A Good Story
I read a lot. I always have some book or other going, sometimes two. I read mostly for entertainment. In my adult reading life there have been only four books that, as soon as I finished them, I immediately wanted to reread. My four favorites are To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee, Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistlestop Cafe by Fannie Flagg, Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood by Rebecca Wells, and my newest find, Moon Over Manifest by Clare Vanderpool.
All four books tell a good story and a first read can be enjoyed for entertainment. All four books are what I call a Southern genre. But all four books have a deeper theme. And the story in each has threads of meaning interwoven throughout.
What is amazing to me is that Moon Over Manifest is Clare Vanderpool's first novel. No one would ever guess that, given the skill with which it is constructed and the wonderful storytelling involved. The story unfolds in the Great Depression with flashbacks to the World War I era, as it unveils the secrets of a little town in Kansas and its colorful characters.
Moon Over Manifest has already won awards and has been compared to To Kill a Mockingbird. On my bookshelf it will be in good company with the other books I mentioned, and I will revisit it from time to time, just as I do those others. You will want to give it a try yourself.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Friday, November 23, 2012
Just Our Usual Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving 2012 started out with plenty of excitement as the smoke alarm went off while I was in the shower. I heard a voice through the door shout, "Mom!" Then someone pounded wildly and yelled, "The fire alarm is going off." Did you ever try to pull your pajamas back on when your body is dripping wet and sudsy? Before I could get the door open, I heard daughter say, "Nevermind. It stopped." And son-in-law determined it was caused by steam from another bathroom where someone had just showered.
Meanwhile a guest in pajamas had decided to launder the jeans she had worn to our house, since she forgot to bring any others. Wouldn't you know it! When she had transferred the wet laundry to the dryer and pushed the button, nothing happened. I was beginning to wonder what else might happen.
My mind brought back memories of the year the glass dish of stuffing was placed on a stove burner that had not been turned off. Luckily everyone made it through the buffet line and into the dining room before the glass exploded. Food nearby was in pans that had lids on them. More stuffing was in the oven. Most food was across the room on the bar.
And then there was that year that the person taking the turkey out of the oven grabbed the rack handles and not the pan. Two steps across the kitchen, the pan full of drippings dropped to the floor, bounced, and splashed the broth and drippings across the room. But hey, the bird was safely on the counter waiting to be carved by then. There wasn't much gravy that year.
My friend shared just such a story. She had her daughter set the just-mashed potatoes on the back of the stove to stay warm. No one knew that burner was on either, until they tried to pick up the bowl and tupperware was stuck and had melted all over the burner. But they were able to salvage a few potatoes for everyone.
I guess most families have had some of these same experiences. Let's hear it from you all. What is your most memorable Thanksgiving incident?
Thanksgiving 2012 started out with plenty of excitement as the smoke alarm went off while I was in the shower. I heard a voice through the door shout, "Mom!" Then someone pounded wildly and yelled, "The fire alarm is going off." Did you ever try to pull your pajamas back on when your body is dripping wet and sudsy? Before I could get the door open, I heard daughter say, "Nevermind. It stopped." And son-in-law determined it was caused by steam from another bathroom where someone had just showered.
Meanwhile a guest in pajamas had decided to launder the jeans she had worn to our house, since she forgot to bring any others. Wouldn't you know it! When she had transferred the wet laundry to the dryer and pushed the button, nothing happened. I was beginning to wonder what else might happen.
My mind brought back memories of the year the glass dish of stuffing was placed on a stove burner that had not been turned off. Luckily everyone made it through the buffet line and into the dining room before the glass exploded. Food nearby was in pans that had lids on them. More stuffing was in the oven. Most food was across the room on the bar.
And then there was that year that the person taking the turkey out of the oven grabbed the rack handles and not the pan. Two steps across the kitchen, the pan full of drippings dropped to the floor, bounced, and splashed the broth and drippings across the room. But hey, the bird was safely on the counter waiting to be carved by then. There wasn't much gravy that year.
My friend shared just such a story. She had her daughter set the just-mashed potatoes on the back of the stove to stay warm. No one knew that burner was on either, until they tried to pick up the bowl and tupperware was stuck and had melted all over the burner. But they were able to salvage a few potatoes for everyone.
I guess most families have had some of these same experiences. Let's hear it from you all. What is your most memorable Thanksgiving incident?
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Who Knew I Was a Writer
Out of the blue one day in a meeting, a colleague pointed at me and said, "We need this one to do the writing. She writes like a dream." That was the first I knew about it. Then I began to wonder why she'd said that.
In a later meeting, the same friend read something and said, "I can tell you wrote that. It's your style." I pondered that. I had a style? I didn't even know I had a style. But it made me feel like maybe I was a writer. Whatever....
Over the years I continued writing what I needed to. I took a writing class one summer and learned a little something. Once in awhile I wondered if I could write a book, but never tried. I decided I was a non-fiction writer. I figured I would be best as a ghost writer--someone else would create the ideas or live the life and I would write about it for them. And that's as far as I got.
But I did find myself writing comments in a Facebook Group made up of women from my old high school. And I got comments about my writing from them. Actually I got some compliments. And then one day, one of them said, "You should write a blog." A second one agreed. A week later another one asked whether I had my blog going and on the same day a different one told me to stop messing around an write a blog.
So, after some investigation, here I am, a mere beginner. And I have already learned something new about writing. I have learned that it's hard to find a blog title and address that is available. We'll see what happens now.
In a later meeting, the same friend read something and said, "I can tell you wrote that. It's your style." I pondered that. I had a style? I didn't even know I had a style. But it made me feel like maybe I was a writer. Whatever....
Over the years I continued writing what I needed to. I took a writing class one summer and learned a little something. Once in awhile I wondered if I could write a book, but never tried. I decided I was a non-fiction writer. I figured I would be best as a ghost writer--someone else would create the ideas or live the life and I would write about it for them. And that's as far as I got.
But I did find myself writing comments in a Facebook Group made up of women from my old high school. And I got comments about my writing from them. Actually I got some compliments. And then one day, one of them said, "You should write a blog." A second one agreed. A week later another one asked whether I had my blog going and on the same day a different one told me to stop messing around an write a blog.
So, after some investigation, here I am, a mere beginner. And I have already learned something new about writing. I have learned that it's hard to find a blog title and address that is available. We'll see what happens now.
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