Out on a Limb

The second half of last Saturday’s Scribes on Stage event, An Evening of One-Act Plays, featured local authors reading their works at the Peacock Performing Arts Center in Hayesville, North Carolina. I had the honor of sharing two of Dad’s letters home from World War II, in which he wrote about crossing the Atlantic on the luxury liner-turned-troop transport Queen Mary in 1944, and his day observing the Nuremburg trials in 1946.

Add a postscript to your Valentine's Day celebration next Saturday evening! Treat your sweetheart to a night at the Peacock Performing Arts Center in Hayesville, North Carolina! Enjoy an evening of reader’s theater with local actors and playwrights delivering entertainment at every turn!

Please check out my story on today’s 6-minute Stories Podcast. Randell Jones does a superb job reading my piece that appears in his latest Personal Stories Publishing Project anthology, Foiled. I’m delighted to be featured!

The new administration has “paused” funding for federal grants across the board, including those previously approved to assist rural communities in becoming better prepared to deal with wildfires. Reports indicate that some analysts believe that “pause” is a euphemism for “cancel.” If that is correct, then this action will effectively crush what has been a heartening commitment by local leaders in states both red and blue to try to get a handle on an increasingly out-of-control, climate-boosted environmental situation that now regularly sparks ever-more-destructive wildfires that kill, maim, and render people homeless. And it’s not just in California.

A sense of dread overwhelms me on the eve of America’s first coronation. I don’t know what lies ahead, but I do know that I am afraid. In a conscious effort to be grateful for the small things that can brighten such moments, I’ll share with you something that happened this morning.

A classmate of mine lost his home in the Los Angeles-area wildfires. My heart goes out to him and his family, as well as the thousands of other folks who suddenly found themselves homeless. It surprised me that the fires burned across regular suburban neighborhoods as well as the chapparal-covered hillsides where luxury homes nestle—and burn on a regular basis.

Recently, I stopped by my insurance agency. A personable young man sat behind the reception desk, chatting with another customer. He greeted me with a smile.

I read thirty-seven books in 2024, six fewer than last year. The list does not include four books I started reading but didn’t finish. Nor does it include the gazillion or so articles, newsletters, and white papers I’ve read about current events. This is the primary reason I neglected to read what interests me most. I’ve spent countless hours wringing hands and grieving about what appears to be the collapse of our world. I’ve already done what I think I can do to counter that, but I finally recognize that it is beyond my power to change things on a macro scale. My new year’s resolution is to focus on the micro scale. Little actions can make a difference. I’m up for that.

My friend, Mary Ricketson, graciously granted me permission to share her Christmas article that appeared in her monthly column, "Woman to Woman," in December 2024, in the Cherokee Scout, Murphy, NC. Thank you, Mary. I echo your sentiments.

Earlier this year I discovered Persimmon Tree, an online magazine of the arts by women over sixty. Its publisher says, “Too often older women’s artistic work is ignored or disregarded, and only those few who are already established receive the attention they deserve. Yet many women are at the height of their creative abilities in their later decades and have a great deal to contribute. Persimmon Tree is committed to bringing this wealth of fiction, nonfiction, poetry, and art to a broader audience, for the benefit of all.”

Folks are closing in on holiday preparations. Our local writers’ groups have been busy with book signings, and I’ve been working hard to get Dear Folks into area bookstores. I’m humbled by the kind words and encouragement from new and old friends, near and far. Dad would have been flabbergasted at the interest his letters have stirred up, and he would have been proud to see our book so well-received. Thanks to all who have supported this project!

My partner in crime, Carroll Taylor, teamed up with me again yesterday for a book signing at Tiger’s Store and Chinquapin’s Ice Cream and Soda Bar in Hayesville, NC. Sunshine and warmer weather brought out holiday shoppers to browse, chat, and (of course) enjoy sweet treats. I highly recommend their Roadrunner Raspberry ice cream! What fun to meet new people and share our latest books. Here is a link to my books.

I am pleased to announce that I received an honorable mention in Raw Earth Ink's 2024 Northwind Writing Award competition, non-fiction category, for an excerpt from my first book, My Mother’s Keeper: One Family’s Journey through Dementia.

‘Twas a chilly Black Friday in the western North Carolina mountains. My writer friends, Lorraine Bennett and Carroll Taylor, joined me at Hayesville’s Beal Center for a fun day with holiday shoppers. We appreciated the indoor setting and festive colors—and the opportunity to share our latest books with everyone. Details about my new book, Dear Folks: Letters Home 1943-1946 World War II, can be viewed here.

This is not a recipe blog, but I just have to share. The unseasonably warm weather I mentioned last week generated an amazing bumper crop. Small but sweet, these green peppers stuffed beautifully when I tried a variation on a family favorite. It calls for hamburger, rice, chopped onion, tomato soup, and garden herbs. It made much more than would fit inside the little cuties, so I lined the bottom of a casserole dish with half the extra, laid the stuffed delicacies on it, and covered with the rest of the leftover concoction. Topped with more undiluted soup and sprinkled with grated cheese, they turned out beautifully. Yum!

For much of this month I’ve been fighting the blues as I stew about the state of my country and the world. The famous serenity prayer reminds me to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. A wise woman (my mother) often said, “nothing lasts forever.” I know that is true, but sometimes “not forever” seems like a very long time.

Here is the original photo that I used for the Dear Folks cover. Dad is in the upper left. His photo album has a lot of great pictures, and I included some of them in the book, along with images of items he collected during and after the war, including cartoons from Yank magazine, news clippings, and his pass and copy of the program for the Nuremberg trials.Every day, but particularly on Veterans Day, I think of my dad and the multitude of others who served their country bravely and faithfully, not only during World War II, but over the past nearly 250 years. I pray that their sacrifices may not have been in vain.

Disclaimer: I’m not tech-savvy. Anything beyond my laptop’s word processing software is a mystery to me. When given a choice, I opt for low-tech every time. I don’t even have a smartphone. I could probably figure out how to use one, but I like to disappear and intentionally make myself unavailable. However, I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to avoid getting one. More and more daily tasks require mobile connectivity. The following anecdote is a case in point.