New Beginnings

No matter how old you get, there is an opportunity for a new beginning.  I love to write but had, for a time, abandoned my blog.  I have wanted to be a writer since I was in Mrs. Crain's 4th grade class.
Being an ADD child that drove all my teachers crazy, compliments were few and far between. Since my mother was a teacher in the building, many times she knew what I had done wrong before I did.
I never seemed to be out from under a cloud until I had Mrs. Crain in 4th grade.

We were learning to write thank you notes. She came into our class, looked over the room and told us to "write".  Everyone was confused.  There were no instructions. She told us to  write about whatever came into our heads.  I started writing about the mountains. I had spent the summer in Washington State where the mountains amazed me by their magnificence and size.  Whenever we drove high into them, they were so pretty it took my breath away.  I wrote until she told us to stop.  Some people had still not written a word.

I remember across the top of my paper Mrs. Crain wrote, "Beautiful description Jan".  I was elated.  I could not believe I had done something to get such high praise.  From then on, when I finished my work, she told me to, "Just write." I began my journey.  My blog has been a continuation of that journey.

This week I had the opportunity to go to the West Texas A&M Writing Academy, started by Jodi Thomas, the author of 46 historic fiction Texas romances.  Most of the participants were published writers.  Our classes were led by successful published writers.  The group I was in had the privilege to be mentored by Rosa Latimer, author of the Historic Harvey House books.

I am so excited to have another beginning.  I hope you will continue on this journey with me.  The encouragement you have given me over the years through my blog, has given me the confidence to take this step.  My first book was WINDMILL TALES, published by the Texas Tech University Press.

I am currently working on two children books, one based on the blog post, An Old Man Named Henry and another based on the museum cat, Perkins, at the American Windmill Museum.  The big project I am currently researching is about LaMarque in the 50s and 60s.  The Last of the Tigers, class of 1970 is contributing to my research. The following pictures are some of the activities at the Writer's Academy.

Author of the Harvey House books, 

Texas New Mexico and Kansas, Rosa Latimer

West Texas A&M Writers Academy

Jodi Thomas, Author of 46 romances of          Rosa Latimer, Author
historic Texas.

Jodi Thomas, Author, Sharron, Rosa Latimer, Author, Jan, Donna and Kay

L-R Dallas,

 Bookstore owner in Canyon, Donna, Kay and Sharron

Christmas Cards

Did you get any Christmas Cards this year?  Did you send any out?  I send out thirty-five and got thirty-one.  There were years when I sent out seventy-five and still missed people.  I contemplated why my list had gotten so small and realized....so many people have died.  I am sixty-five so that is not unexpected.  

My fondest memories of Christmas as a child had nothing to do with gifts or places we went, but rather with Christmas cards.  My mother had three brothers, but her mother was one of eleven kids. Since Grannie was the oldest, all but 3 of her siblings were younger than her.  Some she even helped raise.  All of my great aunts and uncles were more like the were my mother's siblings.  And... they all lived in Washington State.  We only saw them once a year and for Christmas we were on our own.

In that stack of Christmas cards were my Christmas family visits.  My mother would read them and the put them in a basket.  The first thing I did when I got home from school was to grab the basket and start reading through all the cards.  They had news of cousins, school pictures, family pictures and stories of the adventures of the past year. Each one I read, I imagined their snowy houses and thought for sure they must go places in a sleigh on occasion.

We didn't talk on the phone much because it was long distance and much more expensive than today.  The only long distance calls we could afford were those to my grandparents.  To make the call we dialed the operator, then she would ask what area code we wanted to call.  She would click click click and then say "I have Area Code 509, what is the number?"  The number would be a name and number like WESTMORE 5-9797.  There  would be more clicking and finally an answer.  Then Mom would say, "Do we have a good connection?  Can you hear me?" The conversation would start.  Mom would always complain that when she called Grannie and Papa, they wanted to talk forever but when they called us, they kept it short. And that was why the cards were so special.

I dreamed every time a read a card, of living in Washington with the mountains and snow.  It seems like a fantasy land where Christmas must be like a story book.  Once Grannie sent me picture looking out her front window.  The snowplows would pile the snow in the middle of her street, and in this particular picture, it was piled so high she could not see the house across the street. I couldn't even imagine snow, much less that much of it.  

As it got closer to Christmas the basket got fuller.  Mom would take the cards we had gotten first and nestle them in the branches of the tree like an ornament.  There were a few I would always keep at the top of the stack, so I could read them over again.  The notes made it seem like family was just down the street. I would almost forget until I walked out into the balmy 80 degree humid coastal air.  

When Christmas got to only a few days away our tree was full of beautiful cards.  I knew just by looking at them who had sent them.  The tree and decorations would come down after New Years but the cards would go back into the basket and stay out a bit longer.  It wasn't unusual to come in from school and find my mom reading through the cards again too.

As I grew older I began to realize I felt  much closer to all those cousins, aunts and uncles than they ever felt to me.  They saw each other every week or so.  Being so far away we were pretty much forgotten, until our summer visits. To me however, it was as if they visited our house each year at Christmas.  My memories of those people are still cherished in my heart, a special part of of my childhood Christmas memories.

THAT woman

Many of your have seen the Face Book post of the lady in Barnes and Noble going completely ballistic over a book called MISERY that they did not carry.

Comments ranged from "lunatic" to "crazy women."  

One comment said,  

"Can you believe that woman? She needs to be institutionalized."

Another said, 

"She had to be an actress just making a scene, no-one would ever really do anything like that"

Ugh but they do, they will and I did......

Since I no longer work I purposely go to the market when it is not busy. Sometimes though it backfires, they have fewer checkers so the lines are still about the same.  There is one checker, I will call her  “Martha” who drives me crazy.  She asked too many questions and is a busy body. 

On this particular day the market was not busy but there were only a few checkers. The lines were long….except for one, Martha’s.  I had other things to do, I thought, I can stand that woman just this one time.  She was  checking the lady’s groceries in front of me.  The bag girl was slow and had not finished bagging the lady’s groceries.  Martha finished her groceries and handed the lady her receipt. 

Then, before the bag girl can finish, Martha starts frantically checking my groceries.  I see them sliding into the pile of the first lady’s groceries.   Martha was blabbing as usual, asking,  what I was I going to use this for and would my husband really eat that?  I was keeping my eyes on where my groceries were since they were running together. 

The bag girl got the other lady's groceries bagged in paper bags and slipped them into a half full basket. She then pulled out my reusable bags and started putting my groceries into them.  Now I could tell them apart and I was concentrating on getting out my debit card, sliding it and putting in my preferred customer number.

Another checker walked up with her cash drawer and cash bag and said, “ I am ready when you are.”  Martha immediately said, “Sure!” and $150 into checking me out suddenly totaled my groceries out.  Surprised I said, “Wait half my basket had not been checked out!” 

Martha said,

“Oh that’s okay, you already slid you card so I will let her ring up the other half and your will just have two receipts. 

“What? Why couldn’t you have just finished checking me out?”

“My shift is over and I have to pick up my kids, this is easier.

“That’s not easier for me.”

“Here’s your receipt for what I rang.”  I put the receipt my closest sacked bag of groceries.  I put my debit card away, opened my Dr. Pepper, took a sip and when I looked around my $150 worth of groceries in my reusable bags, had been loaded into the first lady’s half empty basket and were being rolled out the front door with the lady in front of me.   The girl replacing Martha was now checking the remainder of my groceries. Frantic, I told her to stop. A strolling manager had realized there was confusion as he walked by and stopped.

“What is wrong here?”  Half of my groceries were now being rolled out to the parking lot.

“Martha just left in the middle of checking me out and the bag girl put half my groceries in the ladies basket in front of me.  I can tell mine because they are in recyclable bags.”  I looked again at the checker and asked her to please stop. She didn’t.

The line was once again long and people behind me were talking and giving me these disgusted looks.

“That’s no problem,” the manger said, “Who was the bag girl I will just go and get them.”  As he turned the bag girl came walking in.

“I screamed that is the girl and my groceries are gone!”

The checker had just finished with the rest of my groceries,  “$183.45 she smiles and says please slide your card.”

I was so upset by now I was shaking, “Why did you let the girl put my first $150 of groceries in that other ladies cart?”

The checker said,

“I didn’t check her out, you are my first customer.  All your groceries are right here.”

“No they are not.  Don’t you remember Martha totaled the first part of my groceries out so you could check into the register.”

“Ugh I was just paying attention to what I was doing, Martha was closing her own drawer out.”

By now the store manager had decided I was trying to steal $150 worth of groceries.  I was so angry I was shaking.  He said, “I will personally carry your groceries out.”

“I don’t want you to!  I want you to get the first $150 of groceries I bought.  I can’t afford to just throw $150 down the drain.”

He took hold of the basket the remainder of my groceries were and started to the parking lot. “Well you have all your groceries, I am sorry for the confusion.  I will prove that to you when we check them at your vehicle.” I opened the hatch and he proceeded to check the item against the second receipt and the proclaimed that all of the items were there.   Once again I tried to explain that Martha had checked me out on two receipts.

“Well then if she did where is the first receipt?”

“I put it in the bags that were recyclable to mark which bags were mine.”

“So you are saying that the first lady who had the basket with the recyclable bags in it has your receipt?”

“Yes!....ugh no!! It wasn’t given to her, it was MY receipt that I put in MY recyclable bag of MY groceries that the bag girl put in the other lady’s basket.”  
"Her groceries were the ones in paper bags, only the recyclable bags in her basket were mine."

"I am sorry but this makes no sense.  I have seen every way there is to get groceries for nothing but this is a first.  You are going to have to leave the premises or I will have to call security." With that he turned and walked away.

I screamed after him, “YOU JUST GAVE $150 DOLLARS OF GROCERIES THAT I PAID FOR TO THAT OTHER LADY FOR FREE!!!  I WILL NEVER SHOP AT THIS STORE AGAIN.

Crying, shaking and still screaming in my car, I noticed the parking lot full of horrified customers looking at me. Then remembered this WAS the only grocery store in town.