My mother received one of the best Christmas presents ever, and I wanted to share it with you.She’s 98, soon to be 99 (yes, I have very good genes) and she currently lives in an excellent nursing home (at least as good as one can be). She can still read. Although she has some short term memory loss her mind is still good. It’s the body that’s failing. The knees are gone (both), and she cannot stand on her own, not even for a second. Her hearing is really bad. She has difficult turning over in bed because of lack of strength in her legs and in her right arm.She hates being so helpless but reading gives her an escape. We joined the Doubleday Big Print Club and Readers Digest Big Print program, so she usually has plenty of reading material.
So what to give her for Christmas?
My family came up with the electronic photo frame. I researched portable frames and bought one. Others installed family photos –some dating back to 1916 – which was no small task. Mom marveled at the way the photos continued to flip, but it didn’t compare to the last gift.
My niece bought a DVD player. Fine, I thought, as Mom unwrapped it. She can’t really keep up with movies – the speech is usually too fast for her earing aids to follow – but I thought she should be able to enjoy musicals. But then my nephew produced a DVD, a “conversation” with Mom and Dad he filmed ten years ago in my parent’s living room. He and his wife asked questions, then let Mom and Dad reminisce. The topics ranged from Dad’s childhood years in Arizona to Mother’s in Minnesota and North Dakota. They talked about meeting each other, their marriage, trips they’d taken and their families, past and present. The conversation lasted about three hours.
Dad died about five years ago. He was 93 (I said I had great genes), and Mom misses him greatly. Their’s was a great love story and seventy-year marriage. She has missed him greatly. They were seldom apart during their marriage.
Mom had never seen the DVD. Neither had I. We played it, and she sat in her wheelchair with the first real smile I had seen in years. It was as if she was back there, sitting in her comfortable chair and Dad in his, chatting. She loved every second of it, and wanted to see it again. I imagine she will watch it a lot in the coming weeks and months.
It was a gift to me as well. He returned for a few hours. He and his comforting presence, his smile, his wit and his stories of his childhood and romance with my mom.
Something so simple. Something that cost nothing but a few hours of time. But it was priceless to her. It brought Dad back into her life and rekindled wonderful memories. My great nieces and nephews were equally as enraptured as they watched Dad talk about his experiences in Arizona in 1913, particularly when, at two, he played with a rattlesnake.
I wanted to mention it here because some of you might have aging parents you might like to “interview” on video. Or maybe you and your family would like to record yourself and pass on bits and pieces about family history and funny stores and adventures that might otherwise be forgotten.
Most of us here are history addicts, but in our busy lives we don’t often think that a century from now, our descendants will be as hungry to know about us as we are about our ancestors. What better gift can we give our children and grandchildren and great grandchildren than a piece of us and a glimpse of our particular time in history.
We prize our technology and can’t – at least I can’t –even imagine what a hundred years will bring. I remember the old black and white Philco television set that gave me Roy Rogers, and I wonder what miracles await our succeeding generations. It’s nice to think that they will also have a personal piece of the past.
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To greet 2009, I’m passing on some terrific quotes for the new year. They all have great meaning to me, and I hope they do to you. Add some of your own.
“If You obey all the rules, you miss all the fun.” - Katherine Hepburn
“The best and most beautiful things in this world cannot be seen or even heard, but must be felt with the heart.” – Helen Keller
“A true friend stands by your side in the storm and reminds you that there are sweet and sunny days to come.” – Kathryn T. Shaw
“Life is not measured by the number of breaths you take, but by the number of moments that take your breath away.” – Author Unknown
“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood and I, I took the one less traveled by and that has made all the difference.” – Robert Frost
“Give thanks for unknown blessings already on their way.” ” – Native American Saying.
“Do not wish to be anything but what you are, and try to be that perfectly.” – Zen Saying
“Ah, how good it feels: the hand of an old friend.” – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Woo-Hoo!
We’ve thrown all the hats up in the air and picked a winner of Linda Ford’s A Path to Her Heart.
It’s………..
Martha E.
Congratulations, Martha! We’re thrilled for you.
Please contact me at lindabroday@live.com and give me your mailing address so I can forward it to Linda Ford. She’ll get the book in the mail to you.
Thanks to everyone who stopped by to leave a comment. It was a great weekend and you helped make it so.
Come back tomorrow for Pat Potter’s regular blog and I’ll see you on Tuesday.
Take care now!
Published January 3rd, 2009 by Guest Blogger
I am fascinated to hear how authors get the idea for a particular story. I can never quite remember how it all started. Usually the seminal idea is a little flash or a scene, one that often doesn’t make it into the book but gives me a feel for the story. For instance I wrote a book Unchained Hearts (Heartsong Presents #268) (Also available in the recollection Alberta Brides) that began in my mind as a dream where I saw this scarred, withdrawn man hiding in a cave with a pretty young woman. She is trying to console him as he sits huddled in the opening of the cave looking out at something that fills them with trepidation. So I had to figure out this story and write it.
It’s one of the few I can remember WHY I started writing it.
Except for my Jan. Love Inspired Historical release. I had a contract for 3 books set in the Depression Era. I had only written one (The Road to Love). I came up with the second, The Journey Home. But I was near the end of the second story and still had no idea for the third when Emma walked on to the final pages of The Journey Home as Charlotte’s new friend and bridesmaid. This is what it says in my book, “Emma had joined the hospital staff during the summer, and she and Charlotte soon became fast friends. Emma, practical to the core, seldom 
bothered to dress up. She usually kept her thick blond hair in a tight bun, as suited a nurse, she insisted when Charlotte tried to talk her into letting I hang loose. But Emma had allowed Charlotte to have her way for the wedding and her hair hung in shimmering waves halfway down her back.”
So I had my heroine. Now I needed a hero and into my computer leapt Boothe Wallace, a widower who is running from his life back east. Not for his own sake but because of his little son, Jessie. I immediately knew why because both my husband and myself have relatives who were born in the Depression and taken by friends because of economic circumstances. In both cases, the parents were powerless to prevent it as the courts considered such things as how many children the biological family had as opposed to the family wanting to adopt the child. As well, they considered the fact that the adoptive family was better off financially. This happened far too often and left permanent scars in the child and the family who lost their child. But it seemed a natural fit for my story.
I needed something to happen to Boothe’s wife that would make him resent the medical profession. About that time I was visiting my daughter and son-in-law (who is a doctor) and we talked about medical mistakes in the 30s. While I was visiting, he received a medical journal that mentioned the history of quinine—guess what? The drug was used widely in the 30’s and caused death in certain cases. (I love synchronicity.)
I needed one last element—something that made Emma irresolutely committed to being a nurse to the exclusion of marriage. I again drew from my own experiences and the guilt one feels when things go badly wrong and one feels they are responsible for that bad event. I don’t want to give any more details from my book on this matter because it is a secret that isn’t revealed in the story until close to the end.
Doing research was also fun. Of course I had done extensive research on the drought and how it affected residents of the Great Plains but now I had to research medical things. One books was Yes, Father, Pioneer Nursing in Alberta written by Alvine Cyr Gahagan. I don’t remember where I found the copy I originally read but enjoyed it so much I wanted my own. I searched for it on Alibris and found a copy at a nearby city so didn’t have to pay postage. And it’s signed by the author. How cool is that? The book is full of personal details and specific details about nursing in that era. Some of the things she shares emphasizes the difficulties of the era. She mentions that a grateful mother had crocheted a bit of lace around a little hanky as a gift. The material used was a bleached salt bag. She talks about dressing a lye burn. Lye was used freely in making soap and bleaching the wide unfinished floorboards. Lye burns and scalds were too frequent as boiling water was used widely on washday or when rags were dyed for making braided rugs.
Dust Bowl Diary by Ann Marie Low was another excellent book. The author mentions in an early entry that she went to the first talking movie then at the end of the book mentions a movie in Technicolor. She worked part time in a library for twenty-five cents an hour and considered herself fortunate. Under a 1931 entry she says ‘The heat deaths in the country total 1,231. I mean humans. 
Lord only knows how many animals have died.’ Her description of the conditions is heartbreaking.
I found a children’s book that was excellent. It is part of the series Dear America and called Survival in the Storm, The Dust Bowl Diary of Grace Edwards.
Her descriptions of how they made things from flour sacks and working as a volunteer in the hospital where people were dying from or recovering from dust pneumonia were so good.
My story was fun to write because so much of it seemed to fall into my lap—a gift.
The book is due out Jan. 09, The Path to Her Heart.
Everyone who comments will be entered into a drawing for a copy of this book.
Click on covers to Order from Amazon
Published January 2nd, 2009 by Felicia
Looking for something to do tomorrow?
Well, look no further!
Linda Ford has a bee in her bonnet and is raring to tell us how she got the ideas for her stories. It’s plumb amazing. She’s also toting an autographed copy of her new book to give away. All you have to do is get your name in the cowboy hat for a chance to win. It’s as easy as pie.
So shake the lead out of your fanny and head over to the Junction. We’ll have a good time.
P.S. And remember the Fillies are back to their normal blogging schedule on Monday.
Published January 2nd, 2009 by Fillies
Thank you, Pat, for sharing SHOWDOWN with us! Those were an amazing six minutes. It was very entertaining to sit back and listen to your tale, and we’re so relieved that things worked out for Jared. We applaud you!
We’d also like to wish you a VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
To our readers…thank you for joining us for these past two weeks of holiday fun. We hope you were as entertained as we were, discovering things about our fellow Fillies. We’ll be returning to our regular schedule on Monday. Stay tuned for our guest author tomorrow!
HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE . . . New Year’s Day is always my fondest holiday. Perhaps because it’s also my birthday. Yes, I admit to being a New Years baby.
My entry into the world, however, was not auspicious. I just missed being an income deduction and compounded that failure by being the second baby born in Sioux City, Iowa. The first won any number of fine gifts and products.
But that being as it may, I’ve always loved celebrating the New Year and my birthday together. Most people have to do it separately. Me, I really get to celebrate. I think New Year’s Day was created just for me.
Last year, I celebrated by completing one of the many adventures on my bucket list, things I want to do while I’m able to do them. I went to Pasadena for the Rose Parade. It was a terrific adventure and I recommend it to all. Television just doesn’t do it justice.
But this year a more sedate New Year’s Eve was in order. I’m late on a book and worked most of the night. I stopped stop long enough to watch the ball fall in New York and drink a glass of champagne. Or two. (Should be a very interesting scene).
Sound dull? Not at all. I’m writing what I really want to write: a western. It’s taking me on new adventures and I’m relishing every moment of the ride.
It’s a great way to finish one year and start a new one.
Wishing you all terrific adventures this year, both in reading and in your own life. Thanks for being a part of the Petticoat and Pistols community. We value each one of you.
SHOWDOWN
Copyright © Patricia Potter. All rights reserved.
CHAPTER TEN
4:06 p.m.
On his knees and bent double, Jared put his good hand to his side, felt blood flowing through his fingers and wondered through the morass of pain if the wound was mortal. In the next instant, Mary Beth was beside him, her hands pressing a cloth to the wound.
“Go,” he tried to tell her. “Get out of the street.”
“It’s over, Jared,” she said. “He’s dead. His cousin, too. The others are riding out.”
But it wasn’t over. The shadow of death would always be with him. Perhaps he had not killed today, but others had killed for him.
Struggling to sit back up, he drew a painful breath. He felt so weak, felt blood draining from him. He looked down at his mangled right hand. He doubted he would ever be able to use it properly again, much less draw a gun.
“You . . . left . . .,” he began in a rasping whisper.
“I had to have some time,” Mary Beth said. “You had lied to me, at least by silence. And I was so afraid of losing you, of watching Jonny lose yet another father.”
He met her gaze.
“But then I realized how unfair I was being,” she continued with tears streaming down her cheeks. “I realized how hard you’ve tried to make a new life since you’ve been here.”
The blacksmith who sometimes doubled as a doctor kneeled on the other side and busied himself with packing the wound in Jared’s side. “Don’t think it hit anything vital,” he said. “That hand . . . ”
Jake didn’t care about the hand. He fought the pain, as Mary Beth took his good hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry, Jared.”
He took his hand away and touched her face, wiped the tears away. “You are so . . . damned pretty.” He knew that had nothing to do with her anguished confession, but he felt the need to say it. He knew she understood that it was his way of telling her how much it had meant to him to see her standing there, in the bank doorway, reaching out to him with her smile.
“I love you,” she said brokenly.
“The killing never stops,” he said, his gaze holding hers.
“It stopped today,” she said. “You stopped it.”
Cal Baker, the minister, kneeled next to him. “Aye, lad. We all saw it. Everyone here saw you unbuckle that gun belt. You made the decision to stop.”
“But – ”
“They voted, you know,” Reverend Baker continued as if he hadn’t heard the muttered protest. “Mary Beth visited every man in town, and they voted to back you, every last one of them. They just ran it a little close,” he added dryly.
Jared looked back at Mary Beth. God, but her eyes were blue. Looking at them, he nearly didn’t feel her hands busily helping the blacksmith. He looked beyond her. The other men, about two dozen of them, were standing apart, and he looked at each of them, one by one. Bill Dale. Holt Winslow. John Curry. . . they all gave him a brief nod, telling him that they, too, had made a choice that day and were satisfied with it.
“Some men will do anything to get out of a wedding,” Mary Beth said.
He nearly chuckled, but it sounded more like a groan. His head fell back and he was looking at the sky. A few clouds had appeared and were floating lazily eastward.
“I . . . can’t,” he said, a harshness in his voice that he hoped covered the anguish in his heart. “There will be others . . . there are . . .always others.”
Bill Dale squatted down beside him. “There won’t be if we tell anyone who comes looking for you that Carter was wrong. That you aren’t Tom Garrett and that you, Jared Walker, have been here for years. Carter didn’t believe us, and when he threatened the peace, we had to kill him to protect our town.”
“We all made a pact. No one will never know any different,” John Curry broke in. “Not from any of us.”
Jared couldn’t believe what he was hearing, an entire town of people willing to lie to protect him. “What about the others Carter brought with him?” he asked. “By now, they’re halfway to Kansas where Carter’s got more cousins than this town’s got people. They’ll spread the word that he’d dead, and then – “
“Same story,” Bill replied. “If you’re not Garrett, then Carter was wrong and we had every right to protect ourselves. If we have to, we’ll get the federal marshal to escort any Carter who decides to pay us an unwanted visit back to Texas. I have a few friends in the state. But I don’t see it as likely that they’ll pursue a grudge against a whole town of people.”
Jared shook his head, barely trusting himself to speak. “I can’t let you all risk your lives for me.”
“You’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you?” Bill replied. “Or John or any of the rest of us. In fact I think you did exactly that out there in the street. You wouldn’t let him try to burn the town. You risked your life for each of us.”
Jared’s silence brought a smile to Bill’s face. It said what Jared could not.
“We protect our own, Jared,” Bill continued. “The day I met you, when you rode in looking to buy a ranch. I liked what I saw, and I haven’t changed my mind.”
Before Jared could reply – if he could have replied — Harry and Jonny arrived. The big yellow mutt bounded into the circle that surrounded him and frantically swiped Jared’s face with his tongue. Mary Beth gently pushed Harry aside, and Jared saw Jonny, hovering over him, anxiety squinching his youthful features.
The pain was receding, or maybe it was only disguised by stronger feelings, feelings like hope and gratitude – and love.”
“We have to get you inside,” John Curry said.
Bill put a hand under his good arm and tried to help him up.
Jared shook his head. “I just need a hand.”
The blacksmith offered his, and Jared took it. Mary put a hand under his good elbow and an arm around his waist. Pain flooded him as he stood, and weakness; but he looked around, and for the first time in his life he felt tall, and free.
With the blacksmith on one side and Mary Beth on the other, he took a step, then another. He stopped to look at Billy Joe Carter’s body sprawled in the dust.
Live or die. He hadn’t lived at all for ten years. He had merely survived. He’d only begun living when he’d come to New Hope.
He stumbled, and Mary Beth put her arm back around his waist.
“We’re almost home,” she said softly.
Home. His throat tightened, and he felt a wrenching twist of his heart. It had been a very long time since he’d had any home at all, and suddenly it was all around him, everywhere he looked. He saw it in the concerned faces of the men who had stood by him, in the boy dashing to open the door, and in the dog dancing at his heels. He saw it in Mary Beth’s beautiful blue eyes.
Live or die.
He’d finally chosen life.
And love.
www.patriciapotter.com
I’ll confess to not being much of a Christmas person. Although I go through the motions, it’s a bittersweet time for me, often hectic and stressful. I usually breathe a sigh of relief when it’s over.
On the other hand, I love New Year’s Day. No pressure to celebrate unless we want to. We can curl up by the fire, play in the snow or watch sports with the family. Best of all, it’s a time to reflect and renew, the turning of a fresh page for ourselves and for the world. What will be written on that page in the next twelve months? What can we do to make the new year better than the last one?
For me, New Year’s Day is a long, quiet breath.
If you’re having guests, or just want something that’ll warm you to the tips of your toes, here’s a recipe for the best clam chowder I’ve ever tasted. Enjoy.
Ultimate Clam Chowder (makes 3 quarts)
1 cup finely chopped onion
1 cup diced celery
2 cups finely diced potatoes
2 cans minced clams (tuna sized can)
3/4 cup margarine or butter
3/4 cup flour
1 quart half & half
Salt and Pepper to taste
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
Juice from clams
Put veggies in sauce pan. Add clam juice and just enough water to cover. Simmer covered over medium heat until slightly tender. Meanwhile in separate pan add melted margarine and flour. Blend, cooking and stirring constantly . Add half & half. Stir until smooth and thick. Add undrained veggies, clams and vinegar, then salt and pepper. Heat thoroughly.
How will you celebrate the new year? Let us know.
Wishing you all a joyful and prosperous 2009.
Published January 1st, 2009 by Fillies
HAPPY NEW YEAR FROM THE FILLIES!
WE WISH YOU HEALTH AND HAPPINESS IN ABUNDANCE FOR 2009!
Caught beneath the kissing ball…Unlike the brightly-lit crystal ball in New York’s Times Square, a Kissing Ball is fashioned of colorful mistletoe, evergreen, ribbons and ornaments. A girl caught standing beneath the kissing ball cannot refuse a kiss. Such a kiss could mean a deep romance or a lasting friendship. A girl who stood beneath the kissing ball and remained unkissed could not expect to marry to within the year. Like kissing under the mistletoe, the New Year’s Eve kiss could be a barometer for things to come. As English and German legend had it, the first person you came in contact with when the bells chimed twelve, be it a familiar, friendly face or inauspicious acquaintance, set the tone for your happiness and fortune in the coming year; the good luck ritual of the kiss has also become a telling sign for matters of love and the heart - will this be the year that all my romantic wishes come true?
One of the oldest traditions of all time is the New Year’s resolution, dating back to ancient Babalon, about four thousand years ago. The early Babalonian’s most popular resolution was to return borrowed farm equipment. How about you–any resolutions for the new year…or farm equipment in need of returning *g*?
THE FILLIES’ THOUGHTS ON THE NEW YEAR:
Mary Connealy - I have completely given up on New Year’s Resolutions. I never keep them so they just end up being a yardstick for failure. I decided a long, long time ago that if I can’t CHANGE myself I can at least KNOW myself. So, I don’t make ‘em, ‘cuz I won’t keep ‘em, and everybody is spared the drama. Even if that drama is all inside my head and ‘everybody’ consists of ONLY ME.
Karen Kay - My New Year’s resolution is to write, write and write, help my husband as much as I can and spend more time with family.
Pat Potter - I’d like to reduce my to-be-read pile by at least fifty books. <g> It’s growing like Jack’s Beanpole. Also to always, always consider my glass half full rather than half empty.
Charlene Sands - My vow is to spend more time reading books! I really miss my reading marathons. I also vow to spend more time away from the computer to be with my friends and to volunteer my services to our favorite charitable organizations. And lastly, I’m vowing to GET more sleep.
Elizabeth Lane - I don’t make lists of resolutions, or even the kind I can break. But I do choose some aspect of my life that needs attention and improvement. In 2009, I’m resolving to become a more focused, productive writer.
Kate Bridges - I vow to watch more TV. No kidding! And see more movies. I love it when someone tells me a story, and I don’t get enough of that. Last year was all about work. 2009 is going to be about play.
Linda Broday - To laugh more, whine less, and write the best book that I know how. This year I’m going to try to get into a regular exercise schedule and quit sitting on my rear so much. It’s a time for moving forward.
Stacey Kayne - Happy New Year! I only have one resolution, and that’s to establish some balance in my life, a healthy, happy blend of writing time, family time and active time :-D I’ve never been one to stick to a routine, but I’m going to give it my best shot in ‘09!
Cheryl St. John - I don’t make resolutions because that’s like setting myself up to fail, but my critique partners and I set realistic personal and career goals at the beginning of each year. I always include one writing improvement goal and focus on an area of growth. We hold each other accountable throughout the months to come. In 2009 we’ll be using our datebooks to set and record accomplishments.
Pam Crooks - To take time to smell the roses. I really, really miss not being able to read more. And I want to spend more time with my husband, even if it’s just watching TV with him at the end of the day. Probably most important of all, to be more compassionate toward others and to look at the glass as half full, not half empty!
And we can’t forget our lovely Felicia! - My wish is to kiss as many cowboys as I can and practice my roping so I can take the boy home. Lord knows, after riding herd on all the Fillies, I need a little fun in my life!
Have you made any New Year’s Resolutions? Care to share them? We’d love to hear!
