. (How can fifteen-year-old boys EAT so much?)

Till next time...

Silly Banz

2010-07-28T11:23:00.004-04:00

You're probably familiar with the shaped rubber band craze -- though I'm not sure they're actually made of rubber. My granddaughter is certainly into them. Her arm often looks like the one above.

But I saw something yesterday that made me smile. And elderly man dressed in an impressive dark gray suit, crisp dress shirt, silk tie. He looked very "uptown."

But what really caught my eye? Peeping below his sleeve was single, blue Silly Banz. It was so incongruous and so cute -- and immediately suggested that somewhere in his life, there is a little girl who loves him.

Already?

2010-07-20T23:12:00.005-04:00

In forty-five minutes of so, No. 1 Grandson, a.k.a. Favorite Houseguest, will turn the big 1-5. I can't believe he's almost driving. Tempest does indeed fugit. (Or however that Latin phrase on the grandfather clocks goes.) All I know is he was toddler just the other day. (sigh)

See?

For Your Amusement

2010-07-17T10:44:00.006-04:00

There is now an online amusement for writers and non-writers alike called I WRITE LIKE... where one submits a sample of one's writing and it is immediately assessed to be "like" whatever writer's writing it decides your sample resembles.

My first submission revealed that I write like Stephen King -- which I don't mind.

My second submission revealed that I write like Dan Brown -- which I do.

Yes, I know the man has made millions. I'd like to have his checks -- it would help my assorted loved ones to no end if I had a cash flow of that magnitude -- but I do NOT want to write like him. I can say that I admire his storytelling, i.e., the unusual premise of his Da Vinci book. But his way with words? Not so much.

You can click on the above link if you want to give it a whirl.

(Sigh)

2010-07-09T20:09:00.002-04:00

I just read where the Roy Rogers Museum in Branson MO has been closed, and they're auctioning off all the Roy Rogers-Dale Evans memorabilia. Apparently all his (and her) fans are too old or too dead now to come to the museum, and they couldn't keep it open any longer.

(re-sigh)

THE WIVES OF HENRY OADES -The Book With The Incongruous Cover

2010-07-09T08:59:00.003-04:00

Don't let the dreamy lady on the cover fool you. She has little to do with the content and suggests nothing of the unusual and often journalistic-slash-Dragnet"Just the facts, ma'am" writing style, i.e., prose which is highly readable, perfectly suited to our "sound-bite" conditioned brains.

And neither does Cover Lady hint at the grittiness of the ordeals of the young and ambitious Henry Oades and the women he married or the subtle historical detail deftly inserted to add texture and a compelling verisimilitude. So forget the cover. It's the plot and the unemotional It-is-what-it-is delivery of it that's the thing.

I read the first half of the book in one sitting, it's that intriguing. It fit my criteria for a "good book." I like not to be able to anticipate the plot and I like to learn things as I go (I knew next to nothing about New Zealand's indigenous people and nothing at all about California's having had the death penalty for the crime of bigamy in the late 19th century) -- but I don't want to feel like I'm learning. I still want to be entertained. And for someone who likes poking around in history, the fact that the book is based on a possibly true incident is -- pardon the cliche -- icing on the cake.

The Wives of Henry Oades does lose some of its highly sustained momentum at the end, but it is still well worth your time. I definitely recommend it.

Farewell, ATWT

2010-07-06T17:38:00.006-04:00

I was going to show you a video tribute to ATWT in honor of its September demise, but once it was embedded into the blog, it went all "Sorcerer's Apprentice" and wouldn't turn off.

Click on the above link if you want to see it on their website.

Regarding the cancellation, let's just say that I don't know quite what I'll do to fill those five hours a week. I do know I won't be watching a game show. Never did like those things...

HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY

2010-07-04T09:23:00.005-04:00

The Flag is out. The morning is a cool and breezy 67 degrees. Lovely.

I notice that Barnes & Noble is offering FREE eBOOK DOWNLOADS, i.e., "AMERICAN CLASSICS" until tomorrow, Monday, the 5th, at midnight. Here's the link if you happen to be interested. There is a CATCH, of course -- you have to have an account or you have to create one. Creating an account will involve giving them your credit card number. (Very sneaky of them, I say.)

Do have a safe and happy Fourth. I'm off to read the Sunday Salisbury Post...

Cheer Up, Baby Boy

2010-07-01T15:28:00.002-04:00

(There has to be a good job out there SOMEWHERE...)

Poking Around In History Again

2010-06-30T20:55:00.007-04:00

Sometimes the most interesting part of an old photograph is what's written on the back. This one, for example is a "carte de visite," a photograph of a young woman circa American Civil War, I would guess, by the style of her clothes. It was made by the "G. W. Minnis Photographic Gallery, 9th and Main Street, Richmond, Virginia.

I found it at the big monthly flea market at the Metrolina Fair Grounds in Charlotte a number of years ago. I'm not going to show you the actual photograph because of what is written on the back in a spidery feminine hand:

"This is an indifferent picture but I send it as it is the best I have. Don't show it to strangers."

I don't know why she didn't want people to see it. She's no great beauty to be sure, and she could use a good shampooing -- but she wouldn't, as we say here in the South "draw warts on a washtub." Of course, being my inquisitive self, I do wonder about it, and I wonder who she sent the photograph to -- a beau? a brother? a sister? a friend? Who kept it safe all this time?

This next one you will probably be able to read yourself without a transcription, but I'll tell you what it says anyway:

"Grounds for divorse (sic). If you look closely you can see them hugging each other."

Well, no, you can't. I thought at first that whoever had written this was just kidding around -- because if they weren't, I fear they had a pathologically suspicious nature.

I'm not going to show you this photograph, either, because the people in it might be recognized. I'm going to tell you about it instead.

The picture is of a man and woman, neither of whom is particularly attractive. He looks older-- I would say late 40s, early 50s. They are standing in a yard in front of a bush. Both of them are looking directly into the camera. He has on a suit with pinstriped trousers and a dark jacket -- it reminds me of the Monopoly board game for some reason. She has on a suit, too. The skirt is narrow and falls well below the knee -- which makes me think circa 1930s -- and it looks like it might be tweed. She is smiling; he just looks...I was going to say "pleased," but that's too strong a word. "Pleasant" is a better word. He looks pleasant -- like someone who would be easy to get along with. And, yes, they are arm-in-arm. But hugging? No. His hand is resting just above her elbow and not on her torso at all where the touch would be much more intimate. And he's not squeezing her. She's just standing there. I can't see where her hand is, but I don't think it's up to any mischief. If anything, these two people look father-daughter or niece-uncle.

The bigger question for me is who wrote on the back of the picture, her husband? his wife?

And boy, do I wonder what happened next...

Our "Martha Stewart"

2010-06-27T11:00:00.007-04:00

Her name was Betty Feezor. She figured prominently in my childhood because almost every woman I knew watched the nearly 6000 episodes of The Betty Feezor Show and because she came on right before AS THE WORLD TURNS -- which made her hour seem very, very, very long to a non-homemaker, soap opera junkie such as my Then Young Self.

Like Martha, she cooked, she sewed, she "crafted." She knew EVERYTHING about homemaking -- even I recognized that. I never saw her bake her own potting soil in the oven the way Martha once did, but still.

So the dh bought me a copy of one of Betty's cookbooks at a flea market the other day, hence my "harking back" to a much simpler time, hence this post. (I think I've said that I like to read cookbooks. Actually cooking from one of them, not so much.)

I just thought I'd tell you about her because she was an "ideal," an accomplished Southern lady of great faith in the truest sense, one who "walked the walk" and left the world a better place. She died of cancer in 1978.

You can see a video of one of her shows on YouTube (very few survive regardless of her large body of work) by clicking on The Betty Feezor Show link above.

And here's one of the recipes from her cookbook:

CAKE MIX DROP COOKIES

1 package cake mix, any flavor

1 egg

2 tablespoons water

Mix with a fork and with the hands because it's a very stiff dough. Place small balls of dough on an ungreased cookie sheet and bake for 8-10 minutes.

Temperature: 375 degrees, 8 minutes.

Yield: 4 dozen cookies

Rolled Cookies are made the same with 3 tablespoons water instead of 2.

For variation add any of the following:

Peanut butter, Nuts, Coconut, Dates

That's it for this time...

RWA's RITA Award Finalists

2010-06-19T09:43:00.008-04:00

This is the RITA, presented by the Romance Writers of America every year to the industry's best. And this is a link to a list of 2010 finalists if you'd like to see the books and the authors who made the cut. The award ceremony is in late July.

Good luck to you all.

Flag Day, The Super Citizen (WYS is NOT WYG), and More Movie Stars

2010-06-14T11:01:00.010-04:00

It's Flag Day, and I put the flag out this morning. It's a nice morning in that it's breezy, albeit off and on. It's hot, though. We'll be in the mid to upper 90s by afternoon.

This next photo is of my lovely granddaughter (aka, "My Ballerina") dashing up the steps to get an award for being a Good Citizen in the first grade. Or it was when I snapped it. There she was in the viewfinder; I clicked, and...nothing, except the piano and a portrait of a long ago lady educator whose name I do not know. And a stepladder. One of these days I have GOT to get the hang of this delayed shutter thing. Or I have to get a different camera. (sigh)

The dh discovered two more if his late sister's movie star photo collection. These are 8x10s and she didn't keep them with the rest of the mostly postcard-sized ones.

This particular one is personally autographed to her, but I can't read the signature. I don't recognize his face, so he's another unknown celebrity photo at our house.

The second one is of Lon McCallister. Him, I do recognize. I remember seeing him in a Technicolor movie about a farm or horses -- "Back Home in Indiana," I think. And I believe he was in "Stage Door Canteen." He died in 2005, and according to his obit, he was a very nice man. "Googling" him for "images," I didn't see this particular pose anywhere on the web.

The signature says: "Your friend, Lon McCallister."

That's it for this time...

Strange Rain

2010-06-10T09:21:00.003-04:00

We had a thunderstorm the other evening which caused the sky to be a most unusual color. It was raining hard at the time I took these photographs.

See?

June 6th

2010-06-06T13:41:00.004-04:00

In light of today's date, I thought I'd show you this photograph. It was taken in December, 1944, circa the "Battle of the Bulge" six months or so after the June 6th D-Day invasion.

My late father, who was by then a cannoneer in the 963rd Field Artillery (he started out as a paratrooper in the 82nd Airborne but was transferred into a field artillery unit after breaking several bones in an unfortunate encounter with a tall tree) is on the right. He was twenty years old at the time the photo was taken. The soldier in the middle, I believe, was a Texan named Stewart.

My father's elbow is resting on a machine gun he salvaged from a downed fighter plane. It and the commandeered metal pipe the gun is sitting on were used to provide more precise firepower against being strafed during "A" Battery's push into Germany. Apparently, adding "machine gunner" to his military resume was all self-taught, "on the job training."

My Ballerina

2010-05-29T14:55:00.003-04:00

I'm taking you with me to see my ballerina. And fortunately, while we may be sitting in the vicinity of "Mr. Dursley" and his two (TWO) "Dudleys" again this year, we are three rows behind him and therefore cannot hear his running commentary despite the empty seats. (Believe me. This is a blessing.)

Are you ready? Okay. Click the "Play" button. My ballerina is the first one on the right.

(Isn't she wonderful?)

Graduating...

2010-05-24T20:00:00.003-04:00

My baby graduated on Saturday. I would show you some pictures but I managed not to get any. At all. And not from lack of trying, I assure you. I should get paid to test these "idiot proof" digital cameras because I am clearly cursed with the inability to get any photos or videos whatsoever with those things. (sigh)

So let me tell you about it. The thirty-minute drive to the events arena where it was held was beautiful. We took the scenic route -- very lush countryside because of the recent rain. I saw a large hawk along the way and a dead copperhead or two in the middle of the road. We traveled thorough open farm country, and the corn in Stanley and Cabarrus counties is looking good.

The arena sound system was a challenge. There was enough of an echo so that most every word said at the microphone was completely unintelligible. It was like going to a graduation in a foreign country and not speaking the language. There were around 700 graduates, so this made for a LONG ceremony. I couldn't understand my son's name when it was called, but I could recognize him. Hard to miss him -- he's close to six and a half feet tall. I bawled, of course, and I bawled when they played the national anthem. I just can't get through that song without crying. Too many veterans in the family, I guess.

Anyway. He's finished with school. I'm proud and happy. Now. Does anybody want to hire a new IT grad with years of experience? Please?

1940s Movie Stars (Of The "Hubba-Hubba" Kind")

2010-05-20T14:37:00.010-04:00

I've been in the movie star photo collection again. I thought I'd show you these. Notice that all four of these pinups suggest real women who are beautiful -- as opposed to nipped and tucked plastic "Barbie" doll clones who don't look real at all and who all look alike. I notice the clone thing seems to have taken over country music as well.

But...whatever...

This is Esther Williams, the star who swam a lot in all her movies:

This is Evelyn Keys of Gone With The Wind fame. She played one of "Scarlett's" sisters:

This is Jinx Somebody. It doesn't say and I don't recognize her:

And this is the beautiful but sad Rita Hayworth caught up in some kind of fabric:

And that's it for this time...

Deena

2010-05-15T19:42:00.003-04:00

Positive thoughts and prayers for Deena the Poet who is recovering from surgery.

Mother's Day 2010

2010-05-12T16:19:00.013-04:00

I took my mom out for lunch. The dh took me. My son took my daughter-in-law and the kids. What a handy thing that we were all going to the same place -- the Classic Restaurant in Denton. (This would be the one with the 60-foot buffet of country cooking and a pizza and salad spread -- the "picky eater" in the family didn't stand a chance.) Suffice it to say, the day was beautiful, and the meal and the company, excellent.

On the way back, we swung by Matton's Grove United Methodist Church. My mom had mentioned that she wanted to see it, and it wasn't all that far. My grandfather had told me about the church some years before he died, the fact that we had "people" buried there. I had been there once on a "roots" quest years ago, and I wasn't sure I could locate it again, but I did. When my mom saw it, she remembered that she'd been there at some point in her childhood, but she didn't remember with whom or why.

This is the "old" church, the one in her memory. It was built in the 1890s and it's no longer in use. See what a bright sunny day it was?

The first grave I located was that of Elizabeth Plyler, my great-great grandmother. I don't know what her maiden name was. It's not on the headstone.

And this is my great-great grandfather, H(enry) D(avis) Plyler's, grave. I'm told he was called "Davis," and not "Henry" or some other unofficial name. My no-greats grandfather, by the way, is a prime example of the Southern custom of having "unofficial" given names. His actual, birth certificate first and middle names were "Norman Brown." People outside the family called him "Gene," and they undoubtedly believed that that was his true name. My grandmother, on the other hand, called him "Bill." No one knows why because no one thought to ask. Anyway, my grandfather, Norman Brown Gene Bill, said that his grandfather, H(enry) D(avis), liked to entertain the grandchildren by counting in German.

And this is the backside of H(enry) D(avis) Plyler's headstone. The iron cross thing signifies that he was a soldier in the Civil War -- the losing side, that would be. As I recall, his regiment had a very straightforward name that would leave little doubt as to their true intent: The Stanly County Yankee Hunters.

From the mid-1700s onward, there was a large German settlement in this part of North Carolina -- it's the area I used as the setting for my novel THE BARTERED BRIDE. All the surnames I happen to notice in this particular cemetery were German, except for one -- "Smith."

And that's it for this time...

More Irises and a Few Legacy Blooms

2010-05-08T14:59:00.007-04:00

Blame it on the rough winter. I can't seem to stop taking flower photos. How do you like this one: a purple iris and a purple iris.

A close up of yet another purple iris -- with raindrops.

And one of the dh's late Aunt Peg's peonies -- closed. If you look closely, you can see a number of ever-present ants on it. Ants love peonies -- I assume there's something very sweet therein. Once, in a book I was reading, the female protagonist cut a bunch of peonies and took them straight into the house. It was most alarming and jerked me completely out of the story. I couldn't help but be immediately focused on the fact that she was going to have a host of uninvited guests all over her dinner table. (I assume the writer had no actual peony experience. Or maybe it's only Aunt Peg's variety of peony that attracts them.)

One of Aunt Peg's peonies -- open.

And one of Mammaw Rose's roses. I rooted this one from a cutting -- which is a miracle on SO many levels. (Let's just say I did not inherit my father's green thumb.) But here it is. Alive. And -- wonder of wonders -- blooming. It even smells like a rose. (I did good, didn't I?)

That's it for this time, except to say "Happy Mother's Day" -- and not just to those of you who are mothers by birth or adoption. If you've ever made a child feel better with a hug, or a smile, or a kind word, you're definitely a "mom." It's your day, too.

Want To See This Year's Irises?

2010-05-02T14:32:00.007-04:00

The trusty iMac is on its last legs and crashing constantly -- or freezing, as it were, something unusual for Macs in my experience except when they're circling the drain. It's got a reasonably new hard drive and its OS has been wiped and re-done, upgraded, etc., etc. But it still freezes, which is supposedly better than the dreaded and very scary "Curtain of Doom." I'm not sure why. Either way, the thing don't work.

Anyway, under the threat of the iMac's impending demise and being off-line until I can afford another one, I thought I'd take you for a quick walk to see the currently blooming irises. I wanted to get a photograph of the black ones, but they're not open yet.

Here are the ones that are open:

LIttle Girl Cheryl Opines

2010-05-02T09:16:00.007-04:00

I still get all perplexed sometimes -- the way I did when I was a little girl. Not dumfounded exactly. Just wandering and wondering "in the dark."

This morning it's regarding the apparently new trend in newspaper wedding photos. Again. I simply can NOT appreciate these bizarre poses. I'd show you, but I don't want to get sued, so I'm going to give an opinionated description instead.

Picture this:

The kohl-eyed bride with the 1000-yard stare. (What is this child thinking?) The ubiquitous strapless wedding gown. The pose.

She's leaning against a wall -- some kind of wood paneling, I think. She's there, the wall is there, but something is off, wrong, inconsistent. What is the world that? Oh, I see. It's her arm. It's been forced behind her head in a way that makes a former medical person like myself immediately think "Yikes." (I'm assuming that it's not up there all the time.) The fact that it takes so long even to realize what it is should suggest the awkwardness of the position.

So the bride's arm is up behind her head -- which would ordinarily give anyone looking at the photograph a wide-open view of her armpit. Not to worry, though. In the armpit has been carefully placed a big bunch of roses. No, she's not sprawled on the front seat of an automobile or on a dirty stone floor with dead leave strewn all over her wedding gown as other brides have been. Yes, I know it's her (their) prerogative. It's her (their) money. Still, it does resurrect the question posed earlier.

What is this child thinking?

Till next time...

"B-Rats and Squeals..."

2010-04-23T21:09:00.008-04:00

So what have I been doing on this beautiful day? Well, vacuuming for one thing. And laundry, for another. I'm washing the sheets and pillowcases in actual soap these days -- Ivory bar soap, grated on a cheese grater and agitated in very hot water until it melts. Clothes -- especially sheets -- washed in Ivory soap and hung outside on the line to dry -- absolute HEAVEN. Well worth the extra effort. I used Ivory to kill the aphids on my rose bushes, too. So far, so good with that. Ivory is a very versatile product.

I had lunch at the small cafe my dad used to take me to when I was a little girl -- I think I've said how much I love this place, the food, the people, the memories. I can look out the window and see where the old movie theater used to be, i.e., the place where Roy Rogers lived--or so I thought when I was four. I encountered a former semi-coworker on my way out (I was "health department," she was "social services"). I hardly ever eat there without seeing someone from my past. She'd just come from the library -- early voting in the May primary -- which was exactly where I was heading after lunch.

At the library, I encountered yet another former coworker. She was manning the polls. It had been a very long time since I'd see her, and we naturally hugged the stuffing out of each other. Another voter claimed to be feeling very left out -- he didn't get near the greeting I did. I was surprised by the voter turn out -- quite a few for early voting, especially in a primary election.

Then, I got a present from the dh -- cowboy postage stamps -- which included the one and only aforementioned Mr. Rogers, all young and handsome, just the way he was when I adored him.

Then, I got another present. This one, from JC Penney. Of course, it's one I gave myself, but still. An UPS package with my name on it is exciting no matter who sent it.

Then, I thought I'd bask on the patio for a time -- just because life is short and I wanted to. Which brings us to the rabbits and squirrels -- or "B-rats and Squeals" as one of the children in the family used to call them. There is a squirrel on a limb in the upper right, one eating down on the ground in the lower left, one in the crepe myrtle in the middle. And my "lolling" rabbit is there -- lolling -- between the maple tree and the birdbath. It was all very...Walt Disney.

Oh, and there was a bluebird on the swing. A perfect way to underline a very good day.

Till next time...

This and That

2010-04-13T12:58:00.007-04:00

Or maybe it's your basic "how are you, fine I hope" post. As a reader of other people's mail (See: a past blog about that), I can tell you that most all personal correspondence -- at least the kind I read, the kind which has been recovered from flea markets and antique junkyards -- are of that ilk. Not particularly interesting, just touching base, as it were.

Even so, I'm going to carry on and jot down some random thoughts. About television programs, for instance.

The Powers That Be have cancelled AS THE WORLD TURNS.

Yes, I watch the soaps. Or I watch this soap and have from the time it debuted -- I was a mere child at the time. I never liked any of the others. Quite frankly, I couldn't understand the mindset of the West Coast ones, i.e., THE BOLD AND THE BEAUTIFUL, THE YOUNG AND THE RESTLESS -- or I couldn't until I saw the O.J. Simpson trail. Then, I acquired a little insight into to what constitutes the LA lifestyle, enough to conclude that, as I first suspected, these programs are not for me.

They've also cancelled another favorite: UGLY BETTY. I like UGLY BETTY because it's about family and integrity and honor and responsibility and love and loyalty and acceptance. It may not look like it is at first glance, but it is. Every episode made me feel better than I did when I sat down to watch it -- and that's a wonderful thing, especially in today's entertainment world.

Moving right along, I've found some products I really like:

Alba Papaya Mango Body Cream (an excellent moisturizer and it smells wonderful!).

Alba Pineapple Enzyme Facial Cleanser if used with Alba Aloe and Green Tea Oil-Free Moisturizer (the cleanser also smells wonderful, but it's a bit drying without the moisturizer. The moisturizer is light and soothing).

Similasan Allergy Eye Relief. The pollen count here this spring has been extremely high -- it blows around in what looks like a yellow fog -- and Similasan has helped so much. It's homeopathic, 100 percent natural according to the box, and it's made in Switzerland.

Zaxby's Road House Salad: Yum.

I've also run across a product I don't like:

Broderbund's PrintMaster Platinum 2.0. It is absolutely the worst computer program I've ever tried to use, and I mean WORST. The user manual is useless and the "technical support" non-existent. Their solution was to tell me where to get a user manual -- which I already had and couldn't decipher. I'm not helpless when it comes to working the computer machine, but this program was beyond my intuitive skills. It's terrible, I tell you, terrible.

Still moving along, I continue to listen to and enjoy the dramas on BBC Radio 4. Those 15 minute segments are the highlight of my day.

And finally, I've been thinking about actress Dixie Carter, who died this past weekend. I liked her a lot as "Julia Sugarbaker," but I think I would have liked her as herself as well. Just recently I saw an interview she had done where she talked about her life and her career. She shared a saying about relationships and marriage, one I'd never heard before and one I'm going to share with you. The gist of it was this:

"It takes a very good man to be better than no man at all."

Oh, if my young clients could have learned that. How much better off would they and their children have been?

Till next time...

She's Back!

2010-04-07T11:19:00.003-04:00

My "lolling" rabbit. We had a really cold winter, but she has apparently endured just fine. Here she is...lolling. (There can't be TWO loll-ers, can there?) In any event, seeing this particular rabbit making herself comfortable under the maple tree makes me happy.

MORE 1940s Movie Stars?

2010-04-06T09:39:00.009-04:00

Okay, you talked me into it. I thought I'd show you the World War II ones:

This one of Alan Ladd, which is autographed specifically to my late sister-in-law:

And this generically autographed one of Clark Gable:

I'm also including this one of John Wayne, not because he served in the military during World War II, but because my late father and the rest of the family veterans considered him to be the consummate draft-dodger. I suppose that his not having enlisted wouldn't have seemed so serious had not so many other movie stars elected to serve. In any event, I still remember how much it upset my dad to see John Wayne (and Ronald Reagan) wrapped in the flag and pressuring young men to reenlist during the Vietnam War. He was of the opinion that men who had never seen combat had no right to take that stance. "War is not a movie," he'd say, and he, unlike those two, would know.

Till next time...

1940s Movie Stars - William "Bill" Carter

2010-03-27T11:44:00.008-04:00

Yes, I've been perusing my late sister-in-laws collection of movie star photos again. All of the ones below are of an actor named William (or Bill) Carter -- whom I have never heard of. Actually, at first glance, I thought they were photos of Rock Hudson.

What do you notice about these pictures? Anything? Anything at all? (I'll wait....)

Here's what I noticed. The autographs. All three of them are in a different handwriting. I wonder if my sister-in-law noticed that? She must have been a fan, given the fact that there are three photos of him, and I think that she, like the rest of the young girls who wrote fan letters to their favorite stars, would have wanted to believe that he actually signed them. Alas, they don't call Hollywood a "dream factory" for nothing.

Here is the link to more movie star posts.

Till next time...

In Memoriam

2010-03-25T20:42:00.002-04:00

Dorothy Payne "Dot" Yount, R.N.

1929-2010

Dot taught me just about everything I know about public health nursing. Not the textbook "body politic" things. The "real world" things -- like how to corner a client you know is hiding from you, i.e., the best time to make the home visit and the best bait to use to get them to the door. Because of my somewhat irrepressible and mischievous nature, she used to tell me I just wasn't "Sunbeam" material. At best I was -- and pretty much stayed -- a "Sunbeam Trainee." I'm not exactly sure what a Sunbeam is, but I did try to behave. Really. Well, I did. The main problem was that she was just as mischievous as I was.

She made me laugh. A lot. And she made me smarter than I would have been if our paths had never crossed. I am so lucky that she was a part of my life.

Thanks, Dottie.

A Violet!

2010-03-16T09:25:00.006-04:00

How do you like it? For me personally, there is nothing more uplifting than the first hint-of-spring flowers -- which is why I always prefer a mixed spring bouquet to roses. My granddaughter earnestly believes that my most favorite flower of all is the dandelion -- which in many respects is true. The plant is edible and full of Vitamins A and C. The seeds are very entertaining. So are the blossoms -- you can make wine out of the blossoms. And, I have yet to encounter a child in the family who, given the opportunity, didn't pick one and present it to me as if it were a jewel-encrusted message from the king. (That last thing is my main reason for loving dandelions.) Over the years, I've had tiny vases and ceramic thimbles full of dandelions in various stages of turning to dust (one can't throw them away without causing alarm) on the kitchen window sill, right where I can see them when I do the dishes. In my experience, the dandelion can be a vivid reminder of the giver and the sunny day when it was picked.

I have two jonquils blooming, too -- "buttercups," we call them here. These jonquils aren't given to blooming, so "two" is a bumper crop. Not much from the forsythia as yet, but I remain hopeful. We could still get another snow event, of course -- I may have mentioned that one year it snowed when the azaleas were blooming -- but things are definitely looking up.

Here is one of the two jonquils. Nice, huh?

Here's hoping there are signs of spring where you are...

In Memoriam

2010-03-14T18:32:00.003-04:00

JOANNE BOGER HOLSHOUSER, R.N.

1934-2010

Last week, Joanne lost her long battle with ovarian cancer. She and I graduated from the same school of nursing, and we worked together for a number of years at the local health department. I admired her so much -- her skill as a nurse and her determination always to do the right thing, no matter the risk to herself. She was so strong, yet gentle, kind, funny, dedicated to her family and friends. In this life, she truly walked the walk, and the world is a better place because she was in it.

It was an honor to have known her.

Updating...

2010-03-03T09:38:00.007-05:00

As you can see, it's still February, regardless of what the calendar says. Snowed all day. (sigh)

So what have I been doing despite the weather? Re-typing my single title novel, PROMISE ME A RAINBOW, for one thing. I have the reverted rights and I want to get it into a good eBook venue. The original file was seriously obsolete -- my current computer system wouldn't recognize it, hence the re-typing. That seemingly simple project has been tedious because the aforementioned computer system suddenly developed multiple "old age" woes and required a subsequent clean install of a new OS. Twice. Which means you have to put everything back. Twice. Which then led to a semi-obsolete word processing program (read: "crash"), which led to having to scrape together enough over-budget pennies to get a new MS Word -- and eventually (finally) to re-typing some more. I have less than a hundred pages left to type, assuming my electronic and technical entities behave.

THEN, I want to start on my "Cinda Richards" categories and get them re-typed and into eBook format.

I've also been going to numerous grandchild events -- basketball games, cheerleading -- and doing general taxi servicing. I've actually had to buy myself a day planner just to keep up with it all.

And I learned to text message. This was not easy. My cell phone is a no-frills step above a Dixie cup and a string. Or just the Dixie cup. (Cells don't have "strings.") There's no fancy keyboard and the numeric buttons are very, very tiny. I'm getting the hang of it, though. The grandsons are very impressed.

In my spare time, I've been listening to digital audio books, i.e., Pat Conroy's THE LORDS OF DISCIPLINE. I was interested in this particular book because of the cadet's diary -- which is very pale by comparison. My take? Wonderful imagery and characterization. Compelling plot. Realistically crude language indicative (unfortunately) of young males in a group. On the downside, I thought the tying up of "loose ends" in the final pages was a little too "pat" (pardon the pun) in that, while well-explained and logical, it seemed Charles Dickens-y minus the HEA. Maybe this was because I was surprised. The foreshadowing was excellent, and I knew which of the protagonist's peers were members of The Ten early on, but I hadn't expected or needed this particular duplicity -- maybe because I was done with the pregnant girl and didn't care what had happened to her. In any event, I liked the book well enough to have bought a paperback copy (new, not used, Mr. Conroy). I want the older grandson to read it -- as soon as I decide if he's old enough.

That's it for this time...

Oh, February

2010-02-23T08:45:00.004-05:00

Somebody tell me spring is coming. P L E A S E.

Look at this picture. Could it be any more February? No sunshine. No leaves. No flowers. Just cold, cold rain. Or fog. Or snow. (I've been living in my Land's End red suede bad weather shoes for weeks. Ordinarily I don't mind rainy gloom -- it's actually good "writing weather," but alas, I have apparently reached my saturation point.

So. What's good about February? There must be something.

Well, let's see. It's Number One Granddaughter's Birthday Month. (She just turned seven.) You know how special that is.

It's also Writer Friend Linda's birthday month. And Nursing School Friend, D.B.'s. And High School Friend Harriet's. I love them. They've all been an important part of my life -- February Gifts, as it were.

It was my maternal grandmother's birthday month, as well. She was Christmas personified when I was a little girl (she started the prep work right after Thanksgiving), and I adored her.

And there's the February Worldwide Excuse To Eat Chocolate (aka Valentine's Day).

Oh, and The Bride Fair (and its Super Librarian Love, American Style Digital Bundle) became available at amazon, Barnes & Noble, Sony Ebooks, Fictionwise, Books On Board, Mobibooks, eHarlequin, etc., for downloading to assorted ebook readers and in some places, directly to your PC. (amazon says the software for downloading to a Mac will be available "soon.") I'm really happy about The Bride Fair. All writers have "favorites" among their published works, and this book is one of mine. If you haven't read it, I want you to. Really bad. If you have read it, I want you to read it again. (It's how I am. One of my main raison d'etres for writing at all is the desire to be read.)

Okay, what else?

I got a refund check from Walmart Pharmacy last week because they over charged me for my prescriptions. My fault, they more or less said, for not keeping them apprised. I offer everybody but the Walmart Greeter my assorted medical insurance cards. I, without fail, offer them to the pharmacy people EVERY SINGLE TIME. If there's a way to keep them more "apprised," I don't know what that would be short of wearing one of those "Eat at Joe's" kinds of body signs when I go to get a prescription filled. Still, money is money-- every penny counts -- and I did get some back. That was definitely a good February thing.

And what am I learning from this post? Well, I guess it's that February isn't really crappy. It only looks crappy.

Till next time...

Happy Valentine's Day

2010-02-13T22:30:00.004-05:00

Happy Valentine's Day

Wishing You Love and Chocolate...

Love Those Weather "Computer Models"

2010-02-13T08:30:00.004-05:00

Here's our "dusting" of snow:

Final Update On The Cadet Diary

2010-02-11T12:34:00.005-05:00

The Cadet's Diary is on its way to the Museum and Archives at The Citadel. It seemed the best and most fitting place for it. I'm glad it found its way into my hands, albeit briefly.

The Cadet Diary #7 -- The Final Entry

2010-02-06T13:36:00.013-05:00

March 23 Monday (1936)

I lost the diary for about two weeks is the reason I haven’t written in it lately. I mooved (sic) down with Ashton this Saturday 2 weeks ago. Thank God I’m not rooming with Moss anymore.

Got my glasses last Friday afternoon. They still hurt my eyes a little bit, even though I just wear them when I read.

I got sick last Wednesday nite a week ago and stayed in the hospital until that Saturday morning.

The General inspected Saturday. We didn’t get pulled or commended.

Went sailing with Mr. Frazer (?) yesterday. Lift (?) Sift(?) Lif 1 (?) about. We left about ten thirty and sailed under the bridge to the Yacht Basin and got some sandwiches to take with us. Went on out to Fort Sumpter and stayed out there for about a half hour and then sailed out to Morris Island and beached he boat. Had a fine time playing on the beach and looking at the jetteys (?) jetlays (?). Sailed back before the wind in about 2 hours. That’s pretty good time because its (sic) about 14 miles out there.

Nothing unusual today except that we put on cotton shirts after dinner

I am pretty sunburned in the face.

Thus ends the Cadet Diary -- and what a journey it must have taken. I know only about the last leg of it, that it went from here (Cline's Antiques):

To here (my AlphaSmart typing place by the fire):

Thanks to the internet (I speak fluent "google"), I've managed to discover a few answers to my earlier questions. I know that at the time the diary was written he looked like this:

I know that he did indeed graduate and that the 1939 Citadel yearbook said this:

...Hugh will always be remembered for his dry, humorous expressions. His slow drawl and nonchalant manner have made him almost a legend among his classmates. Never seeming to care for rank, he has been a private all the way through. If he had really set his heart to the task, Hugh would probably have made an excellent officer. The height of his ambition was to be able to know more songs and recognize more orchestras than his crony "the Beetle-brow." Therefore, if anyone wanted any information in the musical circles, Hugh could always oblige. No one ever saw this lad from Charlotte studying, but he met the demands of the Business professors. His keen intellect and friendly personality will no doubt be as useful to him in the business world as they have been at The Citadel.

Ret., Co. F (4); Pvt., Co. H (3, 2); Pvt.,Co. M (1); Richardson Rifles (2, 1); Charlotte-Citadel Club (4, 3, 2, 1).

I know he was born on the 30th of June in 1918 and he died on the 11th of March in 1997. I know that he had three older brothers and that at some point he got married. There was no information regarding any children.

I find it interesting that he didn't seem to care about the military aspect of the Citadel, but he doesn't seem to be quite as firm about not wanting to participate as did one of his classmates, who, the yearbook noted, was given a promotion -- and who promptly gave it back.

I learned, too, that the seemingly hapless Colonel Gaston (I base this opinion on the fact that oranges were thrown in his direction) had been replaced by 1939. There was a special mention in the year book of the "new regime" and the fact that Colonel Gaston had "retired." These changes apparently had the cadet senior class's approval:

...School reopened under a new regime. Colonel Holliday, P. M. S. K T., replaced the retired Commandant of Cadets, Colonel Gaston. With the new commandant came a new set of Assistant Commandants, Major Kalloch. Major Sinkler, and Captain Alexander, replacing Lieutenants Graves and Keith. The new Commandant's Department wisely realized the futility of functioning without the Corps' backing, so the Senior Class' cooperation was secured. We were given more responsibility and more liberty,the things for which all Citadel senior classes have striven. We feel that this administrative change has done more for our college than any amount of physical growth could do.

So that's it. As suggested at the top of the blog, "writing Life" is my thing -- but I didn't necessarily mean my life. I hope you've found the long ago cadet's observations interesting. I certainly did.

The Cadet Diary #6 --The Ash Can "Mistery" Is Solved

2010-02-06T12:39:00.005-05:00

Saturday-Feb 22 (1936)

Washington’s Birthday and here I am all cooped up in this place. No kind of inspection at all today. Lounged around the room all morning and was over in the gym about 5 o’clock when the first call went off in Murray Barracks. Put on my tie and overcoat and ran over here. Just did get here in time to meet the 2 minute steel(?). Now I know how it feels to be a fireman. Drop whatever you are doing and be on the guard – fully dressed in three minutes.

They announced that general leave would begin immediately. They had been having a cadet Committee meeting and had evidently caught somebody -- Moss got back from the dentist about that time and said that Muldrow and Dukes had confessed. He said that they had all got together and drew straws to see which two would confess so the corps could go on leave.

Tried to take a shower but the water was to (sic) cold so I waited till about seven o’clock and it was still cold.

Went up town and had supper at the G. and S. by the lonesome. Bought a few odds and ends that I had been needing including some rubber caps to go on the bottom of the chair so I wouldn’t fall down when I leaned back. Went down to Silver’s to see about that lamp. It’s a pretty good looking job (Transcription Note: girl) that works in there. I’ll have to get a date with her.

Came on back about ten o’clock and went to bed. Oh yes I forgot to say that was Kendrick’s liquor they found in Dial’s car. He read out his own special order Thursday. He was reduced from captain adjutant to private and is deprived of all leave privileges for three months receives 50 demerits and 50 tours. Thats (sic) going to seem odd having a senior on the quad with you.

Sunday Feb 23 (1936)

Eyes are almost well now. They had another cadet-committee meeting during and after chapel this morning. I think they’ve about got them all now. They say that Kendall told on all of them.

Served 4 confinements this afternoon.

Monday Feb 24 (1936)

Didn’t get back from the hospital until class call this morning. Moss didn’t have the room cleaned up very well, but he had a vacant period before the OD came by and got it fixed then. Trotti pulled me for having on a dispreptable (sic) shirt at drill. Thorpe saw it at dinner formation and if he didn’t tell Trotti to report me, I’m going to star it and say I toe it while doing exercises. It’ll probably be a 3 and that will give me a tour to walk Saturday.

Andrews says he is one over on demerits now, but he had a neat press today so he’s exactly even now. He had sure better watch his step.

Went to Chem. Coaching class tonight and worked a few problems . I’m going to have to do some powerful studying now since I haven’t read any at all in a week. I’m also afraid we have to hand in the History note book tomorrow and I haven’t touched mine this month or the last either

Tuesday Feb 25

Didn’t get back from the hospital until after class call again. Got pulled for unidy press, but I starred the report. Got a letter from Jeane and Harry (Transcription Note: Harry is likely a brother) this morning. Jeane says she found that letter I wrote her last October. Harry says Burke had his tonsels (sic) taken out.

They read out all the special orders in the mess hall today. All the boys envolved (sic) got three months restriction and 100 tours for planning the thing. Muldrow and Andrews got 6 months restriction and 150 tours and ten demerits. That puts Andrews 8 over he says. Muldrow got busted.

Mr. Dial got reported for disrespect to Shumate. He wouldn’t say “sir” to him and when asked for explination (sic) he said “I’m not used to saying sir to anyone that is no older than I, and I don’t intend to start now.”

Took part of the test in English this afternoon. H (?) Achurch (?) H A Church (?) started to correcting it and said I had so many errors that I could have another shot at it Thursday morning. I’ll have a class from 9 in the morning till six in the afternoon with an hour off for dinner and supper. Slept all evening and went to coaching class after supper.

The Mystery of the Cadet Diary Continues With #5...

2010-02-04T11:00:00.005-05:00

Sunday Feb 16 (1936)

Walked post for 15 minutes over time last night. The damn sergant (sic) of the guard must have gone to sleep and forgot to ring the steel – at any rate it wasn’t rung until 12:30.

Everything was quiet last night. Not a single light bulb or any thing went off.

Played a little more ping pong with Taylor this morning after chapel until we broke the ball.

The dough and the cadet-committee had a meeting this morning and called over all the hell raisers in this barraks (sic), one at a time and asked them about the ash can throwing. I don’t think anybody talked. Mr. Croft said that the whole barraks (sic) was going to be restricted until they answered the great mistery (sic). They’ll have to oath (?) about 30 boys if they get everybody because there were at least 2 boys to every trash can.

It was announced this morning that main barracks would be granted leave this afternoon but we’d still be restricted. Went over and talked to Bob Gill and Kologiski this afternoon till about four o’clock and then came back and read until supper. I sure hope they don’t throw anything off tonight. I want to get out of here at least once or twice before Easter.

Monday Feb – 17 (1936)

Finished inking all the visible outlines of that hard plate in drawing today.

Special order was read out in mess hall today upon the recommendation of the surgeon, the restriction is hereby lifted.” (sic) Another read “All leave privileges granted to cadets quartered in Murray barracks are canceled until further notice. (sic)I don’t think we’ll be restricted for more than one week-end though.

Got my pants pressed this afternoon.

The infantry shot off a fire cracker just a little while ago, but they didn’t have a formation as they usually do. I don’t guess they don’t want leave either. It sounded like another dynamite cap. They say that the dough is afraid that there’s some dynamite over there and somebody will be fool enough to set if off. Moss has got to walk posts tonight.

Tuesday Feb-18 (1936)

Woke up this morning and couldn’t hardly get my right eye opened. By dinner time it was as red as all get out so I went over to the hospital and Miss Malloy put some red stuff in it. She said I just had a cold in it, but after she got through it looked as if I had the pink eye.

Shumate caught Mr. Dial for having whiskey in his automobile while it was parked behind the barraks (sp). He was O.D. this morning but after he was caught he was put under arrest and Jones was O.D. I heard him talking tonight and he said if they gave him fifty demerits it would put him way over.

Made a deal with Mr. Andrews in the mess hall today. Every time we have cream puffs for dessert, he gets mine and every time we have that chocolate stuff, I get his. Went back over to the hospital this afternoon at 5:30 and I have to go back in the morning at sick call. I hope she gives me an excused recitation. I’m going to tell her I couldn’t do any reading tonight.

Friday Feb-21 (1936)

(Hell?) (Still?) “Excused recitation. (sic) Went to English class but they had a quiz, so Mickel and I came back to barracks.

In Math class Maj Myers jumped on me for talking to Bryant. He’s about the only teacher I have that wouldn’t have reported me. Had another quiz in Chem. So I returned to barracks again. Cleaned the rifle, shined my shoes real good and touched up the brasses. I kind of suspected that there would be no inspection so I didn’t put everything on and sure enough they announced there would not be an inspection but everyone was to oil their rifles and the company commanders would inspect them in the rooms at 1:15. Thorpe jumped on me for not having the butt-guard oiled properly.

Went over to the hospital after dinner and got the drops put in my eye. They are not entirely well, but are considerably better.

Its (sic) rained hard all day with an extremely cold hard wind to boot. They blew call-to-quarters at Seven (sic) o’clock and the N.C.O.I.C.O.Q. checked at 7:15. We could visit after he came by. Got in a fast and furious ping-pong game up in Mayos (sic) again. That seems to be the only thing I can find to do on the weekends while we are restricted. I wish they would hurry up and catch someone for that ash can job so we can get out of here. The time slipped up on me and taps blew at 11:PM, while I was still up in Mayo’s room. I had to come back and put the bed down and get undressed in the dark.

The Mystery of the Cadet Diary #4 (Orange Throwing and Ash Cans) (And Girls)

2010-01-31T10:11:00.006-05:00

Continuing with the diary entries. These have more drama and my sense is that he found girls standing in the "sally port" nearly as as attention-getting as the incident involving cadets throwing oranges at the Cadet Commandant and the flying ash cans:

Friday -- Feb 14 (1936)

Wineberger inspected the rear rank at inspection this morning and gave me one merit for excellent rifle. I ought to have had one on my brasses also, but he wouldn’t commend me on them. I sure worked hard enough on them.

It was announced in the mess hall that we would be restricted again this weekend on account of bad weather and conditions in the city. It’s awfull (sic) pretty weather we’re having but the surgeon doesn’t seem to think so. As soon as the rest was given, everybody started yelling at the top of their voice and beating on the bread trays. It took them about five minutes to quiet down.

Something is going off tonight I’m almost positive. I’ve never seen everybody so stirred up. We beat Carolina in the boxing match tonight. Col Gaston came over here after the boxing match and was standing out on the quadrangle. About half the barraks (sic) came out on the gallery and started hollering at him. Everybody was making some sort of crack at him – telling him to get the hell out of here. Some even went so far as to throw oranges at him

Saturday-Feb 15 (1936)

I knew something was going to happen last night and sure enough about 3 o’clock it sounded as if the whole barracks were going to fall in. Somebody had thrown some trash cans off. It was sure planned well – you couldn’t hear anybody running or any doors slam. We tried to cut on the light, but they had thrown the main switch while they did it. I was almost back asleep when Thorpe and Wineberger came in. They looked at the alarm clock to see if it was set but thank goodness it wasn’t. They went in everybody’s room and felt some of the boy’s pulse to see if they had been running. I woke up this morning and looked out on the quad. Great God There (sic) were fourteen as cans down there. Moss took a picture of them. There was also a lot of toilet paper and a great many liquor bottles that had been thrown off before call to quarters last night. After breakfast all the freshmen had to go down and clean all that mess up.

I really put out on the room this morning but didn’t get but one merit. It was a good thing because Shumate was mad about those ash cans and gave a very rigid inspection. He even pulled boys for not having shoe laces in shoes that they weren’t wearing. There were about ten or twelve boys that got pulled for having a mess hall glass in their room. I gave mine to Taylor and he put in (sic) his strong box.

Walked two tours today. I got out ten minutes early on the one before dinner to get dressed for guard mount. I’ve been on guard 2 times now in the past month. Thats (sic) way too often.

We got three tables together tonight and played ping-pong in the room. Taylor, Fortson, Larkin, Joyce, Moss and myself. Just a little while ago some girls were standing in the sally port and everybody came out on the gallery and started yelling at them. I’m forced to knock off and go meet the relief formation, cause (sic) I don’t want another 3 and 3.

The Mystery of the Cadet Diary #3

2010-01-30T09:10:00.008-05:00

Continuing with entries from the mysterious cadet diary:

Sunday – Feb 9 (1936)

Went to Chapel this morning came back and lounged around the room till dinner. Got a letter from Clarence this morning. After dinner I went down to Belcher’s room at (sic) shot bull till about four and then went to sleep.

They had an amateur show this afternoon. A boy named Purcell won it. Mr. Sturkey says that he and I are going to enter the next one. He is going to be a magician and I his helper. He is very confident that we’ll win it. I know 3 bucks would certainly come in handy.

I’m getting pretty damn tired of this place. The more I think about it the madder I get. There’s not one single thing down here that I’m satisfied with. Can’t get in the hospital even if you are sick – let the laundry lose all your clothes and you can’t say a word about it. Cuss that lady that runs it out and probably get a month or two for it. Have to pay a fortune to the G.M. every time you get anything and like it. One boy went over to the hospital the other day with temperature and they wouldn’t let him in so he goes and tells Gaston where to get off and up town (?) to a hospital. Now he’s got pneumonia. Mr. Trotti (Transcription Note: There is a Tom Mulloy Trotti, Citadel Class of 1937, on the Citadel War Dead List. He was killed at Iwo Jima during World War II and I am assuming that this is the same young man) went over there the other day and got stuck for coming over at off hours. He’s truly sick now, but you couldn’t make him go back over there with a team of horses. Folks say you will appreciate the training (Transcription Note: the words “while you” marked through) you get here after you are graduated, but I’ll be damn if you do now. I dare say there are about fifty freshmen out of 200 that intend to come back next year. I know I Sure (sic) will hate to see September roll around again.

I’m forced to knock off and write to the pater and Clarence and Jeane too if I can borrow any stationery.

Tuesday -- Feb 11 (1936)

Got a hair cut this afternoon. Shumate came in tonight and stuck me for loud laughing during E.S.P. and clothes strewn around room during E.S.P.

Wednesday – Feb 12 (1936)

Made 88 on an English quiz - not bad. Was down in Richter’s room this afternoon and some boys were scuffing and making a lot of noise. Mr. Sturkey came up then (?) there (?) and jumped on them and got mad at me because I didn’t come to attention. He says to bring my broom with me when I come down to fix his bed at tattoo.

So for this week I’ve gotten a 4 and 5 for failing to meet guard mount (?) and a 3 and 3 for 2 minutes late to relief formation. It’s also a four and five for loud laughing and a 3 and 3 for room in disorder during E.S.P. I’ll just have two tours to walk this week end but oh next week end. 16 (underlined) confinements. I’ll be in Friday nite, and Saturday nite, walk 2 (3?) tours Sat afternoon and serve one confinement Sunday afternoon. That means I’ll have from 3 till 6 on Sunday afternoon free.

Toby said that Larkin wrote the OC to go home this week end, but the dough wouldn’t approve it because he said we wouldn’t be just restricted this week end, but quarenteened (sic). If that’s so, we won’t be out till anywhere from 4 to 6 weeks have gone by. All because one boy has got the scarlet fever – Matthews, first sergant (sic) of “A” Co.

The Mystery of the Cadet Diary #2

2010-01-29T13:56:00.010-05:00

Here is the second installment of the cadet's diary:

Tuesday February 4, (1936)

Forgot to write anything yesterday. Went to class this morning and after dinner, I laid up on the press and went to sleep. Got up and went over to the gymnasium to listen to a “keep your pants buttoned” talk by Dr Ravanell at 4 o’clock. Came back and slept until retreat.

Tonight I was listening to the crystal set (Transcription Note: an early simple radio receiver with a crystal touching a metal wire and no amplifier or speaker, necessitating headphones or an earphone) when Graves came around. I thought I heard him coming down the gallery, but when I asked Moss if it was he said “no.” I heard him rap on the door and got the ear phones off before he got it open. Thats (sic) some fast work. I’ve got to go to the Cadet Committee tonight for about three or four reports. I don’t see how I can get out for less than ten tours. I’m going to roll me an own (?) and listen to Glen Gray (Transcription Note: Glen Gray, a 1930s bandleader) for a while now

Feb.5, Wednesday (1936)

Nothing unusual today. I got Mr. Berger’s ice cream at dinner. Went back over to the gym this afternoon in Company formation and heard the rest of the sex talk by Dr. Ravanell (sic)

I really knew my history lesson today. It was the first time I had really studied it in a long time.

Mr. Andrews said that there were 70 boys in the hospital and 69 had the flu. Theres (sic) a rumor about us being restricted this week and I’ll have to stay in Friday nite and finish that drawing so I don’t mind much.

Saturday Feb-8 (1936)

No exercises this morning thank goodness. By the way we are restricted this weekend.

The corps went to a picture show over in the gym last nite – “A Mid-Summer Night’s Dream” – It was supposed to be a good picture, but it wasn’t very plain. Everything seemed blurred. The sound was awfull (sic) too. I couldn’t understand but one sentence In (sic) show – “What fools these mortals be.” They had a boxing match tonight but I didn’t go – stayed down in Sturkey’s room till about eleven and watched him do tricks.

A bunch of the boys were drunk today. Some one said that a man came out here and got around $100 (Transcription Note: Around $1500 by today's standards) worth of orders and delivered it. About half of “D” company is on its back right now.

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I had to do yet another Google search, this time re: "Glen Gray." I'd never heard of him, but apparently he was a popular bandleader during the 1930s and 1940s. There is a clip of one of his performances on YouTube if you're interested. I had to smile at the cadet's rush to get rid of his radio headphones. In 1936 this would have been a lot harder than it sounds.

More later...