Saturday, January 26, 2019

Memories Evoked by Throwback Picture




                                                                                                                       
A throwback picture on facebook this morning showed ‘the girls’ arm in arm like a trio of happy musketeers – smiling like they knew something no one else did. Knowing them, this was probably the case. Their eyes reveal mischief and fun. Especially the older two. The teasing and pranks they played on each other tug at my memory like a collection of disjointed snatches of laughter and a
Eileen (L) Marion (C) Doris (R)
flurry of activity. I was the baby and so don’t remember witnessing first hand some of the earlier shenanigans but I do recall the family reminiscing about a few calamities.
One that stands out in my mind was the time the older one, Marion took a love letter from Eileen’s dresser drawer. They were just better than a year apart in age and they hung out like best friends and carried on like sisters. Their love for each other never interfered with a chance to torment.
Apparently, Marion proceeded to read this letter to whatever family members happened to be in the kitchen at the time. Eileen fairly flew out of her chair and Marion ran from the house waving the letter in the air. Screaming could be heard up and down our street as the chase ensued. Mom would shake her head. ‘Those girls’, she’d say. I heard that story so often I can see it happening.
Seeing the picture of ‘the girls’ this morning sent me back to the time our mom passed away. I was still living at home. There are two vivid memories of what we found going through her belongings. One involved ‘the girls’ – Marion, Eileen, and Doris.
I’m not sure why this first one has stayed in my memory house all these years but when we were going through her belongings, we came upon dozens of nylon stockings – not pantyhose – single stockings that were held up by garters. Nearly a drawer full. I knew immediately why this collection of stockings with runs and snags had been saved. It was her stash. Much like the trunk of wool I now have in the downstairs storage room. Mom braided these stockings into rugs. Soft, warm, and durable, we had several throughout the house. Again, I’m unsure how this stash has stayed prominent in my mind. Maybe because I had the answer to what seemed a puzzle at the time.
The other significant discovery is more understandable.
It wasn’t so much the shiny gold clutch purse as what it contained. All purses were checked for content before discarding. Mostly they held change for the bus, tissues, perhaps a nearly finished tube of red lipstick. But inside the gold clutch was an envelope. The words ‘For the Girls’ scrawled across the front. Though there were five girls in the family, we all knew she’d always referred to the three oldest in the family as ‘the girls’.
It’s an interesting concept. So many years ago, an envelope tucked inside an evening bag was discovered and passed on. Today would we be so careful inspecting everything left behind? If I left a note tucked inside my favourite book, or the inside pocket of my best jacket, or forever loved sweater, would it be discovered and passed on. Of course not. These days, our possessions don’t hold the same value and we have so many ‘things’ for family to dispose of that there’s never enough time to go through everything. And, let’s face it, it’s a painful process.
I thank my niece for posting this throwback picture on facebook this morning and for my time travel excursion. Two of ‘the girls’, Marion and Eileen, have passed on but the memories remain.


Tuesday, January 01, 2019

New Year Reflections




For me, bringing in the New Year begins with a reflection on the past year. A life-changing year. For more than a couple of decades, in a labour of love, our rural property took on a park-like atmosphere with numerous species of trees. The perennial gardens ranged from flowering bushes and riotous colour to calming green gardens of fern and hosta. We decided to sell our home (gulp) and make a move. It was time. Life is about change and renewal.
Leaving our rural area awakened us to new experiences, introduced us to community living, congenial people, and a fresh outlook. We moved far enough away that the area is all new to us but we’re close enough to keep in contact with long-time friends. I am content – happy even.
Sometime during all that packing and moving and changing, I’d decided to limit my writing to personal pleasure. Over the past ten years, I’ve had moderate success with my short stories, but my writing threatened to become all-consuming. Not just the writing, but the writing life. Organizing workshops, retreats, meetings, dinners. Actually, I realized I had less and less time to write. My focus had shifted and I’d lost my momentum. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to continue. I went so far as to tell my husband of my decision. Of course, I couldn’t NOT write, I’d perish. I simply wouldn’t send my work out. Not anymore. And I had decided years before that I wouldn’t publish my own work. No, I was going the traditional route – with the hundreds of rejections that come with it. In my mind, I was done.
Then I received an email with a tip about an acquisitions editor with a well-known publisher who might be interested in my work. How could I not follow up. And yes, he said two of my novels sounded ‘exciting’ and I should send the full mss. When I never heard back after several months, I tried contacting him. He’d left the publisher. The End. My last hurrah.
Another email arrived suggesting I collaborate on an anthology with two other Canadian authors and two from the States. Our Plan to Save the World features four of my short stories. My last hurrah.
Then another email arrived informing me of a contest in the U.S. I placed second and am proud to be included in the anthology Suspicious Activity. My last hurrah? Maybe not.
Aside from a health glitch, the year 2018 has been gratifying. I look to the positive, or at least try, and am thankful for the goodness in my life. 
In 2019, I will continue to enjoy our community neighbourhood and pursue promising friendships. I look forward to summer verandah lounging with our park friends just a little farther north. 
As for writing, I have set a goal (oh no, not a goal) to finish a novel. It will be a huge challenge to pick up the thread dropped so long ago. But I’m sure the love for my characters will see me through.
I look forward to 2019 with renewed vigour and hope. There’s a touch of determination peeking through, as well. I feel good. I feel strong. I feel like writing.
Happy New Year!