Groupie? Stalker? Fan? Admirer?

I once described myself as an author groupie or author stalker. Neither is accurate, although a couple of authors might beg to differ. I like meeting authors, hearing them read or promote their latest books, or just getting to breathe the same air. To say I'm merely a fan or admirer doesn't quite cover it.

Auburn University at Montgomery, Huntingdon College, Alabama State University, and local bookstores Capitol Books, and Roots and Wings (sadly, now closed) have provided numerous opportunities for me to hear or meet authors, both famous best-selling authors and the newly published. In addition to the book-signings and/or one-time presentations, there are some fantastic day-long or weekend events in Alabama. In mentioning this, I fully realize that I am not providing a complete list by any means, so I'll only rave about the ones that I've attended in the last couple of years, or will attend this year.

My author fix for 2014 started with "Murder on the Menu" held in Wetumpka on February 9 (sorry that I didn't think to tell you about this is time to attend - but mark your calendars for next February.)  Held as a benefit for the library, attendees have lunch with around 20 mystery writers from across the country, hear panel discussions by the authors, perhaps become a character in an author's next book, et cetera. This was either the fourth or fifth one I've attended - they're that much fun.

On the first weekend in April I'll be in Mobile for Daddy's Girls' Weekend. Followers of the Bones/Sarah Booth Delaney series by Carolyn Haines will recognize the term Daddy's Girls. If you don't, run out and get one of the books immediately, because you're missing something. The weekend features events for writers and readers. Mini-workshops with well-known authors, agents,and publishers are coupled with several social events that are more fun than some of us should be allowed to have. There is the crowning of a new Big Daddy each year. You just have to be there is all I can say about that! Oh, and did I mention (insert brag here) that I got to work with Carolyn Haines and other Daddy's Girls on a cookbook that will make its debut that weekend?

April 19 is the date for the Alabama Book Festival, held in Old Alabama Town in Montgomery. It would take pages to tell you about this, but for now I'll remind you that it is a free, all-day event. Notice, I said free. Of course you will probably want to buy some food or books, but it's nice to be able to bring a family on a nice outing with events for all ages that has no admission charge to any of the venues. If you have children, there are special free crafts as well as wonderful authors. I can't even tell you how excited the children are to meet the authors of the books they love. (Parents, are you listening here?) There is only one problem with the book festival - you can't be everywhere at once. There are usually six or more venues with things going on at the same time. I think the line-up includes around 60 authors this year. Check the Alabama Book Festival website to see who they are this year. Come that morning and stay all day, or come for an hour or two if that's all you can do. My favorite local bookstore, Capitol Books sets up on site in the Grange Hall that day to make the books by the presenting authors available if you want to have an author sign one.   

The Alabama Writers Symposium held in Monroeville is the weekend of April 24-26. This year the theme is "Saints & Sinners." In addition to the readings and discussions by wonderful authors, there is the presentation of the Harper Lee Award for Alabama's Distinguished Writer. This year's recipient is Mark Childress. The Eugene Current-Garcia Award for Alabama's Distinguished Literary Scholar will also be announced. A not to be missed extra is the stage version of "To Kill a Mockingbird" performed at the courthouse. Yes, the very courthouse where Harper Lee's father was a lawyer, and the locale for Gregory Peck's scenes in the movie version. Be sure you drink the water while you're there. So many outstanding authors, musicians, and artists have Monroeville connections that many think "there's something in the water."

Fairhope is the setting this year for the Alabama Writers' Conclave Conference on July 11-14. Rick Bragg, the Writer-in-Residence, will speak, and will lead a workshop as will several other authors and an agent. A highlight of the conference each year is the awards banquet, where awards are presented to winners from across the country. It's a good conference, and it's in Fairhope - not that I need much reason to go to Fairhope.

As I said at the beginning, I know this is not a complete list. Visit the Alabama Writers' Forum website www.writersforum.org often for news of events in Alabama.You may be surprised to find how many wonderful things are going on!

Postscript

The weatherman was right. We did have snow. Unfortunately we had freezing rain first, then sleet, then snow that left our streets coated with ice. Facebook posters and national news commentators made numerous comments about us being shut down over such a small amount of snow. We should have been prepared, they said. And how were we supposed to do that? First of all, we didn't know that Mother Nature would change not only her time schedule, but the temperature and type of precipitation.

Yes, we've had ice before - but the last time I remember anything even vaguely like ice to this extent was in 1982. We don't buy snowplows and stock chemicals for something that happens maybe every thirty-plus years or less. Snow tires or chains? Most of us in the South have never even seen them. Comments about lack of skill for driving in this? What are we supposed to do - construct an ice field somewhere and run us all through it as part of our driving exam? And as best I can tell, even the most experienced driver can get into a real mess when ice is involved.

And you laughed about some of our schools closing. Some didn't, and hundreds of children were stranded overnight and longer because the roads became impassable when the storm moved in much earlier and further north than expected. School buses couldn't run, parents couldn't reach the schools. As a former teacher I can say from personal experience, most people do not realize how seriously teachers take their jobs. Nor do those outside the field understand how much responsibility each teacher takes on every time she or he enters the classroom for the day. Teaching the content of the curriculum is but a small part of the job. To all those teachers who not only stayed with stranded students, some of whom had possibly never spent a night away from home, but made them feel safe and secure, I want to say "Thank you."

Did the Weatherman Say SNOW?

For several years I have attended a week-long summer institute in July held in Radford, Virginia. Around a thousand gather there – families, singles – all ages from infants to some in their nineties. They come from all over the United States along with a few from foreign countries. Spending the week there has given me the opportunity to make friends a wide variety of people.

When some of them realize that I live not just in the Deep South, but in south Alabama, the question often arises: “How can you live there?” It didn’t take many times for me to figure out what was behind their question, and given the time it often leads to wonderful discussions. If time doesn’t permit or I think the person is not really open to discussion, having already made up his or her mind about our area, I answer “January.”

Most of the questioners are from those areas of the country where January is always cold, often with snow and ice. I mention that our cold season is from December through February with an average daily high of 63° F., and that by mid-March the daffodils are blooming. Sometimes I just can’t help myself!

Our weather was unusual for a few days in the past weeks, with colder than usual temperatures that led to closing schools or delaying opening. No doubt that amused our neighbors from cold climates. They didn’t realize that we rarely have weather like that, so often a sweatshirt will suffice. Few if any of the children have clothing appropriate for standing at the bus stops when the wind chill is in the teens or lower.

Snow is predicted for tomorrow, and again our weather-hardy friends will wonder why even a little of it shuts down everything here. Think about it though – most of us have never even seen a snow plough since none of our cities own even one, and the state doesn’t have any of that stuff that keeps the overpasses and roadways from freezing. Our best hope is that the sand they scatter about can make for a little less slipping and sliding, and that people who have rarely seen icy roads will stay off them.

There is the also matter of ice on the lines that causes them to snap, leaving us without power or phones. It could happen, so I guess I’d better end for now and make a grocery store run before all the bread, batteries, and candles are gone. Stay warm friends!

 

Snowflakes and Candy Canes

Some people put up their Christmas trees on Thanksgiving afternoon and take them down the day after Christmas. I am not one of those people. I tend to run much later. My excuse for taking them down later is that at least some of my elders believed you should leave them up until January 6 or, as they called it, “Old Christmas.”  Actually it’s just that I’m either lazy or really hate to give up little white lights, wherever they may be. But at some point that day arrives when I can’t take the clutter any longer and have to get my house back to a somewhat normal state.

To those of you who don’t know me, I was a teacher for many years, surrounded by students for most of the year. Then there was our family. Before the last of our children left home, my parents moved in with us. In 2005 everything changed. I was no longer teaching, and the last inhabitant of the house other than me died. Suddenly I was alone, for the first time in my life, and to say this was an adjustment is an understatement. I must add, however, that I’ve always been a night owl, the tendency perhaps fueled by needing at least a few minutes without people. If I stayed up late enough, I could have at least an hour or so of solitude. Seven years ago I moved from the large house with attached apartment that previously held all of us to a small townhouse. I’ve become accustomed to not having others around, and actually love the quietness and order of my much smaller space.

Patient, readers, I’m about to get to the snowflakes and candy canes part. Over the holidays, three of my four sons, their wives, and five of the grandchildren decided to all come at the same time. It was wonderful! Yes, it was crowded. Sleeping eleven extra people makes for a lot of togetherness, so air mattresses and camping gear were everywhere. Total chaos part of the time, but very happy chaos. Among the activities was a cookie experience. One son found cookie kits for Ugly Christmas Sweater cookies and Ninja Gingerbread Men cookies. He baked the cookies, then everyone gathered by turns at the dining table in the living/dining area to vie for the decorating bags of red, green, and white frosting along with a variety of decorating candy additions: snowflakes, candy canes, silver dragées, sprinkles, stars, colored sugars, jimmies – all very tiny and difficult for both young and adult hands to keep from dropping.

The last left on January 4. Umpteen loads of laundry later, and with most of the decorations down, my house is more or less back to order. And quiet, very quiet. I’ll miss them, but they left me a few reminders. Even after sweeping, mopping, or vacuuming the various rooms, I’m still finding some of those little tiny candies from the cookie marathon – snowflakes and candy canes that make me smile.

 

 

 

 

My Favorite Ornament

 

The Little Angel

            Mother said that I smiled and laughed when she held me up to see the little angel hung high in the tree. Since I was only nine months old at the time I don’t actually remember this, but I do know that I’ve loved the ornament for as long as I can remember. Seeing her every year always brings, if not laughter, at least a smile to my face. Too fragile to hang now, she often rests in a place of honor on my mantel.

We’ve spent a lot of years together, 70 to be exact. Even though she remains in the form of a baby wrapped in discolored swaddling clothes, like I, she has begun to show her age. Her embossed paper wings aren’t as white as they once were, and the silver foil backing on them has peeled a bit around the edges. The points of her halo are also a little worse for wear. There are a few small cracks and even a small piece missing in the composite material of her face.

Unlike hers, my hair is no longer blonde like it was when I was a very young child. Yet in the important things, this little angel and I are still a lot alike.  Her eyes are wide with wonder, and she still smiles sweetly in anticipation of the joys of Christmas. May it always be so for me as well.

 

Take Joy

I am fortunate because for most of my life, I’ve been a happy person. Friends have accused me of wearing rose-colored glasses, and no doubt that is true. Certainly there are things in our world that are cause for great sadness and concern, and my own life has not been without problems. 2005 was a particularly difficult year because five people close to me died that year, beginning with my mother in April, and my husband only three days before Christmas. It took awhile to believe that I could ever be happy again, but I woke one morning knowing that I was not only going to be all right, I was going to be happy. Shortly after that realization I made the decision to be grateful for what I have rather than dwell on what I don’t, and to make a conscious effort to find at least one small thing each day that makes me happy. Often it is something as simple as really noticing the beauty in a single leaf that has fallen, or the way the light reflecting from a mosaic table casts dancing patterns across my living room wall. In these moments of true appreciation I find contentment and happiness.

Every year around this time in December, there comes a morning when I wake and happily greet something that happens only at this time of year. It’s the gift of an inexplicable effervescent feeling that I can only describe as joy. Christmas is coming! I’ll admit that once or twice I’ve been as bah-humbug as Scrooge. But I’ve also in turn embraced or dismissed everything from traditional Christian tradition of honoring the birth of Christ, the Yule Log blessings of the Celts, the gift-giving traditions from Saturnalia, kissing under the mistletoe from Norse mythology, the festival of lights leading to the winter solstice, to Santa Claus. In short, my beliefs and traditions have evolved over the years, but the one thing that has remained constant has been the feeling of joy.

As a member of a small congregation, I was often a part of Christmas programs. One year I read a poem that had the refrain “Take Joy!”  The poem has long been lost to me, but that refrain continues to come back to me. When I think of it two things come to mind. The first is that the feeling of joy that comes unbidden to me is a gift. The other is the reminder that I may also choose to search for, and take joy.

 In this busy time of year, in whatever your traditions may be, may you take joy.

 

I Also Remember

Over the last few days many have posted their memories of when they heard that President Kennedy had been killed. I was a junior at Alabama College in Montevallo, Alabama. One of my courses in Vocational Home Economics involved refinishing furniture. I had just applied warm oil to the beautiful walnut chair frame when someone came into the lab with the news. It seemed as if the world stopped and everything moved in a blur. Yet I continued to rub each section of the chair with a soft wool cloth until the oil was absorbed, finding the simple repetitive act of buffing the smooth wood somehow soothing. Fifty years later I remember that hollow feeling, and sometimes when I sit in that chair I find myself stroking the smooth wood.

As powerful as that memory remains, it was the news of the death of Robert Kennedy that has the most connection for me. My grandmother was visiting, and the two of us were watching television together when the news broke. She gasped and said, "Oh, poor Ethel, with all those children." To understand fully, you need to know that my mother, the eldest of five children, was only eight years old when her father was killed. When a former employee of her father came to the door, she and her brothers clustered around grandmother and heard her tell the visitor when my grandfather would return from an appointment. The man left, but walked only a short distance from the house, where he waited out of sight until my grandfather returned. He shot him at close range. My grandmother never mentioned how difficult it must have been for her, not only lose the love of her life, but to rear five children in a depression era world. In her softly spoken "Oh, poor Ethel with all those children" she revealed perhaps more than she realized. Her expressed empathy came from an understanding that most of us will never understand. When I think of the Kennedys, I remember, and am grateful for, the resilience of my remarkable grandmother.