My sister arrived in the doorway with rivers of brilliant blue running down her face and neck and into her shirt. For some reason, she’d chosen that day to renew her hair color and been unfortunate enough to arrive at our family summer home in a downpour. By now you’re aware that our place is on an island, which means crossing a stretch of water in a rowboat, completely unprotected from the elements. Every bag she set down immediately created a small lake on the floor. I was thankful I’d not bothered to actually wash the floor earlier since the job would get done now when we mopped up the rain she’d brought in. My sister’s Jack Russell came in and shook. For a small dog, she sure managed to add quite a bit to the general wetness. It began to look like they’d all fallen INTO the lake.

I know, you’re wondering why blue? I wonder that myself. I’d like to think it’s a mid-life crisis, but coloring her hair with vibrant and very unnatural tints has been going on too long to be just a crisis. I think it’s become a way of life, so I shrug my shoulders. That’s my sister and I love her, blue hair, or purple, or whatever the latest color is! She drives a car with fish on it too. Kind of completes the picture! The car was once my mom’s car and I had to take it away from her when her Alzheimer’s got so bad she’d become a hazard to herself and others. Because my Dad lived in the same house and I didn’t and we knew she would be angry, I took the fall. Sarah had needed a new car for some time and it just made sense to give her my Mom’s old car. But like I said, we knew Mom wasn’t going to be happy about losing her wheels so Sarah took it to the body shop and maroon became teal.

Before she took possession of my mom’s car, Sarah drove an ancient white vehicle that had been named Handy Andy due to the multi-colored handprints she and her daughter had decorated the fading white paint with. I suppose, after the all attention Handy Andy drew from anyone who saw it, driving a plain teal car, however lovely the color might be, wasn’t an option. Before long it sported an entire aquarium of creatures, clown fish, seaweed and an octopus that wrapped its arms lovingly about its unlikely home. I don’t know if Sarah ever bestowed a name on this creation, but it attracts as much attention as ever Handy Andy did.

And then there’s the blue hair…..

   The refrigerator at the cabin on our island has been there as long as any of us can remember. I was still a kid when my dad built the place and the fridge was probably installed in the late 50s. And if you knew my dad, you would be just as certain as I am that it was not new when it got there. It's the ugliest teal blue imaginable and some years ago, my sister and I tried to dress it up with some contact paper with a forest pattern on it. Anyway, the thing still runs -- after a fashion. It wheezes and rattles, and occasionally clunks alarmingly. We knew that sooner or later it would die. Probably sooner and with Murphy being a member of the family, it would do so on our family week when there were more than twenty people on the island and the thing would be stuffed with food. Being on an island has it's advantages, but getting a repairman out there to look at a geriatric refrigerator is not among them. And that's even assuming he would have parts for a model that ancient.  But then my sister's company consolidated offices and raffled off the things that would not be moving to the new location, the refrigerator being one. My sister put her name in the hat and to our astonishment, she won it.  Now we just had to get it out there.
   My stepson has a nice big power boat and my son has a buddy he could borrow a pick up truck from. The problem turned out to be that both men have, kids, jobs and busy lives and they kept thinking they had plenty of time to get their time coordinated. But with our family due to arrive en mass in just a couple weeks and with my stepson on vacation we had to fall back on Plan B. Which was disassembling the thing and figuring out how to move it to the island in one of the rowboats.  We row to and from the island and have four different boats to choose from. We ended up with the pram, and towed it with another row boat. Where there is a will, there is a way.  Getting it OUT of the boat once on the island was another chore, followed by getting the hand truck over roots and pine needles. It's now grandly installed in our humble kitchen, looking quite proud of itself and dominating the place. Thank God! Now we won't have to wonder where to keep the cold beer this year! Oh! And the rest of the food, too, of course!

 

I warned you it wasn’t all that grand, even though it’s definitely located in a beautiful place. But yesterday afternoon, I was wondering if it was worth all the work getting here. There had been a week of preparations to leave my home in St Augustine, shutting off mail and newspaper delivery, suspending satellite TV service, cleaning, bringing outdoor furniture inside where it couldn’t do damage if a windy storm blew in, emptying the fridge and the trash, packing my clothes and my car and making certain I had all the stuff I might need with me. Then came two very long days of driving. Ten hours the first day and thirteen the second day. That would usually have been twelve, but a construction tie-up in Pennsylvania kept me in bumper to bumper traffic for over an hour. I had a short but delightful visit at my son’s house, then pushed on to the lake in New Hampshire.

I had two side trips to make; one to Verizon to arrange for my slow but reliable internet connection for the summer and one to pick up replacement heartworm meds that I forgot to bring from home to get Duffy through the summer. Then it was on to the storage unit to pick up my tent and bedding with a stop at the grocery store to stock up at least a few basics in the way of food. Since the cottage is actually on an island, arriving here didn’t mean pulling into the driveway and unlocking the door. It meant unlocking the rowboat, unloading the car and then making three trips across the span of water separating the landing on shore from the dock on the island. It meant spending another whole day erecting my tent and schlepping all my gear from the boat to the tent and setting up my summer digs. So, in the midst of all this work, feeling hot, tired and very grumpy, I wondered if more than a week’s effort was really worth it. I seriously entertained the idea that I was getting too old for this sh@#!

But last night I fell asleep on my extremely comfy double-sized sleeping accommodations consisting of an air-bed topped with an nice thick futon mattress, in a tent with huge windows to let in the cool night air, to the sound of gently lapping water along the island’s shore. And I woke this morning, refreshed and surrounded by all the glory of a beautiful sunny day at the lake. So, now it does feel worth all the effort it took to get here. I still feel old and out of shape, and I really need to do something about that, but my attitude has adjusted itself. Life is definitely very good!

MacDuff has been a very nervous shadow hugging my side as I pack for our annual trip to New England. No way is he planning to be left behind. Every time I haul another box, tote or suitcase out to the car, he sits inside the door worrying. He's a good traveler, though, and all the angst will be worth it when we get to our summer home at the lake in New Hampshire. It sounds grandiose to call it a summer place on an island, and I don't like to give anyone the wrong impression. It is an island and we do own all approximately 1 acre of it, but that's where the fancy leaves off and reality begins. My Dad built a small "temporary" cabin on it back in the 1950s. He had every intention of building a bigger one eventually --- but then he got his first tax bill. New Hampshire has no sales or income tax so it soaks it's landowners. That was the end of any plans to build bigger and we are still the proud owners of a 14'x14' cabin with a small kitchen ell and an 8' porch along the front. Building codes have changed over the years and we'd never get a permit to build bigger now. There's no where on the entire island far enough from the water to meet current day setback requirements. There is electricity, but no running water so we have a hand pump and an outhouse. We treat the cabin like a clubhouse and kitchen while we sleep in tents and have a big dining canopy and two long tables so we can all sit down to dinner at the same time. Access is by rowboat unless my step-son comes up with his nice big power boat, but it's fairly close to shore and the crossing is brief.

But as far as Duff is concerned, the best part of the place is that it is surrounded by water and he can go swimming 24/7. There are ducks to chase and boats to bark at and he loves it. What more could a pooch ask for?  It's also a great place to write. Quite, peaceful and beautiful. So, my plan is to get back to writing and get another book started while I'm there. In between visiting with all my kids and grandkids, that is. And picking fresh blueberries that grow wild on the island, and watching spectacular sunsets, and swimming any time I like, or reading in the hammock at the edge of the lake. Have a wonderful summer, everyone!

I showed up at Taberna del Gallo for work as usual on Sunday - no reason I shouldn't just because it was my birthday after all - and was completely surprised by a party in my honor. I'm a little slow on the uptake - or maybe I can be excused by the interest several patrons showed in my recently released debut novel, but the fact that two couples I call friends just happened to be hanging out in the tavern didn't tip me off. Neither did the fact that both the men who work the tavern were on duty when usually it's just the one on a Sunday afternoon. Even when I spotted Jenny, who manages the place, I hurried after her to tell her something and it was only then that I discovered a party all laid out on the patio. It's amazing how single-mindedly blind I can be at times. There were all the usual accoutrements of a birthday party; good food, cake and ice cream, gifts and photos of course. One of my favorite musicians was there to play and my favorite pirate stopped by to wish me a happy day as well. What a lovely way to mark the passing of years (even when one might wish to slow them down.)  I didn't get much work done, but no one seemed to mind. It turned out to be one of my best birthdays ever, but then, the folk who were there are the best ever. Thanks to Jenny, who I suspect organized it all, to Josh who picked out the perfect cake and always makes my Sundays fun, to Joel for the music, to Bill, Hazel, Bob, Ned, Greg and Reenie for setting aside part of your busy weekend to be there and to everyone else who stopped by to wish me a Happy Birthday. I love you all.

The Kindle in this pile is deceiving - slimmer than anything else save the newspaper clipping, yet it currently holds over 150 books and can hold more than ten times that. The pile itself is deceiving because that's just one surface in my house currently overflowing with books I want to read. In fact, I've decided I need to live as long as Methuseleh if I have any hope of reading everything has caught my interest. And that's if I stop acquiring new material! So, how does one control your To-Be-Read pile? For that matter, how do you keep track of all the books you've managed to amass? I'm looking for ideas here so any suggestions you have are more than welcome. 
But then, I am surrounded by books and I love it. The abundance is a blessing. And no matter what kind of a mood I'm in, there's surely something I will enjoy curling up with. We often take the luxury of reading for granted. We never think about the gift of knowing how to read as just that, a gift. How often do we remember how fortunate we are to live in a country where we have the freedom to read anything we want. Even the smallest of our towns have public libraries where anyone is welcome to come and browse. Our electronic age has made it even easier to acquire books. We can read them on paper, held in our hands, or we can read them on Kindles and Nooks, on our smart phones and our tablets and our computers. Think about the pioneers who traveled west in covered wagons, carrying a handful of carefully chosen books with them and re-reading them over and over. Or the rare soldier or sailor who had but one book to his name and that book a prize possession. How about the indentured servant or slave who had been fortunate enough to be taught how to read because their work required it and they treasured a cast off book regardless of the subject matter. Or a prisoner with a precious book secreted under a mattress to be read only when no one was looking. I wonder what they would think of my library? Of my riches?

   It occurs to me that they would think I was lucky beyond belief. So, I guess the idea of trying to decide what to read next or worrying about the overflowing piles would make them smile or shake their head at me in reproof. Should I ever get up in the dark of night and come into my library and find one of these book-starved ghosts from the past curled up on my loveseat with one of my books in their hand, I think I'll ask them if they'd like a cup of tea to go with it and leave them in peace to enjoy the rest of my collection.

Either my gadgets are getting smarter or I’m getting dumber…Probably both! Not so long ago if I had an interesting tidbit to relate, I could have told you exactly where I heard it. Or read it. Now . . . not so much. The sheer volume of information that I am exposed to has blossomed exponentially and my sources are everywhere.

A few years back my niece set up a family website. Most of us had a cell phone and we all had access to email, but suddenly this became our main source of family unity. Emotionally we are a close and sharing family but we are scattered all over the country so our new family website was like a virtual family gathering. We had picture pages, wish lists and a family calendar, but the most important page was the chat room. None of us would have dreamed of going through an entire day without checking in to see what the rest of the family was up to. We thought this was the end-all in family connectedness!

How quickly that all changed! Now we have smartphones and a download called WhatsApp. Now we “chat” via our phones. Even better, we can share photos and videos. I saw my granddaughter’s missing front teeth and the progress of my daughter’s house construction in New York, my grandson’s fascination with his dad’s power drill and his sister showing off her dance moves in Massachusetts. I can see and hear two other granddaughters playing in a violin recital and dancing at a Feis in Maryland. On Mother’s day I did face-time with my kids and grandkids - hundreds of miles away and they blew me kisses, sang me songs and showed me their latest artwork, and toys.

Then there’s Facebook and Twitter! Who could have even begun to imagine the effect Facebook and Twitter would have on our social lives just a few years ago? Turns out these social mediums and dozens of others can either be the making or breaking of us. Sadly, a congressman from New York found out just how devastatingly ruinous it can be to post something he shouldn’t have. But conversely, an acquaintance of mine gave up waiting for the publishing world to recognize her talent and she self-published her book, which by word of mouth, spread over the country and the world via the internet and became a best seller beyond her wildest dreams. For most of us, they are just another way of sharing the things that make life fun, interesting, challenging and rewarding. Or for staying in touch with all the people we know, no matter how our paths might diverge.

And Blogs! Keeping a personal journal online for the whole world to follow. You can share ideas and information on any topic you can think of. There’s Skpye if you want to see who you’re communicating with. U-tube to share videos. Wikipedia, Ask.com - Google has become a verb! Don’t know the answer to something? Google it!!

Is it any wonder I can’t remember where I heard something? Now if only my smartphone could start an alphabetical file to help me keep track of things. Oh wait—maybe there’s an app for that!

My novels begin in different ways. Sometimes they are just vague thoughts that dance like wraiths in my head and heart for a while. Sometimes they come to me out of the blue like a giant mosaic, all laid out in copious detail. One such book came to me while I explored an abandoned island off the coast of Maine, its houses empty or gone, leaving only daisy-strewn, grass-carpeted cellar holes behind. I stood on one such foundation on a bright sunny day, and the thought came to me, what if this rock I am standing on gave way and I fell into this hole? What if I hit my head, then woke up to find a roof blocking out the sky and the century was in the past? I had such a great time writing that story and exploring the history buried in that old foundation. I hope one day that book will find its way into print because I loved that hero and heroine and I enjoyed the months I spent living in their story.

Whatever it Takes was born differently. My main character, Matt Steele, arrived in my head first, and he was struggling with a problem. But then I had to find a venue to put him into. Perhaps because it was a presidential election year, that became his world. The rest of characters came, one at a time, some because I needed them, some because they demanded to be included. And the story evolved as they argued with me, told me things I didn’t know, and interacted with each other. I created his wife Eve and thought I knew her story, but she surprised me by being very different than I’d first intended. There was a lot of research to be done this time as well because Matt’s issues were out of the past. More than thirty years in the past. But I love history and enjoy research so that was a pleasurable adventure. Researching the down and dirty of our political world wasn’t nearly as much fun, but along the way I found Thanh and then Annie. Ben and Megan, Murdock, TJ and so many more fun and interesting characters joined the cast, bringing their personalities and problems. Now that the final galleys have been checked and rechecked and the writing is done, I will miss them.

Sergeant Samuel Gray Davis, the hidden hero in this story died over thirty years ago and he was named after my grandson, Samuel John Taylor, who died seven years ago of SIDS at the age of five months. Samuel is dedicated to all the young men who went to fight in that war during my coming of age. He was inspired mostly by my brother, Scotty, who did come home, thank God, and a childhood friend who did not. Sam was a boy once, and you get to see some of the things that made up the man he became. Sam had a mom and a dad, family and friends, just as all the young men who have served our country from its beginning to the present day. A family to mourn his loss and treasure his memory and keep old photos to remember him by. My heartfelt thanks and appreciation goes out to all the young people who serve in our armed forces, protecting the freedoms so many take for granted and preserving the American Dream.

 

I hope you will enjoy reading this story as much as I have enjoyed the creation of it. Look for it  on Wings-Press.com or Amazon.com or Barnes & Noble.

My friend Vickie King was playing around with her computer at the end of a great ACRA meeting where we had a workshop on social networking, specifically Twitter. And suddenly, there in front of her was an email from the editor at Belle Bridge Books offering her a two book contract. She was in tears - the rest of us were whooping with glee. What a way to end a meeting! Congratulations Vickie... look for her Braddock Series beginning in September 2013.

The workshop was presented by Kellie Sharpe, aka Summer Stephens. I only wish I knew a fraction of the stuff she knows about social networking on the internet. Lots of great information Kellie. Thanks for sharing.

Right on time, at noon on the high tide, HMS Bounty arrived in St Augustine. I was so hoping to see her come in under sail, but that didn't happen for a couple reasons. One, she actually arrived six hours early and had to sit outside the harbor waiting for the tide and the schedule. Also, it's a small harbor with strong currents and she's a BIG ship! Our own pirate ship, the Black Raven, which is a pretty impressive ship suddenly seemed to shrink as the Bounty sailed past her. The Bridge of Lions was lined with folks to watch as Bounty navigated the, for her, narrow opening under the draw, but her captain and crew has battened all the spars down and she went through like a hot knife through butter.

I had to wait a few days before I could go aboard, but eventually the Coast Guard finished checking her out and folk were invited to visit.
  You can see how impressively big she is, totally dwarfing the Bridge of Lions just beyond her.

After a weekend of visitors, the crew and many of the local folk who helped sponsor her visit came to Taberna del Gallo to party. Since Sunday night is my regular night to volunteer there, I got to rub shoulders with captain and crew, pirates and corsairs and lots of other fun folk.