You Didn't Think We Would Come

You didn't think we would come.  Loveable soul that you are, you did not believe that we would assemble to honor you - to mourn.

The room filled to overflowing. Some people laughed, recalling moments in your life when you had been witty, silly, confused, adorable. Others wept, recounting your struggles, your torments, your pain. But all of us remembered one, major point: you are loved.

You didn't think we would come.  Did you?

Sleep fair, sweet Jenna.  Sleep fair.

CedarWomanChapterOne

Things Are Not What They Seem

I was given permission to post this delightful interview with authors Anne Rothman-Hicks and Ken Hicks.  Lively and fun, I just had to share with you.  Enjoy:

Author Interview Questions

Kid Lit Blog Tours

By Mother Daughter Book Reviews

About the Book:

Since Ken and Anne are co-authors of Things Are Not What They Seem, they have asked for permission to answer individually.  Here goes:

1.  As succinctly as possible, tell us why someone should read your book.

Ken: Because otherwise we’ll burn your house down and make you cry!

Anne:  I think that may be the wrong approach.

Ken: It works for the Mafia.

Anne:  Let’s tell them about the great characters they are going to meet—the surprising things that the reader will learn about the characters and that the characters will learn about each other and about themselves and about friendship and love and loyalty.

Ken: They may still cry.  I cry when I read about Mr. Bags.

Anne:    I’m going to try not to cry at the next question.

2. What is YOUR favorite part of the book?

Ken: Can I do this one?  My favorite part is when Whitehair leads the other pigeons on a bombing mission and—

Anne.  Wait! First you have to tell them that Whitehair is actually a man who was turned into a pigeon 160 years ago when he recited a magic spell incorrectly.

Ken: I like that part too.  But I really like when they dive-bomb those nasty bullies and —

Anne:  Couldn’t we talk about something that is a little less infantile than pigeons doing their business on a few bullies?

Ken:  We could.  But it wouldn’t be my favorite part.

Anne:  (Sighing).

3.  What is the main message you want to convey to your readers in your books?

Ken: Pigeons are God’s creatures too.  Feed them once in a while!

Anne: That would be Whitehair’s message, Ken.  He’s the one who’s always hungry.  The message we are trying to convey is about friendship and love and the effects of those uplifting emotions on the lives of the characters.

Ken:    But people should still feed the pigeons, right.  One of them might be Whitehair.

Anne:    Right…  I think I’ll handle the next question.

4.  Can we expect more books from you in the future? 

Anne:  (Looks at Ken and makes a face).  Sure….I guess …

Ken:    Are you kidding.  We have one in our brains right now and it’s kind of annoying because this plot involves an actual battle with cannon and muskets and so the scenes are very loud inside my head—  Ouch!  Why did you kick me?

Anne:  We are indeed working on a sequel involving Jenny and James, Sleepy and Katylyn, and of course, Whitehair the person turned into a pigeon.  They will be traveling back to the Revolutionary War, trying not to do something that will change the course of history in unforeseen ways.

Ken:  That’s very deep, Anne.  Wow.  Change the course of history….

Anne:  Your turn, Ken.

About Being an Author:

5.  What has been the best compliment you received as an author?

Ken:  Easy peasy.  My fourth grade teacher said, “Really, Ken you actually wrote a book?”

Anne:    Ken, I don’t think that was meant as a compliment.

Ken:    From her it was a compliment.

Anne:  What about when people say that our characters seem like real people, or that they cried or laughed when certain things happened, or that they are looking forward to reading the sequel, or that the book stayed with them well after they were done reading.

Ken:  I’ve got to remember all that stuff when I see my fourth grade teacher again.

6.  How do you react to a bad review?

Ken:     Another easy one.  When we get a bad review, we look up the person on the internet and burn their house down.

Anne:    We do not!  Why are you saying these things.

Ken:    (Whispering) Just in case.  You never know who might be reading this.

Anne:  But that is not what we do.  We are upset, of course, because it is as bad as someone criticizing our children.  However, in the end we say, “It doesn’t matter.”

Ken:    We do?

Anne:    Yes, because if the reviewer is right and our book really is bad, then we deserve the negative comments and, anyway, we’ll be getting a lot more bad reviews.  But, if the book is good, one bad review won’t make a difference.  You see, in the end it doesn’t matter.

Ken:    You are so wise, Anne.  Were you this wise when I married you?

Anne:  Apparently not.

7.  What is the best advice you received as an author?

Ken: This is another one that I’ll ace.  Again, it was my fourth grade teacher.  She said, “What in the world makes you think you can write a book?”  And then she started laughing.

Anne:     How was that good advice?

Ken:    Because, just to prove her wrong, I sat down with my wonderful wife and wrote a book.  And then we wrote another one and another and…. How many have we written now?

Anne:    A lot , Ken.  And that is a very sweet thing for you to say.  But don’t you think the best advice was not to give up?  To keep working?  To rewrite and rewrite again until you can read it aloud and feel as though someone else wrote it?

Ken:    True.  But it is a little creepy when the book is so polished that it seems someone else wrote it.  I mean, what if someone else really did write it?

Anne:    (Sighing again). Are there many more questions?.

8.  What advice would you give someone aspiring to write a children’s book?

Ken:    Don’t do it!

Anne:    Why would you say that?

Ken:    (Whispering again) Because there’s enough competition already.

Anne:    But do you want to deprive anyone of the pleasure of writing a book for children.  Do you remember how much fun it was when our own daughter read the chapters as we were writing them.

Ken:    It was the best, Anne.

Anne:    So I think we should tell people to find a child of the appropriate age and write it for that person as if he or she is listening.

Ken:    And if they walk away in the middle, give it up!

Anne:    No!  Keep writing and rewriting until you get it right!

Ken:    You give the best advice, Anne.  Will you marry me?

Anne:    We are married, Ken.

Ken:    I know.  But if we get divorced, will you marry me?

Anne:    That really doesn’t make sense.

Ken:    It sounded kind of romantic in my head.  But, you know, with all that musket and cannon fire, it’s hard to always tell.

Anne:    Say goodbye to the listeners. Ken

Ken: Goodbye listeners, and don’t forget to pay the fire insurance.

Anne:    Ken!

Ken:    Only kidding. 

Satruday Musings

Everybody is a genius, but if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree,
it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.

Albert Einstein

It’s Saturday again, and for many of us, that means cleaning day. The work week is over, Sunday looms near with its promise of reading the newspaper in bed, a big, Sunday dinner, church, perhaps a family outing. But on Saturday, we clean.

I find myself reflecting on my life, past and present, as I work my way through my home, and as I mop and sweep, dust and scrub, my mind goes to other things besides the purely physical effort of making a home – a home.

I’ve chosen a quote from Einstein because its philosophy has been the fulcrum of my life. First, growing up, being told that I couldn’t do this, couldn’t do that, was not so smart, pretty, and later as I raised my son and told him that he is intelligent, handsome, kind, sweet and everything a young man should be. I’m actually thankful for my childhood. It taught me how not to treat my son.

Being told that you are unworthy, stupid, unqualified will cause you to inadvertently fulfill the expectations of those who tell you so, whether they be parents, friends, teachers, bosses or whomever. Self-fulfilling prophecy can be devastating, as it seemingly reinforces that which has been told to you – unless it’s positive. Then the sky is the limit.

Mirroring, a kissing cousin to self-fulfilling prophesy, works the same way. As an example: you’re walking down the street and you see someone you know. You call out their name, they turn around and they recognize you. What does that first look on their face tell you? Are you sorry that you called out their name, or are you pleased with their look of pleasure as recognition sets in? That is mirroring.

So I thought I’d just put this out there today as I take a short break from cleaning bathrooms and mopping floors. It’s something to ponder, to turn over in our minds as concerns our relationships with those we know and love.

***
I am your mirror. When you look into my eyes,
you see how beautiful you are.
When you enter a room, my heart lifts up to meet you;
a smile of greeting lights me up from within.

I am your mirror. When you look into my eyes,
you see love, as my soul embraces yours,
revealing to you just how wonderful you are:
my friend, my heart, my son.

©2014 Debra Shiveley Welch

Motherhood

Slowly, gently, the quacking of ducks draws me from sleep.  I raise up, through misty mists of dreams and swaying contentment, toward the dawn of a new day with you, my sweet son.
    This is your fourth day home, and yet it seems as though you have always been here.  You have become such an integral part of my life, that I cannot imagine it without you.
    You lay contentedly upon my chest, your little heart beating against mine, tiny fists curled, silken hair caressing my chin. Bending to kiss the top of your head, I again breathe in your beautiful baby smell, your Chris smell…my baby…my son.
    Slowly, dreamily, I realize that I have fallen asleep after your last feeding.  I like to sit on the family room couch, facing the lake, during these sweet moments: our mother/son time, when I hold you, feed you, examine your little hands, feet, ears.  Sitting, curled up against a huge pillow, with you cradled in my arms in a sitting position, nursing contentedly, I admire my little boy.  Raising you to my shoulder, and pressing your downy cheek to mine, I burp you and then return you to an upright position, cuddling you in my arms.  Turning my gaze toward the dawning day, I lean back in pure bliss…savoring...savoring…and then slowly, drifting off into a sweet, contented sleep.
    The light begins to swell and fill the frame of the sliding door leading to our back deck…to our lake.  The sky begins to change color.  I can tell that today is going to be another beautiful day – Dogwood Pink and Daffodil Yellow…a glorious day…my first Mother’s Day!

Copyright 2010 Debra Shiveley Welch

Excerpt from Son of My Soul - The Adoption of Christopher

Library of Congress Copyright 2014 Debra Shiveley Welch

Cedar Woman

Announcing the release of the second edition of Cedar Woman in Kindle.

Newly formatted and easier to read and learn the language of the Lakota, while still enjoying a story of a Lakota woman who finds success outside of the reservation, Cedar Woman is available from now and through next week only for $2.99.

Winner of Books and Authors Best Native American Fiction 2011, Cedar Woman has continued to entertain and inspire readers.  The new format allows the Kindle reader to easily access any part of the book, including the cookbook and dictionary.

And now, a word from my sister Spotted Eagle Horse:

When Tankse (elder sister) approached me about writing a novel from a Native American woman's point of view, I had serious reservations. Too often we, as Native people, are romanticized or stereotyped into the same tired versions of what people think we are, the "forgotten people" or "forgotten race", because so many fall for the stereotypes of us often portrayed in Hollywood movies, sports team mascots, and history books, not realizing that we are still here. We are over 500 culturally and linguistically distinct nations strong. We are still here - and still dancing.

So when asked if I was okay with her writing the book, and if I would act as a consultant, I had to pray to decide if such a project should go forward and if I felt worthy of adding my voice to such a project. Finally I talked over my fears with Debra, my brother and "Spiritual Advisor" Joe Red Bear, ultimately deciding to participate.

In Cedar Woman, Debra has bypassed a lot of the usual hype and BS often associated with Native culture, producing an honest, clear eyed look at who we really are, albeit through a fictional character. She deliberately decided to not show the darker side of our culture: something I appreciate!

I especially love how thorough she was in researching the subject matter, and I deeply admire her dedication to giving a more realistic look into our culture, including much of our Lakota language and several of our favorite recipes!

While I realize that, unless you have lived as a Native, either on or off the rez, you will never completely understand what it is to be Native. I think that Debra has a pretty good handle on who and what we as Native people are really about. And, thankfully, she did not rely on just my voice alone. The resulting story is one I am proud to say I was a part of, and I am proud to call her my "Sister By Choice".

Hecetu welo, mitakuye oyapi.
I have spoken, it is so. I am finished.

Mitakuye oyasin, all my relations.
Julie Spotted Eagle Horse Martineau

Cedar Woman can be purchased on Amazon here:Kindle
 and on Barnes and Noble Nook

Christopher's Final Surgery

Chris sailed through his fifth and final surgery this last Monday. The first night was rough but he stuck it out with calm and bravado.

They opened his nose completely, broke it, aligned the septum after removing part of it, used the excess to replace missing cartilage, lined up his septum, which was slung to the left, centered his nose with his cupid's bow and sewed it into place.

The staff in Nationwide Children’s Hospital in Columbus, Ohio was beyond fantastic in their care of my 18-year-old boy. In fact, each and every one asked for information to come and see him play at a local restaurant near where we live.

Today he took a walk around our lake, made himself a tasty lunch and is now watching the Toy Story special on ABC Family Channel. He is out of pain, his nose looks beautiful and he is anticipating returning to the restaurant where he plays backup for a talented singer/song writer and beginning his job with an upscale Japanese restaurant where he will be personally trained by the owner. Life is good.

It's funny how Children's Hospital has been a part of a major portion of my life. At two months and then at four, I was admitted with a fractured skull, age four years found me again admitted with fourth degree burns and age nine for neurological study. Age 15 found me practically living there with my friend, Patsy, one of the few female hemophiliacs at that time and age 16 saw me visiting her the final time a few days before she died.

That last evening, as I was leaving the hospital, a sound made me glance to my left. In a small room sat a nurse feeding a baby. What caught my eye was the fact that the baby was sitting upright. I looked again. The infant, hungrily eating, had a hole where his or her mouth should have been. I remember saying a quick prayer and thinking I hope that baby has a mother who loves it. Now I realize that what I had witnessed was a nurse feeding a baby born with cleft lip and palate. God had given me a glance into my future.

It is odd when I reflect back on my 50 plus years journey with Children’s hospital. It began with my healing, followed by the death of my friend. Within the tragedy of losing Patsy lay a promise: a promise of a sweet babe who would need a home.

We seldom realize that we are witnessing what is to come. It wasn’t until we got the call that a beautiful baby boy, born with cleft lip and palate, was looking for a family, that I realized my blessing and I knew, I just knew that he was meant to be mine. I knew that it was destiny that made me visit Children’s that last, fateful night: I was meant to say goodbye to my dear friend who I thought would be a part of my life for many years to come and I was meant to witness something that would help me a full 24 years later.

Perchance my odyssey with Children's ends here: Chris' final surgery. An era has passed; a chapter has closed. Perhaps, when my sweet son moves on to make his own life and create his own family, I will return to Children’s…this time as a volunteer instead of a patient, visitor, or parent. Life is good.