I was thinking about all the hats I wear. Some I wear all the time, others I switch around. They are all different but each important in their own way. Some are more important to me than others.
There are two major catagories of hats that I wear; the "who I am hats" and the "what I do hats."
The oldest hat I have of course is my "daughter, granddaughter, sister, niece and cousin hat." I've this one of course my whole life and will never take it off. I got the "aunt hat" 21 years ago when my first nephew was born.
Of course one of my important hats I've had for 20 years, that of wife and life partner to the most wonderful man in the world. Along with that hat of course I got the "inlaw hat" which I do like believe it or not.
The next important hat would be my "mom hat" that I've had for 17 years and represents my two greatest accomplishments; bringing two incredible and wonderfuly talented human beings into this world.
I can't forget my "friend hat." Where would I be without that!?
Those are the hats I never take off. They represent who I am. What follows are the "what I do hats" and change frequently- sometimes once or twice in the same hour!
My volunteer hats, I have two. Sometimes I have to stop myself before taking more! There's my church choir member hat. Actually that should be just my "church member hat" because not only do I sing in the choir, but I'll do other things for the church as well, like bake for events and stuff.
Then there's my "Girl Scout hat." I've worn this one for the past 12 years, because I believe so strongly in the program. If I've even just one little girl to reach her full potientail and grow into a strong young woman than it's 12 years well spent. I've thought about taking this hat off permently, but I can't seem to manage it, at least not yet.
I have my "Weight Watcher Hat" because it brings in a small but steady income and it helps me keep my weight down.
Next is my "Creative Memories Hat" because everyone needs a hobby. It's cheaper than therapy, it's relaxing, and if I can make a little money at it, all the better.
Lastly but centianly not least is my "Writing Hat." That hat doesn't yet bring in an income, but it is my PASSION. I can no more remove this hat than my "who I am hats" nor would I want to.
Those are my hats. Sometimes I get a head ache form all the switching back and forth. Sometimes I do take them all off to give my head a rest. But they are always there waiting. Infact, I need to get to ready to switch out the one I'm wearing now!
What hat are you wearing now?
Monday, September 28, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
The golf ball
To totaly appriciate the wonder of this story you must first understand two things about my husband Fred. Firstly, he does not play golf. Apart from mini-golf which we do sometimes on vacation.
The second thing which you need to know is that he doesn't wear suits. He has couple, but very rarely wears them.
Last April my friend Deb's father passed way from pancriotic cancer. While helping her mother perpair funeral arrangments she nearly forgot about pall bearers untill the last minute. She scrambled to come up with six men who would be able to carry her father's casket. She wound up asking Fred who accepted with honor.
The morning of the funeral, Fred decided since he was pall bearer, he should really wear a suit, complete with jacket and tie. He put the jacket on and felt something in the pocket. We were both suprised when he pulled out a golf ball.
Neither of us could imagine where that had come from, nor could we even remember the last time he'd wore that suit.
At the funeral the priest was going on about how much George loved a good game of golf. I smiled to myself because a few weeks earlier Deb was joking that when her dad got to Heaven he would probably get St. Peter into a few rounds of golf before heading through the pearly gates!
Suddenly, it hit me! After the service I rushed up to Deb and her mom. "He's playing golf," I said. "Right now, with St. Peter and he hit one so hard it landed in Fred's pocket!"
I believe this was George Butwitt's mesage to his grieving wife and daughter, "I'm fine and I'm playing golf!"
The second thing which you need to know is that he doesn't wear suits. He has couple, but very rarely wears them.
Last April my friend Deb's father passed way from pancriotic cancer. While helping her mother perpair funeral arrangments she nearly forgot about pall bearers untill the last minute. She scrambled to come up with six men who would be able to carry her father's casket. She wound up asking Fred who accepted with honor.
The morning of the funeral, Fred decided since he was pall bearer, he should really wear a suit, complete with jacket and tie. He put the jacket on and felt something in the pocket. We were both suprised when he pulled out a golf ball.
Neither of us could imagine where that had come from, nor could we even remember the last time he'd wore that suit.
At the funeral the priest was going on about how much George loved a good game of golf. I smiled to myself because a few weeks earlier Deb was joking that when her dad got to Heaven he would probably get St. Peter into a few rounds of golf before heading through the pearly gates!
Suddenly, it hit me! After the service I rushed up to Deb and her mom. "He's playing golf," I said. "Right now, with St. Peter and he hit one so hard it landed in Fred's pocket!"
I believe this was George Butwitt's mesage to his grieving wife and daughter, "I'm fine and I'm playing golf!"
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Out line of Slave Girl- this is story of Hestie, from my novel Another Place Another Time.
At the age of six, Hestie is taken from her parents, Lorissa and Martin, and sold to Mister Richard as he playmate for his two daughters, Sophia and Saundra. Hestie's brother Abram, 12 is sold as well and works as a stable boy.
When the story opens, 8 years have passed. Hestie now 14, waits on the twins, doing their hair, helping them to dress, listening to them chatter. To them Hestie is no more than a servent, another possession along with the many others they have. Hestie hates being a slave to these two selfish and spoiled girls but sees no way out of this life. She tires to find happiness where she can.
Jo, one of the other stable boys and friend to Abram has begun to notice Hestie. And she, to her embaressment, has begun to notice him as well. With her older brother's blessing, as well as the masters, the two make plans to "jump the broom." The twins are furious. "How dare she find a husband before they do!"
When Hestie protest the unfair treatment of her brother, the master hits her in the mouth, knocking out two teeth.
Flu hits the plantation, many die including Abram. Before he dies Abram charges Jo with looking after his sister and threatens to haunt him if he doesn't. Hestie who is pregnant at the time, also comes down with the flu.
The flu takes the life of the Mistress. With medical bills pilling high and the deaths of his wife and six of his slaves, Mister Richard finds himself in near financial ruinon. He must sell off some of his slaves, Hestie's husband Jo, being one.
Hestie still sick with flu can not leave her bed. Jo tells her that they will meet again. Afterall, he'd made a promise to her brother.
With the help of Delilah, Hestie's mentor and friend, Hestie gives birth to a girl. Hestie names her Lorissa, after her mother. However the child only lives a few hours-too small- she dies in her mother's arms.
As soon as she well, Hestie is sold. She sobs in Delilah's arms. The older girl had taken Hestie under her wing nearly 10 years before when Hestie first arrived, a frightened little girl to the Green Hallow Plantation.
Hestie's new master, Mister Willard and his wife arrive to pick her up. She is to be a birthday suprise for their eldest daughter, Abigail. (This is where the story Another Place Another Time begins.)
At first Hestie thinks her new mistress will be just like the others. "Spoiled, high and mighty, too wrapped up in her self". Only caring about beautiful gowns, balls and catching a beau. Hestie soon discovers though that Abby is not like other white girls. She is kind, and treats Hestie like a person, not simply a servant.
When Hestie takes Abby's new brooch, "Just for awhile, to pretend..." Hestie is shocked when Abby doesn't have her whipped. A close and forbiden bond begins to form between the them.
At Abby's birthday celebration, Hestie hears one of the guest Christy Balis, humilate her mistress. Christy reminds Hestie of the Sophia and Saundra. Anger comes bubbleing up inside her. All the times those two got her into trouble, humilated her, treated her like she was nothing...without thinking about the costs, Hestie "trips" while carrying a full tray of cocktails, and ruins Christy Bailis' gown.
The old maturnly woman Adele, takes care of her in the sick house after the beating. Tells her it was a "mighty foolish thing to do." Chester who is there also agrees but admits, he wished he seen it-the "high and mighty white girl, brought down".
Hestie missus her husband Joe terribly, but doubts(to spite his promise) that she'll ever see him agian. Though a part of her feels guilty, she falls in love with Chester, the stable hand
Chester and other slave, Samual hear signals being passed from other plantation slaves. An escape is being origized-the underground RR. Chester tries to talk Hestie into going too. She wants to, but at the same time, the idea frightens her. Not only what would happen if they're caught, but what if they do make it to freedom? What would become of them, how would they live? Hestie hates being a slave, but she knows nothing else. She knows what to expect with her life as it is, the unknown of freedom frightens her.
When Chester is killed, Hestie is heart broken and feeling guilty at the same time. Maybe it would have gone differently if she had gone too. She wishes she hadn't been such a coward. Her distrusst of whites begins to grow again, it had begun to abade. She even begins to be distrustful of Abby."she's one of them afterall..."
When Chester treatens Abby with a gun, Hestie trys to reason with him. When that doesn't work she risks her life to russel it away from him. He runs to a north bound train. Hestie at first is tempted to follow. But again her fear of the unknown, and the better part of her nature...she cares for Abby's wound and gets her back home.
The bond between the two grows closer. Abby shows her graditude by teaching Hestie to read. The lessons stop however when Abby learns the danger she could be putting Hesite in. Hestie was able to learn a lot in a short time.
One night Abby is attacked by a suitor. Hestie hears her scream and comes to her aid. With strainght she didn't know she had, she raises the heavy cast iron skillet over her head and strikes the attacker, killing him.
Hestie is terrified, knowing she will be put to death. With Abby's and Aunt Catherine's help she is able to stay hidden until she can saftly run away. With a little money, food and careful direcitons, Hestie is able to make her way north. She finds different stations on the underground RR. It is not an easy jurney. In time she makes it to Canada and struggles to make a life for herself.
When she left Willow Glen, Abby gave her a picture of herself with the instructions to send it back when she made it. She does this at once. Abby also insists that Hestie take the brooch for luck. Hestie manages to keep it safe though almost lost it on a few occasions.
Almost right away she meets up with the overseer from her childhood. The one who carried her off to be sold and who killed her mother that day. At first she is filled with haterd towards him. But her heart softens when she hears his own tail. He left the plantation and works to help runaways.
Five years pass. Hestie works doing hair for rich ladies, making a small but liveable income. By chance she meets up with Joe, who also had escpaed via undergournd RR. They are married legaly in a small Negro church and Hestie feels a happiness, she had never felt before. Shortly after her marriage she gives birth to another baby girl. Hestie names the child Abigail, and declares that it would be a tradition, all frist born girls in her family will be called Abigail. Along with the name, the brooch also gets handed down through the generations.
At the age of six, Hestie is taken from her parents, Lorissa and Martin, and sold to Mister Richard as he playmate for his two daughters, Sophia and Saundra. Hestie's brother Abram, 12 is sold as well and works as a stable boy.
When the story opens, 8 years have passed. Hestie now 14, waits on the twins, doing their hair, helping them to dress, listening to them chatter. To them Hestie is no more than a servent, another possession along with the many others they have. Hestie hates being a slave to these two selfish and spoiled girls but sees no way out of this life. She tires to find happiness where she can.
Jo, one of the other stable boys and friend to Abram has begun to notice Hestie. And she, to her embaressment, has begun to notice him as well. With her older brother's blessing, as well as the masters, the two make plans to "jump the broom." The twins are furious. "How dare she find a husband before they do!"
When Hestie protest the unfair treatment of her brother, the master hits her in the mouth, knocking out two teeth.
Flu hits the plantation, many die including Abram. Before he dies Abram charges Jo with looking after his sister and threatens to haunt him if he doesn't. Hestie who is pregnant at the time, also comes down with the flu.
The flu takes the life of the Mistress. With medical bills pilling high and the deaths of his wife and six of his slaves, Mister Richard finds himself in near financial ruinon. He must sell off some of his slaves, Hestie's husband Jo, being one.
Hestie still sick with flu can not leave her bed. Jo tells her that they will meet again. Afterall, he'd made a promise to her brother.
With the help of Delilah, Hestie's mentor and friend, Hestie gives birth to a girl. Hestie names her Lorissa, after her mother. However the child only lives a few hours-too small- she dies in her mother's arms.
As soon as she well, Hestie is sold. She sobs in Delilah's arms. The older girl had taken Hestie under her wing nearly 10 years before when Hestie first arrived, a frightened little girl to the Green Hallow Plantation.
Hestie's new master, Mister Willard and his wife arrive to pick her up. She is to be a birthday suprise for their eldest daughter, Abigail. (This is where the story Another Place Another Time begins.)
At first Hestie thinks her new mistress will be just like the others. "Spoiled, high and mighty, too wrapped up in her self". Only caring about beautiful gowns, balls and catching a beau. Hestie soon discovers though that Abby is not like other white girls. She is kind, and treats Hestie like a person, not simply a servant.
When Hestie takes Abby's new brooch, "Just for awhile, to pretend..." Hestie is shocked when Abby doesn't have her whipped. A close and forbiden bond begins to form between the them.
At Abby's birthday celebration, Hestie hears one of the guest Christy Balis, humilate her mistress. Christy reminds Hestie of the Sophia and Saundra. Anger comes bubbleing up inside her. All the times those two got her into trouble, humilated her, treated her like she was nothing...without thinking about the costs, Hestie "trips" while carrying a full tray of cocktails, and ruins Christy Bailis' gown.
The old maturnly woman Adele, takes care of her in the sick house after the beating. Tells her it was a "mighty foolish thing to do." Chester who is there also agrees but admits, he wished he seen it-the "high and mighty white girl, brought down".
Hestie missus her husband Joe terribly, but doubts(to spite his promise) that she'll ever see him agian. Though a part of her feels guilty, she falls in love with Chester, the stable hand
Chester and other slave, Samual hear signals being passed from other plantation slaves. An escape is being origized-the underground RR. Chester tries to talk Hestie into going too. She wants to, but at the same time, the idea frightens her. Not only what would happen if they're caught, but what if they do make it to freedom? What would become of them, how would they live? Hestie hates being a slave, but she knows nothing else. She knows what to expect with her life as it is, the unknown of freedom frightens her.
When Chester is killed, Hestie is heart broken and feeling guilty at the same time. Maybe it would have gone differently if she had gone too. She wishes she hadn't been such a coward. Her distrusst of whites begins to grow again, it had begun to abade. She even begins to be distrustful of Abby."she's one of them afterall..."
When Chester treatens Abby with a gun, Hestie trys to reason with him. When that doesn't work she risks her life to russel it away from him. He runs to a north bound train. Hestie at first is tempted to follow. But again her fear of the unknown, and the better part of her nature...she cares for Abby's wound and gets her back home.
The bond between the two grows closer. Abby shows her graditude by teaching Hestie to read. The lessons stop however when Abby learns the danger she could be putting Hesite in. Hestie was able to learn a lot in a short time.
One night Abby is attacked by a suitor. Hestie hears her scream and comes to her aid. With strainght she didn't know she had, she raises the heavy cast iron skillet over her head and strikes the attacker, killing him.
Hestie is terrified, knowing she will be put to death. With Abby's and Aunt Catherine's help she is able to stay hidden until she can saftly run away. With a little money, food and careful direcitons, Hestie is able to make her way north. She finds different stations on the underground RR. It is not an easy jurney. In time she makes it to Canada and struggles to make a life for herself.
When she left Willow Glen, Abby gave her a picture of herself with the instructions to send it back when she made it. She does this at once. Abby also insists that Hestie take the brooch for luck. Hestie manages to keep it safe though almost lost it on a few occasions.
Almost right away she meets up with the overseer from her childhood. The one who carried her off to be sold and who killed her mother that day. At first she is filled with haterd towards him. But her heart softens when she hears his own tail. He left the plantation and works to help runaways.
Five years pass. Hestie works doing hair for rich ladies, making a small but liveable income. By chance she meets up with Joe, who also had escpaed via undergournd RR. They are married legaly in a small Negro church and Hestie feels a happiness, she had never felt before. Shortly after her marriage she gives birth to another baby girl. Hestie names the child Abigail, and declares that it would be a tradition, all frist born girls in her family will be called Abigail. Along with the name, the brooch also gets handed down through the generations.
Friday, March 27, 2009
this is me
I've always wanted to be a writer; ever since the first grade when my story won in the young authors contest. My second grade teacher said I was the "best story writer in class." She told me that and put in on my report card, but none of my classmates believed me when I told them.
All through school I worked on my dream of becoming a writer. I entered all the "young author" competitions and did very well. In high school I took creative writing classes, but the dream was beginning to fade. I don't know why, maybe I thought I should focus on something more praticle. I still wanted to write, but I wasn't sure if I could make a living on it.
I'd always loved being around little kids. There was my career answer, I would teach. I could still write couldn't I? I mean teachers have summers off.
So in college I focused mainly on education classes. However, I couldn't pass the required math class which would get me into EMU's school of education. I tried 3 times and never got higher than a D. Finnally, it occured to me, maybe this wasn't the path God had intended for me.
I switched my major from early elmentary to children's lit. with a minor in writing. I took every writing and lit. class I could. My grade point went up to a 3.5; I was sorry I hadn't done it earlier.
I graduated in 1992 with my BA in English, Lang. and Lit. I was tired of school. I had been in college 6 years. I was expecting my first child. I was ready to begin a new phase of my life, being a mother. My writing dream wasn't forgotten, just put on a shelf.
Being a wife and mother of two, kept me busy. I wondered if my dream would ever come true. I wrote when I could, little things, here and there. But as the years went on, I couldn't help feeling a little depressed from time to time. My marriage was (and still is) great. I loved my husband and my children, but something was missing. I had to get back into my writing, but I didn't know where to start. I called myself "an aspiring writer".
I think it was in 2005 that the Northfeild Writer's Group formed. I saw the notice in the library and my heart lept. This was it! The ticket I needed to persue my dream. I signed up right away. Now, 2009 I think I'm probably one of the only members who has been there from the beginning.
I brought the manuscript I'd been working on and got lots of help and advice. I've become better writer since then and have gained the confidence to call my self not an "aspiring writer" but a writer.
I am seeing my name in print, our local paper The Northfeild Courant. I can't begin to discribe the elation I felt the first time I was published in that paper. People seem to like my articles and the editor has said I'm a good writer. My dream is being realized.
My book, the one I brought to the first Northfield Writers meeting, is finished. Now I'm going through the process of finding an agent to represent me. I've gotten several rejections, but that's okay. I'm not letting this dream die again!
All through school I worked on my dream of becoming a writer. I entered all the "young author" competitions and did very well. In high school I took creative writing classes, but the dream was beginning to fade. I don't know why, maybe I thought I should focus on something more praticle. I still wanted to write, but I wasn't sure if I could make a living on it.
I'd always loved being around little kids. There was my career answer, I would teach. I could still write couldn't I? I mean teachers have summers off.
So in college I focused mainly on education classes. However, I couldn't pass the required math class which would get me into EMU's school of education. I tried 3 times and never got higher than a D. Finnally, it occured to me, maybe this wasn't the path God had intended for me.
I switched my major from early elmentary to children's lit. with a minor in writing. I took every writing and lit. class I could. My grade point went up to a 3.5; I was sorry I hadn't done it earlier.
I graduated in 1992 with my BA in English, Lang. and Lit. I was tired of school. I had been in college 6 years. I was expecting my first child. I was ready to begin a new phase of my life, being a mother. My writing dream wasn't forgotten, just put on a shelf.
Being a wife and mother of two, kept me busy. I wondered if my dream would ever come true. I wrote when I could, little things, here and there. But as the years went on, I couldn't help feeling a little depressed from time to time. My marriage was (and still is) great. I loved my husband and my children, but something was missing. I had to get back into my writing, but I didn't know where to start. I called myself "an aspiring writer".
I think it was in 2005 that the Northfeild Writer's Group formed. I saw the notice in the library and my heart lept. This was it! The ticket I needed to persue my dream. I signed up right away. Now, 2009 I think I'm probably one of the only members who has been there from the beginning.
I brought the manuscript I'd been working on and got lots of help and advice. I've become better writer since then and have gained the confidence to call my self not an "aspiring writer" but a writer.
I am seeing my name in print, our local paper The Northfeild Courant. I can't begin to discribe the elation I felt the first time I was published in that paper. People seem to like my articles and the editor has said I'm a good writer. My dream is being realized.
My book, the one I brought to the first Northfield Writers meeting, is finished. Now I'm going through the process of finding an agent to represent me. I've gotten several rejections, but that's okay. I'm not letting this dream die again!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)