I'm Still Here - Question of the Month

Happy New Year!

I had a very relaxing time during my break. I'm sure I could have done more than I did besides help Hubby rake and haul away leaves. But ask me if I care? (Anyone care to answer?) I have been working on my book, A Piece of the Sky, but it's slow going. Wednesday's Insecure Writer's Support Group post will give an update on that. 

 Here are some things I experienced while away from the blogs. 

This is also about

Being Thankful

The Super Moon.

A swarming of lady bugs. 

I know, how can one lady bug be a swarm?

Trust me, they were EVERYwhere!

The arrival of robins. We haven't seen them in a while because of the drought. It was delightful to hear their laughing calls in the trees around our house.

Here are my New Year's Resolutions.

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And lastly, the Question of the Month, hosted Michael D'Agostino at A Life Examined .

This month's question is: 

What was your *growing up* moment.

I think I'd have to say it was when I volunteered to be the one to tell my cousin, who was living with us, that her mother had died (suicide too). I was about 18. My mother asked if I was sure I wanted to, but I felt certain, since we were close and sharing the same room, that it ought to be me. There was no easy or gentle way to break the news. Considering the circumstances, I think we handled the situation in a rather mature manner. No hysteria, though there were, of course, tears and hugging. My mother had us on a plane to the states the next day so we could be with her father and go to the funeral. 

A rather depressing note on which to end the first blog of the New Year, but hey... ask a personal question, get a personal answer.

With that, I'll leave you with a this link to the 45 books I read in 2016!

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So, what are you thankful for? Did you have a good Christmas and New Year? See or do anything special? Make any resolutions?

Labor Day! Question of the Month, Being Thankful

That goes for us writers as well. We need a break too. Some people might not think writing is work, 

but I say nuts to them! We know differently. We know the literal and figurative blood, sweat, and 

tears that goes into producing any piece of writing. So...

Give yourself permission to take a break! Here are some suggestions of what to do.

Take a stroll by a river, 

or walk among some trees.

Relax at your favorite beach, lake, or river.

Chillax in a hammock. 

Build some cairns.

Go sailing. (Yes that's me at the tiller, with my childhood best friend Jay.)

Have fun!


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I've joined this monthly bloghop because answering thoughtful/challenging/interesting questions is one way to expand one's mind and to share a little bit about myself. Hosted by Michael D'Agostino at A Life Examined, the question this month is: 

What kind of music best speaks to you?

Not fair! All kinds of music speaks to me, depending on my mood.

Classical, Jazz (in it's various styles), New Age,  Rock (in it's various styles) ... If you have the time, here are a few samplings from each.

One of my favorite pieces of  Classical.

When the band, particularly Robert Plant, exuded sexuality.


The First Lady of Song, whose ability to scat put all "modern" singers to shame.



For rest a relaxation there's nothing like Tibetan Bowls, perfect background music for Labor Day.

Being Thankful

So what am thankful for today? Nature in all its varied forms. Music in all its varied forms.
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That are you thankful for? Doing anything special today? Does a particular kind of music speak to you?

THE GREAT UNVEILING, Question of the Month, Being Thankful

Here it is folks! The cover for my newest book.

The Bowl and the Stone: 

A Haunting Tale from the Virgin Islands.

Pirates. Explorers. And spooky ghost hunters.

It’s 1962. Sam and her best friend, Nick, have the whole island of St. John, in the U. S. Virgin Islands, as their playground. They’ve got 240 year-old sugar plantation ruins to explore, beaches to swim, and trails to hike.

But when a man disappears like a vapor right in front of them, they must confront a scary new reality. They’re being haunted. By whom? And why? He’s even creeping into Nick’s dreams.

They need help, but the one who might be able to give it is Trumps, a reclusive hunchback who doesn’t like people, especially kids. Are Sam and Nick brave enough to face him? And if they do, will he listen to them? 

As carefree summer games turn into eerie hauntings, Sam and Nick learn more about themselves and life than they could ever have imagined.

Pre-order HERE today and enter the ghostly tale as soon as it releases.

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This monthly bloghop, hosted by Michael D'Agostino at A Life Examined ,

asks a question. Sometimes it's one to ponder, others times entertaining.

This month's question is:

What's your favorite beach?

Having grown up in the Virgin Islands, a more applicable question might be, "What beach is your least favorite?" But I'm not going to do that. I'm going to show you some pictures of some of my favorite beaches. There are too many to list/show them all. 

Hawksnest, St. John, which plays a part in my book, The Bowl and the Stone.

Lameshure, St. John (pronounce lam-a-sure) with approaching storm.

Lilli Maho, St. John, where we once had a guest house. A beach I often walked at night.

Trunk Bay, St. John is also featured in my newest book. My grandmother owned and operated a guesthouse here. It was the first place I lived when my family moved to the islands in 1955, and where I learned to swim. It is considered one of the most beautiful and most photographed beaches in the world.

Brewers Bay, St. Thomas. A large, wide beach where they hold the annual sanctioned Texas Chili Cook-off. The winner goes to Terlingua, TX.

 Magens Bay, St. Thomas, a near mile long beach
where locals go in the early morning to walk, jog, and swim.

Linsqvist Beach, St. Thomas, a sweet peace (err piece) of paradise.

Being Thankful

Today I am thankful for those who are helping out with my cover reveal.

I'm also thankful for beaches.

What are you thankful for? Got a favorite beach? Does The Bowl and the Stone pique your interest? I'm in need of reviewers. If you'd like to read The Bowl and the Stone, let me know!

Question of the Month, Jack London

Happy 240th Birthday to the 

United States of America! 

I've joined this monthly bloghop because answering the questions is one way to expand one's mind and to let my Random Followers get to know me a little better. Hosted by Michael D'Agostino at A Life Examined ,  the question this month is: 

What was the first book (or book series) you really fell in love with?
This question has such deep meaning for me that my post today will be devoted to it.  It's all about Jack London.




I was first introduced to Jack London through a Classics Illustrated of Call of the Wild. I was probably 8 or 9 years old. For the first time I cried at the end of a story. I believe it was then I discovered the power of the written word. 

Studying at Heinold's 
First and Last Chance,
Oakland, California, 1886

Jack London was one of the first authors whose books I actually looked for in the library and stores. I loved the adventure and the far away places he took me. As a teen I read collections of his short stories, The Sea Wolf, Burning Daylight, Smoke Bellew, Martin Eden, and The Cruise of the Snark, to name a few.


He was accused of plagiarism, drunkenness, and womanizing. But he was none of these things. Who he was was someone who lived the stories he wrote.

 As a teen he pirated oysters, sailed the Pacific and hoboed around the U. S. At 19, after a short stint in jail, he returned home to finish high school because he realized an education was important. He went to college but couldn’t finish because he didn’t have enough money. At 21 he went up to the Yukon during the gold rush. He got sick with scurvy, lost his front teeth, and the disease left scars on his face. But it was these northern adventures that made him the author he became.

Writing on a rock in the woods.

He was a Socialist, an advocate of women’s suffrage (he created some of the strongest, most independent, and well-educated female characters in American fiction) and was against cruelty to animals.

With is wife Charmain, in Hawaii. 

One of my favorite quotes of his is, “You can’t wait for inspiration you have to go after it with a club.” I think it says something about him as a writer. Perhaps writing or ideas didn’t come easily for him  or maybe he “knew” he didn’t have long to live and that he had to attack his stories, capture and subdue them, and get them down on paper as soon as possible.

With his daughters.

Jack London died of renal failure at the age of 40 on November 22, 1916. Stop and think, isn't it amazing that he wrote and published over 50 volumes of novels, short stories, political essays and even a few plays, in just eleven years?

Below are the last two paragraphs of Call of the Wild.
Buck mourns the loss of his human friend, and yet is gloriously free and happy. The music of the words still sings in my ears and still makes me cry.

“In the summers there is one visitor, however, to that valley, of which the Yeehats do not know. It is a great, gloriously coated wolf, like, and yet unlike, all other wolves. He crosses alone from the smiling timber land and comes down into an open space among the trees. Here a yellow stream flows from rotted moose-hide sacks and sinks into the ground, with long grasses growing through it and vegetable mold overrunning it and hiding its yellow from the sun; and here he muses for a time, howling once, long and mournfully, ere he departs.


“But he is not always alone. When the long winter nights come on and the wolves follow their meat into the lower valleys, he may be seen running at the head of the pack through the pale moonlight or glimmering borealis, leaping gigantic above his fellows, his great throat a-bellow as he sings a song of the younger world, which is the song of the pack.”

 

His writing space.

Can you remember the first book that strongly touched your emotions? Are you familiar with Jack London? Read any of his books? If you have, which is your favorite?

Origins, Question of the Month, and Being Thankful

Origins is an every-once-in-a-while recurring post in which I delve into the history of a word or phrase.

Today's phrase is: Nothing to sneeze at.

I used this the other day in a comment I left on someone's blog. As soon as I did, I thought, "I wonder where that phrase came from?" And so now, after doing a bit of research, here I am with an explanation.

There was actually a time in 17th and 18th centuries, when it was considered polite to sneeze in good society. Of course good society consisted of the well to-do and aristocracy. So the more you sneezed, the more polite you were. But sneezes are involuntary and spontaneous, so how was a person supposed to sneeze politely on demand? Thus it was that snuff entered the scene. One could stuff a bit of snuff (which was finely ground tobacco) up one's nose and politely sneeze when one wanted to.

But being able to sneeze at will wasn't enough. One had to be able to sneeze for a reason. Sneezing became a part of the conversation among men, a way of showing one's disapproval or disregard over something said, or to express boredom.

The first written example of sneezing in this manner appeared in the 1806 novel, A Winter in London, by Thomas Skinner Surr.

“A word in your ear,” said his lordship: “Do you know, I have quite changed my mind about that business since I met the marquis. He tells me that it’s a sort of thing a young fellow of my expectations ought to sneeze at."

Thus, NOT to sneeze at something has come to mean that something is really worth while. The first written example of the phrase comes from the 1799 play Fortune's Frolic, by John Till Allingham.

“Why, as to his consent I don’t value it a button; but then £5000 is a sum not to be sneezed at.”

And there you have it, the history of sneezing in polite society.

***

I joined this monthly bloghop because answering thoughtful/challenging questions is one way to expand one's mind. Hosted by Michael D'Agostino at A Life Examined ,  the question this month is: 

Of all the places in the world that you haven't yet been to, where would you like to go next?

I've done some traveling, particularly around the U. S.

I've been to the Grand Canyon (camped at the Havasupai Indian Reservation twice) Yosemite, Yellowstone, and Death Valley. Been mountain climbing in the Rockies, seen the redwoods. I've seen the Grand Tetons, Bryce Canyon, and Carlsbad Caverns. I've visited places like Roswell, New York City, Washington D. C.(and the Smithsonian) San Francisco, and L. A. to name a few.

Since I live in Texas, I've explored the Alamo and the San Antonio River Walk, walked around Austin, been to Galveston and South Padre Island and driven across the state (north/south, east/west) more than once...

I've also had the opportunity to visit other islands in the Caribbean, St. Lucia, Antigua, Curacao, Puerto Rico, Barbados, St. Maarten/St. Martin. Plus, in 1970, went to Caracas, Venezuela.

Lastly, a few years ago, as some may remember, I went to the Netherlands and had a fabulous time.

Still, there's one place I'd dearly love to visit and spend a least a month or more. Scotland. Why Scotland? I have deep ancestral roots there and would like to go to the towns and villages where my ancestor was born and walk the streets he walked. I'm not sure, at this point in my life, if it will ever happen. Still, it's a dream and a nice one at that.

***

Being Thankful

Today I'm thankful for sunshine. 

After all the rain and weeks (yes weeks) of overcast skies, it's nice to see blue again and stars at night.

***

What are you thankful for? What do you think about sneezing in polite society? Have you traveled anywhere special? Is there some place you'd like to go? If there's a word or phrase you'd like me explore for Origins, mention it in the comments!

Question of the Month

I decided to join this monthly bloghop because answering thoughtful/challenging questions is one way to expand one's mind. Hosted by Michael D'Agostino at A Life Examined ,  the question this month is:

Have you ever met an idol/influence/someone you really admire? How did it go?

This question is a little strange for me as I can't say that I've ever had idol or someone I admire who wasn't a family member or friend. I've met/known several "famous" people, but the one who left the most lasting mark was Scott McKenzie.To answer the question straight off, it went quite well.

What follows is an older post.

After many years of working hard to make the big time, Scott McKenzie became an “over night” sensation with the song, “San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear a Flower in Your Hair)”.

Sudden fame brought with it a certain amount of stress and he realized he needed a break. He chose to escape to St. Thomas where, even if he were recognized, he wouldn’t be hounded. What was special is that he stayed with friends of his who happened to be my high school psychology teacher and her husband, my art teacher.

Scott spent many months in the islands between 1968 and ’69. Sometimes he came to our psych class and sang us a few songs.

He also came to our Junior/Senior prom which is when he gave me the post card pictured to the right. He was, by that time, such a fixture, it never occurred to me to ask him to autograph it. The coffee stain ring happened that night.

In June of 1969, I invited my teachers and Scott to my 19th birthday party, a week-end affair held at our guest house on St. John at Lillie Maho. The invitation was accepted. Scott arrived with guitar in tow. We all had a grand time. At one point he asked my sister and me for advice on a song he was working on. Did it need something more, an extra verse perhaps? After he sang it to us, we assured him it was beautiful just as it was. I like to think he took our advice, for when he returned to the states the song became the title track of his second album, “Stained Glass Morning.” He had left it just as he had sung it to us. If you are not familiar with "Stained Glass Morning," please take a few minutes to listen to this beautiful and haunting song. It is as meaningful and powerful today as it was back in 1969.


But the true highlight of the evening came when he gave me his birthday present. He sat down in front of me and sang a song by Donovan called, “Celeste.” The world disappeared as he looked directly at me and no one else, his clear and beautiful tenor caressing my ears. Never before, and never since, have I been so intimately serenaded.

This is a delightfully scratched version.

Scott died at 73 in 2012 of Guillain–Barré syndrome. I like to think that he's singing with the angels. 

Begin Thankful

I'm thankful I got to meet Scott.

What are you thankful for? Ever met anyone famous? Was the experience a good one or not?

Cover Reveal! Question of the Month, A Celebration, Being Thankful

MURDER & OBSESSION
by Yolanda Renee

Flames burn between a hardboiled cop and a gifted artist, but soon extinguish as another man’s obsession ignites into an inferno of desire, driving him to destroy the object of his madness.

To be Released March, 10 2016

As wedding bells echo like the ring of toasting champagne glasses in the ice carved mountains of Anchorage Alaska, detective Steven Quaid rehabs his grandfather’s cabin into a honeymoon cottage for his new bride.

When he returns from a hunting trip, Steven’s faced with five police officers, who “Want to talk.” Plagued by two unsolved murders, the Department is searching for answers.

The conversation comes to a deafening halt as the team finds a bloody crime scene in the bridal suite. "Where's her body?" is a question Steven cannot fathom. 

Steven’s jaw clenches and his heart races. Images of Sarah streak through his mind.

The silence breaks as an explosion of accusations vibrate through every fiber of his being.

Steven bolts…

Although running is never the smart thing to do, Steven’s not thinking clearly and his escape into the wilderness of the Brooks Range proves almost fatal.

This Steven Quaid mystery is both personal and heartbreaking.

*****

  About Yolanda Renee:

At one time Alaska called to me and I answered. I learned to sleep under the midnight sun, survive in below zero temperatures, and hike the Mountain Ranges. I've traveled from Prudhoe Bay to Valdez, and the memories are some of my most valued. The wonders, mysteries, and incredible beauty that is Alaska has never left me and thus now influence my writing.

Despite my adventurous spirit, I achieved my educational goals, married, and I have two wonderful sons. Writing is now my focus, my newest adventure!

You can find Yolanda at:

Blog: Defending the Pen

Facebook

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                      Pinterest

                     Amazon

New Covers:

Murder, Madness & Love

After a gritty detective becomes involved with a beautiful widow suspected of murder, rumor and obsession obstruct his quest for justice.

Memories of Murder

World damnation is a psychotic man’s goal, but two obstacles stand in his way, greed and a dedicated detective. 

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I decided to join this monthly bloghop because answering thoughtful/challenging questions is one way to expand one's mind. Hosted by Michael D'Agostino at A Life Examined 
The question this month is:

When have you lost or found love?

When? I'm not sure how to answer this question. First loves are always powerful and though I have fond memories,  I was a young naive teen. It was never going to last. Later, in my 20s there were a couple of moments. But they were doomed from the start. It wasn't until I was older and had given up the desire of a relationship that I was ready. And that's when I met my husband. 30 years later we're still together and thankful for every day.

***

Today is the start of Black History Month. For the days I post I'll be featuring some famous Virgin Islanders, both U. S. and British.

John Lucien was born on Tortola in the BVI in 1942 but was raised on St. Thomas. He not only had a beautiful voice but was a most excellent jazz bass player. This is someone I knew. Unfortunately he left us too soon in 2007.



Alton Adams was born on St. Thomas in 1889, before the islands were bought by the U. S. from Denmark. In 1917 he became the first black bandmaster in the United States Navy. He was also a composer and his music was performed by the likes of the John Philips Sousa's band.

Being Thankful

Today I'm thankful for my Sweetie, my hubby, my best friend.

On his second birthday.

With long hair!

 Working on the '57 Chevy.

Enjoying the fruits of his labor.

Arg, me hearties!

What are you thankful for? Heard about Yolanda's book, do you follow her blog? Any thoughts of the Question of the Month? Have you heard of Jon Lucien or Alton Adams?

Island Idylls, Question of the Month, Being Thankful

Island Idylls: Stories of growing up in the U. S. Virgin Islands. This is a repost of a blog from several years ago.

Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “One of the illusions of life is that the present hour is not the critical, decisive hour. Write it in your heart that every day is the best day of your life.” That quote is suspiciously similar to; “Today is the first day of the rest of your life.”

New Year’s resolutions are fine, but I/we should be looking at each day as a new beginning. Each day is the beginning of a New Week or New Month. Anyway, time is illusory and doesn't really exist. It's all in our minds. But I am, like everyone else, a victim of it.

Can you tell? I’ve never been a big New Years person. I think it all goes back to a New Years party my family went to when I was nine, in 1960. This picture shows my mother on the left with her good friend Nora. My sister, Erva,  is smiling big in the back-ground wearing the lei. She was 13 soon to be 14, as tall as any adult. The picture was taken right at mid-night. Everyone is happy and smiling and toasting and kissing and…where am I?

I remember being excited, wanting to help ring in the New Year. It was a big deal. 1960, turn of a decade. Everything, I thought, would be new and different once January 1st showed its face. I think it was the first time I became aware of the change of the year and what that “meant.”

I hung on as long as I could. Probably sometime between 9 and 10 pm I got sleepy. Certainly I was not used to staying up much past 8:30 or 9 o’clock. I was taken to a bed-room and remember specifically telling my sister and my mother to, “Wake me up at mid-night.”

Of course it didn’t happen. By the time mid-night rolled around the party was in full swing. The adults had been drinking and dancing, laughing and talking and Bish was forgotten. I don’t remember getting home. But I do remember the next day I was terribly disappointed that I’d missed The Big Event.

It was supposed to be a new day, a new year. But the business of being a family and doing chores, of eating and washing dishes, making the beds and sweeping the floor, were going on just like they had the day before and the day before that. Nothing had changed.

So what, I wondered, was “new” about it? I came to this resounding conclusion. Nothing. It’s just another day.

Because of that observation I’ve never gotten excited about New Years. Except for 2000. Just how often does a person get to ring in not only a new century but a new millennia? Well, not often. And I had a good time with my husband and friends. We fired off fire-works and scared the donkeys, but that’s a whole nuther story.

I didn’t stay upset with Mom or my sister for not waking me up. And I remember that dress Mom wore. It was white with gold-thread accents. It was probably silk, looked kind of like a sari. I thought she was beautiful. She was and will always be.

Happy New Year.

***

I decided to join this monthly bloghop because answering thoughtful/challenging questions is one way to expand one's mind. Hosted by Michael D'Agostino at A Life Examined ,  the question this month is: 

What are some New Year's resolutions you've had in the past? 

Well, as you might have gathered from the above story, I don't do New Year's resolutions. Why wait for the end of one year and the beginning of another to set them? Why not make them as and when you need them? Today, this moment, is all any of us has anyway. So don't wait for that special moment, because it will never come unless you make it so.

***

Being Thankful

Today I'm thankful for shelter. 
Lest we forget or pretend not to notice, there are people all over the world who have none.

Cleaveland

San Francisco

The Great Depression

Los Angeles

Syrian refugees

***

What are you thankful for? Are you a New Year's resolution maker or do you work on goals year round? Got a favorite New Year's Memory?