South and back

Just yesterday, I heard a “honk of geese” (that’s not the collective noun, but it should be) and looked up to see two V’s flying southeast over my house. That annual flight pattern always makes me think it’s time to get ready for winter.

Pexels pic

All month long, I’ve been meaning to do the math to figure out how much farther I’ve faux-walked (treadmill) and faux-biked (stationary) on the virtual trek I started down the Mississippi two years ago in October. Less sedentary folks would have made the journey multiple times by now. But I’ve been too busy to find each day’s tally. I do know I’ve made progress this year, but knowing the actual distance will have to wait. I can already pledge to try to do better next year, though.

I did make an actual car trek to Alabama in the beginning of the month to visit my youngest and his family. (No pix, sorry.) The worst of that trip was the day I–the avowed five-hour-a-day-max driver–was stuck on a highway that I later learned was closed by state police for two hours to conduct a high speed chase. Their high speeds meant turtle pace and stand-stills for the rest of us. I missed an early rerouting that might have saved me some of the nine hours I eventually spent in the car. Threw me off the rest of the ride home. (The visit, by the way, was wonderful.)

Guppy illustration

But the biggest delay in Mississippi River math early in the month was making final revisions on my short story for the Sisters in Crime Guppy Chapter eighth anthology, Gone Fishin’: Crime Takes a Holiday. (It’ll be out in February.) It’s my first fiction publication and I’m probably more excited about it than I should be. But I have always loved short stories. The first fiction I ever wrote was a short story–science fiction–about a lab that reached absolute zero. This one is about a vacation in Croatia that goes terribly wrong for a nanny and her ward. It’s called “Blood on the White Rose.” I can hardly wait to hold it in my hands.

Making the changes the editor suggested (after finishing the ones my critique group suggested) was different. He saw some clear holes, only one of which I knew I hadn’t dealt with well. I hope it’s better now. I have no idea if my post-acceptance experience was typical. But I’m working on another short story, so, with luck, I’ll find out. In any case, it was one of the challenges keeping me from the Mississippi walk math. And I’m anxious to get back to my short story now.

I’ve added two writing sessions to my routine this month. I need more time on task (and, apparently, less doing Mississippi math). And I signed up for the Sisters in Crime November Marathon. With luck, that will help me make progress on my novel! I’ll keep you posted.

A bientôt!

Ah, summer

(pexels.com fotios)

Sweltering, according to a dictionary, is “uncomfortably hot.” And that’s all the description we needed to describe days when all you had to do to work up a sweat was sit still.

In my experience, the worst days of summer arrive when the corn is high and the earth’s respiration goes straight from the fields to the clouds.

I’m grateful the month started out below average in my part of the Midwest. My sisters gathered for our “weekend” together, visiting each other and relatives from both our parents’ families.

Cool temperatures prevailed in the weeks that followed. I, for one, enjoyed the respite from typical summer temperatures.

My mind gets sluggish in heat. I’m much happier in winter when I can pile on blankets and sweaters and sip hot cocoa and lots of tea. In summer, I try to drink lots of cool water, but even in AC, ice melts pretty fast at my house.

My three sisters are much more outdoorsy than I am — to their credit and their health. They all kayak and hike and pickleball. They never lost the art of play. I guess I was always the serious kid. I liked some sports, including swimming, but one after another, they slipped from my routine after my jobs grew more distant and my commute locked me in my car from forty to one hundred twenty miles daily. The girl who loved to ride her bike to a park with a book, find a shady spot and read easily switched her loyalty to audio books.

Today, I just hope to keep my electrical use to a minimum until sunset. Then I may walk out to check the mail and run the washer. And I need to put “new clothesline” on my shopping list. No reason to run the dryer if I don’t have to.

I find the idea of understanding meterological terms and measures much more fascinating than living through them. I’m still grappling with dew points versus humidity as a way to measure relative air comfort, but I keep trying.

And I understand sweltering just fine.

À bientôt!

Libraries and liberty

Sharon’s photo of an early 20th century postcard of her hometown library

The only thing that you absolutely have to know, is the location of the library.”
–Albert Einstein, theoretical physicist 

Decades ago — way last century — I took a walk to my local library with an older girl from around the corner. It was early in summer vacation after first grade. We came back to my house with an application for my library card and I begged my mom to let us walk back so I could get some books.

I came home with five of them and decided that day I wanted to be a writer.

So began my lifelong love affair with libraries.

When I got my library card, that was when my life began.”
– Rita Mae Brown

My hometown library was one of many built through the largesse of Andrew Carnegie. As a child, I walked up the front steps, pulled open the heavy doors and glanced as the portrait of Mr. Carnegie before racing up or down the steps to the rooms that housed the books I wanted to read. Sadly, several years ago, someone broke into the building and stole the portrait. Hard to believe.

I spent so much time there growing up that the librarians knew me well enough to hire me as a page when I got old enough for a job. I worked there — very part time — for four years. And the library board was the first regular news assignment I had for my hometown paper.

I now live outside a tiny town in north central Illinois where the village board contributes the payroll for someone to sit in the school library on Saturday morning to check books out for anyone in the neighborhood. I believe the school district may be the boundaries for the village’s generosity.

Google can bring you back 100,000 answers. A librarian can bring you back the right one.”
—Neil Gaiman, author

I also live about 45 minutes south of the wonderful libraries at the University of Wisconsin in Madison. Having been a student there, I became familiar with several of the campus libraries and take advantage of guest status from time to time.

And I have district resident access to the library at a community college about 30 miles from my house. I haven’t used it much since my kids stopped attending classes there.

But mostly I borrow books on line from the two libraries where I ante up cash for cards annually. The closest Illinois community with a library has a pretty small collection, but they’ll order almost anything on line for me. That’s been handy when I’ve been doing research for talks I’ve made to a few groups I belong to.

I ransack public libraries, and find them full of sunk treasure.”
—Virginia Woolf, author

I also buy a card from Rockford, Illinois. That system just opened a new main branch building on the site of the former main branch along the Rock River. The spot, it turns out, was a hazardous waste site from previous use in manufacturing and power generation. The new building is gorgeous, and I’ll probably make a stop there one of these days.

But I am a huge fan of RPL’s online services. I borrow extensively from their digital audio collection, since my fiction consumption is almost exclusively audio these days. I never thought anything would surpass the experience of holding a book in my hands and curling up in a comfy chair with a seasonal beverage near me. But I started listening to audio books on my commute to work and have never gone back. Now I listen while I wash dishes or cook or other occasional house chores. And, of course, I still listen in the car.

Whatever the cost of our libraries, the price is cheap compared to that of an ignorant nation.”
–Walter Cronkite, journalist 

There is a persistent misunderstanding about libraries being free. They really aren’t, although they feel like it. Most are tax supported in one way or another, and when I pay for a card in districts I don’t live in, my few dollars are equivalent to what district residents pay in taxes. I think the cost is the best bargain on anyone’s tax bill. And for me, who reads 100 books a year, the cost is far less than if I bought all those books myself.

I do like to buy books from my friends, and have bought a few paperbacks and hardcovers when they don’t have audiobooks. (And apologize for not getting around to them in a timely manner.) I’ve been thinking about buying an old fashioned autograph book because I rarely have anything for them to sign when I see them in person.

The clash of ideas is the sound of freedom.
–Claudia Alta “Lady Bird” Johnson, first lady of the USA

But all this is to say I love libraries and think everyone needs to support them. I hate the censorship some libraries are facing. Ideas should be widely circulated, whether you agree with them or not, so we can better understand each other’s experiences and points of view.

I say all this in July, because I happen to think libraries are a national treasure and one of the surest ways to make sure we all have the opportunity to learn our shared history and plan for a well-woven future. I admit, I’m an idealist. But without years of library time, I wouldn’t even know what ideals we might reach for.

À bientôt!

A month at home

collage of people and places in Wisconsin
Sharon’s 2023 June pix and collage

For the first time in several years, I spent the entire month of June at home. And what do I have to show for it?

My biggest thrill since May is that I learned a short story I wrote was selected for the Sisters in Crime Guppy Chapter anthology, Gone Fishing: Crime Takes a Holiday. I have comments from the editor and I’ll be making changes before the book comes out next February. That alone makes this a great month to be home.

But I also have a bit more than 13,000 words in my novel rewrite. And I spent some time with visiting family and friends.

I also took a few more random drives than I normally do this month because I was itching to get out of the house and see places. There’s something about being on the road that always sparks my imagination.

Compared to last year, when I spent days doing research in the Driftless Region of the Upper Mississippi and visiting museums in Wisconsin and Iowa, all after meeting people and learning things at Cop Camp and Writer’s Police Academy, this June seemed pretty tame.

I still have to master the discipline of working on the road. Award-winning journalist and author, Hank Phillippi Ryan, told me last year that she retreats to her hotel room at conferences so she can maintain her daily writing schedule. No wonder she wins awards!

Still, travel is a way to widen one’s experience in a way that sitting with books or travel shows on TV just can’t do.

I feel the need for a short, research trip. Maybe — if I can get to 50,000 words on my novel revision — I should plan a short jaunt to another spot in the Midwest that I want to write about.

In the meantime, I should put my words toward that effort.

À bientôt!