Pushing Boundaries with Trauma and Genre

Maryann: Please join me in welcoming guest blogger, LK Hunsaker.

Hi Maryann! It’s great to be here to talk with you and your readers today. Since your blog focuses on the absurdities of life, I thought I’d talk about Pushing Boundaries with Trauma and Genre.

I’m a big fan of mainstream/literary fiction: those authors who delve deeply into the grittiness of life – John Irving, Leo Tolstoy, Mark Twain, Joyce Carol Oates. They don’t pull punches. They write what they’ve seen in some manner. And they write about some of the biggest societal issues of their individual times. They’re social historians.

On the other hand, I’m a romantic at heart. I like happy endings. I enjoy exploring what makes us choose one mate over another and what holds us together or drives us apart. When you mix those genres, there are bound to be crossed lines.

Up to now, my novels blended the two without much line-crossing. Finishing Touches can nearly be called a sweet romance, although I push it just far enough to call it sensual. Its biggest line-cross is that there is only one POV – the heroine’s. Otherwise, the story reads quickly and deals with loss and personal exploration, but mainly with relationship building. It ends happily. My Rehearsal series is fairly light, although each one gets heavier as the characters grow up, and includes both heroine and hero POV, plus the antagonist’s viewpoint. Its biggest line-cross is the length: each book is quite long.

My most recent, Off The Moon, is a true boundary pusher. It is still romance, with the necessary “girl-meets-boy, separation of some kind, happy together ending” story line. However, unlike most contemporary romance heroines, Kaitlyn is not strong, independent, and sure of what she wants. (Or is she?) She’s very quiet. Ryan often has to try to figure out what she means from her cryptic words. She’s also very young for a romance heroine. This is part of the story conflict that leads to the mainstream approach of exploring cultural issues. How is age of consent determined? Who decides when it’s proper and when it’s not? Where does that line between right and wrong meet and cross? In current society where so many of our teens are having children while they still are children, this issue is foremost in many minds. Why are they starting so young? Is it hurting them? What are they looking for?

The story is gritty. It deals with loss and abuse and trust issues. There are references to casual sexual relations, although none is shown more than a hint. Mental care issues come in to play, as does health care and single parenting.

As I was writing the story, I was often in a quandary about where it was headed. I allow my characters to go where they need to go, to tell their story as they need to tell it. This one took a very deep turn as Ryan’s voice pervaded and I kept stopping to think, “Oh, but romance readers won’t expect that, or possibly appreciate it.”

Still, his voice wouldn’t silence. Neither would Kaitlyn’s. They had things to say and it had to be said true to their stories.

Kaitlyn has a lot of trauma in her past by the time she meets Ryan. There were times I thought I’d pushed it too far, had given her too much to deal with. And then I would catch bits of the news, real events I had trouble believing would actually happen. Life is absurd, indeed. Fiction might need to make more sense than life in some ways, but it should also reflect it.

Did I push the boundaries of romance fiction too far while merging with mainstream this time? For those who want light and quick, probably. It’s not a quick read. It includes not only scenes necessary for the plot, but also Ryan’s musings about the plot issues. For those who enjoy very deep, full characters with full backgrounds and family histories, I think it isn’t too far across the line. Boundary pushing readers will understand. Maybe they’ll even see themselves here and there.

It does have a happy ending, as will all of my novels. Even if life doesn’t always.

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Buy Link for Off the Moon preorders:

free US shipping through Nov. 27, discounted outside US

Off The Moon website:

Also, be sure to check my BLOG for novel-related features. I have an interview with NYC drummer Gino Scalmato up, as well as an interview with singer/songwriter Vicki Blankenship. More to come! http:


Off The Moon
LK Hunsaker

"Riveting" Ryan Reynauld is immersed in a world of music, parties, and temporary companionship. Having risen to the top of the pop charts, his biggest concern is objecting to the way his music is produced. That is, until he finds a young woman standing on a window ledge. Against the advice of family and friends, and through media attacks and fan protests, Ryan determines to care for her himself, making a promise that threatens to destroy his career.

Convincing the skittish girl she can learn to trust again comes with a steep price. Sometimes the path to recovery begins by allowing your world to implode.

Elucidate Publishing
November 2009

Guest Author LK Hunsaker Tomorrow

I hope you will come back tomorrow when my guest author, LK Hunsaker, blogs about Pushing Boundaries with Trauma and Genre LK is doing a blog tour to introduce readers to her latest book, Off the Moon: a literary romance that will be released November 27th.

"Riveting" Ryan Reynauld is immersed in a world of music, parties, and temporary companionship. Having risen to the top of the pop charts, his biggest concern is objecting to the way his music is produced. That is, until he finds a young woman standing on a window ledge. Against the advice of family and friends, and through media attacks and fan protests, Ryan determines to care for her himself, making a promise that threatens to destroy his career.

Convincing the skittish girl she can learn to trust again comes with a steep price. Sometimes the path to recovery begins by allowing your world to implode.


LK Hunsaker holds a psychology degree from University of Maryland University College and an arts degree from Illinois Central College. The author of “Finishing Touches” and the “Rehearsal” series, both revolving around the arts, Hunsaker dabbles in fine art, piano, and guitar and runs a group assisting writers with their publishing goals. Several of her short stories and poems have been published in literary ezines. Widely traveled as a military spouse, she is now settled in western Pennsylvania with her husband and two children.

Flappin' In The Wind

As I was updating WinnsboroToday.com this morning I ran across this item on Fox News:
Carin Froehlich pegs her laundry to three clotheslines strung between trees outside her 18th-century farmhouse, knowing that her actions annoy local officials who have asked her to stop.

Froehlich is among the growing number of people across America fighting for the right to dry their laundry outside against a rising tide of housing associations who oppose the practice despite its energy-saving green appeal.

Although there are no formal laws in this southeast Pennsylvania town against drying laundry outside, a town official called Froehlich to ask her to stop drying clothes in the sun. And she received two anonymous notes from neighbors saying they did not want to see her underwear flapping about.

"They said it made the place look like trailer trash," she said, in her yard across the street from a row of neat, suburban houses. "They said they didn't want to look at my 'unmentionables.'"

Froehlich says she hangs her underwear inside. The effervescent 54-year-old is one of a growing number of Americans demanding the right to dry laundry on clotheslines despite local rules and a culture that frowns on it.

I couldn't believe it the first time I read about a homeowners association telling folks they couldn't hang clothes outside. I mean, I understand about not wanting to see someone's underwear "flapping in the breeze" but the rest of the objections are ridiculous.

Not only is it eco-friendly to dry items outside, there is that delicious smell of sheets baked in the sun that no scented dryer sheet can match. I can remember as a child lugging the basket of wet clothes up the stairs from the basement where the washing machine was. Then my sister and I would race to see who could fill a line first. Then late in the day we would go back out to get the clothes and bring all that sweet, outdoor smell into the house.

For many years after that I continued to hang a lot of my linens and clothes outside. Thank goodness this was before homeowners associations deciding what folks could do. I no longer hang much outside -- too many birds that christen whatever I put out -- but I do try to save energy by lightly fluffing t-shirts, jeans, fleece items, and heavy towels and then hanging them on hangers to finish drying.

What about you? Do you do anything to save energy? What do you think about the restrictions on hanging clothes outside?

The Road to Peace is Paved With Banjos

Here is another offering from my friend, Tracy Farr. This was first published in WinnsboroToday.com over a year ago, but is funny enough to get a new audience. Enjoy....


A while back, Hillary Clinton suggested that every baby born in America be given a $5,000 savings bond to be used when they turn 18. That's hogwash. I'll tell you exactly what every baby needs to make it through life -- a blanket to keep them warm, a pacifier to make them think before they speak, and diapers so they won't step in their own poop. But most importantly, so they grow up never taking themselves too seriously, every baby born on this beautiful planet needs a banjo.

And if everybody knew how to play a banjo, peace would spread across the world like cheese on nachos.

Banjos are the perfect thing to keep people well grounded. Have you ever seen a banjo player in a psychiatrist's office? I say not! Have you ever seen an angry banjo player? Heaven forbid! Have you ever heard of a banjo player going to rehab, getting out, shaving their head, and then going back to rehab? I shudder at the thought!

Why would a banjo player use drugs in the first place? They're happy enough as it is.
You can't sing sad songs when you're playing a banjo. It's impossible. I've tried. Sad songs sung to a banjo come out quirky and quirky songs make people smile.

If you play guitar, you have to dig deep into your soul and pull out heart-ripping angst-filled songs that make people believe you are a profound thinker. Either that or you have to turn up the volume on your amp and sing songs about drugs, cars, women, and booze in a voice so bad that nobody can tell you're singing about drugs, cars, women and booze.

On the other hand, banjo players don't dig deep into their souls because they are mostly singing about frogs, fat men, singing truck drivers, or banana splits. Also, banjo players don't have amps and the only drugs that enter their bodies are those that help fight off indigestion after a night of eating too much greasy food.

Speaking of food -- the only downfall to playing a banjo is you might be a bit overweight. Banjo players don't have time to count calories or measure portions. They eat what they like, when they like, and as much as they like. And if they die tomorrow from clogged arteries, at least they died happy with the knowledge that their last meal consisted of a dozen hotlinks smothered in chili and not baked chicken breast on top of a small portion of fat free wheat rice.

If I were in charge of this country, I would make the following suggestions:
• I believe the 2nd Amendment to the U.S. Constitution should be re-written to say "every American has the right to bear a banjo." If we give our kids banjos instead of guns, nobody would be crazy enough to rob a liquor store. What would they say? Stick 'em up? Give me all your money or I'll play Dueling Banjos? That wouldn't get them anywhere. The manager would probably say, "Let's get after it. I've been dying to play that song all night!"

• Instead of bombs, I think we should be dropping banjos to all our enemies. If they knew how to play the banjo, they would no longer be our enemies -- they'd be our banjo-playing buddies and we'd all get together on Saturday nights and have a hoedown in the desert.

• I believe every American president should be required to learn how to play the banjo. If our presidents knew how to play the banjo, we'd believe every word they say because banjo-playing presidents would never lie to us.Yes, they may tell a tall tale or two, but that would just endear them to us even more.

Yes, friends and neighbors, a banjo in every household is the key to happiness. Imagine no more prima donnas; imagine no more divas; imagine all our politicians too busy changing strings to accept money from special interest groups; imagine all the people living a life in peace; imagine that if John Lennon had played the banjo he'd probably still be alive today.

You may think that I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one. I hope someday you'll play the banjo, and the world will live as one.

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Tracy Farr is a teacher living in East Texas and drives a school bus for the fun of it. In his spare time he plays the banjo, but never on Thursdays. You can read more of his stories at www.stinkycreektexas.com.

Considering God

I've been rereading Sue Monk Kidd's The Mermaid Chair the past few days. It is one of those books that has many life lessons, and I always enjoy going back to revisit them.

One that is particularly meaningful to me is the following explanation of God. It comes from Brother Thomas, a monk who has yet to make his final vows. He is talking to Jesse, the central character at a moment that carries great significance for both of them.

Sometimes I experience God like this Beautiful Nothing. And it seems then as though the whole point of life is just to rest in it. To contemplate it and love it and eventually disappear into it. And then other times it's just the opposite. God feels like a presence that engorges everything. I come out here and it seems the divine is running rampant. That the marsh, the whole of Creation, is some dance God is doing and we're meant to step into it.

The reason that passage resonates so strongly with me is that it perfectly describes my sense of God. I belong to a traditional Christian religion and have been very active in a variety of ministries within that church, but I find my experiences of God are much stronger outside those walls.

As Brother Thomas says, "God feels like a presence that engorges everything" when I go outside and see the beauty of the trees, the flowers, the endless Texas sky over a rolling hay meadow.

I am not writing this to stir a debate over what practice of religion or spirituality is right. I truly believe that it is different for everyone, and when I worked as a chaplain in the hospital I found spirituality manifested in many extraordinary ways: The Omaha Indian who taught me about forgiveness, the biker who worked with Special Olympics, and the rehab patient who would burst into song and still the entire therapy room.

What I would like to stir is a bit of personal reflection on what God, or a Higher Power, means to you. If you care to share, that would be great.

Another Excerpt From My New Book

It's been a while since I posted an excerpt from the book I'm working on, A Dead Tomato Plant and a Paycheck, which is a humorous memoir. I first introduced the book back in June... and I can't believe I still haven't finished it. Yikes!!

The following is from the chapter about being sick and what great fun that can be when Mom gets sick. Figured with so much flu going around it was appropriate.


In sickness or in Health...
or, You want to Look Where?

Have you ever noticed that when a kid is sick, he expects meals in bed, unlimited sympathy and continuous entertainment?

Or when a husband is sick, he simply takes the day off work, stays in bed, and accepts juice, aspirin, and a kind word in four hour intervals?

But heaven help a mother who has a cold or the 24-hour flu. Somehow she has to carry on as if all was well, and about the only way she can get any sympathy or understanding is to be approaching death's doorway. Even then, one of the kids might ask if she has the time to wash his soccer uniform before she passes from this earthly life.

I'd like to see some type of parent-child contract drawn up that would grant equal time, consideration, and cough medicine in the middle of the night to mothers.

I'd like to see a clause included in this contract stating emphatically that when a child comes home from school to find his mother still in her robe, it doesn't mean that she was just too lazy to get dressed that day.

If a mother has red watery eyes and a runny nose, it isn't from peeling onions or from watching a sad scene in an afternoon soap opera.

If a mother's face appears to be unusually flushed, it isn't from the exhilaration of an afternoon tryst.

If a mother is making 25 trips to the bathroom in an hour, it isn't just from a need for some solitude and serenity.

If a mother doesn't have the strength to drag her body off the couch to cook dinner, it isn't because she wore herself out playing tennis all day.

I used to believe that if we could get our families to recognize the fact that we were indeed sick, then we could work on getting them to respond in a positive helpful manner. To accomplish that goal, I considered making a big sign and hanging it in the living room where everyone could see it as they come in the door:
"Attention!The mother in this house is sick and has gone to bed. Do not disturb unless extreme emergency arises. (Needing to go to volleyball practice does not qualify.) Somebody cook supper. Wash your own dishes and gym clothes. It would be nice if someone came to check on me in about four hours to see if I'm still alive and to bring me some orange juice. Love, Mom."

Editing is a Good Thing...

...even when it means changing your darling words that you worked so hard on.

Just the other day I received my edited manuscript for my book that will come out next year, and I have been going through the suggestions made by my editor. It is amazing how much it helps to have another person go through a manuscript, even when it has been through severla drafts already. Fresh eyes catch so much, and I am grateful that I have a good editor.

We don't always agree on changes, which is fine with her. She believes, like I do, that the author should have the final decision unless it is a glaring craft or grammar error. But I find that if I stop and really consider what she is suggesting, I more often agree with the changes than not agree.

So the key is to stop and consider. Put the ego aside and really think about what the words are trying to say. Is the editor's way better?

What is your experience with being edited?

Honoring Those Who Served

This Veteran's Day I want to take a moment to say thanks to the members of my family who have served in the military.

In my immediate family I have a daughter who was in the Army and a son who was in the Marines. They spent many years debating which branch was the best, and still have a friendly rivalry. Dany did not serve during an active war, but David served during Desert Storm.

My husband was in the Air Force, and, like Dany, he was lucky enough to miss conflict.

My brother served in the army in Vietnam. It was the worst two years of his life.

Going further back I am proud to say that every generation of my father's family had men serving in the military back to the Revolutionary War. It was humbling and awe-inspiring to see all the headstones in the small graveyard in West Virginia a few years ago.

While serving in the military is something that I support and honor on a patriotic level I also agree with what Andy Rooney said last Sunday on 60 minutes. He wondered why we don't have a day that honors not going to war.

He said, "Too many young men and women with a whole life ahead of them are getting killed before they have a chance to live it and for what?

Of all the things that men do - historically mostly men - fighting a war to kill other men is the most uncivilized."

Holiday Gift Suggestions

Please welcome my guest, Julie Lomoe, as she introduces you to her books.

Julie: I’m delighted that Maryann has invited me to write about my mystery novels as potential holiday gifts. As a self-published author in the early phase of building my career, I treasure each and every sale, and I believe both my novels, Eldercide and Mood Swing: The Bipolar Murders would make marvelous gifts. But how to toot my own horn without being overly obnoxious? The answer is obvious: quote my own reviews. Here’s what some of my writing colleagues had to say:

ELDERCIDE

Not Just for Old Folks
You don’t have to be elderly to connect intellectually or emotionally with this book. The story offers something for everyone: for readers of mysteries, a good story; for readers of medical thrillers, authentic (but not too clinical) health care scenes; for readers of literary fiction, an accomplished novel with believable, fully developed characters. And for all of us living in modern society: a contemporary exploration of unavoidable end-of-life issues. The narrative flows smoothly. The dialogue is always on the mark. The editing is sharp, uncommonly good for alternatively-published books. I read the book twice, appreciating its qualities even more the second time. And after finishing the last page, I couldn’t wait to talk about it with my husband. What higher praise for a book than that it provokes discussion?
Therese Broderick, poet

A Maven of Mayhem
In addition to the joys of combing through the characters and plot to untangle a mystery, Eldercide addresses the moral issue of euthanasia. Homicide – unfathomable. Mercy killing – a very real topic for discussion. Julie Lomoe braids compassion with murder in this page-turning whodunit. As a retired home-care physical therapist myself, I related completely. Ms. Lomoe’s experience as a home-care agency administrator gave depth to these defenseless patients and their caregivers with true-to-life dialog. Her artistic talents are apparent in the vividly painted scenes simultaneously combined with her suspense-heightening skills. She blurs the edges just enough where the answers to your questions reside. Colorful in all respects. I look forward to Julie Lomoe’s next work of art.
Fay Rownell, author of Death Straight Up

MOOD SWING: THE BIPOLAR MURDERS

Mood Swing is a Marvelous Mystery!
I began this novel with trepidation – like many others, I’m a little in awe, a little uncomfortable with people with “mood swings.” But as I read this terrific novel and got to know the myriad characters, my own mood swung a good ninety degrees – all earlier perceptions altered. This writer is a true professional, a bright, fun-loving, compassionate human being. I admire the high quality of the writing, the in-depth characterizations (often delightfully quirky); the fascinating setting (I love the details of the Manhattan Lower East Side); the realistic dialogue, the plot – all of it brilliant. I found myself going back to reread sections, to laugh (the author has a great sense of humor), to despair when the gifted WellSpringers die, to rage when the adversaries exploit Erika, the savvy but frustrated director. This is what a mystery should be: unraveling like a colorful tapestry until it is all in pieces – and in the end, put back together with love and with craft.
Nancy Means Wright, author of the Ruth Willmarth series

Mood Swings to Murder
Julie Lomoe’s Mood Swing: The Bipolar Murders is an excellent read, a well written and exciting page turner. . . it took me into a world I know little about, people with mental health problems and how they cope with extraordinary character. Yet it did not sentimentalize these problems, which were clearly secondary to the plot. Lomoe knows the streets and the squats of a big city and the menacing characters that may wear Mafia black or Wall Street Armani. . . Lomoe’s main character, Erika, is believable as a savvy and smart denizen of the city who also has her vulnerable side. She may be Scandinavian, but she’s no ice princess.
M.E. Kemp, author of Death of a Bawdy Belle

Julie: Rereading these quotes and typing them into this post does wonders for my self-esteem. If my books are this great, why are they self-published? I’ll take up this question in a post later on in this tour. Meanwhile, to learn more about me and read sample chapters of both books, please visit my blog: Julie Lomoe’s Musings Mysterioso. To buy my books and support small business, you can go directly to my publisher, Virtualbookworm. You can also order online from Amazon or Barnes & Noble. Be sure to visit me tomorrow at the next stop on my tour, Karen Walker’s Following the Whispers, where I’ll be writing about the stranger-than-fiction tale of my golden retriever, Lucky.

Preview of Coming Attractions

Tomorrow I will have a guest blog from Julie Lomoe who has been named 2009 Author of the Year by the Friends of the Albany Public Library. She’ll be honored at a luncheon on November 14th, and she’s scheduled her first Blog Book Tour to help celebrate and spread the word about this achievement.

Julie self-published her two mystery novels, Mood Swing: The Bipolar Murders (2006) and Eldercide (2008). She tried the traditional route to publication for both books, but after a limited number of rejections, she found the process inordinately depressing and turned to print-on-demand technology instead, using the Texas publishing company Virtual Bookworm. She loves the control and involvement she’s had over the published product, including the fact that she was able to use her own cover illustrations for both books. Although she still hopes to land a traditional agent and publisher, she intends to do so on her own terms when the time and the match feel right.

The library’s selection committee for the Author of the Year award chose Julie especially for her novel Eldercide, because of its relevance to current issues surrounding health care reform and our nation’s treatment of the elderly and of end-of-life issues. The award has been given for decades, but this is the first time the committee has chosen a self-published rather than a traditionally published book.

In May, 2009, Julie joined the online Blog Book Tours group. Since then, much to her own amazement, her blog, Julie Lomoe’s Musings Mysterioso has generated over 14,000 visits. She thanks Dani Greer and the other writers at the BBT Café for encouraging her in this new challenge.

Julie Lomoe knows home health care from the ground up. As President of ElderSource, Inc., a Licensed Home Care Services Agency in upstate New York, she became certified as a Personal Care Aide and filled in frequently for absent aides. The experience inspired Eldercide, the first in a mystery series featuring the staff and clients of Compassionate Care, an agency in the fictional town of Kooperskill, New York.

Julie’s first published novel, Mood Swing: The Bipolar Murders is set in a social club for the mentally ill on Manhattan’s Lower East Side. The work was inspired by her many years of mental health experience, both as a professional and as a consumer. Both books are available online from Virtual Bookworm, Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

A Phi Beta Kappa graduate of Barnard College, Julie received an MFA from Columbia University and an MA in Art Therapy from New York University. She lived in SoHo for many years, exhibiting at the Museum of Modern Art, The Brooklyn Museum, and many Manhattan galleries. She showed her paintings and won a prize at the Woodstock Festival of Music and Art in 1969, an experience she blogged about in a three-part series this past August.

Julie has published poetry as well as articles on home care, mental health, aging, and women’s issues. Visit her blog, Julie Lomoe’s Musings Mysterioso (http://julielomoe.wordpress.com) to learn more and read the first chapters of her novels.

Artistic Expression

We are having a wonderful Fine Arts Market in Winnsboro this weekend and I am signing copies of One Small Victory. Today I was there in the afternoon and will go back tomorrow afternoon from 12 until 4.

One of the neat things about this signing event is that it is at a gallery where a lot of artists are there to greet people. I got to talking to one of the artists and we commented about how one form of art feeds another. That got me to thinking about how important it is to take a break from writing and do something else.

That's probably why I enjoy acting and directing and some of the other artistic pursuits I have. I have always done them because they were fun, but I never really stopped to think about how important they are for my creativity.

The more I thought about that this afternoon, I realized that I know a lot of people who are proficient in several forms of artistic expression.

Writing is my only professional creative endeavor. The acting and directing is all as an amateur, as is my photography, guitar playing, and painting. But they all bring me great pleasure.

What about you? What kinds of artistic expressions do you enjoy? Is one more important than others?

Read My Lips

It's Not a Death Squad

Thousands of people are protesting the health care plan being considered in Washington for all the wrong reasons. They are zeroing in on the section on end-of-life issues and promoting the idea that the provision means the government will be telling people when to die.

Sarah Palin is one of the most out-spoken, and perhaps influential, people stirring up this frenzy. In her blog and elsewhere she uses rhetoric that doesn't enlighten. It just stirs up emotion. This is from a commentary about her blog:

Palin was quick to note that the health care plan could make decisions regarding anyone at the end of their life, which might include her baby. She believes her parents and baby will have to leave it in the hands of Obama’s “death panel” to determine whether they are worthy of receiving health care. This is certainly not something anyone would want to face or see their loved ones experience.

The truth about that provision is that the government would provide funds to educate people about the importance of making end-of-life decisions and using Advance Directives and Medical Power of Attorney documents to make their wishes known. This isn't something we are comfortable talking about, but tough questions need to be asked and answered.

If you have cancer and are 80 years old and have a heart attack, do you want full resuscitation. Do you want to be on a ventilator in ICU?

If you have been in an accident and are brain dead, do you want to be kept on machines for an indefinite period of time?

If you have a terminal illness and can no longer eat, do you want tube feedings?

I worked for eight years as hospital chaplain and dealt with many situations where these questions had to be answered during times of extreme emotional distress. Family members were looking at their loved ones and feeling a desperate need to keep them alive. Because their emotions were so raw, they couldn't see past that to the pain and misery their husband, wife, mother, father, sister or brother might have been going through.

Being in ICU on a ventilator is not a pleasant experience.

And it is an extremely expensive proposition.

In our medical ethics sessions we would often discuss the sad fact that thousands of dollars were spent daily to keep a body alive when a person should have died days or weeks earlier without the pain and desperation that is so often the case in an ICU.

Which doesn't mean that every case in ICU or Oncology is hopeless. But many an ICU nurse would share their frustration with me over the fact that they had to keep sedating some poor old lady who kept trying to pull all the tubes out and that poor old lady died a week later anyway. She just had seven days of misery. And took seven days of time and attention that needed to go to a patient who had a chance for a positive outcome.

As part of my job, I had to start talking to patients about Advance Directives. It was easier to talk to them and to families when they were not in a crisis situation. It was also easier on them to have someone trained to deal with death and dying issues and with what the documents provide. Which is the point, I think, of this provision in the health care plan.

I know. I wish I had someone to help me talk to my mother about this.

So, if you want to protest the health care plan, protest because it is going to cost too much. Or protest because it is going to be administered by the government, who are so efficient with administrative matters. But don't protest the end-of-life provision.

We all need to think about how we are going to go "into that goodnight."

Another Gift Book Recommendation

I am a picky reader. I'll freely admit that. It isn't often that I pick up a book and find reading time infringing on working time, and sleeping time, and eating time, and well, any time.

While I enjoy a good story and read a lot of popular fiction, I am usually able to discipline myself to keep the book within the allotted reading times -- during breakfast and lunch. (dinner time I spend with my husband) bedtime, and some evenings when I am not working on a puzzle or doing some knitting or quilting.

However, The Help by Kathryn Stockett is a book that has refused to stay within the designated bounds. My breakfast and lunch breaks stretch much longer than normal and my nighttime reading threatens to become early-morning reading.

Perhaps the story resonates with me because it deals with the Civil Rights era, which was an important part of my life in college as I started developing a social awareness beyond the totally white suburb in which I grew up.

But the truth is, the story and the characters and the writing are all so compelling it is like I am in this place - Jackson Mississippi -- with these people -- Abileen, Skeeter, and Minny as they decide to write a book about the way colored help is treated.

This book takes an honest and engaging look at a period in history when people were openly racist, especially in the deep south. People didn't question the attitudes of the era that included mistreating and even despising the black women who worked as their maids and raised their children.

The story is told from the point of views of the three central characters, Skeeter the white woman who comes up with the idea to write the book, Abileen, the first maid to agree to help, and Minny, the outspoken maid who has lost too many jobs because she dares challenge an insult or injury. Each POV is distinct, and the voices of Abileen and Minny reflect the Black vernacular and racy humor without reminding the reader of "Amos 'n Andy" the classic television program that spoofed the Black experience more than it portrayed its reality.

Stockett has woven a masterful story that gives the reader a glimpse of an important social awakening as it affected people on both sides of the racial divide. It will please readers who want to explore social issues, but it will also please readers who just love a good story. It works on both levels.

BUY LINK

Lessons From A School Bus Driver

More fun from Tracy Farr.....

Learning your lessons the bus driver way

It takes a special kind of person to drive a school bus. Not just any Joe or Jane can do it, and most of us wouldn’t even try.

But those who feel the calling – those who dare to get behind the big wheel and travel the back roads with a busload of young people who believe a school bus is just recess on wheels – well, those people end up learning a lot of life lessons, and are reminded of them each and every day.

1. The first thing a school bus driver learns is that to be early is to be on time, and to be on time is to be late – but that only applies for cranking up the school bus. On the route, everything changes: to be early is to be yelled at because the kids aren’t ready, and to be late is okay, but not too late, because then the riders start to freak out and wonder if they’ve missed the bus.

Time is both a friend and an enemy. You can’t get more, but you’ll never have less than what’s given to you. It’s best to use it wisely.

2. The next thing a school bus driver learns is not to judge a person by the house they come out of. Some kids live in big houses with landscaped yards and nicely-trimmed hedges. Some kids live in small houses with yards that haven’t been mowed in months, with washing machines and toilets peeking out from behind the weeds.

Nice “things” don’t guarantee nice people. Sometimes the most polite and helpful riders come from the “wrong side of the tracks.”

3. A school bus driver learns that sometimes passing the buck is not an option. Yes, a driver’s job includes keeping an eye on the road, insuring the riders get to where they’re going safely. But it is also the driver’s job to keep an eye on Little Johnny who looks like he wants to take out his Elmer’s Glue and squeeze a glob of it into Little Susie’s hair before he gets home.

“It’s not my job” is a phrase spoken by people who don’t care. “Sit down, turn around, and put that stuff back in your backpack before I turn this bus around and take you back to your momma” is a phrase that has “love” glued all over it.

4. A school bus driver can learn a lot from squirrels. Most squirrels have one goal – to dart across the road in front of a school bus without getting flattened like a pancake. But some of those little buggers stop in the middle of the road and get all wishy-washy about which way to run. It’s funny to watch from the driver’s seat, but I’m sure those little squirrels are scared out of their ever-loving minds.

Having a goal, or direction, is the key to success. Being all “willy-nilly” is the surest way of getting squashed.

5. A school bus driver learns that it’s best not to drink a lot of coffee before heading off on a route. Some of those roads are long and bumpy, and when the bladder calls, it does not want to be denied. But a driver can’t just stop the bus and “take care of business” with kids on board, and not very many families will open up their homes to let a crazy bus driver use “the facilities.”

It’s best to “take care of business” before the business takes care of you.

6. And finally, one of the most important things a bus driver learns is patience. Patience for kids who remember they left their backpack in the house and they’ll “be right back.” Patience for getting behind a tractor that can only go 10 mph. Patience for kids who fall asleep and miss their stop. Patience for Little Emily who is singing “Jingle Bells” over and over again, and she only knows the first verse.

If you search for the word “patience” in the dictionary, it will refer you to “school bus driver.”

I’ve been driving a school bus for almost 20 years. Some days are good; some days not so much. But every day is a learning experience. As a matter of fact, just the other day I learned that a cow can be vengeful, sarcastic and down-right rude when it has to get up from its dry, comfortable resting place on the road, just because a school bus comes along.

But that’s another story.

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Tracy Farr is a teacher living in East Texas and drives a school bus for the fun of it. In his spare time he plays the banjo, but never on Thursdays. You can read more of his stories at www.stinkycreektexas.com.

Halloween Memories

This is an excerpt from my new book , a humorous memoir titled A Dead Tomato Plant and a Paycheck. One of these days I might even finish it and find a publisher for it.


Halloween is not like it used to be. With concerns over Politically Correct costumes, candy that has been tampered with, and "who is that stranger driving slowly down the street", Halloween has lost some of the charm of my childhood. But it is still an event of magic and excitement and an opportunity for pure unadulterated fun.

It is also one of the times I miss my kids the most.

We always took the holiday very seriously when the kids were young, spending weeks on costume preparations and decorating. "Carving The Pumpkin" was a family affair that took an entire evening and even dinner was suspended for preparations for Trick or Treating.

The year the twins were two, we thought it would be the perfect time for them to be totally swept up in the Halloween experience. The older kids were even willing to pare back their expectations of the most awesome costume so we could concentrate on the twins. We could all share vicariously in their excitement when we took to the streets.

Paul, being a generally easy-going kid, allowed us to dress him up in the cat costume that had originally been made for Anjanette ten years prior. Since it was yellow, he didn't seem to care that it had belonged to a girl first. He even sat quietly while we painted whiskers on his cheeks.

Danielle, however, had a hard time getting into the swing of things. She didn't want to put on her clown costume and balked at my attempts to put make-up on her face. She didn't want to go Trick or Treating and she didn't want to carry that brown paper bag. But after I forced her into the costume, smeared her face, and shoved her out the door with her bag she finally resigned herself to the indignity of it all.

After about a half- hour, Danielle had a complete change of heart. This was pretty cool, going up to a house and having someone toss a candy bar into her bag. And she didn't have to do anything except say "thank you."

Another hour later, Paul's energy level was so low it dragged on the sidewalk along with the tail from his costume. Since both kids had bags that weighed more than they did, I thought it was the perfect time to go home. The older kids agreed; they were eager to go off with their friends. Paul agreed because he agreed to most anything those days. The only dissenter was Danielle. How could she pass up this mother-lode of candy?

I finally got her home, after enduring stares from neighbors whose expressions asked what terrible thing was I doing to this poor hapless child, who was screaming louder than the ghost sound effects on the corner.

After a bath and a solemn ritual of exacting promises from the other kids that they wouldn't touch her bag of candy, Danielle was in bed. I collapsed on the couch for a five-minute break before tackling the clean-up in the bathroom.

Then I heard the soft shuffle of footsteps coming down the hall. I opened my eyes to see Danielle with an eager smile. "Can we do this again tomorrow?

What I wouldn't give to hear her say that again this year.

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What special memories does Halloween bring for you?

Spiders? I'm not Afraid of Spiders

Today being Halloween Eve, if Halloween is important enough to have an Eve, I thought I would have some fun with spiders... er, I mean about spiders. I'm not nearly as terrified of them as I used to be, but still, there are limits.

I thought about doing this blog the other day when I took this picture. This spider has lived outside one of my kitchen windows -- outside being the operative word here -- since early spring. I have watched it since it was a tiny thing as it grew, caught bugs, repaired its web, and laid a jillion eggs.

I had no idea one spider could make so many little spider egg bags. I counted at least twenty on the eave above the web.

Since moving out to the country, I have had to become much more tolerant of insects and other creatures than I used to be, but it took a while before I could become comfortable letting a spider keep its home in my garden or around my house. I grew up with a father who was terrified of spiders and I learned his lesson well.

Once, when I first moved to Texas and knew I was going to die from having a huge tarantula bite me one day, I had to call my neighbor - a native Texan - to help me with this spider I saw on the room divider by my front entry. Mind you, I was a good 25 feet away in the entry to my kitchen, frozen in fear.

I kept trying to be brave enough to cross that line between my kitchen and my living room so I could face this monster alone, but my feet wouldn't move from tile to carpeting. So I had no recourse but to call my neighbor to save me. A few minutes later, she came in the back door and asked me where the spider was.

"Up there," I said pointing to the divider. "At the top of that post."

She walked over, looked around, then reached up. "You mean this?" she asked, pulling down a piece of tinsel left from Christmas decorations the month before.

Gulp.

I am proud to say that I am not nearly as phobic now, but I do draw the line on the spiders invading my house. As I write this, my husband is vacuuming two spiders out of the bathtub for me.


What about you? Are you afraid of spiders? Have any funny stories to share?

Gift Book Suggestion

Here is another review of a book that would make a wonderful gift. I had the pleasure of reading and reviewing this book when it first came out as a self-pubbed book through IUniverse. After it got rave reviews it was picked up by a major publisher and re-released this year. A wonderful read....


STILL ALICE by Lisa Genova

Alice Howland, a Harvard professor of linguistics has trouble remembering a few things. But she doesn’t worry that there is something seriously wrong with her. After all, her husband, John, keeps forgetting where he put his keys, but that assurance is shattered the day Alice forgets how to get home after her morning jog. She stands in the middle of Harvard Square and has no idea which street she needs to take to find her house.

That experience scares her enough that she goes to see a neurologist, who, after a series of tests, diagnoses Alice with Early Onset Alzheimer's Disease

Because the story is fiction, and fiction often comes with a happy ending, I kept waiting for the miracle. The diagnosis would be a mistake, or the clinical trial would work and Alice would somehow recover. But the book is so laced with reality, the “happy ever after” ending just wouldn’t work. Alzheimer’s is a slow, emotionally wrenching, death of cognition that affects family and friends almost as severely as it affects the patient. Still Alice chronicles that demise accurately as it happens to the Howland family, and they all struggle toward acceptance. But this is not a sad or depressing read. It is positive and uplifting.

As the central character finds unique ways to maintain her dignity and her tenuous hold on reality, she makes a plea for all people with dementia to be treated with respect. “We, in the early stages of Alzheimer’s are not yet utterly incompetent. We are not without language or opinions that matter or extended periods of lucidity. Yet, we are not competent enough to be trusted with many of the demands and responsibilities of our former lives.”

She ends that speech by asking doctors to step up research to find a cure for the disease, and asking the medical community and the general public not to run away from people with dementia and Alzheimer’s, but to work with them to maintain and celebrate who they are. “I am not what I say or what I do. I am fundamentally more than that.”

And that is the heart of Still Alice as she, and her family, try to hang on to the fundamental part of her that doesn’t change because she can no longer remember who they are.

Books published by iUniverse are often not very well written or edited, but this one could have easily come from a major publisher like Knopf. The depth of characterization and insight into human relationships reminded me of books by Anne Tyler, and the narrative was just as strong, with the facts about the disease seamlessly woven in.

Still Alice is endorsed by the Alzheimer's Association and a portion of the sale of each book is donated to research.


# Paperback: 320 pages
# Publisher: Pocket; 1st Thus. edition (January 6, 2009)
# Language: English
# ISBN-10: 1439102813
# ISBN-13: 978-1439102817

Why I Write

I love to read interviews with authors, especially when each interview covers something new and different -- not just the latest promo for a book.

Perhaps this comes from all the years I spent doing feature articles and profiles of people. I like to go beyond the surface and find out interesting details about a person. Those little details often speak more eloquently about a person than the more obvious points.

I was really pleased when J.W. Coffey from Examiner.com contacted me for an interview, and she sent me some questions that do go beyond the basics. One of the things she asked is why I write, and I had to stop and think about that one for a bit.

Here is a LINK to the interview if you are interested in reading it.

J.W. has interviewed some other authors that you might find of interest while you are on the site.

Kids Will Love This Book

Today, I am recommending a book for the children on your holiday shopping list. I met this author at a signing event and fell in love with her books. She has a whole series featuring a family of dogs, and this one is her latest.

The Mystery of the Spaniel Family’s Dog House

This delightful book by Sharon Ellsberry, has unique characters, great illustrations, and a story that maintains its interest to the end. Children love stories about animals, and lots of adults do, too, and these dogs are endearing characters.

In this latest story featuring The Spaniel Family, they have a new adventure when a ghost invades their home. They call in a ghost hunter, who soon discovers the ghost is really Moe, the mole. The “ghost” then tells a spooky story and leads the Spaniel family to a house where something mysterious is going on. In fact, something mysterious is going on all over town.

The Spaniel family, Maggie, Joe, and Daisy decide that they must solve this mystery, so they follow Moe to the abandoned house. Jaba the Mutt, the bulldog ghost-buster, goes along, but he prefers to ride in the wagon instead of walking all that way. Once there, he assumes the lead and uses his “ghost finding equipment” to determine what is in that dark cellar.

This is a well-written story with an engaging mystery and a surprising, yet pleasing resolution. A great deal of attention has been paid to making the prose lyrical and appealing to young readers – and older readers. Kids of all ages will absolutely love Jaba the Mutt, and the similarity with the Star Wars character is unmistakable. The pencil illustrations by Amy Fox are detailed and delightful, pulling the reader deeper into the story and bringing it to life.

The Spaniel Family books are noted for the engaging characters, delightful prose, as well as poems and songs that young readers can enjoy. They are geared toward readers age 5-10, but they are also the kind of books that parents and grandparents can enjoy reading to young people.


The Mystery of the Spaniel Family’s Dog House
By Sharon Ellsberry
Illustrated by Amy Fox
ISBN: ISBN:978-0-9790777-1-5

Website ---- Buy link

Books Make Wonderful Gifts

Off and on over the next month I will post reviews of books that I think would make good Holiday gifts. I wish I could take credit for the idea, but Dani Greer who founded The Blood Red Pencil blog came up with it first, and there will be recommendations there throughout the month of November, and maybe into December.

To start off, I am recommending Breathing Water by Timothy Hallinan I had never read his work, but asked for a copy of this one for my Birthday. I'm glad I did.

In this third book of a series featuring ex-pat writer Poke Rafferty, the reader is treated to a visit to Bangkok to witness the delicate intricacies of the social and political system of Thailand, not always a pretty sight.

The story begins when Rafferty wins a most unusual prize in a late-night poker game – the chance to write the biography of Khun Pan, one of the richest men in the country who has a criminal past and a deadly secret. Pan is vulgar and pretentious, spending millions on his “Garden of Eden” complete with a gold serpent, within his home compound.

Pan is loathed by many, especially those in power who are threatened y his political ambitions. But Pan is also loved by many others because he pulled himself out of poverty to become a very powerful man who has supported causes that help the poor. Rafferty’s wife, Rose, is a great admirer of Pan and believes that he could initiate great social change if he achieves a political position.

Soon after the poker game, Rafferty is contacted by opposing forces. One pays him thousands of baht to write the book, the other warns him off, threatening his wife and their adopted daughter, Miaow. Soon they are all caught up in a web of intrigue that includes street kids, stolen babies, corruption, and murder.

One of the thrills of reading a book set in another country is the opportunity to get a feel for the place and the people, and Hallinan gives us Bangkok in all its splendor and its squalor. He also introduces characters so real they could step out of the book and join us for coffee.

This is a book that can be enjoyed on many levels. The mystery, danger, and intrigue satisfy the lover of mystery and thriller, while the relationships give the story depth. Especially nice is the relationship between Rafferty and Arthit, one of the few honest cops in Bangkok. It is portrayed not in sweet sentimentality, but with enough emotion to make you pause a moment to readjust your heart.


Breathing Water
• Hardcover: 352 pages
• Publisher: William Morrow; 1 edition (August 18, 2009)
• ISBN-10: 0061672238
• ISBN-13: 978-0061672231

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Of course, I think my books would also make nice Holiday gifts. Check my Web site for excerpts and details about each book.

Our Right to Protest

The furor over the Tea Parties held across the country to protest health care reform and other issues of significant importance has died down just a bit recently, but there are still commentators who question whether the parties do any good.

Colleen McCain Nelson who is on the editorial board at The Dallas Morning News had this to say:

"I can't argue that free speech is bad for America -- even when I disagree with what folks are saying. But I'm not certain what the tea parties are accomplishing - beyond assembling an angry mob."

Another pundit wondered if the movement is helpful or harmful.

Personally, I like the idea of the tea parties. In fact, I was suggesting we do something like the Boston Tea Party long before the current craze, but instead of dumping tea in the Boston Harbor, I suggested dumping all the politicians into the water and getting new ones.

But I digress.

I think the current move to take more control over government is a good one, and we have to keep in mind that people are sometimes going to be emotional and strident about issues that touch them personally.

What about the mob that threw the tea in Boston Harbor in 1773? Do you think they were polite and orderly? There had to be a lot of shouting and name-calling going on there.

Yes, it would be nice if people could always behave civilly in these Tea Parties. Civility is something we are sorely lacking in public today, but we have to keep in mind that emotions often override reason, and people react before they have had a chance to stop and think.

I don't know if the Tea Parties have influenced any decisions coming out of Washington, but one good thing is that people are stepping forward and doing more than complaining about what is going on with government. Also, I think the movement has increased voter participation and that is a good thing.

What do you think? Are the meetings creating more harm than good?

If A French Woman can do it, why not I?

Here is some more fun from my friend Tracy Farr. Enjoy.......


I have finally come to a decision – I’ve decided to suck it up, bite the bullet and lose a bit of weight before some fisherman spots me and tries to harpoon me for Sunday brunch.

I may only lose an ounce or two in my quest for thinness (I tend to set my goals low when it comes to extra-curricular physical exertion), but by golly, I’m going to do it this time; not like last time when I got it in my mind to be healthy and thin, and then got it right out of my mind when I found a gallon of Cookies & Cream ice cream in the freezer. And you know there’s no way I can let a gallon of ice cream stay unopened for something as silly as wanting to look more like Jack LaLanne instead of Moby Dick.

What is it that has inspired me to change my ways and tonnage? The answer is French Women.

According to what I read in an article about the book “French Women Don’t Get Fat: The Secret of Eating for Pleasure” by Mireille Guiliano, French women never set foot inside gyms or fitness centers and they are still skinny. No treadmills, no stationary bikes, no weights, and no puking up their guts after trying to run a mile like they could when they were younger but were horribly mistaken and will never do it again (not saying that happened to me, but just saying).

Did you hear me? French Women -- no gym, they eat what they want and they’re still skinny! And that’s coming from Mireille Guiliano, a French woman, and you’d think she’d know.

Of course French Women do other things to remain so slender, like walking a lot and eating in moderation, but I just skipped over that section of the article. The important detail is they DON’T work out at a gym.

Gyms are sad, smelly places where young people with a lot of energy go to sweat, because they look good while sweating; whereas old people just look like sad, sweaty old people trying to ward off the Grim Reaper for a couple more years without blowing a knee or a hip.

Of course, I have no idea if a gym is sad or smelly because I’ve never stepped inside of one; but if I did, the “behind my back” conversation would probably go something like this:

“Poor guy. Practically looks dead already. Hey, we better keep an eye on him while he’s walking that treadmill. I bet his heart is ready to go at any moment. And wouldn’t that ruin a good day of healthy sweating for the rest of us?”

The first person who thought of opening up a commercial fitness center was a genius; right up there with Einstein, Bill Gates, and Richard James, the inventor of the Slinky. All the exercise genius had to do was find a building, buy some equipment, invite people to come and pay money to sweat, and convince his wife he wasn’t crazy (the hardest part). And if that isn’t genius, I don’t know what is.

But back to French Women – French Women don’t sweat. Well, what I mean is they don’t sweat off the pounds by going to the gym, and since they don’t shave their legs and underarms either (just like me), I might as well give this “not going to the gym to lose weight” thing a try.

So here’s my plan: Starting Monday, I’m going to walk briskly to the couch, sit down, put my feet up and hold them there until I’ve finished the newspaper. Then I’ll stand up, walk briskly to the icebox, do five reps of scooping Cookies & Cream into a bowl (maybe seven reps if I feel energetic), walk briskly back to the couch, sit down, put my feet up again, and hold them there for as long as I can get away with it, then relax.

And then I’m going to write my own book. I think I will call it, “Fat Men Who Sit on the Couch and Idolize Skinny French Women for their Workout Regime; A Guide to Better Health and Eating Without Worrying That Your Arteries Are About to Explode.”

Me and French Women – we know how to feel the burn!


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Tracy Farr is a teacher living in East Texas and drives a school bus for the fun of it. In his spare time he plays the banjo, but never on Thursdays. You can read more of his stories at www.stinkycreektexas.com.

A Wonderful Book

When I lived in Omaha, Nebraska for almost ten years, one of the highlights of my day was reading the Omaha World Herald. I missed the Dallas Morning News and the Herald did not measure up in lots of ways, but it did contain the work of Jeffrey Koterba, a terrific political cartoonist. He has a sharp wit, and sometimes a profound insight into a current event, and his cartoons always made me smile.

After I came back to Texas and was again reading the Dallas Morning News, I was delighted to sometimes see a Koterba cartoon on the editorial pages. When I saw this ONE after Mary Travers died Sept 17th, I wrote to Jeff to thank him for such a fitting cartoon. I wanted his permission to use it on the blog I wrote about Mary, but he was a little slow to respond. When he did, he apologized for not seeing the message sooner, and told me that one reason was he was busy with a book that is being released early in November.

We e-mailed back and forth a couple of times, and I offered to read the book and possibly review it.

Inklings, which is a memoir, arrived in my mailbox this past Friday, and I made the mistake of picking it up "just to check it out." I say, "mistake" because I had a terrible time putting it down and I had a really busy weekend that did not include time to read for more than a few minutes at a time.

This is a beautiful book, starting with the writing and continuing with production and cover art. Jeff is as adept with prose as he is with cartooning, and Houghton Mifflin Harcourt always puts out beautiful books.

I will do a full review on Bloggernews.net when I finish the book, but I just had to write about it here, too.

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For the benefit of the FTC, I was not compensated for this endorsement of the book. I will donate my review copy of the book to my local library when I am finished with it.

Author Spotlight

A fellow author, Chris Redding, has graciously hosted me on her blog as the guest author. She did a wonderful interview and I am so grateful to her. One of the things she asked was about the first book I ever wrote and it was fun to go back and remember. Here is a LINK if you are interested in reading the interview.

This kind of opportunity is one of the neat things about the Internet and using it for promoting. And we can meet some of the nicest people along the way. I have known Chris from several author loops, and she is a generous supporter of her fellow authors.

Thanks, Chris.

More Nonsense From My Latest Book

Back in June I started posting excerpts from my new book , which is a humorous memoir titled A Dead Tomato Plant and A Paycheck. This latest installment is from the chapter tentatively titled, The Silly Things We Do. A couple of weeks ago, I "told" on a friend, so this time I decided to "tell" on myself....

While I may not be the brightest intellectual around, I’ve always considered myself intelligent, educated, and capable. As a parent, I’ve handled situations that call for ingenuity, like explaining to a five-year-old what keeps the moon up in the sky -- l told her God glued it up there and figured her teacher could explain all that scientific stuff after she got to school -- and talking my way out of hosting a slumber party for15 young teenage girls.

The fact that I even survived raising the twins speaks for itself.

So, I wonder. Why is it that I can't open a simple "easy to open" package? I faced the most demanding jobs of motherhood from potty training to summer vacation, but I m reduced to being a 97-pound weakling at the sight of "press here and pull back along dotted line."

The last time I opened a box of detergent, I had to get a hammer and chisel, and I ended up with soap powder all over the floor and a smashed thumb. It was not a pretty sight, nor did pretty sounds come out of my mouth.

Considering the highly technological society we live in, along with truth in advertising, shouldn't an easy-open package be just that? We shouldn't have to wrestle our way through boxes of cereal and individually-wrapped cheese slices. We shouldn't have to gnaw our way through potato chip bags or get tennis elbow from opening jars of peanut butter. We shouldn't have to ask the same kid who gave us the blinding headache to open the bottle of aspirin so we can ease said headache. And we shouldn't have to visit the local blacksmith with our canned ham.

Once when I was particularly frustrated – and my husband has the nerve to ask when WASN’T I particularly frustrated – I wrote a polite letter to one manufacturing company explaining that I didn't find their "easy to open" package all that easy. Their response dearly indicated that they didn't care about consumer relations and the letter started out as a typical PR piece about their product. Then it went on to explain that the packaging had undergone extensive testing before being released on the market, and even a monkey could open it.

Now, I ask you. Was that an insult, or do they really expect me to make a trip to the zoo every time I want to open a bag of chips?

I'm Officially Old

The other day I mentioned to my husband that I hardly know any of the celebrities mentioned on entertainment shows or written about in the entertainment section of the newspaper. "I wonder if that is part of the official rite of passage for the Social Security set," I said.

He laughed and said he noticed the same thing. "I read the celebrity birthday announcements," he continued. "And I only recognize the names of people over 60."

I thought about sending a cartoon caption to "Plugger" -- the cartoon that is most recognized by "You know you're a Plugger if...." Sort of an old folks version of Jeff Foxworthy's "You know you're a Redneck if...."

Then I decided I would just use the topic for a blog post. Come up with some really funny lines about being old and wow everyone with my wit. But before I could do it, Steve Blow, a columnist for the Dallas Morning News, beat me to it. I've been a faithful reader of his columns for years - even the ten years I lived in Nebraska - and he has done some good ones. But this was one of his best. Maybe because the subject resonated so strongly with me. Or maybe because he's a damn fine writer. Or maybe both.

Regardless, you might want to Click over and read his column in which he asks, "How are they celebrities if I haven't heard of them?" It is well worth the read.

More on Tucker Max

Last week I wrote about the column about Tucker Max in the Dallas Morning News by Jaclyn Friedman, a writer and activist. She criticized him for promoting a sexual philosophy where women are "insulted, tricked, coerced, traded, and then discarded."

There was a flurry of responses to her column, some supporting her stance and others taking her to task. And I guess that is one of the benefits of living in the United States. We are free to voice an opinion, even a dissenting one.

Of all the letters that have filtered in to the Op/Ed section of the paper this week, one really stood out. It was written by a 17-year-old boy.

He wrote that he knows that as a teenage boy he is supposed to see Max as "the coolest guy in the world. But get real. Max is a user."

He went on to write, "The only thing sadder than his view on life is the women he exploits."

It did my heart good to read this young man's letter and know that there are teens out there who are not buying into the philosophy that Max is promoting. I'm glad that there are teens who realize that casual sex just for the thrill of it doesn't measure up to real love.

I just wish there were more of them and less of the ones who are following Max from venue to venue degrading themselves.

Opening Night

I got bitten by the acting bug rather late in life. Or maybe I should clarify and say I acted on the bug bite rather late in life.

I've written a couple of plays and several screenplays and directed lots of stage plays. Also worked in production on some film projects, but I never had the nerve to step on stage as an actress. And I hesitated to tell anybody that I always had a secret desire to be on stage until a friend, Mia, weaseled it out of me.

Mia is a wonderful actress and I had the pleasure of directing her in several productions in a community theatre here in East Texas, and when she was putting together a revue to direct she talked me into taking a small part. What she said was, "I really need an old lady. And there are only a few lines. You can do it."

I didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted, but she quickly covered, "I don't mean you are "old" old. I just mean you are older than the teenagers who will be in the show."

That was the beginning.

A year or so later, Mia talked me into auditioning at another community theatre for "Squabbles", a comedy by Marshall Karp. I was floored when I got the major part of Mildred, but that unleashed the monster in me. I love performing, even though the rehearsal schedule is enough to wear a person out. But making the character and the story come alive is a great thrill. And working with a talented group of players is magic.

So, now I am in another show. We are doing "Daddy's Dyin' Whose got the Will" at the Main Street Theatre in Sulphur Springs, Texas. We open tonight and run this Thurs, Fri, Sat and next Thurs, Fri, Sat. If you care to see some pictures of the cast visit The Front Porch News (My friend, Mia, is the one on the right in the first picture.)

One thing I have noticed since I have been acting is how much that has helped in terms of writing scenes in my books. I have a better sense of the choreography of how characters would move in a scene instead of being stagnant. When I am stuck on how a scene should go, I actually get up and walk myself through it.

My cat, who thinks I got up to feed him, watches for a minute, then I swear he shakes his head as if to say, "What on earth is she doing now?"

I Was Given the Book And I'm Keeping It

On one of the writers' lists I belong to there was a discussion today about the Federal Trade Commission's announcement that its Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials would be revised in relation to bloggers. Specifically it states that bloggers will have to specify whether they receive compensation for their reviews.

When I first read these guidelines I thought the disclosure would only apply to bloggers who review high priced items such as electronics or software and are allowed to keep the items. But it appears they apply to book reviewers as well.

These guidelines will be effective December first of this year, and as best as I can decipher the legalese, it means that when I, or any other blogger who does book reviews, receive a book to read and review, I have to state that I was given the book. That way people can decide if my review is objective or I was "paid" to endorse the book.

Interestingly enough, these guidelines do not apply to reviewers who get paid by the publication in which the review appears. So I am okay when it comes to the reviews I do for ForeWord Magazine, but not the ones I do here on my blog or on other online sites.

Edward Champion did an interview with Richard Cleland of the Federal Trade Commission that is well worth a read. It covered the topic pretty well, although the point was not made that most of the review copies sent out are ARCs - at least most of what I receive are - so they could hardly be considered compensation since reviewers can't sell them.

Also, Cleland does not specify how the disclosure is to be made. Does it have to be in the body of the review? Does it have to be on every review? Will the FTC come after me with a warrant if I forget to include the disclosure?

Just to be safe, I may add a line at the bottom of all my review: Nobody bought my opinion.

Root Beer - The All American Drink

Here is another offering from my funny friend, Tracy Farr. He's not funny weird, although some may debate that, he just has a way with humor....


I’m flabbergasted! Totally, unequivocally flabbergasted. And if there be a word in the English language with a stronger meaning, then I’m that, too.

I went to an eating establishment recently, right here in East Texas, that did not have Root Beer on their menu. Let me repeat – They Had No Root Beer. Well, in my mind that’s absolutely unpatriotic; it’s downright subversive; it’s pert near communistic; and it’s on the verge of being positively draconian – but since I have no idea what that means, we’ll skip it for now.

Root Beer is one of those drinks that make this country a great place in which to live. Does Canada have Root Beer? Absolutely not. Does Great Britain? Heaven forbid. How about Iran? Are you kidding? They probably kill their people over there for drinking Root Beer, or at least pull out their tongues.

No, Root Beer is a God Bless American phenomenon that every man, woman and child in this great country should be thankful for having. It’s a western blessing, a true-blue American symbol of all things Yankee Doodle, and it should be revered just as much as baseball, hotdogs, apple pie and that car company that used to build pretty good cars, but then the economy tanked and who knows what they’re building now.

Root Beer, in some form or fashion, has been around for ages, but it was Charles Elmer Hires, a pharmacist from Philadelphia, who invented the very first commercial Root Beer in 1866 – Hires Root Beer.

“Hey, honey, come taste what I just came up with. Made it from roots, out in the garage. I was just fiddling around with some stuff, hoping to come up with a better paint cleaner, and out of the blue, I had Root Beer. You want to be my guinea pig and give it a taste? Oh, c’mon honey, I’m sure you’ll be okay.”

There are hundreds of varieties of Root Beer, but there are no standardized recipes. Artificial sassafras flavoring is the main ingredient, but after that, anything goes. Vanilla. Wintergreen. Licorice root. Nutmeg. Molasses. Even cherry tree bark. If it can be peeled off, dug up, squeezed, or melted down, it’s probably in your favorite brand of Root Beer. And in 1893, Frank J. Wisner found something even better to put in it.

Wisner, the owner of a soda company, was drinking a bottle of Myers Avenue Red Root Beer at his home in Cripple Creek, Colorado, when he looked up at Cow Mountain and saw the snow being lit by a full moon. In that instant, he had a great idea – let’s try floating a scoop of ice cream on top of a glass full of Root Beer.

And thus was born “The Black Cow.” Of course, you and I know it as a Root Beer Float.

I DARE YOU: The next time you’re at Sonic, I dare you, I triple-dog dare you, to push the little button and order a Black Cow. When the person responds that they don’t have a Black Cow, you be insistent and tell them you’re not going to leave without one. Of course, the person will once again deny even hearing of a Black Cow, and you respond, “Okay, just give me a Root Beer Float instead.” Yes, it’s a bit sophomoric, but do it anyway – in honor of that great inventor, Frank J. Wisner.

The thing I like most about Root Beer is that you can make it at home. Do you think you could make Coke or Pepsi in your own kitchen? Of course not. They’re too interested in keeping their formulas secret. That’s why the “Cola Wars” will never be won. There’s no such thing as a Root Beer war. Root Beer is Root Beer, and that’s what makes it great!

I would like to conclude with three of my favorite Root Beer quotes from three of my favorite historical figures:

It was Patrick Henry who said, “Give me Root Beer, or give me death” – or something like that.

It was Benjamin Franklin who said, “Root Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy” – if he didn’t say it, he meant to.

And it was Neil Armstrong who said, “That’s one small step for man; one giant Root Beer for me because I just love the stuff” – okay, I’m not so sure about that one.

Root Beer. It’s an American drink. So stand tall, stand proud, slurp it down with gusto, and don’t forget the frosted mug!

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Tracy Farr is a musician and humorist, and in his spare time he drives a school bus. You can find more fun stuff at Stinky Creek , Texas

Thank You, Mr. Safire

It's never too late to honor someone of the stature of William Safire, the columnist who died last Sunday. If I hadn't been absolutely buried in work, I would have done this sooner, but later is better than never, as the old cliche goes.

I have always enjoyed Safire's columns for their ability to make us laugh, while he prodded us to consider other points of view, and one that I particularly enjoyed was published in 2005. Perhaps that one resonated with me because I, too, worked for print publications as a columnist, and he came up with rules for reading a political column.

Here are just a couple of those rules:

9. Cherchez la source. Ingest no column (or opinionated reporting labeled "analysis") without asking: Cui bono? And whenever you see the word "respected" in front of a name, narrow your eyes. You have never read "According to the disrespected (whomever)."

10. Resist swaydo-intellectual writing. Only the hifalutin trap themselves into "whomever" and only the tort bar uses the Latin for "who benefits?" Columnists who show off should surely shove off. (And avoid all asinine alliteration.)

11. Do not be suckered by the unexpected. Pundits sometimes slip a knuckleball into their series of curveballs: for variety's sake, they turn on comrades in ideological arms, inducing apostasy-admirers to gush "Ooh, that's so unpredictable." Such pushmi-pullyu advocacy is permissible for Clintonian liberals or libertarian conservatives but is too often the mark of the too-cute contrarian.

12. Scorn personal exchanges between columnists. Observers presuming to be participants in debate remove the reader from the reality of controversy; theirs is merely a photo of a painting of a statue, or a towel-throwing contest between fight managers. Insist on columns taking on only the truly powerful, and then only kicking 'em when they're up.

If you are sufficiently intrigued, you can read all the rules HERE