The Apple Pie Is in the Oven

As we celebrate our independence on this hot, humid Sunday, I think of the many people who risked their homes and their lives to seize the right to be free of tyranny. I'm grateful to all of our soldiers at home and abroad, remembering the sacrifices of my grandfather and great-uncles in WWII and my own father during the Vietnam War.

I think of my own carefree childhood and recall water-gun fights and pop-drinking contests. If I listen closely, I can hear the hum of mosquitoes as I stand on my great-uncle's porch and watch a blaze of fireworks bombard the night sky. I taste potato salad and see cakes decorated as flags. I smell coconut pie in my grandmother's kitchen and hear my grandfather's soft voice as he tells tales of fighting in the Pacific.

I remember all of these things and more. Yes, the apple pie is in the oven and everything is good.

***

As always, I love to hear from you.

If you’re in the cyber-neighborhood, drop me a line.

In the meantime, keep writing, reading, and smiling.
It’s contagious.

 

A Special Sunday

Every day is a gift, but for me this Sunday is special.

Today, both of my novels, Dead Bird in the Weeds and Haunted Voices from My Past have been rereleased and are now available. Not only that, but my colleague's children's books, The Mysterious House and Turtles and Shells and Things, are also available. Click on any of the titles to read excerpts, watch book trailers, and order. Also, be sure to check out Sunflower Footsteps' great new website at www.sunflowerfootsteps.com.

As a special treat, Dead Bird in the Weeds' new book trailer was also released today. Enjoy!

***

As always, I love to hear from you. If you’re in the cyber-neighborhood, drop me a line.

In the meantime, keep writing, reading, and smiling.
It’s contagious.

A Tribute to Ace, Part II

On December 7, 1941, a key nation secured membership to the World War II Club.  The inductee was the U.S. and the admission requirement was met through the sinking of its fleet at Pearl Harbor.

The attack on the naval base had been executed in a process similar to the means employed by a pack of hungry sharks.  The Japanese banded together, targeted their prey, and achieved their objective by swallowing an entire fleet whole.  Fours years of war followed and thousands of Americans were called upon to defend a nation and a world.  A small man with black hair and silver eyes was one such recruit.  To soldiers, he was known as “Ace.”  To me, he was known as “Pa.”

My grandfather survived the war, and though he has been dead thirteen years, I still smell the aroma of the cup of coffee that never left his side.  If I squint and think of yesterday, I see the haze of smoke that always arose from a half-burnt cigarette.  When I close my eyes and listen, I hear myself asking him to tell that shark story one more time.  When asked to retell the encounter, Ace would grin, chuckle softly, and sip his coffee before beginning.  Though worthy opponents, the sharks in his story were not the Japanese.

***

In the midst of the war-ravaged Pacific, Ace and several friends were atop a cliff, daring one another to dive into the ocean to rescue their small boat that had drifted from the desolate island.  Ace was resolved to volunteer for the task, but before he made a verbal statement or decision, he always took a long drag on his cigarette and sipped from his bottomless coffee cup.  Coffee was not available, so he settled for a cigarette.  As the rolled addiction ignited by way of a hastily struck match, Ace was shoved over the edge of the cliff.  

Neither the fall nor the fear of being unable to swim is reason to revere this story.  Ace  survived the premature dive, and he was an excellent swimmer.  He had a way of surging through the water like a bobbing frog, and if one were not careful, one would drown in the water parted by his strong, jutting chin.  

“Ace,” one of the men shouted from the cliff.  “Ace, hurry up, there’s sharks down there.”

The human frog stopped swimming and looked back at the island.  Three grey fins seared through the waves near the rocks several yards behind him.  Determined to thwart his friends’ cruel joke, Ace shot through the water and headed for the boat.   

Despite his speed and agility, one might doubt the presence of sharks or the tale itself.  Yet, Ace was indeed a fast swimmer.  He was four times my age when we raced and swam together with our arms linked.  In the first scenario I never won and in the second he usually ended up tugging me along because I was unable to keep up with him.  

To conclude, Ace eluded his ravenous pursuers and reached the boat before it drifted into deep water.  Was Ace quivering with fear when he reached the boat?  Was he able to avoid the sharks when paddling to his friends waiting for him on the shore?  To answer the first question, Ace was laughing when he reached the boat which is not typical of someone afraid of being eaten by sharks.  Why would he laugh?  The explanation is found in the answer to the second question which can be summarized by stating I hope Ace’s friends could swim because that is what he made them do.

*** 

If you enjoyed this tale about my grandfather, you can read more about his life in my latest book, Haunted Voices from My Past:  True Narratives of an Ohio Family.  Within its cover are the chilling stories: “Railway Nightmare,” “Another Hitchhiker from Hell,” and the most terrifying incident he experienced, entitled “Ace and the Devil.”  Each of these accounts awakens the supernatural and macabre.

After ordering, be sure to read “A Tribute to Ace,” the blog that inspired this latest entry.

***

For more information on Sunflower Footsteps, authors, and titles, visit:

***

As always, I love to hear from you. If you’re in the cyber-neighbourhood, drop me a line. In the meantime, keep writing, reading, and smiling. It’s contagious.

What Size Shoe Does a Sunflower Wear?

Q: What size shoe does a sunflower wear?

An object’s size can be measured in different ways with the aid of various tools. Similar methods can be applied to assess the size of an idea. One can measure its scope through the analysis of its birth, growth, maturation, and rebirth. My idea began at the age of seven and continues to thrive through the power of teamwork.

The idea?

Writing.

Its symbol?

A sunflower.

The birth of an idea

Ideas can be created from the analogy of one’s surrounding environment, the musings of the imagination, or the gentle whisper of the wind.

When I was seven years old I unearthed a heavy black case from the bottom of a cluttered closet. Inside the dusty black leather was a shiny, powder blue typewriter with yellowed keys. My young fingers, despite their many scrapes from slipping between the keys, quickly learned to convey my imaginings onto paper. Let me back up...this became possible after my mother showed me how to roll the paper into the revolving drum. TEAMWORK.

Many stories and decades later I was a student studying English and publishing. Not only was I writing and receiving feedback from professors and peers, but I was also learning how to give help to other writers. TEAMWORK.

The growth of an idea

Like the birth of a seed, an idea requires patience and nurturing to grow.

I began writing short stories and small works of creative nonfiction. These were satisfying to a point, but the urge to create a larger, more involving work haunted me. Years passed and despite my yearning, I did not have the courage to begin. Then, a voice from a dear friend, E. Michaels, pushed me.

“Write,” the voice insisted.

“Huh?”

“You know what to do. Just write.”

That’s what I did. I took the advice and wrote my first book, Dead Bird in the Weeds. TEAMWORK.

The maturation of an idea

Many times there are setbacks, but once the plant has matured, it will flower.

My book was finished, but life seized me and hindered the further development of my progression as a writer. Years passed and numerous obstacles barred opportunities. Then, a calamity turned into a breakthrough. It was not unlike the Twilight Zone episode wherein Burgess Meredith had to steal time to read. After a tragedy he has all the time in the world and is content to sit upon his mountain of books. However, unlike the fatal conclusion to his world, my “broken glasses” could be mended. Suddenly I had all the time in the world and the ability to use it wisely.

One morning over a leisurely bowl of cereal (I had all the time in the world, remember) I recalled something a cousin of mine said during a hot, boring summer evening.

“Wouldn’t it be great to own a bookstore, a small, quiet little place where people can read stimulating books?” she said.

Was she kidding? Who wouldn’t want to own a place like that?

She had given me an idea. TEAMWORK. I had to set it in motion, but I couldn’t do it alone. TEAMWORK.

I put down the cereal and contacted E. Michaels.

“Remember that book your wrote for your kids?” I challenged.

“What about it?”

“Get it ready for editing,” I said. “We’re going to have an online bookstore, ‘a small, quiet little place where people can read stimulating books.’”

Our creative brainstorming went on for hours, days, weeks. It could not be held back. TEAMWORK. Books were edited, proofread, and designed. Nearly a year had passed, but it had gone by quickly and productively.

Finally, we were ready to open the bookstore...except for one minor detail. What were we going to call this endeavor that had possessed us? I like gardening and sunflowers, and Michaels likes paths that lead to enchanted places. The answer was dancing before us. We were obviously and undeniably:

“Sunflower Footsteps”

Notice the five-headed flower and the two prints below it. TEAMWORK.

Rebirth

Mature plants bear seed.

This little garden we have planted has now matured into two published books:

It has also born seeds for four new books. This is more than amazing when I look back at my life and think of the fear I once had to write one book. Had it not been for TEAMWORK, I would be entangled in a quagmire of weeds and brambles.

That brings us back to the initial question:

Q: What size shoe does a sunflower wear?

A: It wears many different sizes because its measurement is constantly changing and unfolding before us.

For more information on Sunflower Footsteps, authors, and titles,

drop by our little bookstore at:

***

TEAMWORK

Thank you, teachers & professors, for believing in me:

Mrs. Robinson, Mrs. Rankin, Mrs. May, Dr. Steffel,

Dr. Proaño, Larry, & Marcia

Thank you, Jeff, Ryan, Mandy, Sam, & Didi

Thank you, Mom, Dad, Granmaw, Pa, Beej, & A.J.

Thank you, God

***

As always, I love to hear from you. If you’re in the cyber-neighbourhood, drop me a line. In the meantime, keep writing, reading, and smiling. It’s contagious.

Birds no longer whistle in the trees. They lie dead in the weeds.

Birds no longer whistle in the trees.
They lie dead in the weeds.

According to ancient Irish tradition, the wren would command the birds and the king would become the pauper for one day. For life to be restored to its natural state, the wren must be hunted and slain.

Dead Bird in the Weeds relates the tale of trodden people rising as wrens to win freedom from the tyranny of England during the 1798 rebellion in Ireland.

This is the story of one such wren named Aisling Doran, a peasant in Wexford, Ireland. Compelled by the murder of her father, the loss of her faith, and the yearning of her being to end the anguish she must endure, this daring young woman joins the revolutionary United Irishmen. Throughout the fields, hills, meadows, and mountains, she and her family wage war for liberty.

During this struggle for independence, Aisling finds the courage to love, to die, and most importantly, to live.

I have always enjoyed tales of Ireland and revolution because of my Irish heritage and interest in history. Along with my love of folklore and nature, these qualities instilled the desire to pen Dead Bird in the Weeds, a work depicting the 1798 rebellion in Wexford, Ireland.

Dead Bird in the Weeds is more than a story of rebellion. This piece of historical fiction guides the reader through a journey of courage, self-worth, betrayal, and love. These enduring aspects of the human existence are characterized in the lives of five valiant friends who fight for freedom.

Aisling is the tortured protagonist of this novel. The daughter of a peasant farmer in Wexford, Ireland, she wishes for nothing but to abandon her misery and the poverty plaguing her people. Her only outlet is through the mythical stories she creates for her family; however, the material for her tales is gathered from the nightmares haunting her.

Michael, a strong man with a big heart and a wooden whistle, joins the rebellion to protect Aisling, the cousin he has loved since childhood.

Lorcán returns home from north Wexford where he is hunted for conspiring to usurp England’s hold upon Ireland. As obsessive with his desire to dominate Aisling as he is about instigating a rebellion, Lorcán leads his men in the fight against tyranny.

Cara, a sprightly young woman with a contagious smile, finds herself on the march to freedom because she loves her brother, Lorcán, too much to stay at home. Her love is tested when she is presented with a difficult choice.

Finn, Michael’s brother, is involved in the rebellion by accident. Suffering from an injury and his betrayal of his family, his only means of survival are to cling to the song of the wrens and Cara’s pledge of friendship.

The reader will not only follow these brave individuals marching upon the path to liberty but will also experience the characters' ability or inability to learn from the obstacles before them. Along the way, key battles such as those at Oulart, Enniscorthy, New Ross, and Vinegar Hill will be enacted, and prominent revolutionaries such as Fr. John Murphy, Edward Roche, Beauchamp Bagenal Harvey, and Miles Byrne will be met.

Dead Bird in the Weeds is a story of courage and hope, love and friendship, and the partaking of a mission to win dignity and freedom.

For more information on Dead Bird in the Weeds,
visit Sunflower Footsteps at www.sunflowerfootsteps.com

Sunflower Footsteps

I have great news. My first book, Dead Bird in the Weeds, was published on June 3, 2009.

Dead Bird in the Weeds is a work of historical fiction recounting the 1798 rebellion in Ireland. Set in Wexford, the story relates the tale of a courageous young woman named Aisling Doran who joins the revolutionary United Irishmen to wage war for liberty. This literary work was inspired by my Irish heritage and love of history and folklore. Dead Bird in the Weeds is not solely for those interested in Irish history, nor is it exclusively for those drawn to stories of rebellion. It is a tale that also encompasses additional facets of the human existence such as betrayal, courage, and self-worth.

My colleague, E. Michaels, began a writing career with The Mysterious House, the first book in the Fox Mystery Series for children. It’s a story about three fifth graders and their discovery of a mystery surrounding an old, abandoned house. The Mysterious House urges children to read by engrossing them in solving a puzzling neighborhood mystery. Although published in 2009 as an introductory title, The Mysterious House dates back more than two decades. It was first written as a serial story for the author’s children.

For more information, visit Sunflower Footsteps.