Friday, February 29, 2008

Tumbling Tumbleweeds (The Evolution of a Short Story)




The morning dishes dropped slowly into the steaming soapy dishwater. Looking up Chris noticed the last rays of sunrise gleam across the peaks of the distant mountains. The urge to switch on the morning talk shows and sink into the recliner was crowded out by a short mental list of daily chores. In Chris' chambray shirt pocket the repeated vibrations of the cellphone insisted on a response to the 5 voice mails and 1 text message. Chris was really contemplating remaining at the old family retreat for several more days before revealing where or why ... he had come here after so long an absence. He had never been this unpredictable before, and he knew the family would be wondering what could have caused such a change in his behaviour. It had been the letter, of course, after all these years of wondering what happened to her so many years ago on Memoli Island... But first, he must respond to the second caller, his daughter Caysea. She'd been having a difficult time lately. Chris couldn't help wondering how his beautiful child who overflowed with promise had sidestepped her potential and slid into such a mundane existence. Suddenly after two years as a producer on the "Oprah" show Caysea had moved from Chicago to Port Aransas, Texas, where she paid the rent as a bartender.
As he started to dial her Number he remembered there was an hour time difference between New England and Texas so he finished the dishes and listening to the morning news he heard of a terrible accident off the coast near Memoli Island. The morning ferry had capsized several lost in the cold Atlantic waters. Would she have have been...one of the missing? But she had always been a survivor. Perhaps this time her luck was running okay. She had so much to live for, and didn't know it. The hundred million bequest she didn't know about yet. And such strange conditions attached to the will--Uncle Jason had been strangely secretive about the...past 2 decades of his life and now his niece Linnea would soon know how she came to inherit this wonderful but challenging gift. Would she be able to choose between the island life she loved and ....finally going back into the world. Uncle Jason's bequest had such weird strings attached, and there was so little time involved before she would have to comply with them. How could she find everyone and get them to Memoli Island within the time limits ... The eight people mentioned in the bequest had migrated from Memoli Island to all parts of the world. Linnea would soon be contacted about the bequest and...Wait a minute Linnea may be among the dead at the ferry accident. If so, it will be even more difficult for Chris to keep the secrets about Caysea.At that instant, Chris was startled by the doorbell. Who would be ringing his doorbell when nobody knew he was here? He left the kitchen and crossed the living room in long strides. Carefully, he peeked our the window beside the porch. Standing there, looking bedraggled, was Linnea. Ok, she is a survivor. She didn't drown.
Chris felt a flood of memories pour into him in that moment, especially memories of the summer on the island when the cousins were eight and inseparable. At eight, Linnea might just have had a bucket in her hand so the two of them could gather blueberries for her Mom's pie. But this morning, she was empty-handed. Chris reached out to a surpised Linnea as she walked toward his relieved embrace.
Linnea had not expected to find anyone at the family retreat. When she had changed into some clean dry sweats and had eaten a quiet meal, she explained to Chris what she needed to do. She appealed to him for help. Although Chris had hoped to escape to a place where he could sort out his personal life, the family retreat now drew him back once again to the past.


Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Naples Summer Book Club


Every summer as you cross the causeway at the south end of Maine's Long Lake, a large white house adorned with purple blossomed hanging baskets appears on the left side of the road. Here it is in winter. The upper story houses the children's library while the main floor offers adult spaces to read, check email on wifi, read the daily papers. In summer it is a busy place with visitors from all across America (the "away from here"s) mingling with the locals. The basement supports an ongoing book sale and a meeting place for public and library use. It is in the basement that the Naples Summer Book Club meets. This past summer about 20 people, mostly women - well, all women, even though men were welcome - met each month to discuss the latest book selection. The books were provided by the library supported by state services and led by a wonderful moderator also provided by the state. The discussion was lively and thoughtful and reflective of the ages and backgrounds of the group participants. Here are the books from last summer. I recommend them all and if you have read any would love to hear your comments. If you are interested in what they are about, I have linked each to an online review. Hope to hear from you.

Picture above from the Naples Public Library website. Check it out.

The Late George Apley/ John P. Marquand

Plainsong/ Kent Haruf

Mountains beyond Mountains/ Tracy Kidder

All Quiet on the Western Front/ Erich Maria Remarque

Saturday, February 23, 2008

My First Library Card


Growing up at my house, books were as natural a household item as furniture. In fact my mother's example of settling in a chair was always accompanied with settling into a book. It was extremely fortunate to be part of a generation that began its early years without television. Books were entertainment of the richest order. My eyes were visually satisfied with the illustrations of children's books that brought to life the prose accompanying them. When I was old enough to have my first library card, I walked along the stacks in the large quiet neighborhood library until I was captivated by the pastel bindings of a small series. Serendipity had brought me to The Little House on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder and illustrated by Garth Williams. No big box book store or television hype, just those pastel bindings and beautiful images. With my first library book checked out and in hand I hurried home to settle in. Nine weeks later after coming to the end of the series, I was hooked on books.