In Search of the Crossroads

In my obsession with writing, I have rediscovered reading. I have read several books about the craft of writing from Stephen King's On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft to Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird. One of the suggestions I have read and heard by King and others is that reading fiction is good for writing. King in his book has a lot to say about this: 

 I have been a voracious reader since I was a kid. I was the kid whose mom had to come in at midnight and threaten to take away the book before I would turn out the light and go to bed. This love continued throughout my adult years. That is until I got an iPad and the world was literally at my fingertips. Games, videos, social media all drew me into their web and away from my favorite pastime: reading. Mind you, I listen to audio books but mostly children's chapter books that Seth and I listen to together. It has been awhile since I lost myself in the dreamlike world of fiction. 

Now you know this writing thing is my latest obsession and unlike some, it has stuck so if Stephen King says good writers read, I'm going to read. I went on Amazon-I have an Amazon Prime account and a Kindle Unlimited account so I have no reason not to read. On Kindle Unlimited, I found Jilo by J.D. Horn. Jilo is wonderfully suspenseful and colorful. This is not the first time I have emersed myself in Horn's magical world. Jilo is the fourth in a book series that absolutely fascinated me two years ago and sent me on a journey of a lifetime. Sounds dramatic, huh?  So what was the series that sent me on my journey? The Witching Savannah Series by J.D. Horn. 

Witching Savannah Series

It was Christmas break 2015. I had had a really rough year. My mother who had Alzheimer's and who lived with me had to be put in a rest home the previous July and passed away three months later in October just days after her eighty-eighth birthday. I could go into detail about her last year but it's too painful and I can't. Let's just say that for the three years prior to her death, I could hardly leave the house, except when I was at work and had a caregiver for her.  No road trips or a  weekend to see my sister, Linda, not even a trip to buy groceries. That became Kevin's job. My life became about caring for my mother. So in October, she passed away and it was like we were both free. She wasn't suffering and I didn't have to feel the guilt that comes from dreading my daily visit with the raving, child-like woman my mother had become. 

So fast forward three months later to Christmas break 2015. I was diagnosed with pneumonia the first Monday of my two-week vacation. Now you would think this would totally ruin my vacation but it didn't. In fact, it was awesome. I had doctor's orders to rest because my pneumonia was bad and I did rest and completely without guilt. I didn't worry about my classroom or even housework because Kevin insisted I rest. Within a couple of days, I had seen every Harry Potter movie and binge watched a couple of series on Netflix. I went to see what Amazon Prime had to offer and got sidetracked on Kindle Unlimited. One thing led to another and I downloaded J.D.Horn's The Line: Witching Savannah Book 1.  

I visited Savannah when I was fourteen for a weekend with my mom and sister back in 1977.  I loved that elegant old city and always dreamed of going back. I began reading The Line and fell in love with the character of Mercy Taylor, the only unmagical member of Savannah's premier witching family, the Taylors. Now Savannah of today doesn't quite look the same as 1977 but that wasn't a problem because Horn paints a vivid picture of Savannah, both real and imagined in his book. He does such a thorough job of creating this canvas of magical Savannah intermingled with real Savannah that this is believable. Do I believe there are witches in Savannah? No...sort of...well...you never know. 

Before long, I was on Google Earth trying to find the crossroads of Normandy Street and the long forgotten path where Mother Jilo performs her magic. There is a crossroad! Now whether anyone does their "root magic" business like Jilo is anybody's guess but I was sure it was possible. That's what good author's do. They sell you the dream they are weaving to the point where you believe it like a child believes Santa is going to shove his jolly butt down millions of chimnies on Christmas Eve! 

I finished that book within a day and I was hungry for more so I downloaded and began reading the second book, The Source and then two day's later the final book, The Void. I was now officially obsessed with Horn's Savannah. Now I suppose a good blogger would give more details about the books but I don't want to ruin it. Read them. If you like paranormal books about historic places and big magical families, you will love them. 

At the end of Christmas break, my lungs were better and I went back to school. In January Kevin got some great news from the V.A. His military disability rating had been upped and therefore he had several thousand dollars coming to him because his claim was retroactive. I had recently reconnected with Kevin's oldest daughter, Hollie and hatched a plan that my BFF Nessa C and I in the following June would drive all the way to Pennsylvania and back to pick up Hollie and her three daughters so they could spend a month with us. Kevin agreed. He was excited to see his daughter. Now Kevin hates to travel so with the exception of a short honeymoon to Fredericksburg, Texas, Kevin and I have never been on a vacation. I felt I was looooong overdue for a vacation and because I worried I might never get another, I was determined we were going to take the most scenic route to Pennsylvania. A route that included a three-day side trip to Savannah. I know. I'm the worst but I don't regret it. 

Nessa and I doing the tourist
thing in Savannah's historic
district

Mine and Vanessa's road trip was an adventure that had pitfalls and wrong turns that made our trip very memorable but when we got to Savannah at 12:00 a.m. the second night of our journey, everything went right. We walked the semi-deserted riverfront-it was a weeknight, and I remember the smell and the moist breeze and thought, "At last." Our hotel was in the historic district just one street over from the riverfront. For the next three days, we walked and toured and saw all the sights Savannah had to offer. 

Our second evening, I decided to find the crossroads of Normandy Street and the forgotten path. As we made our way to that part of town, I watched with fascination how the houses turned from historical and genteel to shabby with people sitting on their porches enjoying their evening. These were true residents of Savannah who lived beyond the grand facade of the historic district.  When we finally reached Normandy, I was disappointed to discover a six-foot cyclone fence and gate barring my path. Now you may ask yourself, would I really have walked to the crossroads? No. I'm crazy but not that kind of crazy. I sure would have driven as far as I could. I was disappointed but I was also excited because the crossroads was somewhere behind those gates. Maybe not Jilo's crossroads but the one that J.D. Horn had decided to embellish on and put in his book. 

The entrance to the road known as Saul Court which according to maps, curved and led to Normandy Street. I looked at Google Earth and found this image which was exactly what Vaness and I found we went two years ago. However, upon moving forward on the map, I found an older picture that showed a housing project that had once been on this road. Interesting...

Earlier that day, we had gone to Tybee Island with Nessa's childhood friend Raymond who lived in a small town nearby. Raymond was a wonderful tour guide. We were going down the highway and he said, "Look over there." He pointed to a spot up ahead, under an overpass. He went on to explain that there was tent city under that overpass where homeless people lived. Bells went off in my head and I remembered in The Line, Mercy tells of a homeless encampment near the country club and very close to the crossroads. I immediately pull out my phone and look up our location on Google maps. Sure enough, that encampment is right near the fabled "crossroads."

Now Nessa and I chronicled all our road trip adventures on Facebook. Every post began with, "Dear Friends" and ended with "Your friendly Thelma and Louise." We however, did not share our search for the homeless encampment because I was rather ashamed of the fact that I found entertainment in such a thing. Why am I sharing it now? Hmmm...because this post is not really about the encampment. Instead, it is about chasing that elusive dream of magical Savannah and the mythical crossroads in Horn's book. It's about the power of books and how they can inspire you. 

 When I discovered I wouldn't be able to get near the crossroads, we went driving around the historic district and then I talked Vanessa into going to find the homeless encampment. As we made our way out of the historic district to head to our destination, we discovered a pilgrimage along the side of the road. There were people-individuals, couples and small groups leaving the tourist ridden historic district and heading the way we were. I saw the man who had sold me a corn stalk rose the day before. His enthusiasm and humor winning me over even as Vanessa gave me the stink eye to not encourage him. Where I wondered were all of these people going?  They were what my mom would have called down in the mouth. As we neared the point where we had seen the encampment, I realized that when the sun went down, and the tourists thinned out, these people who worked the tourist district in whatever manner, walked home. Home to the encampment. 

We don't like to think of the people who are part of the tourist landscape living like this but it is a hard reality. It seems so wrong that in a city so graceful and beautiful that there are people living like this. Especially for a small town girl like me who only see's homeless people when I venture into the city.  I had taken this journey out of the historic district in pursuit of entertainment and discovered these were real people's lives. This sadness did not dim my need to see the encampment. 

The sun was going down and I saw the fires before I saw the people and the tents. As we got closer, I begged Vanessa to slow down but she wouldn't go as slow as I liked. She didn't think it was a good idea and she didn't want the people to know we were there for a show. I'm glad she didn't. As we went past, I could see the movement of the fires and the people cooking their dinners over them and milling around their tents. The blur of our passing made it seem otherworldly. It reminded me of stories of gypsies around a campfire. I know it is fanciful but that it what it reminded me of. I made Vanessa make a u-turn six times so I could see it in detail. 

So what you may ask is the purpose of this blog post? It's to remind you that if you let it a story can move you, suck you in and take you on a journey real or imagined that you won't forget. I am enjoying Horn's latest novel, Jilo. I miss the modern story of the Taylors but I think I'm only a third of the way through Jilo's story and it is gooood! There are some scary, things that go bump in the night stuff in this novel set in the 1930s and 50s. If that is your thing, grab a copy of J.D. Horn's Jilo. 

Have a good night.

Prayers for San Bernardino

My heart goes out to all the families in San Bernardino. This is so tragic. I'm praying for them and all schools tonight. 

Candle photo credit: Chris B Richmond <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/35652152@N07/28568752465">Melting</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/">(license)</a>

Surprise Baby Girl!

My latest obsession is entering this flash fiction contest I found online. Flash fiction are short stories from 100 to 1000 words. I want to enter this contest just because lately I've had a lot of experience with my creative writing class writing really short stories. Well, I spent a couple hours yesterday polishing a story I thought would be good but after a frustrating couple of hours decided to scrap it. I looked through all my stories I've written in the past two months and decided to dust this one off. When I wrote it over a month ago, the story popped out of my brain and onto the page within an hour. I don't know where I came up with it, it was just there and it was the easiest writing assignment so far. Here it is. Let me know what you think.

Surprise Baby Girl!

"Where is she? She said two and its already a quarter past."  I said.

"Chancy you know your mama. She's always late.  Used to drive Mama and Daddy crazy when we were teenagers." Aunt Mimi patted her short, bouffant red hair in place and took a drag off her Salem.

We were standing in Aunt Mimi and Uncle Chuck's driveway.  I'd been staying with them while my Mama was gone but she was coming home today. I glanced at my Timex and then down Aunt Mimi’s tree lined street. Where was she?

 Mama owned the Cut and Curl beauty shop in town. When my second cousin, Francie had won the Miss Texas pageant, Francie had gotten mama hired on as part of her beauty team that traveled with her to the nationally televised pageant in Atlantic City. 

Unfortunately, Francie got cut in the first round of the pageant. Aunt Mimi, Uncle Chuck and I watched it on their television. Francie got all flustered when the judges asked her what advice she would give to young people who were offered drugs. After looking blankly, Francie finally stuttered, "I-It's not good."

 "Oh, my…Well, at least her hair looked good!" Aunt Mimi had said and turned the television off. That was two days ago.

"I think that's her!" Aunt Mimi pointed at a long, white Buick Wildcat driving toward us a half block away.  Sure enough, Mama was waving out the passenger window, a bright blue scarf tied around her red hair.

"Whose car is she in and who is that driving?" Two weeks ago Mama had driven the sixty miles to the DFW airport in her tan Dodge Dart.

"Now Chancy be patient. She'll explain everything when she gets here."

"Explain?" I asked. “What?”

The Buick swung in the driveway and barely stopped before Mama jumped out squealing like a pig with her arms wide open. "Baby girl!" She yelled and grabbed me to her chest. I hugged her back and inhaled the familiar scent of her favorite perfume, Fame by Corday.

"Oh baby girl I missed you!" she said.

"I missed you too Mama," I said. My irritation was gone. I was just so glad to have her back home.

I heard a man clear his throat. Mama pulled away beaming. "Baby, I want you to meet someone." She pulled me toward a well-dressed man in his early forties standing near the car. "This is Richard. We met in Atlantic City. He was one of the judges at the pageant."

"Hello," I said. I was feeling confused but then alarm bells went off in my head as I watched Richard put his arm around Mama's shoulder.

"I have a surprise… Look!" Mama held up her and Richard's left hands and I saw the matching gold bands encircling their third fingers. A large diamond ring snuggled closely to mama's band. "We got married!" Mama squealed and they beamed like idiots at me, oblivious to my shock. 

"Married? But you were only gone two weeks! You don't even know him!" The words sounded hateful but I couldn't help it.  I looked at Aunt Mimi’s smiling face. "You knew?" 

Aunt Mimi took my hands in hers and I briefly tried to pull away. "Chancy baby your Mama deserves to be as happy as your Uncle Chuck and I. Richard sounds like a wonderful man. He owns his own business in Dallas!"

Richard stepped forward and enfolded my stiff body in his arms. “I can’t wait till you come to Dallas and meet my boys. I just know they are going to love their new sister.” He stepped back and beamed.

"Did you hear that baby? You have two brothers!”

How could Mama do this? It had just been just the two of us my whole life. I had never cared much that my daddy had walked out the door before I could walk. I had Mama and now mama…had Richard. I felt the anger build inside.  I wanted to scream the nastiest word I could think of till their smiles melted from their happy faces. I wanted to stomp and scream and yell, “How dare you!” I filled my lungs and opened my mouth, ready spew my anger at all three of them when I saw Richard rubbing mama’s arm absent-mindedly and mama was looking up at him in a way I had never seen before. They were so excited. I slowly closed my mouth and swallowed my scream.

“Brothers,” I said, pasting a smile on my face. “Cool.” 

Encouragement Comes When you Least Expect It

Day 14 of my Shut up and Blog Challenge. I began this challenge to become a better writer and I believe I have. Today, I received the ultimate compliment from my husband Kevin. Seth had gone to a play with a friend so it was just Kevin and I running errands. In the car, I read Kevin my late bloomer post from yesterday. After I was done, he said, "That sounds just like a magazine article." My Kevin is famous for not giving compliments. He just thinks they are insincere sounding and he's above all that. My first reaction was, "Are you being sarcastic?" Sarcasm is his thing but he was quick to reassure me he was being honest. It felt pretty awesome. 

When we got home, I decided to start shining up a story I had written for my creative writing class on Coursera. I'm hoping to enter it in a flash fiction contest. For the uninitiated, flash fiction is a full fictional story with less than 750 words. My story was at a thousand words so I had the task of not only shortening it but polishing it. Two hours later, I had to walk away from it. I managed to get it under 750 but it cost me one of the more interesting parts of the story and my title. However, the backstory was too long and drawn out. I wouldn't say I have writer's block but perhaps writers remorse. I want that part of my story that I cut, back. I just had to get some breathing room from it. Walking away is usually the best solution. Anyway, I was feeling a little crappy but encouragement comes from the oddest places sometimes. 

I opened my email and found a weekly progress report from Grammarly.  Grammarly is a website that I registered for free for that checks your spelling, grammar, and usage. It is very user-friendly and I write with it every day. For instance, right now while writing this post, I see about ten red underlined words that Grammarly is flagging as incorrect. 
Well, today I discovered they keep track of your writing and send reports. I love getting a grade or a rating and look! It says I wrote more words than 92% of their users! I either have a whole lot to say or too much dang time on my hands. No matter. I love being the top of the group. 

Well, it gets better. I have a larger vocabulary than 98% of Grammarly users! That is pretty awesome and the best part is that it gave me the drive to write this post. Well, my eyes are starting to cross so I'm going to bed. Have a great night and remember to show me some love in the comments section. 

Confessions of a Late Bloomer

I have a confession...I am a late bloomer. Frankly, I didn’t have the luxury of being a late bloomer as a child. I was a latchkey kid who at the age of six, got myself ready for school every morning. How did this happen?

Being the youngest child of older parents who divorced when I was five probably had a great deal to do with it.  I will also let you in on a little secret you probably don’t know unless you are the youngest in your family. The “baby” learns a survival skill their older siblings don’t: How to manipulate others to do our bidding!  Siblings get exasperated by our lack of independence but they always just sigh and do it for us anyway. I had the double distinction of being the youngest cousin on both sides of my family and referred to as “the baby” until I went to kindergarten. I have a memory of my family getting ready to go somewhere and mom asking, “Where’s the baby?” I was four!

Like all late bloomers, I had a knack for finding friends who were willing to do my bidding when my family wasn't around to do it for me. My mother lamented often and loudly about my messy room. One day, she walked in to find all my clothes and toys neatly put away. "You cleaned your room?!" She said, excited. "Naw," I replied. "Donna and Lee Ann did it."  Did you notice how shamelessly I fessed up to the fact that my friends had cleaned my room for me? 

Well as great as it was to have everything done for me as a child, it didn't make the road to adulthood very smooth. While all my classmates were anticipating college, I didn't have a clue if I would even graduate. Though it worried me, it didn't worry me much. That, I believe is another side effect of being the youngest in the family. We are eternal optimists. No worries. It will all be okay.

Not all youngest children are late bloomers but I painfully was. I graduated from high school later than my classmates. When I did go to college, it was at the age of twenty and only after my older sister Linda filled out the paperwork and drove me to take the ACT. My mother saw to it that I was enrolled because my Army colonel dad insisted.

Though he didn’t have the high expectations for me that he did for my brainiac older sister Linda, he did have my college career mapped out. His plan? Go to business school and become…wait for it because this is hilarious…AN EXECUTIVE SECRETARY! Isn’t that a hoot? Dad was extremely intelligent but HELLO! Pampered, absent minded (a.k.a. ADHD) late bloomers like me do not make good executive secretaries. Can you imagine?

After two painful years of business school in which I suffered from extreme anxiety, upset stomach, and dismal grades, I quit. Or should I say Dad let me quit? Off and on for the next ten years, I worked in a daycare. Oh, and can I say this? Childcare work is the most thankless job in the world. It did, however, teach me one thing. I learned I loved children and I knew I wanted to be a teacher.

My twenties were spent in relative solitude. My business school stint had turned me into a shy person. I didn’t date and I stopped going out with friends. My mother, bless her soul was my greatest fan and unfortunately, my greatest enabler. When not working for a tyrant at a daycare, I spent my time reading and worrying because I now knew I was a late bloomer but felt helpless to make it better. 

At the age of thirty, I met a coworker at the daycare center where I worked. For Heidi, the daycare was just a temporary stop on the road to college. Heidi was on fire. She was going to be a teacher and further, she was going to change the world. Even after she left the daycare, and started college, our friendship continued. She couldn’t imagine anyone not going to college and so for over a year, she pestered me to apply for college. I was scared but she wouldn’t let up. I applied to college and started part time in the fall of 1994. 

Unfortunately, my friendship with Heidi didn’t last past the first semester of the night class. I was, after all, a late bloomer and I felt so out of my element with girls who had been in college for a year and who knew exactly what they wanted to teach. Heidi and her college friends seemed snobbish to me. Side note: Heidi is now a professor and child advocate in Florida. Hello. Can we say Facebook stalking? I'm rather shameless about it so don't bother. 

 After that class, I started taking day classes and I made my own friends. These girls didn’t know any more than I did and a few were bigger late bloomers than me. I found my voice and then no one could shut me up. For the first time, I found I was good at school. Making A’s was my fix and I loved school and people asking to make copies of my notes because I always seemed to know what I was doing.

"The Mac Daddy Caddy"

Despite my success in college, I was a late bloomer who lived at home with my mom and didn’t own a car but I tell you what! I was straight A student! Doesn’t that count for something? I graduated at the age of 36. My dad, I think for the first time was proud of me and for my graduation, he gave me his 1986 Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham. It was in mint condition and the size of a small yacht. My nephew Mitchell dubbed it the “Mac Daddy Caddy.” It drove smooth as melted butter and I loved it. 

The summer after my graduation, I met Kevin, my future husband. My friend Lee Ann (who as a child had cleaned my room) kept telling me about this great guy she had met who was looking for an old fashioned girl. I kept putting it off but finally said yes. It was instant like/love for both of us that July night. 

A month after meeting Kevin, I heard about and applied for a job at a school district thirty miles from home. I got the job. Kevin and I married the following March. Was my reign as the queen of the late bloomers finally over? As much as I made up for lost time, my life's ongoing theme of late bloomer continued. I didn’t have my first child until I was almost forty-four. That wasn’t really my fault but despite my advanced age, I was as inexperienced as most twenty-year-olds. I am now and will always be a late bloomer. Like my childhood self, I have managed to surround myself with people who get that and love me in spite of it.

In the eighteen years, I have been teaching kindergarten, I have met several late bloomers and their despairing parents.   In an effort to calm their fears, I tell them to not give up and that I too was a late bloomer. A late bloomer who has a Master’s degree in education and graduated with a 4.0! That’s the thing about late bloomers, if given enough patience, love and a little push in the right direction, we do eventually bloom. 

Little School, Big Heart

Earlier, I had halfway written a post when I had a few phone calls about school and got kind of off track. This post will be short but I just want to say I love the people I work with. We are like a big old family. Sometimes we grumble at each other but you know what? At the end of the day, we know we are family.

Times have been tough in Oklahoma and there have been many cuts to education. Our little school has been hit pretty hard, but these people have rolled up their sleeves and dug in and done what had to be done. They aren't always everyone's cup of tea and some love them and some perhaps not so much, but they are going to teach every person's child to the best of their ability. Well, that's all for tonight. Just had to share my love for these people. BTW: It's day 12 and I'm still blogging. Just had to throw that in there. Have a great evening.

The Most Dangerous App on Your Students iPads: The iTunes Store!

Saaay What??? For Real? I don't think so. That's what you may be thinking and until this week, I too would have scoffed at that one. Be patient and I will explain.

This is the first year my students have each had their own iPad. On those iPads, they only have learning apps and the Apple apps installed at the factory. I felt secure letting my student's work independently on the iPad without wondering what they were getting into. That is, until this past Monday.

A little girl asked if she could listen to music. I assumed she meant within the reading app she was working on so I said, sure. A few minutes later, I heard her say, "They just said a potty word in that song." I assured her that wasn't possible. I mean, after all, ABC Mouse wouldn't allow that. Right? Well, guess what? She wasn't on ABC mouse. She was on the iTunes store. Seems harmless enough except...NOT! I made her get off the iTunes store but curious, I went scrolling through the artists featured on the opening page and the first one I clicked on had explicit lyrics.

All my kinders have to do to get a big dose of "potty words" is to click on a song that is labeled "E" for explicit. Imagine any song you can buy on iTunes. When your student clicks on it, they get to hear the thirty-second snippet of that song.

This was the opening page on iTunes. See all those little red "E" boxes all over the page. All those indicate that a song has explicit language. I clicked on one and got to hear the "F" word and women referred to as "bitches". How would you like your son or daughter coming home saying those words?

What to do? You can't delete the iTunes store off your student's iPads. There are a couple of options. One that I used back in the days when I let my student's use my personal iPad and didn't want them Facebooking on my behalf was GUIDED ACCESS. With this setting, you put your student on the game you want them on and then the only way they can get out of it is with a passcode. Click here if you want to know the specifics of how to do this. This, however, can be time-consuming when you have a classroom full of kids. Another option is to "hide" the iTunes store app. After researching it on Google, I found there is a simple way to hide apps you don't want your student to have access to. For that little gem of information, click here.

Now don't get me wrong and Apple please don't sue me for slander. I've got nothing but love for Apple and I am a total iPad devotee but I don't want my babies getting into stuff they shouldn't so Apple hang up the phone with your lawyers. Ha! As if. Well, I hope this was helpful and I want to shout out to my little Lindey Joy who first discovered the potty words. Thanks, girl. 

Have a great evening everyone and show me some love and post in the comments.