Father's Day

My dad has been gone for many years. In 2008 I wrote this story and it was published in the anthology, My Dad is My Hero. I hope you've had moments like this with your own dad.  Sue

The Year of the Schwinn

We’d only been in California for three years when my tenth birthday was on the horizon. We were transplants from northern Minnesota back in the late1950’s and my dad had worked hard to get us there. To make the money to fly us all out, he spent eight months in Greenland where the U.S. Army had contracted with civilians to build an airstrip. It was an exciting time for all of us because California seemed like a wonderland where just about anybody’s dream could come true. Still, with five children to feed and clothe it was a struggle to make ends meet.

Dad found one salesman’s job after another and pounded the pavement selling screen doors, then vitamin supplements, then encyclopedias until finally he got a route as a truck driver for a meat packing company. Even then the money often ran out before the month did. My mother didn’t have an outside job and neither did she drive. This left a lot of responsibility on my dad in his off hours to take care of other family matters like doctor’s appointments, school meetings and grocery shopping.

My birthday fell on a Saturday that year and I woke up wondering what the day would bring. No mention was made of anything special being done for my birthday so I imagined I’d get cards and small gifts like all my other birthdays. There was one thing I dreaded about the day, though. I had a morning appointment with the eye doctor. Yuck. I sure didn’t want to go to that. Dad would be taking me, conferring with the doctor about my poor eyesight and whether I’d need new glasses or not. New glasses meant the kids at school would stare at me for a day or so and I hated that idea. But the hour came to go off for my exam and I had to go.

For the whole trip to the eye doctor my Dad was quiet. We sped through downtown traffic and I stared glumly out the car window hoping the appointment wouldn’t take too long. Which it didn’t and quite honestly, I can’t remember whether I needed new glasses or not. I was just glad to be out of there. That’s when my dad mentioned my birthday.

“I think your mom has something special for you for your birthday today,” he said.

I brightened up immediately. “Really?”

“Didn’t you want a new hairbrush set or something?”

My face fell. That wasn’t what I wanted at all. My heart was set on a small crystal clock for my bedside. They were all the rage, not too expensive and I thought they were beautiful. “That would be okay,” I said to answer him. A hairbrush seemed more in keeping with gifts my folks could afford and I resigned myself to another “poor girl” birthday.  

“Well, we have to make a stop before we get home,” Dad said.

A few minutes later we pulled up in front of a bicycle shop where a long row of beautiful Schwinn bicycles sat on the sidewalk in front of the store.

“Why are we stopping here?” I asked.

“Because you’re getting a new bicycle for your birthday.”

I stared at him. I didn’t believe him. I was the girl who pretended that things like new bicycles weren’t important. I was the girl who begged to ride on the back of her girlfriend’s bikes so I could be a part of the group that was heading for the playground after school. If nobody would give me a ride I walked or acted like I didn’t really want to go anyway. I had so many defenses for why I didn’t have things like roller skates, nice clothes or fashion dolls that my mind refused to accept that this could change. And here was my wonderful Dad telling me I was getting a new bicycle for my tenth birthday. I just stared at him.

My Dad had the kind of grin that split his whole face and that’s what happened when he saw my reaction. I think he already had the bike he could afford picked out because he led me to a beautiful dark green one and asked me how I liked it. Now, let me tell you, this bike was a magnificent monster. Not a lightweight like you find so much nowadays. It had substantial metal fenders, whitewall tires (with inner tubes), a chain guard and kickstand, a basket on the front and a bell on the handlebars plus a rack on the back fender where another kid could ride. And the spokes! Imagine all the cards I could clothespin to those. My girlfriends would die of envy. Did I like it? I was simply too stunned to answer.

Dad loaded the bike up and took it and his stunned daughter home. He didn’t stop grinning for weeks and when I got over my disbelief at owning this beautiful object neither could I. Later my Mom told me the bike cost $48 and in those days that was a lot of groceries. Whatever he had to do to afford that bike, Dad did it without complaint. I rode the thing into the ground and will never forget the pride I felt in being able to ride with my friends to the playground and school, haul my brothers and sisters around on the rack and love the man to bits who allowed me to do it.

Thanks Dad!

Image: Stuart Miles                                      Free Digital Images

For Writers

When Inspiration Strikes – Sell It

I’m a dictionary freak. My eight pound unabridged is opened constantly so I can double check my word choices. When I looked up inspiration, I found it means ‘to blow or breathe into or upon’. Wow. It occurred to me then that writers do just that, we offer a breath of inspiration in dozens of ways. Now probably you’re not going to write another Holy Bible, but if you scratch the surface of your emotions you may find an energy there that’s worth exploiting.

1. Devotionals – These are frequently done in small booklets of twenty to thirty inspirational passages each. Often a Bible verse is the catalyst for the thoughts expressed and there are publishers that print them for adults, teens and children as well.
2. Plaques and other gift items – These are bunches of fun to do. Humor, especially, is snapped up by editors like warm buttered popcorn and you may have an untapped gift for one liners that one or more of them will love. Some companies pay upwards of $100 for a well-worded phrase or two. I sold six short children’s poems to a company that custom designs quotes for use in home décor.
3. Woman’s magazines – Short family crisis stories, seasonal poems, how I met my husband / wife stories; all are welcome in a multitude of print and online magazines. They only require some careful examination of your life situation and a willingness to share it with others.
4. Write about writing – This is one of my personal favorites. Writers seldom have co-workers and often rely on magazines and websites to keep from despairing over the words they are penning. What you have learned while honing your craft is of great value to your fellow word smiths.

When you write to inspire, you can make use of so much that’s already out there. Study the works your favorite humor columnist to see why humor sells. Dust off your Bible and let a few verses bring out the philosopher in you. Spend a few extra dollars at the grocery on one or two women’s magazines and glean them for inspirational columns or stories. Let these inspire you, so you can inspire others. Here are a few places to start.

1. Woman’s World – Pays $250 for a personal feature story; usually told in first person and uses photos to enhance the story.   Takes e-mail submissions at  wwfeatures@WomansWorldMag.com  
2. Guideposts Magazine – Pays up to $500 for personal stories from people of all faiths. Stories are often ‘ghost written’, so you could write on behalf of a friend or relative. See website http://www.guideposts.org/
3.  The Upper Room – Pays $25 per meditation. Likes to see personal experience linked to the meditations. See website http://www.upperoom.org/
4. The Writer – Inspire your reader by showing her how to do it. Pays on acceptance upwards of $150. See online guidelines at  http://www.writermag.com/
5. Threadless – Come up with a great tee shirt design and get 2K (that’s right) for your efforts http://www.threadless.com/submit

Writing from the heart doesn’t necessarily mean flowery words or the figurative rending of your garments. Light humor, an honest voice and a gentle wisdom are the hallmarks of good inspirational writing. Steep yourself in what’s already out there and then breathe a similar life into something that’s all your own. And don’t be surprised when you enjoy it – and it sells. 

 

Image: Free Digital Photos

Mishaps

Most women I know have figured out the best way to manage their hair by the time they’re out of high school. I was very glad when someone invented rollers. Not the kind for perms – those itty bitty things that took a good half hour to put in. No, I’m talking soupcan size rollers that we girls with super curly hair could use to pull the curl out. Believe it or not I still have the rollers I used back then and continue to use them. Oh – and they came in colors. Mine are purple, pink, pale blue, and bright orange. The orange ones are the biggest.

So – this is going back about 25 years. My friend, Pam, and I, along with three of our kids, conspired together to take a trip across country. Her sisters were in New Mexico and my family in California. We left upstate New York in her Mazda one afternoon with luggage, kids, and a burning desire to get there fast. We were out of Pennsylvania about midnight and kept on rolling. We made excellent time keeping to the Interstate and only stopping for gas and potty breaks. In no time at all we were in Oklahoma.

We hit a rest stop in the middle of nowhere and that’s when I decided my hair needed attending to. We expected to be at Pam’s sisters home that very day and I wanted to look nice. So I went into the restroom and put in three of my jumbo rollers. One orange and two purple right at the top and then pulled the rest of my hair back in an elastic. The hot Oklahoma air and rollers would pull my curl out and I’d look like a super model upon arrival.

It was 7:30 in the morning and my turn to drive. Not a soul on the road but us, either.

Have you ever been in Oklahoma? It’s flaaaaat. Nothing but highway and sagebrush for miles. Consequently I had no problem putting the pedal to the metal and moving us right along. Pam and I chatted and the kids slept on and off. Life was good.

Then I happened to glance in the rearview mirror and was surprised to see a pin dot on the horizon. The pin dot got bigger and seemed to be coming along at a fair clip.

“Look behind us,” I said to Pam.

“Uh, oh,” she said. “I think it’s a police car.”

Okay - This is my MO Every Single Time I know a cop is blazing up behind me – I slow down and pull over slightly so he can catch the bad guy who must be ahead of me. I never think they're after me.

Then Pam said, “How fast are you going?”

By then I’d slowed down to about 85. And didn’t that cop pull up beside me and signal me to pull over? And didn’t he have serial killers or drug dealers to chase – the ones who were getting away ahead of me? Ugh – and that’s when I remembered my rollers. That’s when I realized the cop was about to encounter a purple and orange crested space alien.

There wasn’t a thing I could do. I rolled down the window and handed him my license. I couldn’t look him in the eye. Space aliens are funny that way. We HATE it when we’re caught out in our orange and purple rollers.

Adding to my mortification was the fact that this Southern cop was M’am–ing me to death. They do that in the South, you know. If there had been two cops I would’ve been gang m’ammed.

“M’am, do you know I clocked you at 90 MPH?”

I stared straight ahead and mumbled something. I could FEEL that liar smirking. 90 MPH indeed! He gave me a safety lecture. He wrote out the ticket.

“Now, m’am, I’m going to have to take your license . . .”

At that I did look at him with my full alien dignity and tried to death ray him on the spot. It didn’t work. He kept on m’amming me.

It was probably the longest ten minutes of my life. Sitting there in that Mazda on an Oklahoma highway, being m’ammed and having my license taken away in my stupid soup can sized rollers.

But my ordeal was almost over . . .

“M’am, I’m going to give you a temporary license. When you’ve paid your fine, you’ll get it back. Have a nice day, m'am.”

Thus chastened, I crawled back onto the highway and Slowly headed for New Mexico secure in the knowledge there was one M’amming Oklahoma cop out there who had a doozy of an alien encounter to tell about – probably for the rest of his life.  

PS: When you enter Oklahoma there are big green signs about the size of the Titanic telling you what your fine will be if you speed (really hard to read at 90 MPH). Needless to say I got highest honors - a $90 fine. Ugh.

Image: Evgeni Dinev                                      Free Digital Photos

For Writers

The 'R' Word

Ah. You’re here because you think I have something to tell you about rejection, right? I’m going to disappoint you. I rarely write about things I hate. Besides, you already know that your writing is going to be rejected by someone, somewhere, sometime. It’s going to hurt your feelings. And everything any other writer or friend or your mom has ever told you is true. You’ve got to get over it and carry on. I’ll tell you why.

It’s because of that other ‘R’ word…regret. When I was very young I hated it when older, wiser people would say things to me like…if you don’t finish this class you’ll regret it later in life. Phooey, I thought. But guess what? I got older. Guess what again. They were right. To spare you the boredom of reading about my regrets I’ll just say I have many.

So here’s the nightmare. I’m sitting in my wheelchair at the ‘home’ blathering on about what a great writer I could have been. But my list of excuses for why I didn’t do this is longer than my list of pills. And to my everlasting bewilderment, nobody wants to hear about it.

Here’s the dream. A year from now I’m strolling through a Barnes and Noble. I head to the mystery and thrillers section. A book is displayed on an end cap. The woman next to me picks it up and begins to turn the pages. She reads the title out loud. She catches my eye.

“ I love this book,” she says.

 “You do?” I say. “Then let me sign it for you. I’m the author.” 

I don’t want the nightmare of regret. I want the dream. And so do you. Go for it.


Image: Free Digital Photos

When Things are Tough

       

Just like everyone else I have my tough times. Right now is not one of them - just the opposite, in fact. But often that's the best time to reflect on the things that help us cope when life goes all haywire. This hymn is one I turn to when that happens. It's based on my favorite Bible verse Psalm 46:10  Be still and know that I am God. It's burned into my heart.

Perhaps it will help you, too. The Mormon Tabernacle Choir sings it most beautifully. You can find it on You Tube.

            

               Be Still My Soul

               By Katharina Schlegel (1697 – 1768)

               Music by Jean Sebelius from his Finlandia

               Based on Psalm 46:10

      Be still, my soul: the Lord is on your side. 

               Bear patiently thy cross of grief or pain; 

               leave to thy God to order and provide; 

               in every change He faithful will remain. 

               Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly friend 

               through thorny ways leads to a joyful end. 

               Be still, my soul: thy God will undertake 

               to guide the future, as in ages past. 

               Thy hope, your confidence let nothing shake; 

               all now mysterious shall be bright at last. 

               Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know 

               the Christ who ruled them while He dwelt below. 

               Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on 

               when we shall be forever with the Lord, 

               when disappointment, grief, and fear are gone, 

               sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored. 

               Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past, 

               all safe and blessed we shall meet at last. 

Image: Free Digital Photos

All on a Saturday

So what if there was drizzle – hair frizzin’ drizzle? Nothing was going to stop me and best bud, Karen, from seeing what this year’s Kindercrafter’s had to offer. For the un-informed, that's the June craft fair held in  Kinderhook, NY every year. Once upon a time the Kindercrafters made a quilt to be raffled off at the fair. Sadly, that group has dissolved, but the fair goes on. Yay!

So – what did we find? Friends, first of all. People we know in other walks of life were all over the place. Our pastor’s wife, Christa. Our pinochle pal, Terry and many others to smile and nod at or stop to pass the time of day with. Manning the Lion’s Club food booth were my daughter-in-law Kate’s parents, Al and Mimi. Karen and I had our lunch there. The Lion Burger has the BEST caramelized onions for that burger. Oh – Yum. Kate, Eric, Sam and Anna were there, too, loving a huge slab of fried dough covered in powdered sugar. Yum - again!

We wandered into Blackwood & Brouwer the Indie book store where my book signing will be in November. It was packed with fair goers. You can just see the name of the store in the upper left hand window. I told the owner she should bottle the smell in this wonderful place; rich with book, good coffee and old wood aromas. It's like the rest of Kinderhook - a step back in time. I love it.




The 1993 Caldecott Medal winner, Emily Arnold McCully, was there signing her latest book. I chose one of her others – more boy oriented – for  Sam and she signed it for me. Ms. McCully is also an illustrator and she zippy quick drew a little ship near her signature. Amazing. The book is Manjiro.



The Old Dutch Inn was open for anyone to walk through. Lots of rennovating being done and there’s a vote on June 19 to approve a sewer system. Jobs will be created and the historic eatery will once again grace the streets of Kinderhook if all goes well. They had yummy refreshments set up in one room. Karen and I partook and then were escorted around the Inn by the niece of the new owner, Al Roberts. Very nice lady - and he was gracious, too.

On our way out we found a yard sale and another of our mutual friends, Sue, who was chatting with the yard sale lady and her friend. I told them about my book and gave each my ‘mystery writer’ business card. I found this cute wooden duck who now resides in one of my flower beds. Is he a charmer or what? Our youngest granddaughter, Sierra, will love it! And her sister might, too. As we turned to go one of the gals asked if I’d sign the back of my card. I told her if I’m ever famous she can say she knows me. Ha!

Sunday has only begun, but I know good stuff is waiting to happen. Better save that for another post!

Everyday Blessings

According to the Channel 10 weather guy today is going to be the last nice day for a while. Right now there’s a slight breeze, it’s not muggy, and the window beside me is open. Everything outside is calling me to leave the inside because this isn't going to last. So, I’m going – but I’ll be back with some good stuff for you. I’m taking my camera.

Okay – back. Here’s what I found.

The sugar snap peas are in full bloom with lucious pods hanging. I’m going out just before supper to pick some. They’ll be a great side dish to the bbq chicken I’ve got slowly baking in the oven. In about five hours I’ll shred it, smother it in my bodacious homemade sauce, and pile it on homemade buns (from the bread recipe I posted a while back). I’m not sure if I’ll need anything else.

A long time ago when someone else owned this old place, she must have been a master gardener. We are currently reaping the benefit. Sometimes I think our house sits in a small bit of chunked out forest there’s so many plants and bushes around here. But aren’t these lovely? I have no clue what this is. It's growing alongside the driveway over by the grandkids swingset and it smells like heaven. NO - they're not honeysuckle - we have that, too.

This is a butterfly I managed to get a picture of. It was on a bush right outside the back door last evening. There were two of them flitting around drinking the nectar from these trumpet shaped flowers. If anyone knows what this bush is, let me know. They’re all  over the county.

Here’s our front porch and it looks kind of bare. I’m thinking I should put a big pot of something really colorful here, but can’t decide what. Any ideas?

All these beautiful blessings have made me feel exspansive so I’ve got a great recipe for you in Susans’s Extras. It’s a salad I learned to make from my friend Carol. It’s soooo good!

Have a blessed day.