When my husband Gary and I were first married, he would laughingly call me “Pollyanna” –the girl who always saw the good in every situation. Through the years, I have to admit there have been times when that quality has failed me, when things were so bad I didn’t know what we were going to do. I know we’ve all had “those” times. But in general, I’m one of those people who does try to see the good in things.
I think I “learned” to do that from my mom. I thought a lot about this over the last few weeks—fall makes me remember and miss my parents more than any other time of the year. One night Gary and I were talking about the things our parents had taught us, and I told him one thing my mom taught me was to look on the bright side of things.
I imagine she had to do a lot of that, being the oldest of eleven children in the Dustbowl days of Oklahoma—which was also during The Great Depression. Growing up, I remember how she’d comment on things that meant nothing to me…at the time.
“Oh, Cheryl, I saw the first robin today! That means spring is on the way,” she’d say, with a smile.
And? my young brain would ask. So, spring is on the way.
When spring came along, maybe she’d comment on how green the trees were, or how blue the sky was today—just look at those clouds!
Now that I’m older, I realize why these things were important and such a cause of joy to her.
Growing up dirt poor in a small house that had no insulation and very little heat, I’m sure that seeing the first robin was important because it meant those cold days and nights would soon be at an end and warm weather was soon to blow in.
The green of the trees meant there was enough rain to allow things to grow—something I know, as the oldest in such a large family, she was acutely aware of since my grandfather was a hardscrabble farmer and had so many mouths to feed.
What a relief, especially here in Oklahoma, that there had been plentiful rain and things were growing well!
This was a picture I took of my hibiscus tree the kids gave me for Mother’s Day one year and its beautiful red blooms! I have to bring it in during the winters here in Oklahoma, but I’m thankful I have a place to put it and keep it hale and hearty until we can move it back outside again when spring–and that first robin–come along! The second picture is one of my two furbabies, Max and Sammy, watching a squirrel they’re thinking of chasing as he jumps from the crape myrtle to the fence. So glad to have these boys in my life!
The blue of the sky—can you imagine growing up in a time when you could look outside and see billowing gales of dust—and nothing else? Animals had to be put up in the barn, families had to be inside, and still, the houses were so poorly constructed there would be layers of dust on the windowsills once the dust storm had passed. So a blue sky was important—no dust, and those beautiful white clouds must have looked heavenly in her eyes.
Mama always found happiness in the small things—small in MY eyes. A good meal she’d cooked for her family, getting the laundry done and put away for the week, finding a good sale on orange juice—yes, those were the days when people would look through the Sunday or Wednesday paper at the grocery store ads, make several stops to find the things at each store that were on sale, and several trips home to put the perishables away—a very different time.
It was not just the fact of the accomplishment itself, but what it meant to her from the things that had happened in her past. A good meal meant there was enough food to go around for everyone, served on a matching set of dishes. No one went to bed hungry. Laundry being done meant that everyone had clothes for a solid week—not one or two good dresses that had to be laundered over and over. Making the rounds of the different grocery stores and finding good “deals” meant she was able to provide some extras with what Dad made in the oilfield. She knew how hard he worked. She never took anything for granted.
So though I didn’t have the past that Mama had—mine was much easier in comparison—I think I learned that attitude through watching her. I’m sure there were times she wanted to just go into the bathroom and have a good cry, but instead, she looked for the good, and found it.
This is a picture I took of a gorgeous Oklahoma sunset a couple of years ago. I just loved the beautiful sky, and the way the light hits the water of the pool.
I think of Mama every time I see that first robin. What a gift that has been to me, in so many ways, including my writing. Part of writing a good story is thinking about our characters and WHY they act, and react, like they do. This realization about seeing the good in things has been a whole new area of enlightenment for me. I understand so many of my characters even more than I did when I wrote them—their reasoning, and their motivations.
Do you have an aspect to your personality that you inherited or learned from one of your parents or another family member? What is it? Do you think that these behavior patterns can be multi-generational? My mind is whirling! What do you think? Be sure to leave a comment for a chance to win a copy of one of my books–your choice!
One of my fave pics of Mama and Daddy–taken April 9, 1991 on their 47th wedding anniversary.
LANDON–GUN FOR HIRE (#9) by Cheryl Pierson
Here’s one of my favorite examples of how finding the good in a terrible situation, for both Land and Lissie, came to a wonderful decision for them. This is from my book, LANDON, from the GUN FOR HIRE series. Land has fallen in love with Lissie, and she with him, though they have yet to admit it to one another. Things seem impossible from his point of view since the relationship between Lissie’s father’s late wife, Little Dove, is so entangled in a way Land doesn’t believe Lissie knows about. He must take a chance on ruining their budding relationship by telling her a huge part of his reasoning for being on this wagon train was because he had come to avenge his sister–Little Dove–by killing Lissie’s father.
Take a look:
He gave her a piercing look, then led her to a large boulder where she sat down. She watched him with worry in her expression. There was really no way he could say what had to be said but to blurt out the blunt truth. He took Lissie’s hand again, then released it, half-turning away from her.
“Little Dove was my sister. Zach is my nephew.”
Silence washed over them. A soft spring breeze rustled the treetops. From far away, a coyote yipped, and another one answered.
“I know.”
****
Land turned quickly to face her, surprise in his handsome features for a moment before he veiled his expression.
“You kn—how?”
“Just from what Zach has told me. And—from your reaction when we talked about how she came to be married to my father.”
Land shook his head and gave a short laugh. “I guess I made no secret of my opinions that day.”
Lissie stood, looping an arm around his waist. “Zach—told me about your ‘friend’ who died having her baby.”
Land shook his head but remained silent.
“I wanted you to know…Little Dove and I were close. I don’t know what I would have done without her.”
“She wasn’t much older than you,” he muttered, looking out into the night woods.
“She was very dear to me.” Tears welled up in Lissie’s eyes as the memories flooded over her. “When she told me she was going to have a baby, we began to plan all sorts of grand things for him—or her.” She smiled. “We both hoped for a boy, but my father seemed to have no interest. So I became her confidant. We were more like sisters. But…I loved her so much.”
Land pulled Lissie close to him, the warmth of his body flooding through her, the support of his arms filling her with strength, as well.
“I loved her, too,” he muttered roughly. “I’m glad you had each other. When I learned what my father had done—I was sick with anger. I’d been gone—a long time. When I came home, my father…well, it took his life, in the end. The truth of what he’d done hit him in the face once he’d sobered up. But by then, it was too late. Little Dove had been lost. And it had been three years. The alcohol had numbed his brain for so long…”
His voice trailed away, and Lissie looked up into his face. She took his hand, careful of the bruised and battered knuckles.
“What happened to him, Land?” She carefully examined his torn flesh. He glanced at her, just as she brought his knuckles to her lips and kissed them.
“He died. Sank into the bottle and never came out.” He turned toward her. “Little Dove was always his favorite,” he said with a faint smile. “She was so full of life and the love of adventure—and he had a real soft spot for her. When he realized she was gone forever, he gave up.
“I told him I was going after her. I would find her—but she’d been gone so long by the then that he didn’t have faith I could find her and bring her home.”
“What about your mother?”
“My mother…she was stronger than he was. She had the others—my brothers and other sister—to live for. But losing Little Dove took a hard toll on her, too, along with my father’s love for drink—and then, his death.”
They were silent a moment, then Land said, “I want to do this right between us, Alissa.”
Her heart jumped at his use of her proper name, the formal seriousness of his tone. She nodded, not looking at him. Sometimes, the hardest things were easier to say in the darkness, without looking—
It was the way her mother had spoken to Lissie of her own impending death…the only way Lissie—or her genteel mother, she suspected—could have borne to have that conversation at all.
But sometimes, speaking of the good things that were dear to a person’s heart were best spoken of like this, as well.
“We will do it right, Land,” she promised him. And, before she thought, she raised her eyes to his in the dim, silver-filtered moonlight and the soft, far-away gold cast by the lantern.
It seemed the silver and gold came together around them to enfold them in a magical velvet enclosure of their own, where there was nothing but the two of them—no fears, no worries, and no sorrows.
But Lissie knew it wasn’t truly that way—it was only an illusion. She already understood the trials and hardships they would face—through her father had sloughed off much of what others taunted him with, not only having married a “squaw” but also that she was so much younger.
“It won’t be easy.” Land’s voice was harsh.
“You won’t find a quitter in me.” Lissie raised her chin. “I’ve heard and seen everything, I think. When my father was alive, he thought nothing of parading Little Dove and me through town…letting people believe we were—for sale.” She gave a short laugh.
“I can’t tell you how many times we were ‘saved’ at the last second, complete with witnesses—so that dear Papa could be paid off and not press charges.”
Land swore. “Did he ever let it go…too far?”
Lissie smiled faintly. “No. But Little Dove and I were so scared—”
“He was a monster!” Land turned away from her furiously.
“Yes,” she agreed. “But for now, it’s important that Zach think well of him. As well as possible,” she amended quickly. “He and Papa were never close.”
Land took a deep breath. “For now,” he agreed. “But—what about you and me? Seeing the things you’ve seen, and knowing what you’ll experience—are you certain I’m what you want? That’s only a part of what I was talking about. You could go on alone and get your homestead set up on your claim. There’ll be plenty of men—”
“I only want one man—you.”
He watched her in silence.
“I’ve never been more certain of anything,” she whispered.
He took a step toward her, pulling her into his arms once more. “I don’t ever want you to regret marrying me.”
Tears blurred her vision, but she smiled as she lifted her head. “I don’t believe you’ve asked me—”
His lips came across hers, hot, demanding, the best proposal she could ever have hoped for.
CHERYL’S AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE (CLICK HERE)
Who loves cowboys and cowgirls? Me, for sure. Hi, I’m Eve Caddy. The other day I was trying to think how many cowboy or cowgirl books I’ve written.
Riley is best friends with Liam McFarland who is also a rancher on the place next to the Fletchers. Liam’s and Val’s story was a couple of stories before this. Val is Riley’s sister. Liam’s a sweetheart too. Most cowboys are. The ones I write about, anyway.
Life for a pioneer woman wasn’t for the faint of heart. She had to cook, clean, tend the children, wrangle laundry, feed the chickens, milk the cow, help in the fields, and still had to hitch up the horse and wagon anytime she needed something from the general store. And with all that work? Most women still longed for something more than chores and survival.
pave streets, build water and sewer systems and all that fun stuff. With nearly 2,000 residents, it was ready to grow… and the women of Lodi were ready to help guide that growth.
In 1915, they decided Lodi needed a woman’s clubhouse—their own place to gather, host events, and continue building their community. They formed the Lodi Woman’s Building Association and sold shares of stock to fund it. A building lot was purchased for $10 in gold at the northeast corner of Lee Avenue and Pine Street.
They hosted conventions, fashion shows featuring gowns from the 1830s onward, minstrel shows (as common for the era), and the town’s annual children’s Christmas parties. For decades, the clubhouse was the shining heart of Lodi’s social life.
