A Few Shining Moments

MERRY CHRISTMAS and HAPPY HOLIDAYS to all of you!

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2020 is a year we won't soon miss, that's for sure. However, amidst all the heartache, solitude, and worry, a few shining moments stood out during the year. For me, the big moment was my marriage to Stewart in March. We were lucky enough to have gotten our wedding in right under the wire as the very next week the country locked down. 

And to top it off, my sister Donna came down from Connecticut to attend our wedding and ended up having to stay here for nine weeks due to the lockdown. She and I hadn't spent that much time together at one time since before she got married in

1958. This was time well spent, for sure.

Another shining moment was that my daughter Tammy and her husband Curtis made it down here from Connecticut twice this year--in the summer and, as a surprise, for Thanksgiving. Their visits are never long enough, but two times in one year are definitely memorable moments.

Thanksgiving was held at Cyndi and Bill's home with lots of family present, Covid rules be darned.

Our read and critique group, although not able to meet in person for most of the year, still managed to meet weekly thanks to Zoom. 

Stewart and I added a new addition to our family within the past week. His/her (we're not sure) name is Chip. He and Charlie are a lot of fun to watch as they establish their pecking order. One moment they're fighting, the next they're rubbing beaks. So cute.

My son Michael, my baby, turned 48 Saturday. Although in Connecticut, we're only a phone call apart. 

So basically, technology has gotten us through 2020 in a way no one would have thought possible years ago. 

One last shining moment to the year is the development of a coronavirus vaccine. Hopefully, masks and quarantines will soon be nothing more than a dim memory. One can only hope.

Finally, Merry Christmas to you all because the birth of Jesus is the most shining moment in all of history. 

Quote of the Day: I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. Charles Dickens

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Surprise!!

An amazing event happened last week, but you didn’t read it in the paper or hear about it on TV. Nevertheless, it was momentous. I turned eighty. That’s 80! And praise be I’m still here to tell about it!

A few weeks ago, Stewart told me to pack for a couple of days as we were going somewhere with Cyndi and Bill.

I was not to know where until the very last minute. Friday, my actual birthday, the four of us drove to a local ice cream shop for lunch where I had a humungous root beer float with a burger. Cyndi told the waitress it was my birthday so at the end of the meal we were presented with a gigantic sundae with four spoons. I think it was the first time in my life

I left ice cream in a dish! We were stuffed. 

Then we drove to a town called Matthews, NC, just outside Charlotte. There we spent the night at a hotel in preparation for my surprise to be held at noon on Saturday. I was still on a need-to-know basis. Saturday we all headed toward Charlotte and soon I saw signs for the Billy Graham Library. Ta daa! A tour of the library and grounds was our destination and what a destination it was!

We spent two hours exploring the many rooms of the library and learning about this much-loved man. In each room, video clips of Billy Graham’s distinctive voice and style of preaching reminded us why we loved him. One table held keys to the city of a dozen different cities around the world. He wasn’t just a US phenomenon. His biggest crusade ever was in Seoul, South Korea where 1.1 million people attended.

In one room, two pistols were on display with a placard saying that the guns were

turned in by converted gang members during Graham’s sixteen-week Crusade in New York City in 1957. If that was the extent of Billy Graham’s mission, it would have been amazing, but we all know he did much, much more.

After a stop for an ice cream milk shake at the dairy bar and a quick stop at Ruth’s Attic, the gift shop, we went outside and toured the grounds. It was very moving to see the graves of Cliff Barrows and George Beverly Shea as well as Ruth Graham’s headstone and Billy’s headstone. Hers reads, Under construction—thank you for your patience referring to a road sign she once saw and thought was most indicative of her life. Billy Graham’s headstone states, A preacher of the Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ, which is how he wanted to be remembered.  A sign next to the headstone says that he once said, “Someday you will read or hear that Billy Graham is dead. Don’t you believe a word of it! I shall be more alive then than I am now…I will have gone into the presence of God.”

           

If you saw any of his memorial service on television, it was conducted outside the

Library with it’s huge glass window cross. It was a thrill to be standing on the same spot.

All in all, my surprise trip was inspiring, educational, and fun. On Sunday we stopped at a small town called Hemby Bridge. No relations that we know of, but we understand that a lot of people who live there are named Hemby.  

I have flown over a volcano, skydived from three miles up, been serenaded in a gondola in Venice, stood atop the Twin Towers, flown in a hot air balloon along the Rockies, climbed Diamond Head in Oahu, braved white water rapids, gave birth to four beautiful children, have extraordinary friends and family, and am now loved by the most wonderful man in the world. I may not like knowing I’m now 80, but I am one exceedingly fortunate and blessed woman. Thank you one and all.

 

Quote of the Day: By the time you’re eighty years old you’ve learned everything. You only have to remember it. George Burns

Age is Just a Number

Ta daa! Do I have a Christmas/gift suggestion for you! The new Chicken Soup for the Soul book is about to hit the bookshelves. It’s called Age is Just a Number:101 Tales of Humor and Wisdom for Life After 60.

The even better news is that I have a story in it, called High Flying, about my sky diving adventure at age sixty-one.  You’ll prepare for the flight with me, go up into the air, jump out of the plane with an instructor on your back, soar through the sky like a bird, and land SPLAT on the ground with said instructor still on your back.

Every story in the book will make you smile, chuckle, or absolutely laugh out loud. Three other members of my writing group also have a story in this edition so I can attest to the fact that at least four stories will definitely brighten your day.

The book comes out on November 3, 2020 and will be available on Amazon or at Barnes & Noble.

As Chicken Soup says, the humorous and inspiring stories celebrate the fun and adventure of life after 60.Whether relaxing at home or traveling the world, married, single, working or retired, these dynamic men and women do it all. From relishing new experiences to turning back the clock, from finding a new love to finding new passions, the entertaining stories will inspire you to try something new, count your blessings and enjoy every moment of life after 60.

A great read for you and a super idea for a silver senior on your gift list.  

Happy reading!

Quote of the Day:  The older I get, the better I understand that every day is a gift. Joel Osteen

 

 

 

 

Watch Out Heaven, Here Comes Lillian

I received some bad news last week, though sadly not unexpected.

In 2004 my then husband and I bought a small hamburger place in Alpine, California. One afternoon, during our down time, I scanned The Alpine Sun the town’s local weekly newspaper, and discovered there was a read and critique group that met once a month. I called the contact number and spoke to a friendly lady, Lillian Fisher, who ran the group and had run it for forty years.

I attended their next meeting and nearly every meeting for the next thirteen years, until I moved to North Carolina. Lillian and her group awakened a desire in me to write and improve my writing. I owe much to her. During that time, I got to know Lillian and we became good friends. I had many a delicious lunch in her kitchen. Lillian was an artist, a writer, and a collector of antiques. I mean, she had a book autographed by Mark Twain!

Lillian was a prolific writer, having written many books to introduce young people to such notable Americans as Emmett Kelly in Here Comes the Clown; Bessie Coleman, a pioneer black-Indian female aviator in Brave Bessie, Flying Free; Kateri Tekawitha, the daughter of a Mohawk chief and an Algonquin Christian mother; and Feathers in the Wind, the story of Olive Oatman, who in 1851 was taken captive by the Apaches. She wrote many, many more books as well as poems that were part of school curricula. For the last few years she’d been working on her memoir about growing up in the Detroit area where her father worked for Henry Ford.

She may have written about Brave Bessie, but this woman was one of the bravest people I’ve known. She would go to the dentist to have a root canal and forego the Novocain. She never had her mouth numbed for any dental work. That’s one brave lady. I need Novocain just to walk into a dentist’s office!

Last week her grandson called to say Lillian, age 93, had lost the final fight. I had talked with her a couple of weeks prior to that and she told me she was content and ready to go the next step if that was what was in store for her.

The world has lost a wonderful, faith-filled, talented lady. May she and her books, poems and paintings make Heaven just a little brighter.

Magical Moments

Our bluebirds seem to have vacated the premises for the summer, BUT to our delight, the butterflies have come around. Not just any butterflies, either, these are huge tiger swallowtail butterflies. They look like monarchs in that they have the same coloring, yellow with black stripes, but these have a small tail at the bottom of each wing; hence, swallowtails. From wingtip to wingtip they are about four inches long and close to that from top to bottom.

We have a bush with small pink flowers outside the kitchen window and it’s a favorite spot for these beauties. They perform a ballet for us fluttering up and down and around the bush while we watch entranced from inside.

The other morning I looked out and saw what I later learned were a male  and a female swallowtail. The male is bright with black and yellow and the female is more a blue-grey. They danced around the bush and each other for hours. I’ve not seen the female since, but those hours when they were together were magical.

The next day I looked out and saw three males on the bush at the same time. Talk about enchantment! That little bush was alive with flying tigers. One flew off but the other two stayed around for a long time.

I miss my blue birds but I do believe the butterflies were sent to make up for their absence.

On a far different note, I submitted a humorous story to Chicken Soup for the Soul two and a half years ago and received word this month that it was accepted and will be in the November issue of CSFS, Age is Just a Number. The moral is: Never give up!

My story is called High Flying and is about me sky diving. At age sixty. In tandem. With an instructor attached to my back. From three miles up.

There are so many people in our writing group that have been accepted for various issues of CSFS, that they’re called the Chicken Coop. Well, I just gained admittance into the Coop along with another member who was accepted for the first time. I didn’t think I cared that I wasn’t in the Coop, but as soon as CSFS accepted my story, I found out just how much I did care.

So, wings are where it’s at right now—butterfly wings and chicken wings.

Quote of the Day: Wings are not only for birds; they are also for minds. Toller Cranston

It's About Time--For A New Look

Did you notice anything different? 

I decided to take this opportunity to show off my new blog page and remind y'all of my books--what I write and why I write them. I wanted my blog to reflect the style of my writing, hence the new title and picture. I don't, actually I can't, write heavy tomes or complicated stories. What I do write are books that are fairly quick and easy to read yet packed with morals and people who live their faith but don't shout it. Each novel is set in a specific time in history and brings in the flavor of that particular time.

My five historical novels are all connected to each other in one way or another. The first, Willard Manor, is about a fictional home built in Connecticut in 1840 by John Willard and occupied by all the generations of his family for one hundred seventy years. From the Civil War to the Woodstock Festival and everything in between. From an outhouse to indoor plumbing and television. A young couple, Shelley and Tony, buy the aging house in 2010 and in the course of renovating it, find clues to the home's former occupants. Shelley's father from whom she seeks advice is Mark Fortier.

Leaving Mark is about Shelley's dad when he was a young boy. All is well until his father is killed in a random shooting in 1957 when Mark is nine. Mark has a tough time learning how to be a man and whether or not life holds any meaning for him. His best friend Gary Haywood helps him find the answers.

Finding Gary is Gary's story. As a thirteen-year-old, Gary tries to run away from home to get away from his drunken and abusive father. When he's caught and brought back to the house, he devises a new plan of escape, but isn't successful at suicide either. Maybe his social worker can help him. As a teenager, Gary works for a time at Lou's Motorcycle Shop for a middle-aged man named Lou.

Saving Lou is about Lou's childhood. His twin brother died three days after birth, leaving Lou to think his brother Larry would have been a better son for his folks. Lou thinks he can't do anything right and if Larry had lived, he'd never do anything wrong. Lou turns eighteen in July 1941 so when Pearl Harbor is attacked in December, Lou joins the Navy. A kamakazi pilot slams his plane into the USS Enterprise where Lou is stationed and Lou quickly and without thought of his own safety, shoves his friend, Danny Epstein, out of harm's way.

Remaking Danny is about Danny's life, thirty years later in the mid-1970s. Danny, a firefighter in Buffalo, New York has to battle residential flames while at the same time battling his Jewish faith that he thought he'd lost following his bar mitzvah.  

My current work-in-progress reverts back to a character in Willard Manor. I'm looking for a title; it'll be (something) Robby. Robby is a pastor who has a dark secret that he's not anxious for his church members to discover. 

Basically, what I'm doing is fictionally populating the City of New Haven, except for Danny who lives in Buffalo. You'll just have to assume that when he retires, he moves to New Haven to be closer to Lou.

These are my novels. Not lengthy, each only about fifty thousand words. I figure why use ten words when you can get your meaning across in two. That's why I think they're perfect for sitting in a beach chair, a cold drink in one hand and my book in the other.

And by the way, I do have nonfiction books as well. Stop Procrastinating--Get Published! is a guide for beginner writers. Bumps Along the Way is a humorous memoir about a six-week car trip across the country by two cranky seniors including everything from ecstatic sights to trips to the hospital. If You Don't Like Worms, Keep Your Mouth Shut, is a lighthearted memoir about growing up in a small town in Vermont in the 1940s. Open Your Eyes to God's Beauty is a collection of poems by four generations of the same family--my dad, my sister and me, our children, and my grandson.        

So happy summer reading!

Quote of the Day: One must maintain a little bit of summer, even in the middle of winter. Henry David Thoreau

 

 

 

 

Two Loves, One Choice

It’s a sad, sad week. Five little bluebirds won’t be born, and I had a part in their demise.

For the last week, I noticed that no birds were flying around or going in and out of a yellow birdhouse on our porch railing. Knowing that bird nests have to be disposed of when no longer in use in order to make way for a new nest, I opened the side door of the birdhouse and pulled out the nest that was so big it was keeping the door propped open. Looking inside the nest once it was in my hands, I saw five little perfectly-formed blue eggs. I quickly shoved the nest back in the birdhouse and walked away.

For the next few days, still no birds came around so I called a wildlife agent and asked what could be done to hatch the eggs. He said, “Nothing.”

I said, “Can’t you take them somewhere where they can be incubated?”

He laughed and said, “No. Bluebirds are a dime a dozen in North Carolina, just toss the nest.”

He might as well have put a knife in my heart as to suggest I throw out five potential bluebirds. My bluebirds.

He went on to say that sometimes, if there are two birdhouses in close proximity, the parents may lay two sets of eggs and hatch one set, leaving the other as dummy eggs. Well, let me tell you, my bluebirds are NOT dummies, they’re smart and clever and wonderful.

Realizing he wasn’t getting anywhere with that line of reasoning, he suggested there might be a snake in the area or some other reason why the parents abandoned the nest. Then he said, “Don’t give up hope yet. Give it a few more days and if they still don’t come back, throw the nest out.”

He informed me that birds don’t lay all their eggs at once; instead, they lay one egg a day, so by the time the fifth egg was laid, the first egg was already five days old.

I hung up with a heavy heart, thinking that my beloved bluebirds will never hatch and fly away. I suggested to Charlie, my parakeet, that he go outside and sit on the eggs, but he ignored me. I looked outside hoping to see the parents fly around the birdhouse when the flapping of the new flag I’d proudly put up a week earlier caught my attention. The flagpole was on the same railing post as the birdhouse! The white arrow points to it.

I called the wildlife agent back and asked if possibly the flag blowing in the wind would scare away the birds. “Very likely,” he said. “I suggest you take the flag down until after the hatching season.”

I immediately took my beloved flag down and brought it inside so my beloved bluebirds would come back. Today I finally pulled the nest out and prepared the birdhouse for a new batch. Four of the eggs spilled out and smashed onto the porch but one egg remained whole. I left it on an outside table in case some bird flies by and decides to sit on the egg. I can dream, can’t I?




Quote of the Day: A man who never sees a bluebird only half lives. Lewis Gannett 

Heaven Help Me, I Want Rain

I never thought I’d be wishing for rain, but here I am, watching my outdoor plants dry up and the fluffy white clouds float by in the bright blue sky. Rain has been forecast every day for two weeks, but the black clouds come and just as quickly go away without giving up as much as a single drop of water.

Curtis, Tammy, Cyndi, Bill
Stewart and Me

My daughter Tammy and her husband came to visit and for that week, I was pleased they had good weather. We’re constantly suggesting, rather strongly, that they move down here since our North Carolina weather is far better than Connecticut weather. But now that they’ve gone back to that place—Connecticut, the sky can open up and rain its little heart out. But no, just empty promises on the weather app on my phone day after day. I know with every fiber of my being that the minute I get out the hose and water everything, we’ll have enough rain to satisfy Noah and his ark.

I don’t want a lot of rain, just enough to water the plants; preferably at night when there’s no chance I’d be driving anywhere. Is that too much to ask?

Before July Fourth, we bought a new flag to hang from our porch and I am thrilled every time I see Old Glory wave. There’s nothing like a flag blowing in the breeze to stir feelings of pride in this country. Long may it wave!

While Tammy was here, she and Cyndi and I went to get our toenails done. Our legs and feet were massaged, hot towels draped over them, a massaging chair to sit in—a perfect two hours of being pampered and enjoying each other. My toes are the lilac ones with the yellow slippers.

This year, as last, we don’t know what crops are growing right across the street from us, but I’m sure they’re in desperate need of water just as my plants are. Rain, rain don’t go away, come for an hour or two then please go away.

Quote of the Day: Rain is good for vegetables, and for the animals who eat those vegetables, and for the animals who eat those animals.  Samuel Johnson 

Spring is Here!

Here’s how I know. 

1.      We’re having more warm days than cold. Thank heavens.

2.   Birds are flying all around the outside of the house and the inside, too. I can’t keep the bird feeders filled fast enough; fill it one day and it’s empty the next. Mostly we have sparrows (or wrens, hard to tell the difference), bluebirds (my favorites) and a few red headed house finches. Front yard, back yard, they’re all over the place. Inside the house, Charlie flies back and forth in front of the window to show the bluebirds that he, too, is a bird and can fly. He sits in the window and chatters to them all morning long.

3.  Butterflies are coming back. We have big black and yellow (possibly monarchs) that come to a bush right in front of the window by the kitchen table in the summer. They’re starting to come back now that it’s warmer. They fill my heart with joy as much as my bluebirds do.

4.  This is a rural area and every road has fields and ponds at almost every house. The fields are now plowed and about half have been planted. Corn seems to be a popular crop this year. Across the street from us, there’s a field I see when I sit here at the computer. It has been plowed, but not yet planted. Every year gives us a chance to guess what will grow this year. Last year was peanuts, the year before was tobacco. This year, time will tell. For now, geese, ducks, and other birds are having a ball landing in the field and swimming in the adjoining pond. There’s always something going on outside.

5. The state is slowly opening up. Yesterday we actually went to a restaurant at noon, went inside believe it or not, and sat at a table and got waited on! It was so nice not to go through a drive thru and eat in the car while juggling food on our laps and being able to move only a few inches to get to our drinks in the console cups. We could not believe how pleasant it was to go in a restaurant and eat, something we used to take for granted.

6.  My sister has gone back to her home, so Stewart and I are now enjoying life as a married couple. Of course, spring has nothing to do with that, “young” love is alive and well any time of the year.

Quote of the Day: God's in His heaven - All's right with the world! Robert Browning

Are you Bored Yet?

How are you all doing with this forced time for yourself? Are you bored with yourself yet?

For the last month I’ve had the perfect time for writing, but, alas, I’ve only written 1300 words on my latest novel. At this rate, I’ll be writing this book for the next two years! And, as you can see, it’s been over a month since my last blog in which I wrote about marrying Stewart. We’ve been newlyweds over five weeks now, but no writing.

For a positive spin on this coronavirus isolation, my sister Donna arrived just before our wedding planning to visit for a week or so, and, lo and behold, she’s still here because it’s not safe for her to go back to Fairfield, CT where there’s a heavy concentration of the virus. She’s in the high-risk category being that she’s over eighty and has diabetes so staying here is her best bet. Stewart and I are not arguing about it!

The two of us some years ago

So here we sit, three old people with lots of time on our hands and no place to go. For all the time Donna’s been here, we could have taken her to Mt. Airy, the beach at Wilmington, Kitty Hawk, any number of places she’s never been to, but no, we just sit here and look at each other. I will say, this is the most time Donna and I have spent together since she got married in 1958 and we’re enjoying it. At times nerves get a little frayed, but then we’re sisters and that happens. I’m truly going to miss her when the time comes for her to go back home.

Our younger days

Speaking of going/coming home, my bluebirds are back! They’ve been very busy going in and out of the birdhouses on the porch and every time they come around, Charlie, my parakeet flies to the window to watch them, talk with them, and show them that he, too, can fly, albeit inside the house. 

So there’s some semblance of normalcy during our quarantine. Thank heavens the bluebirds haven’t been quarantined!

Quote of the Day: Isolation is a way to know ourselves. Franz Kafka

I Do, I Did, Whoopee

This is my first blog post as Mrs. Linda Hemby. I still haven’t gotten used to the idea yet, but all good things take time.

I know I’ve joked a lot about getting married at an extremely “advanced” age, but today I’d like to get a little serious. As you may have heard me say before, Stewart and I both had a first marriage that resulted in ten children between us—six for him and four for me—which marriages ended in divorce due to our spouses’ desire for drink over family. While I was living in Connecticut, Stewart was living all over the country for his job. Eventually, we both moved to California, me to San Diego and he to the Los Angeles area. We both remarried and lived quite a few years in an unhappy situation until both our spouses died in 2014 and we both ended up moving to North Carolina to be closer to our kids.

Speaking of our kids, it just happened that thirty-five years ago his son met my daughter in California and tied the knot. Stewart and I both attended the wedding, but paid no attention to each other. He was with his second wife and I was between marriages. 

Once we were both in North Carolina, family events brought us together more than a few times and, of course, our kids made sure we sat next to each other so we’d have someone our age to talk to and relate to.

All of this is a lead-in to the purpose of this blog which is, it took us both nearly eighty years to find true love. With Stewart, I finally have a husband who is educated, knows something about everything, has a sense of humor, and treats me as an equal partner. He doesn’t put me down or make fun of me. He actually thinks I have a brain and a few worthy ideas. Who knew a husband could be like that! He trusts me, respects me, is a true gentleman, says grace at mealtimes, and loves me.

The first time around, I thought I loved my husband, but I also, at twenty-one years old, felt like I was on the road to spinsterhood. The second time, at fifty-five years old, I settled, figuring my chances of ever getting asked again by someone were slim to none. This time, I’m not settling in any way, shape, or form. I feel fortunate indeed to have found the man God had been grooming me for all these many years. If God has spent this long preparing us and orchestrating the situation for sixty years, who are we to argue?

Moral of the story: It’s never too late as long as you’re open to the possibilities.

Quote of the Day #1: Sometimes God makes better choices for us than we could have ever made for ourselves. Jennifer Hudson

Quote of the Day#2: When we look backward, we see that God was in control even when it looked like our lives were out of control. Steve Farrar

Wedding Dress Blues

I ordered a dress today for my wedding. Don't get too excited; it's the third one I've ordered. The first dress was the wrong size and an ugly mauve color, not pink like I'd wanted.. The second dress was the same style but in a smaller size and what was supposed to be champagne turned out to be a blah beige. 

Today's dress, hopefully, will not only fit but look nice when I get it. Keep your fingers crossed.

Tuesday Stewart is scheduled to go with his two sons to buy a suit. Let's hope he has better luck than I've had.

Whose idea is it anyway for two old people to get married at 79 and 83 years of age? We can barely get around and we're trying to plan a wedding! Thank heavens for our kids who are pitching in and doing our planning for us! 

I realize it's been a month and a half since I wrote a blog, but I have a very good reason. The first two weeks in January I was sick with bronchitis and only wanted to sit in my recliner with my fuzzy pink blanket over me, and sleep. I had no energy to sit at the computer and write a blog. Once I started to recover, Stewart went into the hospital for a week with pneumonia and a COPD flare up. No time then to sit and write a blog.  

The week that he's been home, he's fallen three times from dizziness. Doctor appointments have kept us busy, to say the least.

We're only hoping that come March 7 at two o'clock in the afternoon, we'll be well, up and on our feet, and ready to say "I do."  Like I said, getting married is for young people, not for two old codgers who need to help each other put their socks on. 

Quote of the Day: Old age is no place for sissies. Bette Davis