Ah, Old Movies

Every time I think there’s nothing left to interest me on Netflix, I’m proved wrong. My most recent find took me on a trip down memory lane. The movie I found was Romancing the Stone. Remember that one? Stars included Kathleen Turner, Michael Douglas, and Danny Davito. They were all young and vibrant then. One of those 80’s movies you wished you had the one sheet for. Um – the one sheet is the advertising poster theaters put up to promote this week’s feature.

Part of the fun for me is the clothes. Believe it or not Kathleen didn’t look that out of date in her neutrals and wedge sandals. Her hair was wavy and halfway down her back. Well, so was Michael’s, but it only accentuated his chiseled jaw. Sigh. Together they romped through Columbia, South America, following a much hunted for map, trying to find the “stone”, a massive emerald. They, in turn, were being hunted by Danny Davito and a host of other bad guys. I think I loved every minute of it. Davito delivers a one liner like nobody else. Hilarious.

This morning I watched a movie reviewer talking with Drew Barrymore and Adam Sandler. The reviewer mentioned E.T.  Boy, that brings back memories. A great movie for kids and I took mine. Poor little E.T. was so timid he hid in the closet, shivering. It seemed like forever before he befriended Barrymore and her brother. But then the magic happened and we’re left with a song, Heartlight, by Neil Diamond and an image. A boy, a bike, and a little alien all set out against a full moon. Flying high. And didn’t we all shed a tear when E.T. had to leave? All he wanted was what we all want. "E.T. go home". Hearts were broken all over America, though. We would have had E.T. stay.

Good memories of good movies is a good thing to think about on a drizzly Friday morning. How about your faves?  Care to share a few?

Image: Free Digital Photos

Sierra, Sisters, and Frozen

A sad truth has been working its way into my head. Our last baby is growing up. She’s three and beyond delightful and I get to spend most Tuesdays with her. Sierra. One of Grandma’s angels. The youngest of our six.

Yesterday, Tuesday, she sat happily in the back seat while I tooled around town doing a few errands.

“Gramma, do you want to sing Fwozen?”

Now, I have to tell you, I’ve watched Frozen and approve. I know Sierra is particularly fond of it. Her first  real passion in life (except for maybe peanut butter toast). But the movie has captivated her imagination like nothing I’ve seen so far.

“How about Let it Go?” I ask.

“Otay.”

“I can’t remember how it goes. Will you sing it for me?”

No problem there. In her adorable three-year-old fractured English she begins.

“The snow gwos bight on da mountain tonight . . .” And Sierra is off. Until she gets to a part where she knows she’s flubbed it. And then I hear . . . “Otay, otay. I gotta start over.”

She finishes as we round the corner for home and says, “That’s my favwit.”

“You know my favorite?” I ask. And she does.

“Do You Wanna Build a Snowman.” Sierra giggles as she says it. She’s thinking of Olaf, the snowman Elsa builds for her sister, Anna, before she draws away from her.

But I have to disappoint Sierra. Because I can’t sing that song without tears welling in my eyes and I tell her so. Silence from the back seat. She can’t possibly know all the emotion that song brings to mind.

Frozen is about sacrifice. It’s about love. It’s about sisters. I can’t listen to it without thinking how much I miss my own sisters. It brings to mind growing up with sisters who have given me a lifetime of memories. I can’t bear to think of the moment in the movie when Anna knocks on Elsa’s door begging her to come out, finally whispering, “Do you want to build a snowman?”  She’s knocking on the heart of every woman who’s ever loved a sister and wanting her near. And so, having had a beloved sister just leave me and hearing that song – happening together – well, old sentimental Grandma simply can’t sing about a snowman without melting like one.   

But I can’t tell all that to a three-year-old, can I? All I can do is change the subject.  All I can do is hang on to the precious moments she gives me every Tuesday just like her sister and cousins have done as I’ve taken care of them in their turn. They will all

grow away from me and have full lives out of my sight and I know that’s the natural way of things.

I won’t cling to Sierra as she goes, but I won’t be singing about snowmen anytime soon, either. Would you?

Photo: Shari, me, and Sierra at her baptism party. 

Bit of a Poem

I wrote this poem many years ago and never really did anything with it. I suppose, at the time, I was thinking of my five sisters and wanted to get some sentimental, greeting card kind of thing, down in writing. Frequently, as you writers out there know, something we write will linger for a while in a state of suspension. Waiting. I had hoped this offering would hit the hearts of millions of women in a Hallmark card that took off and sold like crazy stores worldwide. Silly me.

During this past weekend I was with another group of “sisters” who showed me a rare thing. Unqualified love and acceptance. The things we talked about, laughed about, hugged about, and moaned about hurtled over all barriers of age or circumstance, and I am so humbled that they call me friend.

To all the women who attended the women’s retreat at Camp of the Woods this past weekend I dedicate this bit of a poem. I include those who could only be with us in spirit – you know who you are. I include those I’ve known for many years and new friends of just a few days. Bless you all.

Sisters, you always took my side

even when I was probably wrong because

something binds us that goes beyond what

may or may not be the truth. I’ve counted on

your unqualified support in so many areas of my life,

for so many years of my life.

I look at old pictures and smile; then sadness takes over,

because we haven’t become everything we always

said we wanted to be and do. Yet here we are still,

giggling, sighing and raging over all the

troubles and triumphs of our lives.

What would I ever do without you?

Image: Free Digital Photos

For Writers - Essays

One of my favorite parts of magazines is the section that gives me an essay. I will even, on occasion, clip the really good ones for my folder and toss the magazine. A particularly charming one was in a recent AARP Bulletin. The writer recalls his childhood habit of eavesdropping on the adults in his life and learning much about how the real world works. Funny, I used to do the same thing. I learned many a great life lesson with my ear to the door, and that essay brought it all back to me. Clever, that writer.

So what is an essay anyway? And where does a writer sell them? An essay is a short piece of writing that’s not fiction. A good essay, like any bit of writing, has a focus. In the case of the eavesdropper, the nugget of his essay was learning that people frequently dropped dead at the least expected moment, i.e. while taking out the garbage. If you’ve ever listened to Andy Rooney, you’ve heard an essay verbalized. He’ll take the most common occurrence or social situation and give it back to you with his own special twist.

I write essays to get thoughts out of my head and I’ve sold those thoughts, too. A recent one, about a pie I made when I was nine, was published in a Southern regional magazine and subsequently re-sold to an anthology several months later.

You may not consider yourself an essayist, but you’ve probably got one or two short pieces in your inventory that would qualify. The market for essays is quite large and it may take some determined hunting to get a match, but check out these markets and see if one fits.

http://www.cappers.com/contributors-guidelines

http://www.guidepostsmag.com/writers-guidelines/

www.familyfun.go.com

The ice on the surface of the essay market pond is wide, thick and deep. Scratch it. You may find you like the skating there. So, what are you waiting for? Venture an essay and possibly gain. Air your views, dredge up some memories, laugh at one of your life’s ludicrous situations or, as in the case of the eavesdropper, tell your spouse you can’t take out the garbage. After all, you read that essay, too, and it’s possible you could drop dead while doing it – then where would they be?     

Image: Free Digital Photos

A Little Sister Time

When a sister comes to visit, all the way from California, she brings a lot of baggage with her. And mine had a large gold “G” on hers so it was easy to pull off the airport conveyor belt. Inside were many nifty compartments. Let me tell you about my faves.

Mom – one of them especially for her. It’s been three years since she died, on Mother’s Day weekend, and this was a sad compartment to open. We re-hashed it together because we were together when it happened. Shari and I were boarding a plane in Boston when another sister, Wendy, called to tell us Mom had died. We couldn’t look at each other. Surreal doesn’t come close to describing the moment. We’d been on our way to Mom to help care for her. Didn’t make it.

Everybody else – It was great to hear about all that goes on out west while I zip along doing my thing here in the east. We have a huge family and pretty much every member got a chance to be a momentary star in our after dark, sit-on-the bed, discussions.  Quite edifying and those of you with sisters will relate. Right?  

Religion and Politics – Yeah, the world is a much better place because of the recent Valatie Summit. The White House interrupted a few times, but we steadfastly held the Vatican off while we drew up our plans for world peace and renewed our support for capitalism (a full bodied Merlot helped in our mediations). We only broke briefly for showers and grooming, specifically the hair, which we both still have a lot of. Yeah,gotta look good for these summits. It’s in the handbook.

My family – Kids and grandkids alike love Aunt Shari who greets them with laughter, hugs, and an exuberant curiosity about their lives. Sierra, at three, wasn’t quite sure what to make of all this, but it was the photo of her great burst of laughter while looking through the music book with Shari, that might go viral next Tuesday and garner a million views. I took the pic – just sayin’. No, I don’t hire out.

There were other, lesser, bits of baggage, but you don’t want to be reading until sunset now do  you? And now she’s off to Texas visiting our remaining brother, Tim. I’m sure he’ll probe the contents of her “G” bag, too. He’s a talker. It might even be necessary to get a small auxillary bag for her trip back to Cali. Gotta put those memories somewhere.

Bye, Shari. ‘Til next time – love you.  

Winners!

Drumroll . . . . . 

And the Winners are . . . .

Thank you everyone who left a comment and congratulations to Marion Tickner, Gef Fox, and Karen Lange! I'll be contacting you with information on how to download your free copy.

Have a wonderful weekend everyone.

Susan

Giveaway!

Wow, it’s May already! People have come out of hiding and so much is going on. Including – a springtime giveaway right here on my blog. The audio version of THE RED SHOELACE KILLER – A MINNIE MARKWOOD MYSTERY was released several weeks ago and I have three of them to give away. It was narrated by Lee Ann Howlett and written by me. I know, you’re over the moon with joy, right? I’m grinning.

If you’ve already read the book this would make a great gift or if you’ve read it and forgotten most of it, a refresher might be nice on the next long drive you must endure.

So – the rules? Nah. No rules. Just leave a comment about anything, or simply  say “Hi” right here on the blog and I’ll put the names in a bag like I did for my summer contest back in August. I’ll let Sister Agnes – no, wait – my sister, Shari, draw the names next Friday, May 9th . Deal?

Have fun! Hope you win.

Image: Free Digital Photos