You can't be wishy-washy when trying to catch someone red-handed, IWSG, Quotes, Being Thankful

 Origins: a recurring post in which I delve into the history of a word or phrase.

Today's phrase is: Caught Red-handed

There are some phrases we use so casually that I bet most of us never think about where they came from. The wonder of language and English is that every word, every phrase, has a story. This one makes perfect sense, though it never occurred me. 

Note the article "Feminism for Men". 1914!

Catching someone red-handed literally means catching a person with blood on their hands, either being caught after murdering someone or by poaching. It originated in Scotland and was first written down in 1432 in the Scottish Acts of Parliament of James I. But it was Sir Walter Scott who popularized it in 1819 when he wrote in his novel Ivanhoe: “I did but tie one fellow, who was taken redhanded and in the fact, to the horns of a wild stag.”

There is also this story of the Red Hand from Northern Ulster in Ireland though it is not related to our use of the phrase. "The Red Hand has long been a heraldic and cultural symbol of the northern Irish province of Ulster. One of the many myths as to its origin is the tale of how, in a boat race in which the first to touch the shore of Ulster was to become the province’s ruler, one contestant guaranteed his win by cutting off his hand and throwing it to the shore ahead of his rivals. The potency of the symbol remains and is used in the Ulster flag, and as recently as the 1970s a group of Ulster loyalist paramilitaries named themselves the Red Hand Commandos." That's men for you... Cut off your hand to win the race. 

             

Today's Weird Word is: Wishy-washy

In the 1640s it was popular to repeat a syllable or part of a syllable and make up words like wishy-washy. The word "washy" was already in use and meant "thin or watery". So by adding wishy to it a person was extra thin and watery. But, by the 1870s wishy-washy was firmly in place describing someone who vacillates and can't make up his/her mind.

***

Posting the First Wednesday of every month, the Insecure Writer's Support Group, is the brainchild of Alex Cavanaugh. YOU can sign up HERE to participate.

Every month a question will be posed that may prompt you to share advice, insight, a personal experience or story. Remember, the question is optional. You can write about anything that relates to your writing journey.

Let's give a warm welcome to our co-hosts:   PJ Colando, Pat Garcia, Kim Lajevardi, Melisa Maygrove, and Jean Davis!

This month's question is:  What were some books that impacted you as a child or young adult?

I love this question. I will endeavor to keep my list short.

Books that impacted me as a child:

Call of the Wild. This was the first book that made me cry and taught me the power of words. I give Jack London (and my mother) credit for setting my feet on the writing path, erratic as it is.

Eloise. If you've never read this delightful book about a very precocious and mischievous six year old who lives in the Plaza Hotel in New York City. Do so. I still have my very lovingly battered copy.

The Cat in the Hat. I am absolutely a huge Cat in the Hat fan. This book taught me that I can have tons of crazy fun just so long as I do no harm and clean up after myself. 

The Oz Books. My mother read most of them out loud to my sister and me. They taught me that there is no limit to imagination. I mean a glass cat with pink brains that you can see working?

Books that impacted me as a teen/young adult:

The Prophet. This was the first book I ever read that made sense of spirituality. The Bible and Christianity just wasn't doing it for me. But this book...this book opened the door to Ancient and Sacred wisdom from around the world.

Islandia by Austin Tappan Wright. This unknown work by an unknown author is a stunning story of a near utopian country that exists in the south Atlantic. It takes place right before WWI and the people of Islandia have to decide if they will open their country to the world or remain isolated. Their country is rich in mineral resources which England, Germany, and the US want to get their hands on. However, the Islandians have not exploited those resources as they love their quiet rural life-style and culture that is at least a thousand years old. The story is told through the eyes a young American man who is acting as a kind of ambassador for the US. I reread this novel about every 10 years and always come away wishing that Islandia really existed. Yes, it has it's flaws, particularly racial flaws. But for the time it was written it still remains relevant. This utopian "fantasy" pre-dates the Lord of the Rings and is 944 pages long. 

Lord of the Rings. No explanation needed.

Cannery Row. This was the first book I read by Steinbeck and I fell in love with him, particularly after struggling to read Hemmingway. For a long time I tried to mimic his style of writing until I finally found my own voice.

Quotes of the Month

Every instant of our live is essentially irreplaceable: you must know this in order to concentrate on life. Andre Gide

It is books that teach us to refine our pleasures when young, and to recall them with satisfaction when we are old. Leigh Hunt

Only man clogs his happiness with care, destroying what is, with thoughts of what may be. 

John Dryden

Being Thankful

Today I am thankful that my sister's visit went well.

I am also thankful for the rain we have gotten. It hasn't been enough to break the drought, but it's been enough to make things green for a little while.

What are you thankful for? What books impacted you as child and young adult? Have you ever been "caught red-handed?" 

To be bamboozled is to become a laughing stock, IWSG, Quotes, Being Thankful

 Origins: a recurring post in which I delve into the history of a word or phrase.

Today's phrase is: Be a laughing stock

The word stock has a long and storied history with multiple meanings. You can find much more information here, 

here, and here. But for today, I'm going to narrow things down quite a bit.

The word stock comes down to us through Middle and Old English from the Proto-Germanic word stauk, which means "tree trunk." The use of stocks, as in the picture above, came into practice in Europe in the early the thirteen hundreds. However the use of stocks as punishment goes back all the way to Ancient Greece and many countries have had their own versions. 

The first recorded use of the phrase "laughing stock" is from Shakespeare (who else?) so it was probably something that was in common use at that time. It's easy to imagine the humiliation of being locked into stocks and being laughed at. 

You'd think, in this day and age, that the use of stocks as punishment would be long gone, but as recently as 2020 a town in Columbia put people in stocks for a few hours for violating curfew during the COVID pandemic. 

Today's Weird Word is: Bamboozle

Like many Weird Words, the exact origin of bamboozle - meaning to cheat, trick or swindle - is a guess, but it's been around since at least the early 1700. Some think it comes from the Scottish words bombaze or bumbaze, meaning to confound or perplex. Or, it could be related to bombast, meaning high sounding or inflated. Or, it could be from the French word embabouiner, meaning to make a fool of. OR, it could come from Italian, bambolo, bamboccio, bambocciolo, meaning a young babe, or being babyish, thus by extension describing an old dotard.

Whatever it's origins, I love the way the word feels as it rolls out of my mouth. It's one of those words that sounds just like it means.

***

Posting the First Wednesday of every month, the Insecure Writer's Support Group, is the brainchild of Alex Cavanaugh. YOU can sign up HERE to participate.

Every month a question will be posed that may prompt you to share advice, insight, a personal experience or story. Remember, the question is optional. You can write about anything that relates to your writing journey.

Let's give a warm welcome to our co-hosts:  Feather Stone, Janet Alcorn, Rebecca Douglass, Jemima Pett, and Pat Garcia!

This month's question is: Some common fears writers share are rejection, failure, success, and lack of talent or ability. What are your greatest fears as a writer? How do you manage them?

I've never been afraid of rejection because I know and understand that art of any kind is subjective. What I may like, someone else may not like at all. That's just life and the way human beings are. As an example, I'm not fond of Picasso's art but I love Dali. I'm also not fond of Hemmingway, but I love Steinbeck.  

Success is also subjective. I feel successful just by the simple fact that I have managed to get some stories, articles, and books published. For me it's not about monetary gain, it's about personal satisfaction. You'd think, because I have managed to have a few things published, that I'd be fairly confident about my talent and/or ability. But that's where I get hung up. Even writing up these blog posts there's a sneaky, weaselly part of me lurking in the shadows that snickers and snorts and whispers snarky and niggling things at me like, "You forgot a comma (snort.)" "You STILL can't spell that word? (tsk, tsk)" "What kind of sentence structure is that?(snicker)" "Fingers fumbling with the keys again, eh?" etc, etc, etc. How do I manage it? I plow ahead anyway. I fumble and bumble and stumble and I tell the little sh*t to shut the f**k up!

Quotes of the Month

No man is quite sane. Each has a vein of folly in his composition -  a slight determination of blood to the head, to make sure of holding him hard to some one point which he has taken to heart. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson

It is not good for all our wishes to be filled; through sickness we recognize the value of health, through evil the value of good, through hunger the value of food, through exertion the value of rest.

Greek Proverb

One of the saddest lessons of history is this: If we've been bamboozled long enough, we tend to reject any evidence of the bamboozle. We're no longer interested in finding out the truth. The bamboozle has captured us. It's simply too painful to acknowledge, even to ourselves, that we've been taken. Once you give a charlatan power over you, you almost never get it back.

Carl Sagan

Being Thankful

Today I'm thankful that my cataract surgery went well. My eyes are still adjusting, 

but I'm liking how I'm seeing so far. 

Particularly COLORS!

I'm also thankful that my sister will be arriving in a few days and 

staying for most most of month of May.

What are you thankful for? Ever been a laughing stock? Ever been bamboozled? What is your greatest fear as a writer?

Don't get hit in the head by that can of corn while you eavesdrop. IWSG, Quotes, Being Thankful

 Origins: a recurring post in which I delve into the history of a word or phrase.

Today's phrase is: Can of corn 

We ALL know what it means. It's easy, a piece of cake, like rolling off a log, it's a piece of pie. But who knew? I certainly had no idea the origins of this phrase originates with...baseball.

That's right baseball. A "can of corn" is a pop-fly into the outfield that's easy to catch. But why call it a can of corn? 

A Can of Corn

In the early 1900 canned corned was so popular that grocers had shelves stocked high. They used a stick with a hook at one end to get cans off the shelves. They then either caught the cans of corn in their hands or in their aprons. The task became so easy it was "easy as catching a can of corn." 

Now, let's move that into baseball. The early fields (think of the movie Field of Dreams) were often on a farm and the outfields were bordered by, you guessed, corn fields. 

It was Bob Prince, the announcer for the Pittsburgh Pirates (1948-1975) who popularize the term. How cool is that?

Today's Weird Word is: Eavesdropping

It's only been in the last couple of years or so that I learned about this word from some "hysterical" novel or other. I was so surprised I had to look into it and this is what I've discovered.

It's been around for nearly a 1000 years, unchanged in its meaning. It comes from the Old English word “yfesdrype,” which literally means a "place around a house where the rainwater drips off the roof." And that led to people who stand under windows or behind doors to listen in secret to what's being said.

Eavedroppers at Hampton Court

Great Hall at Hampton Court

(And this is what I learned in that hysterical novel I read) Henry the VIII was so opposed to any kind of gossiping or eavesdropping that he had carved and painted wooded heads in the eaves of the Great Hall at Hampton Court to remind people to keep their mouths shut, to remind them that ANYone could be listening at any time. 

***

Posting the First Wednesday of every month, the Insecure Writer's Support Group, is the brainchild of Alex Cavanaugh. YOU can sign up HERE to participate.

Every month a question will be posed that may prompt you to share advice, insight, a personal experience or story. Remember, the question is optional. You can write about anything that relates to your writing journey.

Let's give a warm welcome to our co-hosts:   Jennifer Lane, L Diane Wolfe, Jenni Enzor, and Natalie Aguirre!

This month's question is:  What fantasy character would you like to fight, go on a quest with, or have a beer/glass of wine with?

It's all about the Lord of the Rings for me. Gandolf and Aragorn, for beer and good fight. Frodo, Sam, Pippin and Merry for a hearty meal and party. Elrond for intellectual conversation. But most of all Arwen and Galadriel for wine and womanly company. 

Quotes of the Month

The only people who claim that money is not important are people who have enough money so that they are relieved of the ugly burden of thinking about it. Joyce Carol Oates

A great deal of intelligence can be invested in ignorance when the need for illusion is deep. Saul Bellow

Being Thankful

Today I'm thankful for the miracle of cataract surgery. 

Left eye on the 8th. Right eye on the 28th.

What are you thankful for? Did you know about the origins of can of corn or eavedropping? What fantasy character would you like to hang out with?

Putting the Kibosh on Mud in Your Eye, IWSG, Quotes, Being Thankful

 Origins: a recurring post in which I delve into the history of a word or phrase.

Today's phrase is: Here's mud in your eye!

This phrase, becoming popular in the 1890s then picking up steam after WWI, has four possible origin stories. It is an American idiom.

1. It may have come from farmers in taverns wishing each other a good harvest, the mud symbolizing good dirt and rain.

2. Some think it comes from the Biblical story of when Jesus heals the blind man by putting mud on his eyes. Thus when someone says, "Here's mud in your eyes," they are wishing you good health.

3. In horse racing, mud gets kicked up, and the riders behind can get mud in their eyes. So it might have been used by someone congratulating or wishing him/herself good luck in a sarcastic, teasing way. 4. Because soldiers dug, lived, fought, and died in the muddy trenches of World War I, some people think it may have become a grim way of wishing fellow soldiers good luck (like actors saying, "break a leg!") Although the phrase is older than WWI, thousands soldiers coming home from the trenches helped popularize it.

Today's Weird Word is: Kibosh

From the OED: "to put the kibosh on: to put a stop to (someone or something); to interrupt or prevent (a plan or course of action); to bring to an end; to do away with."

It's origin is unknown, but some wordsmiths, all far wiser and more educated than me, say it looks Yiddish. Sounds Arabic to me and one source thinks it may come from the Arabic word kurbash, which means whip or lash. 

An early written debut is in a Dicken's story set in a predominately Irish neighborhood. "'Hoo-roa,' ejaculates a pot-boy in a parenthesis, 'put the kye-bosh on her, Mary.'" So... some think if could have come from the Irish word caip bhais or caipn bais, meaning "cap of death," which is what a judge wore when pronouncing someone's death sentence. Other sources say it comes from the 1790s and was a slang word used by British soldiers for describing a gruesome death. Still earlier, 1680s, there is the word cabos'd meaning "having the head cut off close to the shoulders." Anyway you cut it, kibosh clearly means to put an end to something suddenly, to spoil or destroy a plan or idea.

***

Posting the First Wednesday of every month, the Insecure Writer's Support Group, is the brainchild of Alex Cavanaugh. YOU can sign up HERE to participate.

Every month a question will be posed that may prompt you to share advice, insight, a personal experience or story. Remember, the question is optional. You can write about anything that relates to your writing journey.

Let's give a warm welcome to our co-hosts: Ronel Janse Van Vuuren, Pat Garcia, and Liza @ Middle Passages!

This month's question is: If for one day you could be anyone or *thing* in the world, what would it be? Describe, tell why, and any themes, goals, or values they/it inspire in you.

What a great question! I don't want to sound self-righteous, pompous, or egotistical, but... I would like to be a Buddha or a Christ or, at the very least, a transmitter of knowledge, someone who could impart wisdom, healing, love, and compassion to all life everywhere. I'm not asking for much, am I? Both Buddha and Jesus inspire me to work on myself to become a better human, to become more compassionate and accepting of all, even toward those I may feel are my "enemies." After all, Jesus very clearly said: “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect."  Like anyone I am fallible. I stumble, I get angry, I get fearful, but when I catch myself - which I am able to do more and more easily as I age - I pause, get centered and remember what Martin Luther King, Jr. said, "𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭. 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭." In this small way I hope to always breathe out love and healing.

Quotes of the Month

"There is nothing in the world so much admired as a man who knows how to bear unhappiness with courage." Seneca

"Divide each difficulty into as many parts as is feasible and necessary to resolve it." Rene Descartes

"There, I guess King George will be able to read that." John Handcock after signing the Declaration of Independence.

Being Thankful

Today I'm thankful for the music app Pandora, where music to fit my mood is at my finger tips. 

From rock (old and new) to jazz (old and new), 

classical to "new age",

coffee house to Tibetan bowls,

Native American flute to Andean flute...

it's all here.

Music to sooth this savage beast.

What are you thankful for? Who or what would you like to be for one day? Ever had to put the kibosh on anything or anyone? Do you listen to Pandora?

I've got a Crush on Your Bodaciousness, IWSG, Quotes, Being Thankful

It's February, so of course there's going to be a little something about love.

 Origins: a recurring post in which I delve into the history of a word or phrase.

Today's phrase is: I have a crush on you

We all know what it feels like to have a crush on someone or for someone to have crush on you. But how/when/where did the word "crush" come to mean liking someone a whole bunch?

As you might imagine there are numerous theories regarding its evolution. 1.) In Madame Bovary 

Isabella

(1856), there is this passage: "But the more Emma recognized her love, the more she crushed it down that it might not be evident..." 2.) Isabella Maud Rittenhouse, an American who kept diaries between the ages of 16 and 30, is said to have used the word crush in the sense we mean it today in 1884. But I can't find a quote. 3.) Eric Partidge a New Zealand lexicographer, thought crush was a variation on mash which by the 1870s was a popular slang word for being flirtatious. To "mash" on someone was to be head over heels. (A phrase that never quite made sense to me. Shouldn't it been heels over head? Maybe I'll look into that another time.) 4.) The esteemed Oxford English Dictionary suggests that "mash" (which then evolved into "crush") comes from the Romani masherava, meaning to allure or entice. 

There's a lot more on mash/masher but I'm not going to go into all of that.

To have a crush, I think, implies that your feelings for someone are strongly pressing on you, crushing you in a most delightful and, at times, agonizing way.

Today's Weird Word is: Bodacious  What's the first thing that comes to your mind when you hear or read the word bodacious? It's a great word with lots of nuance. Outright, unmistakable, remarkable, noteworthy, outstanding, bold, audacious, brazen, voluptuous, sexy.

It's etymology, from around 1837, is Southern US. It  perhaps comes from "bodyaciously" meaning bodily, totally. Or, it's a blend of bold and audacious (which I like.) It fell out of use but in 1982 became popular again in the movie "An Officer and Gentleman," when Worley says, "Did you see that bodacious set of tatas?" But I think it's real come-back happened when it was used extensively in Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure to mean all it's original meanings of excellence.

***

Posting the First Wednesday of every month, the Insecure Writer's Support Group, is the brainchild of Alex Cavanaugh. YOU can sign up HERE to participate.

Every month a question will be posed that may prompt you to share advice, insight, a personal experience or story. Remember, the question is optional. You can write about anything that relates to your writing journey.

Let's give a warm welcome to our co-hosts:    Joylene Nowell Butler, Louise Barbour, and Tyrean Martinson!

This month's question is: Is there a story or book you've written you want to/wish you could go back and change? Short answer? No. I'm happy with all the stories/books I've had published.

Quotes of the Month

‘Sixteen Candles’

That’s why they call them crushes. If they were easy, they’d call them something else.

Unknown

You know that tingly little feeling you get when you like someone? That is your common sense leaving your body.

Jimmy Fallon

Oh, here's an idea: Let's make pictures of our internal organs and give them to other people we love on Valentine's Day. That's not weird at all.

Being Thankful

Today I'm thankful that I'm on the path of getting cataracts removed... A little scared, but thankful it's a much easier process than it was when my grandmother had hers done. 

What are you thankful for? Is there a story or book you've published that you wish you could change? Was your first crush/love a good or not so good experience? (Mine was bodacious!)

Charlotte Dean Stark, IWSG, Being Thankful

Posting the First Wednesday of every month, the Insecure Writer's Support Group, is the brainchild of Alex Cavanaugh. YOU can sign up HERE to participate.

Every month a question will be posed that may prompt you to share advice, insight, a personal experience or story. Remember, the question is optional. You can write about anything that relates to your writing journey.

Let's give a warm welcome to our co-hosts: Rebecca Douglass, Beth Camp, Liza @ Middle Passages, and Natalie @ Literary Rambles!

This month's question is: Describe someone you admired when you were a child. Did your opinion of that person change when you grew up?

This is a difficult question to answer because there were/are so many people I admired when I was a child. My mother and father, my grandmother, and several older ladies in the small community of St. John in the Virgin Islands where I grew up, like Miss Meada, Miss Myra, Miss Agnes, and Miss Lucy.

My grandmother (left)
and Charlotte

But I have settled on Charlotte. What follows is a brief look into who she was and just one "small" lesson she taught me. 

Charlotte (left with dove)
and my mother.

Charlotte and my grandmother were best friends. Charlotte had been a part of our family from the time my mother was a young teenager, so we're talking since the late 1920s, early '30s. I loved her dearly and spent weekends at her home. Her patient, wonderful husband, Gus, would vacate their bedroom so I could sleep with Charlotte. Because she was a writer, there were times when I had to be quiet and keep myself occupied. Her bookshelves were a cornucopia of delightful reads like: a collection of Charles Addams cartoons, The Secret Garden, Oscar Wilde's fairytales, Grimms' fairytales illustrated by Arthur Rackham, A Doorway in Fairyland by Laurence Housman with incredible engravings by Clemence Houseman, and others (many of which she passed on to me and that I still have.) 

Gus and Charlotte

Charlotte Dean Stark was my first best friend. Besides being an author, she was a book reviewer for the New York Times, as well as their first woman poetry editor. She had been a Suffragette and, rumor had it, she had been part of the Vicious Circle at the Algonquin Round Table.

What follows is story about

Mr. Davis and Tom

 

Mr. Davis lived in a 10 X 15 foot shed behind Charlotte’s house. He had, at one time been a talented artist, who made etchings (two examples can be seen here) but both my mother and Charlotte said he had always been cantankerous and difficult to get along with.

 

What he did in that shed all day is anyone’s guess. Perhaps he read. Perhaps he sat in a chair and mumbled to himself about how badly life had treated him. Perhaps he slept. What he didn’t do was art.

For me, at eight years old, Mr. Davis was a scary and mysterious person.

 

When I visited Charlotte it was understood, when it came time to feed him breakfast, lunch or dinner, I wasn’t to show my face.

Off her kitchen, a wide covered porch ran the length of her house. By the kitchen door was a small round table and a single chair. Charlotte would set the table and have a plate of food with beverage in place. Then, in her thin high voice, she’d call him.

 

“Yoo-hoo! Wilber! Dinner!” She alone called him by his first name.

 

A minute or so later Mr. Davis would appear out of the depths of his self-imposed exile. A large, imposing figure, he always wore the same thing, no matter the time of year or weather or that fact that he lived in the tropics: dark trousers, dark long-sleeved shirt, and often an ancient and filthy knee-length over-coat. Sometimes a battered fedora was perched on his head. He’d stump the 30 or so feet to the back porch, eat in sullen silence, get up, and return to his dark den.

 

Charlotte alone spoke to him. Did he want more? Would he like a glass of water? A cup of coffee perhaps? He’d reply with a simple gruff, yes or no.

 

When Charlotte called Mr. Davis for dinner, she also called in a wild tomcat. She had several tame cats, but she fed the wild cat when she fed Mr. Davis dinner. She’d put out a dish of food in the same place every evening and in her high, thin voice she’d call him.

 

“Yoo-hoo! Tom. Yoo-hoo! Dinner, Tom!”

 

Out of the tangle of thorn bushes that grew behind the house would come slinking a great battle-scarred, orange tomcat. Part of one ear was chewed off, and his fur was scraggly and lumpy with cuts and scabs and scars. He’d come slinking in, wary of anything different or any movement that was not part of his frame of reference, eat his bowl of food, then slink back into the bush.

 

Old man and old cat ate their meals together in hostile, untrusting silence.

 

Mr. Davis ate without looking around as if he might see something which would then necessitate an acknowledgement.

 

Tom crouched in tense expectation that he might have to bolt at any moment. After each gulp of food his head swiveled from side to side, taking in his surrounding, making sure nothing had changed.

 

They were the same kind of creature. Life had dealt them blows which had caused them to retreat into isolation. Mr. Davis had chosen his while Tom had been born to it.

 

Yet between them they had Charlotte, whose sweet face, quiet voice, and non-judgmental manner, brought the two together each evening.

 

Was it because the wounds they’d suffered and the scars they bore were momentarily soothed by her ministrations? Those moments were not enough to civilize the misanthropic old man or tame the wild old tomcat, but they were enough to keep them coming back.

 

Daily they came to that borderland of civilization, the neutral zone that was the back porch. They could have come inside the house any time and been welcomed, but the porch was as close to the smell of humanity as either of them cared to get.

 

I caught occasional glimpses of the old wild man and old wild cat as they made their journeys to the edge of that reality where they couldn’t endure to live. I dared to take peeks at them, hoping they would notice me and see me as harmless and thus allow me to befriend them. But I was also terrified, if they did see me, they would run away and never come back or yell and hiss at me for scaring them.

 

I walked a thin brittle line. Common sense, instinct, or some part of my unconscious knew not to intrude and cause a break in the fragile connection Charlotte had with them.

 

Perhaps in that time with Charlotte, a memory was made which lingered like a salve, easing some of the pain. Perhaps it was the lingering trace of that memory which kept them coming back. Her calm, quiet, unhurried, demeanor taught me that even the most damaged or wild of creatures can be coaxed out of the darkness and into the light, even if only for a moment.

***

Has my opinion of Charlotte changed now that I am older than she was when I was 8? Not one little bit. I love her as much now as I did then.

Me on Charlotte's lap. L to R clockwise:
Friend, Ed, my sister Erva Denham, friend Milaine,
and Ed's brother, John. 

Being Thankful

I'm thankful I knew Charlotte.

IWSG, Kissing Under the Misting Twig, Weird Word, Quotes, Being Thankful

Posting the First Wednesday of every month, the Insecure Writer's Support Group, is the brainchild of Alex Cavanaugh. YOU can sign up HERE to participate.

Every month a question will be posed that may prompt you to share advice, insight, a personal experience or story. Remember, the question is optional. You can write about anything that relates to your writing journey.

Let's give a warm welcome to our co-hosts:   Ronel, Deniz, Pat Garcia, Olga Godim, and Cathrina Constantine!

This month's question is: Do you write cliffhangers at the end of your stories? Are they a turn-off to you as a writer and/or a reader?

I don't like cliffhangers at the end of stand-alone stories or novels as that - for me - smacks of the author not being able figure out a good ending, like they painted themselves into a corner and don't know how to get out of the room. Leaving the reader with the sense that more could happen, that there's more the characters could do is one thing, but to have a story simply end with nothing resolved is very frustrating. Now, if it's at the end of a story that's going to continue with further installments (think Dickens) or trilogies and the like, I have no problem with cliffhangers. Something's gotta keep you wanting to read more.

Origins: a recurring post in which I delve into the history of a word or phrase.

Today's phrase is: Kissing under the mistletoe

Because it's the season, don't you know. 

Blame it on the Greeks who used it medicinally for everything from menstrual cramps to epilepsy. It is thought that during their winter festival of, Kronia, mistletoe may have played a part, including kissing under it.

The verse says:
Bridget the Cook on Christmas day,
When all was Mirth & Jollity,
Was rudely kissed, by Saucy Joe,
And that beneath the Mistletoe.

But she returned it with the Ladle,
and laid about, when he was Addle,
For Maids are not to be thus taken,
And all their Virgin Honor shaken.

However in Western European culture it was the Druids of the first century who made it somewhat sacred. Because it was green and bloomed in the deepest cold they believed it restored fertility.

It can also be found in Norse mythology. "When the god Odin’s son Baldur was prophesied to die, his mother Frigg, the goddess of love, went to all the animals and plants of the natural world to secure an oath that they would not harm him. 

But Frigg neglected to consult with the unassuming mistletoe, so the scheming god Loki made an arrow from the plant and saw that it was used to kill the otherwise invincible Baldur. According to one sunnier version of the myth, the gods were able to resurrect Baldur from the dead. Delighted, Frigg then declared mistletoe a symbol of love and vowed to plant a kiss on all those who passed beneath it."

No one knows how mistletoe went from sacred herb to holiday decoration, but to me it seems kind of obvious. It's green all winter and even blooms. We haul green trees into the house, holly with it's red berried is draped about, so why not add mistletoe to the mix? When most things a leafless, having greenery around reminds us that things aren't dead.

It's interesting to note that  mistletoe is toxic even though it was used by the ancients as an herbal balm.

There is a lot more information about it here in the Britannica.

Today's Weird Word is: Mistletoe

Now, on to it's actual etymology which made give one pause...

Mistel is Old English with a lot of variants from other languages - Old Saxon, Dutch, Old High German, German and Swedish. There was/is a bird called the missel thrush that was known to eat mistletoe seeds and then poop them out. Thus the "mist" in mistletoe, meaning "urine, dung, filth." Toe comes from the word tan which means "twig." 

So from this rather strange origin we have decided a toxic plant, whose name basically means "misting (or urinating) twig," represents love and that we kiss under it.

Humans, we are so weird.

j

Quotes of the Month

Sing hey! Sing hey!

For Christmas Day;

Twine mistletoe and holly.

For a friendship glows

In winter snows,

And so let's all be jolly!

At Christmas play and make good cheer,

For Christmas comes but once a year

Thomas Tusser

So, mistletoe, in fact, symbolizes mistletoe.

Terry Pratchett

"Mistletoe," said Luna dreamily, pointing at a large clump of white berries placed almost over Harry's head. He jumped out from under it. 

"Good thinking," said Luna seriously. "It's often infested with nargles."

J. K. Rowling

Being Thankful

Today I'm thankful for warmth, running water, food, and electricity.

What are you thankful for? Do you like cliffhangers? Have you ever been kissed under the misting twig?