Patty Seitz's Blog

 

   

Belowis another excerpt from The Last Cottage, this time about when Maggieand Hamilton start to explore the run-down cottage they come across in the forestoutside of the small town of Pine Grove. I hope you will enjoy it and perhaps willwant to find out more about this strange and mysterious cottage in the woodsand all about the woman who lived there many years ago.  You can find the whole story here: https://www.amazon.com/Last-Cottage-Patty-Seitz-ebook/dp/B0BY7K2VDC?ref 

“It looks like the sun has barely been up,but I don’t think I can sleep another wink,” Maggie said as she turned over andnoticed Hamilton was looking out the window. “I have a feeling you slept aboutas badly as I did, although I don’t feel as tired as I thought I would.” 

“I did wake up a lot, but I did manage tofall back to sleep until about 20 or 30 minutes ago. I don’t think I can sleepany longer either, but it is a little too early to head on out. Might as wellget up, shower, and get dressed. I would like to have breakfast here, too, ifthat’s okay with you. I know if we go into town, no one will know what we areup to, but still, better to stay out of town, at least for today,” Hamiltonsuggested. 

“Sounds like a good idea,” Maggie agreed.“I'll put on the coffee while you get ready. Then if you would start the eggsand bacon, I'll get ready. We can relax for a while, or try to relax if we cansit still that long,” she chuckled.  “I'mso excited about today, but definitely feeling anxious about it too, and I'mnot sure why. I don’t feel afraid or feel anything negative at all.  It’s more almost as if we are going totrespass into someone’s home without their permission, know what I mean?” 

“That’s the perfect way to describe it,Honey,” Hamilton replied. “It’s a good feeling knowing Hannah trusts twostrangers just wandering into town and wanting to explore something that doesnot belong to us. At the same time, I feel a little guilty that we are going togo through with this. I'm willing to bet Merry is going to let us know how toproceed.” 

“Then let’s enjoy our breakfast and hang outhere for a few hours and then see where this day takes us. It was so hard notto tell the kids what we are doing. I'm sure Sarah June would have worried andthe kids would have wanted to know all the details, so it’s best we are keepingthis quiet. It’s too hard to explain it over a phone call anyway.  If nothing else happens today, we still havea pretty exciting story to share when we get back home.” 

“You know, this trip has turned out to be somuch more than I would have expected,” Hamilton mused. “I knew we would have awonderful time together. I don’t think we have ever had a bad trip over theyears, other than the occasional flat tire or bad meal. But on this trip, wehave made new friends; more shopping than I would have anticipated, especiallyfrom me; just about perfect weather. Then to add this cottage thing to the mix.My gosh, it almost does not seem real. To top it off, we’ve only been gone alittle over two weeks. I'm glad you have been journaling this trip, as I'm notso sure I would remember it all,” he laughed. 

“I still have more to write about, too,”Maggie chimed in. “I did not get into a great deal of detail the other nightbecause I was tired and also needed to process it all. No matter what happenstoday, I wonder what future family members will think when they read about allof this. If we go today and nothing at all happens other than just lookingaround for a little while will not take anything away from Hannah’s telling ofthat cottage and Merry’s life.  It’s afascinating story, but sad, too. It’s so hard to imagine what that must havebeen like to lose your husband in a war and be left behind with no family tospeak of. It’s so lovely that the people of Pine Grove allowed Merry to stay onand live out her life here.  Reallyspeaks a lot to the character of this town, that’s for sure!” 

“Absolutely,” Hamilton agreed.  “Since both of us did not sleep all thatgreat last night, let’s have another cup of coffee, and by the time we finishup and clean the breakfast dishes, it should be a good time to go. I checkedthe weather, and it’s to be pretty cold today, something about a cold frontcoming in from the north. I want to make sure we are out of there by theafternoon at the latest. Obviously it won't have any heating or electricity, soit’s probably going to be pretty cold inside. That is, if we get inside.” 

It was a little past 9:30 when the excitedcouple grabbed their coats to have in case it would get colder than predictedand headed out to find Long Way. Theywere glad to see the sign had not been taken down yet, so the road was easy tofind. They didn’t feel it was their place to take the sign down, but they didmanage to turn it around enough so that you could not see what it was otherthan an old pole sticking out of the ground. The road itself was covered enoughwith weeds and branches that made it hard to notice it was a drivable road, andthey felt confident no one else would see it was an actual path you could takea car through. 

Hamilton was tempted to speed down thebattered road to get to the cottage, but he took his time. Both of them feltthis area was almost sacred, considering the families who lived here during ahorrible time in our country’s history.  Itwas important to both of them to take this seriously, even though they feltlike kids in a candy store, they were so excited for this unexpected turn ofevents on their trip.  After what seemedlike a long time, the cottage finally came into view. 

“Well, here we are,” Maggie said in almost awhisper. 

“Ah, Master of the Obvious,” Hamiltonquipped. 

Maggie laughed as she said, “Okay, Mr. WiseGuy. Don’t tell me you are not as anxious as I am about this. Forgive me if Isay stupid things throughout this day. I feel like my heart is going to burstout of my chest. And before you say anything—yes, stupid comment number two.Promise me you won't keep track.” 

“I make no such promise,” Hamilton replied.“Anyway, I do understand what you are feeling, Honey. At least you didn’t say literally burst. It always tickles mehow people don’t get what that means. Well, I suppose they do but say it sooften for emphasis or to be dramatic. For whatever reason, it does tickle me. Ialways picture the heart really bursting or the person actually falling out oftheir chair, when they say things like that. Maybe someday I'll literally witness a real event.” 

“I can't believe we are sitting here makingridiculous chit chat,” Maggie interjected. “We must be more nervous than werealize. How about we walk around outside the house to get our bearings and ourcourage up to try the front door. We could try moving some of that old fencingto see if Merry tries to stop us. That shouldn't deter us from trying the door,but it would be interesting to see what happens, if anything,” she suggested. 

Just as they got out of the car, a cold gustof wind blew by them, so they put on their coats, happy they had remembered tobring them along. “Hi Merry. Hope you don’t mind we stopped by unannounced,”Hamilton expressed. 

“Do you think….?” Maggie wondered.  Hamilton gave her a look like you never know! 

The gust blew by quickly, but there was stilla strong chill in the air. Hamilton had checked on the weather earlier, and itwas to be only in the low 50s for the day. Even though it was still lateSeptember, it felt more like late October. Since it was also pretty cloudy,Hamilton took the flashlight and put it in his coat pocket.  He figured it would be pretty dark inside thehouse with the clouds and also the windows were dirty and would not be lettingin much light. 

As they walked into the front yard, Hamiltonnoticed the old fence with ivy wrapped around it and remembered when Hannah hadsaid that the workers could not move the fence or get the ivy off.  He picked up a small piece of the fence andwas able to wipe off the ivy without any problem. It would have been easy tothrow the fence off out of the way, but he laid it back down on the groundright where he found it.  They spent ashort amount of time kicking aside leaves and branches, but they didn’t seeanything else of interest other than the broken-down fencing. They headed tothe back of the cottage before trying the front door. Maggie was curious if shewould be able to hear that humming again, since that is where she heard itbefore, if indeed it was Merry humming. 

Again, they pushed aside leaves and debris,especially focusing on what looked like the garden area.  A few rusted garden tools were found, and upagainst the house Maggie found a watering can they had not noticed before.  “I'm surprised we did not see this floweringcan when we were here before,” Maggie said. 

“I love that you call that a flowering can,”Hamilton teased. “Ever since you made that mistake a long time ago, I havenever wanted you to call it anything else. I find it a very sweet term,” hewent on. 

“It’s gotten to a point where it’s automaticto say it that way,” she replied. “Anyway, it’s a fun find, but we should leaveit alone, don’t you think? I have to admit I would love to keep it as a memento,but it doesn’t seem right to take anything. I'll take a picture instead and addit to the picture book when we get home. Looks like it had a flower pattern onthe front, but it is pretty beat up. I sure can picture Merry out here wateringher garden with that can.” 

They spent about another ten minutes in theback and then headed for the front door. It was exciting but nerve-racking atthe same time. If the door would not open, they knew they had their answer.They would drive away disappointed, but determined to respect Merry’swishes.  Hamilton took off his gloves toget a better grip on the door handle.  The knob was mounted on a rectangular platethat was tarnished green from the weather, as was the knob itself. Hamiltonfelt it was probably brass in origin. There was a flower pattern at the top andbottom of the plate and small raised dots running down both sides. The knob hadswirls around the perimeter with a sun in the middle.  Hamilton wondered if it was original to the houseor something Merry added at a later time, since it did seem ornate for what wassupposed to be a temporary home. 

“That doorknob is absolutely beautiful,”Maggie exclaimed. Hamilton mentioned how he wondered about its origin. 

He slowly turned the knob and found it to bea little stuck. He tried again, twisting a little harder. The knob started toturn more easily, and Hamilton gave a look at Maggie that told her everythingwas about to get very out of the ordinary. 

 

    

Ilike to include a few chapters here and there from my books and had notrealized I never posted any chapters from The Last Cottage.  Chapter 1 is below and in a week or so I'll addanother chapter further into the story to give you a  hint on what Maggie and Hamilton happen uponon what becomes a very unusual and unexpected first trip after Hamilton’sretirement! I hope you will enjoy this chapter and perhaps entice you to readthe rest of their story. You can find their full tale here: https://www.amazon.com/Last-Cottage-Patty-Seitz-ebook/dp/B0BY7K2VDC?ref 

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 “Where did the time go? Didn’t we just move intothe family house a few years ago? I’m not sure I’m ready for this! Are youready for this?” 

Maggie saw that look in Hamilton’s eyes thattold her he was going to ask that same question he always asked when she gotahead of herself. “Which question do you want me to answer first?” he queriedwith his usual big grin, arms crossed in front of him. 

“Oh you! You know what I mean.” 

Maggie and Hamilton Foster had been marriedfor 40 years and were every bit as much in love today as they were when theyfirst met in college in 1970. It was very close to love at first sight. Theyhad met during the second semester of their Freshman year in college at theUniversity of Akron. 

Both were taking a speech class as anelective. Hamilton had taken it just for the fun. He loved performing and hadalready signed up for the next play at the university theatre, remembering howmuch fun it was to have been in several plays when he was in high school. Hehad a special love for making people laugh and discovered that, when he forgotthe words to a solo song he was to sing in the senior musicale. Instead ofpanicking as the intro played for the third time, he had said, “Don’tworry—I’ll think of something!”  When theaudience burst into laughter, the words came flooding back, and he got astanding ovation when it was over. 

Maggie took the class because she wanted towork on her shyness. She had gone to an all-girl Catholic high school. Most ofher girlfriends did have boyfriends, but it never happened for Maggie. Everyonealways seemed to like her well enough, but the boys did not ask her out. Shecouldn’t wait to get out of high school and onto the college campus. She knewit wasn’t  going to be easy, but she wasdetermined to be more outgoing. It’s not that she felt she needed a boyfriendto be happy or fulfilled. It was more a social thing. She didn’t want to go outto parties or football games and be the only one alone. 

The class assignment was going to be adifficult one for Maggie. In 300 to 500 words, the students had to describewhich athlete they would love to be, living or dead. It had to be a shortdescription because everyone would be expected to read their choice in front ofthe class. Maggie had chosen Peggy Fleming, the 1968 Olympic ice skating championin women’s singles and three-time world champion. Maggie hadn’t been iceskating since her grade school days, but she always loved it, even though sheoften spent more time sitting on the ice than skating on it.  She had described how she viewed Miss Flemingas a ballerina on ice, which was in such sharp contrast to her clumsiness. Itfelt pretty good when the class had laughed at her comparison. The teachercommented how well she felt Maggie had described the two skaters—one soeloquent, the other quite the opposite and not being afraid to poke a littlefun at herself. 

Hamilton’s choice was quite unexpected, butone in which the entire class, including the teacher, erupted in applause andgiggles. He chose Triple Crown winner in 1973, Secretariat. His reasoning wasflawless. What other athlete could run a little less than four miles total inthree races, retire, and spend your retirement days out to pasture as a stud?  It had never occurred to the teacher to notonly state an athlete living or dead, but also human! 

“You don’t strike me as someone who would beclumsy on skates, but it was good to hear I’m not the only one,” Hamiltonquipped as he came up to Maggie before she headed out the door. He had wantedto speak to her before but didn’t know what to say or how to say it. Eventhough he had girlfriends in high school and was pretty outgoing, he alwaysfelt a little awkward around girls, at least when first meeting. He had noticedMaggie from the first day of class.  Heloved that her huge brown eyes perfectly matched her long straight hair.  It seemed to him by her demeanor that she wassomewhat shy and wondered why she would take a speech class if that was trulythe case. He hoped he would find out. 

Maggie was startled that he came up to herout of the blue, but it made her feel good. She hadn’t noticed until thatmoment how green his eyes were. He was a few inches taller than her and verylean with light brown very curly hair. She wondered if he was a runner. Shelaughed to herself that she was finding she was so curious about this boy whenshe hadn’t really noticed him before this particular day. Don’t just stand there staring at him, Maggie. Say something for cryingout loud. I hope he doesn’t read minds!  “I didn’t make that up. I was always fallingdown and never got the knack for it, even though I enjoyed it so much. I was atomboy when I was a kid. Climbing trees or playing kickball. Loved freeze tag.”Good grief, Maggie. First you saynothing, and now you can’t shut up. SHUT. UP! 

“I’m Hamilton Foster,” he grinned as he putout his hand to her in introduction. “You’re Maggie Hamilton, right? I guess ifwe get married, I’ll have to take your name,” he joked. 

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Maggielaughed. “People might think you are just trying to be funny when you have togive your full name.” 

“Yeah, never thought of that. Hey, do youhave a class right now? Would love to buy you a soda or cup of coffee. Nothingelse, though. If you’re a tea drinker, we’ll have to end things right here andnow.” 

“No more classes until 3 for me, and to behonest, I never liked tea all that much. I can drink it, but it’s coffee forme—black and strong. By the way, Hamilton is kind of an unusual first name. Isit a family name?” 

“Oh, I get that question so often, I shouldprint out a pamphlet to hand out to people,” he sighed. “It’s a funny story andshows what quirky parents I have. You see, my mom had a big celebrity crush onGeorge Hamilton. So much so, that it became a big joke when my parents weredating. Dad would often get Mom a gift, like a sweatshirt with George Hamilton’spicture on it, a framed autographed picture, a golf ball marker with his famousface. She has quite the collection. So when they married and had me, it onlyseemed natural to name me Hamilton. And before you ask, they both felt Georgewould never work because there would be no funny tale with such a common namelike George.  Of course, they neverconsidered I would have to tell the story over and over again as I grew up.” 

“I think I’m in love with your parents,”Maggie said with a big smile. “I guess it’s a good thing your mom’s crush wasnot on Arnold Schwarzenegger.”   

“Oh man, I never thought of that,” Hamiltonchuckled. “How about you? Is Maggie short for Margaret or something?” 

“No. My parents liked the name Maggie. Mymiddle name is June for my mom’s mom. She passed away about three years beforeI was born, and they were very close. I wish I could have known her. I feelblessed that I do love my name. Except when Mom would be angry at me and yell Maggie June!  I always knew I was in major trouble when sheused my full name. I don’t suppose your middle name is George?” Maggie asked. 

“You would think, but I actually don’t have amiddle name. Mom and Dad felt HamiltonFoster was a mouthful and left that part of my birth certificate blank.Even that had turned into a humorous incident. I was filling out an applicationat the bank when I opened up a savings account. Instead of leaving the middlename blank, I put capital N, capital A, without any slash mark, not eventhinking about it. The clerk looked at that and said ‘Hamilton Na Foster?’  I replied back ‘No. Hamilton Not ApplicableFoster’ with what I think was an utterly stunned look on my face that shedidn’t understand the notation.  Then Ifelt bad because she looked so embarrassed, but I apologized right way for notputting the slash mark. She started to giggle and admitted she couldn’t believeshe didn’t catch what that was. We both got to laughing, and the other clerkswere looking at us like we were drunk.” 

“WOW! You have gotten a lot of laughs out ofyour name, it would seem,” Maggie expressed. “Good thing you have inheritedyour mom and dad’s sense of humor.  I dohave one quirky thing about my family, though, not related to names at all.” 

Hamilton was very intrigued and also couldn'tbelieve how much fun he was having with Maggie, even though they had only knowneach other for all of about 20 minutes.  Is this a love-at-first-sight thing?  he wondered to himself.  He definitely knew he did not want thisafternoon to end. “Something stranger than my family? I have got to hear this!”he grinned. 

“Well, most people don’t believe this when Itell them, but not only is my birthday May 10th, but my mom, her mom, her mom’smom, and the mom before that were all born on May 10th.  I was a C-section, or I probably would nothave been born on the 10th, but it was a necessary C-section, not that Mom justinsisted I be born on that day. So when she had the choice, she just couldn'tresist. We did also know that my great grandmother was born about three weeksearly, so that one was kind of a freaky accident. We always laughed that sheknew the 10th was the day you had to be born or suffer the consequences. Itseems some were kind of accidents, but it really puts the pressure on me tohave a daughter on the 10th of May, I guess.” 

“Well, I'm not sure which of our stories isquirkier,” Hamilton laughed. “Going to have to give that some thought.” 

Maggie almost missed her 3-o’clock class thatday, as they had talked about everything from their childhood to high schoolexperiences. Maggie felt so at ease with Hamilton. It was as if her shynesscompletely melted away. They were practically inseparable after that, and over 40years later, they were still just as happy and often silly with each other asthat very first quirky day. 

“Yes, my love, I know what you mean,”Hamilton teased as he gave Maggie a hug. “Now you know my actual last day isnot for a few months yet.  We do have somedecisions to make, though.” 

“I know. It’s kind of overwhelming what weneed to do to get ready for the big day and after that,” Maggie agreed. 

“Oh Honey, it’s not going to be such a bigday. Remember we planned to go out to dinner on my last day and then just havea few friends and family over the next day for a BBQ. You promised there wouldbe no surprise parties, so you better stick to that. A promise is a promise.” 

Maggie wasn’t planning any surprises, as shehad promised.   She explained that itwasn’t a true feeling of being overwhelmed but just a little anxious aboutadjusting to this new chapter in their lives.  She had been used to being home alone duringthe day with their pup, an 8-year-old Lab named Remy they had rescued from afriend of a friend who could no longer take care of her, as he was moving toEurope for a job.  About a year ago, theyhad lost their sweet puppy girl, Bailey, to lung cancer, and Maggie was stillheartbroken over the loss. When Hamilton and Maggie went to meet this newpotential family member, Remy passed everyone and ran right up to Maggie,practically knocking her over to give her a big slurp on the face. It was as ifRemy immediately knew she had to fix Maggie’s heart. 

“No, I'm thinking more of feeling a littleanxious at having you home all day,” Maggie grinned.  “Remy is going to love it, but I'm not sureI'm ready to play tug with you or throw the ball for you and Remy to chase.” 

“No doubt, it’s going to take some gettingused to for both of us. I do have a feeling Remy won't have any problemsadjusting,” Hamilton chuckled.  “But onething, or I should say two things, we do have to work on before the big day,” Hamilton said with airquotes, “is that we have to decide where our destination is going to be for ourfirst trip PR, and are we going to stay in this house when we get back or makeour move and let the kids take over.” 

“Well, now I have two things I need to askabout that work,” Maggie replied, looking a little serious. “What is PR andwhat do you mean are we going to stay here?” 

Maggie was never big on change, although shealways handled it well when she had to. But she knew the one thing she was notready for, and possibly would never truly be ready for, was leaving the homeshe grew up in, fell in love in, marriage, children, her entire life all inthis house. She sat down on the kitchen chair a little quicker than sheintended, looking out the window with tears in her eyes.  

 

 

I'm not sure where the time went that my last post was in August of last year, but a partial excuse is that I have been working on my latest novel, The Last Cottage, and I'm so excited that project is finally completed. It will be going live some time this month. 

This project took a long time to write, as was the case with my other novels. If I have learned anything from this writing journey, it is that it definitely takes me a quite a while to write a book through to the end. But I'm okay with that.  I have a feeling if I tried to rush it, it would not be my best work, and I always want to do my best. 

Back in June of 2020, I wrote a post about how to name your characters. Now of course my way is not the only way or may even be wrong for some, but it is a process that has worked well for me, so I wanted to share. This time around, I found I had made a major error I would have never noticed had I not re-read my project, which I do anyway. In this story, I have a handful of characters who are only mentioned in one or two chapters because they are minor. The two major characters are traveling, and I mention some people they meet along the way, but only briefly.

As I was going through the story after it was completed, I found that I had used the name Julie twice and Julianne. I think this happened because there had been long periods of time between some of my chapters, so I simply forgot I had already used the name. Obviously there are many people with the same name, but it would be too confusing in a story, even if both are minor characters.   

I still refer to my long list of character names and add to it all the time, but now I also will make an extra note for each chapter when I name a character, most especially if it is a minor character. Then if another character should happen to pop up, I can refer back to my notes to make sure I'm not using the same or even similar name that could cause confusion.  I have always jotted down the content of each chapter as I go along. That is a big help to me if there is something in the story which might be a situation I had already addressed that would not need repeating. Now I have added a separate section that is just dealing with all my character names, even the major ones, and I'm also including in which chapter these characters can be found. 

My hope is to create a series of stories dealing with five generations of women, all born on May 10th, going back to the mid 1850s and up to 2019. I'm starting with the present and working my way back.  My present May 10th character will also be a major part of the second book I'm currently working on that takes place at her job in 1982.  Then the third book will be about her mother and so on back to the great great grandmother. Again, this is the plan, but I have no idea if I'll actually get it all done. But I'm getting a lot of enjoyment out of the process, but if it doesn’t happen, I'll be okay with that too. It’s all about the journey and having fun with it. I could very well wind up writing something completely different down the road. My brother keeps teasing me I should write a novel about my “awesome bro,” so he might regret he ever brought it up! 

For a good long while, I thought this current novel would not get finished. I wasn’t sure where I wanted the story to go, so I put it aside and at times thought I should give it up. I was determined not to feel like a failure if I made the decision to abandon this project. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with letting go of a story. Like I said, this could very well be the only book in this series, in which case I guess it won't be a series. For now, I'm having fun just figuring it all out, but instead my awesome brother just might get his story for the world to read. That’s one of the best parts of being a writer. You can take your journey in whatever direction you choose. It’s all in your head and hands! 

Thanks for reading. Keep reading, keep writing, and always remember to enjoy your day. 

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In past posts, I have written about how we are starting to downsize as we slowly get ready for our next move. A few weeks ago, we decided to finish up going through the boxes of packed away belongings to see if there was anything left we could donate or throw away or save for the next move.

We also decided to go through some of the boxes that are storing our books. We have a lot of books, so much so that we don’t have enough room in our current home to keep them all out, as we did in our home in Idaho. But we wanted to see if there was anything we might have forgotten that we would want to somehow find room for them, rather than keeping them stored in the garage. That is when I came across these journals shown in the picture above. I had completely forgotten about them!

 The one on the right looks a bit tattered, and that’s because our sweet girl, Barley, was bored one day and decided to see if this was something worth shredding. All I have in there are poems and lyrics to songs, and I have no idea why I thought it a good idea to do that.  I guess at the time, they were words that had meaning for me. That might have been a journal I would consider throwing away, but the Barley art makes it definitely a must-keeper!

The one next to it actually belongs to my husband. He didn’t fill this journal, but he did give me permission to read it. I have not read all the entries, but I now know the exact date he felt he loved me. If that is not a treasure find, I don’t know what is. The other two are entries about vacations I took with my best friend at the time and probably some other important things going on in my life back in the early 1970s. I haven't read everything just yet.

But another wonderful treasure I found were a few loose pages that fell out while I was reading. In the summer of 1967, I spent a month at my dad’s place when he lived in Los Angeles. It was my first time flying, I was 15 years old and was flying alone. I do remember a nice couple sitting next to me, and the woman was amazed that I wasn’t nervous, because she was. I was too excited to be nervous, I guess. I noted on these pages the flight number, time, and even that I had chicken for lunch. No tiny bag of peanuts or pretzels in those days!

I only wrote what we did each day. There are no passages about my feelings about visiting with Dad and his wife. I only wrote a few lines about each day, even on the days we stayed home for the day. I always thought that Mary (Dad’s wife) had taken me to see the Queen Mary ship that was permanently docked at one of the ports in LA. Instead, it was the SS Princess Louise, where we toured the ship, had lunch there, and even saw a replica of the Crown Jewels of England! A fond memory corrected! What a surprise for me that I found those pages, forgotten who knows how long ago.

Even though I did not go into any kind of detail into what I was feeling and thinking during that time with my dad, for the most part, I do remember how I felt. And, yes, I'm going to write down my thoughts on that trip, especially now that it is so fresh for me. Reading those passages definitely took me back in time.

My only regret is that I didn’t journal more than those few in the photo. I wish I had written more during my high school and college years; when I first got out of college; my first job after I graduated or even the years I worked at Children’s Hospital while in school. Now I feel as if I have missed out of my life a bit. I have the memories, but so many missed details. I know I have said it many times, but journaling can be so rewarding. It is rewarding! I have learned new aspects about myself, even with just the few writings I have from my younger years.

Of course, now I have so many journals I write in all the time, once I'm gone, I wonder how much of it will be read by my family and future generations to come. My hope is that they will treasure my words as much as I have had writing them. How about you?

Thanks for stopping by. Remember: Keep reading. Keep writing. Enjoy your day.

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Yes, that is Mark Twain sitting on his porch. No, he is not a relative, but definitely a favorite author of mine. You often see on Facebook and other sites about how it would be nice to go back to simpler times. I started thinking about that and made me wonder if it was all that simple. Our country has been through so much from the very beginning to this very day. But I wasn’t thinking so much about the major issues of our current times or earlier days. There isn't anything simple about that!

I was thinking more in terms of how today you can literally never leave your home and buy your clothes, food, appliances, and even a car. You don’t even have to hold a print book in your hands to read. Just click on a link on your I-pad or phone, the book is there in seconds, and your fingers flip each page, or you can let someone read it to you. You can tell Alexa to turn on your lights or heat up/cool down your home. And I won't even get into how much entertainment is available, again at your fingertips or remote.

Now I know you know, even if you didn’t live through the olden days, how there were only three TV channels, you had to get up and walk over to the TV to change the channel, so there was no such thing as channel surfing. You had to actually watch the commercials (or go get a snack). The milk was delivered to your door, and skim milk looked more like blue milk! The bakery man came to the house every Saturday. The insurance man also came to the house when a policy needed updated or renewing, and I can assure you he did not look like Jake from State Farm.

So it would seem as if today is much simpler than decades ago. But it really isn't, is it? We are overwhelmed with information, sometimes I think too much of it. I miss reading the funnies in the Sunday morning newspaper. I miss that bakery man. I miss my brother yelling at me to change the channel on the TV. Well—maybe I don’t miss that so much. What I miss the most is sitting on the front porch at my grandma’s house. In the summer, after dinner and the dishes washed and put away, by hand, not a dishwasher, we would go out to the front porch with my grandpa and my Aunt Vera. Most of today’s homes don’t even have a front porch. Most have decks or patios in the backyard. I miss the front porch, because there you could watch the traffic go by, wave to your neighbors, maybe even chat for a few minutes.

I suppose it all depends on how you define simple. Life was simpler back then, but it was also harder. Today, things are not so simple, but life is easier. I'm not talking about the stresses of life. Of course, there are over-the-top stresses in today’s world, especially with 2020! 

Maybe it’s just a matter of getting back to that front porch.

As always, thanks for stopping by. Keep reading, keep writing, and take some time to enjoy your day.

 

In my post of almost a year ago to the day, August 17, I shared with you a family project about a picture history book I made for myself, my brother, and my sister. I won't go into the details again here, but as you can probably tell, I love journaling and documenting my family history. I have more than one project I'm working on with saving pictures and captioning them, sometimes telling a short story about a particular picture here and there. Putting them into a personalized 3-ring binder, like the one you see from the post mentioned above, has worked well in that they should last for a very long time—at least that is the plan.

The one thing I have found missing is the fact I have very few pictures of the insides of the homes from my childhood. There are a few of family gatherings, one of my mother’s kitchen after a remodel, but no pictures of all the kitchens, the living rooms where my family gathered, especially at my maternal grandparents’ place where we would watch Lawrence Welk and Mitch Miller on a Saturday night, with tea and cookies promptly at 9 p.m.

I would love to even have photographs of the bedrooms in these homes. I remember the wallpaper in my grandparents’ bedroom that was white with huge yellow roses, at least I think they were roses. Without an actual picture, I'm not entirely certain. My aunt’s bedroom was very tiny, and there was a moon with stairs leading up to a star that hung above her bed, a set my carpenter grandfather made for her. I don’t remember much at all of my paternal grandparents’ home, in fact, don’t recall ever having gone upstairs.

There are no pictures of the bedroom I shared with my sister until she married. When she left, my brother took over her room, and I got the small bedroom on the first floor. My mom let me hang Beetle cards all over the walls, and once I took them down, the whole wall was left with staining from the tape that held those cards, and she had to have the room repainted. And the day my brother left for the Army, I don’t think he was gone 10 minutes when I took over that room upstairs, Mom even letting me get new curtains for the windows, probably something she couldn’t afford, but she found a way.

I do have outside pictures of all the houses from my family, even the one they lived in before I was born. I also have pictures of the house I shared with my husband in Ohio, some before and after pictures when we had 6 weeks to redo almost every room in the house before he left for Idaho. I stayed behind to sell the house. And I'm happy to have pictures of our home in Idaho.

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 This is one of the guest bedrooms. We called it “Barb’s Room” because my sister and her girlfriend were our first visitors when we moved out West.  In looking through these photos, I realized I don’t have the other bedroom that we called “Dee’s Room,” and sure wish I did now!

My point in sharing this with you is that I think it would be a wonderful idea to take photos of your home. It can include people or pets or just the room. It may not seem important now, perhaps even silly, but some day it might be something you would treasure seeing again. I would like to think that the future generations of my family will get a kick out of seeing places I lived, even my style or other family’s style of decorating.

A family history has so many aspects to it. The people themselves. The family get-togethers. The games played at the dining room table, (I wish I even had pictures of those old games we played with my aunt for hours on end). The long discussions over politics or whatever happened to that aunt who ran off to Chicago and never heard from again. What people did for a living or how they came to this country or town. The list is too long to include here, but you get where I'm going with this. Documenting your family through journaling and pictures can add up to so much more than a picture of a bed. Take the time now. It’s time well spent and something you might treasure for years to come for yourself and the many generations in the future.

Thanks for stopping by today. Keep reading, keep writing (and picture taking!), and stay safe and healthy. 

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When writing a story, you not only have to come up with characters, but you have to name them, otherwise it might be a little difficult to figure out who is who. I'm obviously stating the obvious (or is that I'm literally stating the obvious?). Okay, enough silliness. The point is, how do you give your characters their names? There is no right or wrong way, but here is how I handle the naming issue. 

When I was writing my 3 novels about my family (short plug, you can find them here > https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00U0KSQCO), I didn’t want to use their real names, especially for those people still living. Now I did use the real names of those family members from the 1800s, as I didn’t think they would mind. But starting with those family members born in the late 1800s and beyond, I did decide to rename their first names.

I started out by making a list of female and male names. I wrote down anything I could think of, even names I didn’t particularly like. That turned out to work out well because I used the names I didn’t like for those people in the stories I didn’t like. If you read the books, especially A Life Unplanned, you probably will be able to figure out which names I don’t like. I also researched popular names from the early 1900s and added those to my list, if they weren’t already included, and did that for the various decades. If I heard a name on TV or even in reading other books, I jotted those down as well.

As I would use a name, I crossed it off the list to make sure I wouldn't use it again. There were times when I changed a name, simply because, as I would get further into the story, I would sometimes find another name fit the character better. If you do that, you just have to remember to go back and change it throughout the story. I did actually read a book once where the author accidentally called a character by another character’s name. I had to re-read the paragraph a couple of times to realize what had happened, but it didn’t take away from the story at all. It’s nice to know that even the best of authors make mistakes.

The series that I'm currently writing is not about my family. It’s a completely made up story that I do hope to turn into 4 or 5 books. I have to determine both first and last names, especially since I hope to make this set of stories take place over many, many years. Unfortunately, my husband and I have lost a handful of friends who died long before their time, most due to illness and one through a traffic accident. As a tribute to them, I'm using their last names. Thankfully it’s not a long list, but that helped with figuring out a few characters. Otherwise, I'm going through the same process of making long lists of last names and going from there.

To get back a little on my first set of novels, I wrote an older post about the fact I mostly didn’t use the real names of my family, even though the stories are based on real events. If you should write a book or series of books about your family but wanting to change the names, it would be a good idea to include a table of contents of your characters, perhaps not in the published books, as then there would be no point in making up names. But for your future family members who might read about your family, keep several copies for yourself to make sure they will get passed down and insert the TOC in each of the books so that future generations will know each character from their real life. If you look over some of my older posts, you will find I created a picture history of my family, the post titled A Family Project,and I included my TOC there as well. I made a copy for myself and my brother and sister. It’s a great way to bring the characters in your memoir to life by including their pictures as much as you can. That project took me over a year to complete, but I'm so glad I did it. You can also read excerpts from all my books, and those are all labeled on the right side of my blog. If you haven't read my books, you can take a peek at what the stories are all about.  That just might get you started on finding out about your own family history. It’s truly a life-changing experience.

I hope my “naming names” was of some help if you plan to create some new characters of your own or maybe take a look at the ones you already know. Keep reading, keep writing, and enjoy the journey.  

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As I'm working on my next novel, my hope is that this is going to be a series based on the women of the family. The home where they live, or have lived in the past, is one that was built by the main character’s (Maggie) great great grandfather in 1858. I wanted to describe the house and how it changes over the years, but also how important it is to Maggie that the house stay in the family.
I had to think a little bit on how I wanted the house to look. It’s always said that you should write what you know, although if you love to research, more than likely you can write about anything, right? In any event, it came to me to combine my mom and dad’s childhood homes. I spent a lot of time in both, although a lot more time in my maternal grandparents’ house. Maybe that’s why I do remember every nook and cranny of that house and not a lot of details of my dad’s place.
As I was jotting down some notes for each of the houses, it dawned on me there was a major difference between the two, and for me it reflected on the sense or feel of both and the people who lived in them. If you have read my books, then you know about what happened within each family. I won't go into a lot of that detail here.
My mom’s place was small, although it seemed like a mansion to me when I was growing up.  My grandma would be baking something on a Saturday because, of course, that was baking day. My grandpa and I would walk up to the fire house where he would trade paperbacks with the firemen and they would let me sit in the truck while the guys would talk. My aunt would play board games with me at the dining room table, or I would climb the apple tree in the backyard. The house was so full of light. Large windows in every room, light colors on the walls. Grandma Mae had spring/summer and fall/winter curtains—light and airy in the warm months to let in the summer air, and darker, heavier curtains in the winter to keep out the cold. We would often sit on the front porch after supper and watch the cars go by and Grandpa and I would sing Let Me Call You Sweetheart or Ka-Ka-Katie over and over again while cuddled up on his lap.
Now my father’s house was quite the opposite. It was very dark. The first thing you would see when walking in the front door was a huge black velvet painting of Adam and Eve fleeing the Garden of Eden. The furniture, the walls, the flooring were all dark. There was a sunroom off the living room, but I don’t recall anyone ever using it when I was there. I also don’t ever remember baking going on in the kitchen or singing with my paternal grandpa. The house did not have a front porch, just a small stoop.
Again, if you have read my family stories, then you know my dad’s family was not one with a lot of love, or at the least, you would have to look hard to find it in that dark house. Mom’s house was definitely an “out loud” kind of love. Not that we went around saying “I love you” all the time. But there were always hugs, kisses, singing, and baking in that house.
I find it fascinating that the house full of light also had love so easy to find. Yet the dark house was quiet with perhaps love hiding in the corners, but you didn’t see it much.
Now I'm not saying that every single house that’s dark is a house without love, but that was simply the experience in my life. There have been 6 homes that were a major part of my life—my grandparents’ homes, the house I grew up in, and the 3 homes I have shared with my husband in Ohio, Idaho, and Nevada. Five were open and light, one was closed and dark.  We will be moving again once Joe retires to a new town and probably a new state. I don’t know where that will be, but what I do know is that the house will be light and full of that out loud kind of love.
Thanks for stopping by. Keep reading, keep writing, and always enjoy your day.   

If you are a regular reader of my blog (and thank you for that!), then you read an earlier post about a family project that I worked on for over a year. Both my sister and brother loved the final piece, so it was definitely worth my time to put that together. During that year-long project, I did very little writing. I have also mentioned in the past that I was planning on writing a cozy mystery series. I had the type of series I wanted to pursue, which I felt was a little different from most of the series out there. Many are based on the main character owning a bakery, book shop, or perhaps centering on the time of year or place. I happen to be a lover of those series myself.
When I came up with this concept, I hit a huge brick wall. I was focusing so much on what the mystery should be, I could barely write a page of work, much less a chapter. Getting the characters down was not difficult, but figuring out the mystery and how the characters intertwined became so convoluted, that I knew if I was confused, readers would be scratching their heads, too.  I talked it over with my husband. I thought about it in bed in the middle of the night. I sat on the couch looking out the window, wondering who should be killed or should there be any murder at all. I read a few books on how to write a cozy mystery. Nothing helped.
You know when you have a problem, you see a solution, the solution is not working, but you still think that is the solution? That’s what I was doing. You might be thinking, how hard could it be to just not write a mystery. You would be right, of course, but that was my plan, and I couldn't see any other way. I thought if I gave that up, I might as well just give up writing. I did stop writing for a while, because I still wanted that mystery! Actually, it was good for me to just put it all on the back burner for a time. I continued to make notes, and I even have some other ideas for stories that I may pursue at some point.
But finally I realized, I can still write these characters, but just take them on a different path. There is going to be adventure, maybe even a little bit of a mystery, just not the murdering kind.  My point to all of this is that if you are stuck on your writing, first take a little time away. If you don’t want to stop writing all together, then start a new story, or write a short story. Do some journaling. Jot down all kinds of story ideas, even if they sound outrageous or totally undoable. 
As frustrating as it was, I had to delete about three chapters, all the way back to half way through chapter one. In some ways, it does feel like I have wasted time, since had I done this a long time ago, I could be ready to publish this book. I'm not going to focus on that.  Instead, it’s all about learning from this part of my journey. It is a journey, after all. Every book you write, or maybe don’t write and put away for good, is a journey, and you won't necessarily stay on the same path. Isn't that what makes it interesting and fun? You never know what you are going to find or what character you might meet along the way.
As always, thanks for reading. Keep writing, keep reading, and you know the rest—enjoy your day and your path!   [image error]

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It is remarkable how Christmas can be such a wonderful time of year, but at the same time, it can be very sad for some. I have friends who have lost loved ones or in the midst of battling serious illnesses, some who have had to say good-bye to beloved pets, a few who have lost jobs. Others are traveling to visit grandchildren or excited to have found that absolutely perfect gift. So it is definitely a mixed bag to end the year.
I have written about our pups in past blog entries, and they all have their own story to tell in my last novel, A Life Time After Time. Two of those posts have a picture of our most recent family member, Remy.  She was a service dog whose owner could no longer care for her, and through a friend of a friend, Remy came to us. I'm sure you have heard or read about dogs who care for those in a wheelchair, are blind, or perhaps suffer from seizures. I'm sure the list is quite lengthy, but Remy was a first for us. Her job was to sniff out bed bugs in hotel rooms!
Joe and I would often laugh how we could picture a line-up of pups who were to be trained for various jobs, some for the blind, others for the deaf, and so on. Then the trainer pointed to Remy and said “bed bugs!” I was thankful she didn’t find any in our bed. She was 6-1/2 when we brought her home for her official retirement. She was a very healthy girl and thought she would easily see 12 years, maybe even 13. It was not meant to be. A few weeks ago, she became very ill, and 48 hours later, she was gone.
I won't go into all the details of what happened, except to say at the end, the most amazing thing happened. She was brought into a private room where we could spend a little time with her before the doctor came in to inject her. She had tubes in her nose and an IV in her leg, and was having a hard time breathing. Her eyes were rolled back in her head, and we were not certain she even knew we were there. We talked to her and petted her anyway, because you never know. All of a sudden, her eyes came into focus, and with what little strength she had, she lifted her head and looked right at us. The love we felt from Remy was almost a physical sensation, it was so strong.  It was just for a few seconds, then she put her head down and slowly stopped breathing. She was almost gone before the doctor came into the room.
Now I guess I should get to the point of the tree you see above, because I truly don’t mean to make this an over-the-top sad Christmas story. We have always had an ornament for each of our dogs to put on our big tree. Out of the blue, Joe thought it would not only be a good idea to get a small tree just for the dog ornaments, but also get ornaments for the dogs he had as a child who were not represented. I didn’t have dogs growing up, although we did have a stray once when I was a toddler that we fed for a few days, and then she wandered off, but we called her Cookie. I'm not sure who named her or what really happened to her, but that was my brief experience with having a pet when I was a child. So I decided to include her as well on the tree.  Neither one of us thought of doing this until this year, and we put it together before Remy got sick. But the tree means even more to us now that Remy won't be here for Christmas. The football on the shelf below the tree was Remy’s favorite toy.
You might think it would only be a tree of sadness, since Remy’s passing was such a short time ago. But quite the opposite has happened. Now we look at that tree and enjoy chatting about all of our pups. The funny things they did throughout their lives, their quirks, their unique personalities, and even how they came to rescue us. Because I feel they rescue us far more than we rescue them. I also believe all of our girls are sitting by that Rainbow Bridge, lined with Christmas trees this time of year of course, and working on who will be rescuing us next.  The next pup (and they are always puppies to me, no matter their age), does not replace the last one. It’s merely a way to keep the family growing. What a joyous party it will be when we are all together again!
I hope you have a very Merry and Blessed Christmas! Remember to keep reading, keep writing, and always enjoy your day.