All Things For a Reason

I had a meeting yesterday with a book store owner about them stocking the book and having a book signing. The owner was a lovely, rather quiet woman who made me feel very at home and graciously asked my opinion on several subjects. The meeting, was cordial, easy and very productive.
When I first got there I was asked to make myself comfortable on a couch in the middle of the children's section of the book store. I wandered over to the brightly colored section, where all the books were labeled in plastic tubs or arranged with their merchandise. It reminded me of Kindergarten class the way it was organized. The store is basically run by retired teachers. One look around and you see their long standing organizational skills everywhere. I did indeed, feel very comfortable among all the child like wonder of books and stories and related things.
Back when I was a small child, I was fortunate to spend time with my grandmother in the summer. She was a grade school teacher until she retired. I got to help with bulletin boards at her school. I helped tidy up her classroom and put away new and old books, and see all the things about my Grandma as a teacher that until then, I didn't know existed. Like every other adult in my child's life I had no concept of her job. She was just my grandma, which was just fine by me.
My grandmother used to take my sister and me to a store called Laughlin's. It was a book and stationary store downtown, in my hometown of Barberton, Ohio. I loved that store and would frequently beg to go with Grandma and see the children's books. The first book my grandma let me pick out from that store was a pop-up Cinderella book. It was beautifully illustrated with castles and dreamy images of white horses and Prince Charming. The unexpected thing for me was how much I like the way it smelled. I noticed that about the whole book store, too. I loved being there because of the way it smelled like new books. The minute I would walk in that store my nose began twitching with the smell of new books. I would hit the door running fast into the section held just for children's literature. I would run my tiny fingers over the bindings and breathe deep the perfect smell of words in ink on a pristine page. To this day I can conjure the memory of my Grandma's perfume mixed with the new book smell wafting around my nose in the book store, as I slowly walked up and down every isle. Just as the words were imprinted on the pages I gazed at, so were the sights and smells of that store imprinted in my memory.
Laughlin's is long gone, now, as are so many places from my childhood. I went "home" this summer to discover my town had changed, as is inevitable, but my memories of my grandmother an the book store remain firmly entrenched in my subconscious.
I finished my meeting at the brand new store in my new hometown and walked out with a smile on my face. The meeting had produced more signings for me to participate in and a few quiet moments before it began to drift back and pay homage to the grandmother who first introduced me to the love of book stores. It is not lost on me, the irony of this store being run by teachers. It's almost as if my grandma were guiding me home.

Kingwood author celebrates launch of first book Kingwood Observer News Houston Community Newspapers Online - News Around Town

Kingwood author celebrates launch of first book Kingwood Observer News Houston Community Newspapers Online - News Around Town

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This is from my book release party at our home on July 17, 2009. I had a wonderful time and met some extremely lovely people. We had a cosmo fountain and a champaigne toast I dedicated to my hard working husband.
The night was one of those magical moments I will remember for the rest of my life.
I am happy and proud that Jennifer (a reporter) did the story for the Kingwood Observer and now I can share it with everybody else.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation...

I write in essay form. It's non-fiction. Truth be told, you just can't make this stuff up. The truth is always stranger than fiction.

This summer Michael and I and Betty went to Ohio for a couple of weeks, partly for business and partly to see the family we miss so much and aren't able see very often. While we were in Ohio we made a very special stop. It's a trip a used to make about once a week. In the beginning I went almost every day.

Last week was a milestone birthday for someone we love very much. There were no cakes, or candles or special dinners. We didn't buy presents or sing to the one we love. Matter of fact we barely spoke of it. The day came and went with no fanfare. Our beloved Danny and father of my four kids would have turned 50 years old. He's been gone now for twelve years. I shake my head in disbelief at that number. It remains hard to fathom that he has been gone that long, but indeed he has.

When we went back "home" I asked Michael if we could make a stop. Unable to refuse me practically anything, we went to the grave of our beloved Danny, where we placed a dozen roses on his head stone. We said our prayers, told him how much we missed him and continued on our journey down to my parent's house. Michael has made that trip with me for many years now. He was the one who consoled me the day Danny died. He held my hand as my best friend at every turn. He, now raises the children that Danny and I had together. To me that is the best way to honor Danny's memory, by continuing on the work he had started.

I thank Danny everyday for the children we have together with my Michael Darling. My kids are lucky to have had not just one father who loves them so very much, but to have two men in their lives who carefully watch over them, tending to their needs and helping them achieve the lives they want. Ever aware of how fortunate they are, they thank Michael regularly for all he does. They are kids and sometimes forget to be grateful for the little things they have been afforded. But it doesn't take long for them to shake away childish behavior and remember that things could be much worse. I watch my kids and the way they constantly check themselves to try and remain on the path of gratitude. That is something I am grateful for.

Michael and I spent our summer vacation remembering to thank our own parents, all very much alive and still pouring their love over us like a water fall. Spending time with them, was the gift we gave each other. One never knows when the day will come when saying "I love you and thank you" in person will cease to be. Better to try and do it as often now when we can, then wait and live with the regret of what we should have done.

My book lists many things I am grateful for. It's not possible for me to list all things I say "Thank you" for and keep the book smaller than an encyclopedia. The stories I told were slices, snippets of moments I know formed me into who I am. After reading the book, people get that as devastating as the divorce and eventual death of Danny was. The story is a love story, albeit a tragic one.

If the book has a moral to it then it is to be grateful for everyday and take the time to say "Thank you" to everyone who is kind to you. The world we live in owes us nothing. Every person we encounter, who is decent and kind and loving is a gift. If I died tomorrow, I hope that is my legacy, that I showed everyone I touched how grateful I am for all the love, kindness and encouragement I have received throughout my life. My summer vacation was well spent and is a reminder to me that I have so much to be grateful for.

Happy Birthday, Danny. We continue to feel your love, strength and encouragement everyday. Thank you for the "Pennies From Heaven" when we sometimes forget.

Make a Wish...

I was sitting here at my computer and wishing for several things at once. I am working sick, like most middle Americans have to and wishing I didn't have to market and promote the book and someone else would come along and do it. I was not an advertising major in college and so I am really having to wing it. Still, I think I am only really whining about it because I don't feel well. I have flu like symptoms and I can't seem to hold my head up for more than a few hours at a time.

I find it tough to cry too much, since I still have a job and life that I love and remain grateful for.

The good news is I will be in 2 more book stores. Bookends in Ridgewood, New Jersey will be carrying my book as well as Read All Over in Port Aurthur, Texas and I will be in Port Aurthur on August 8,2009 to do a signing. I just leads on several other stores and will be calling on them soon. Things are good, despite what my stomach continues to try and tell me.

My sweaty palms make it tough to type much of anything that can be deciphered today. My pounding head, aching belly and wooziness has caught up to me several times during the day. At one point I was wishing it would all go away. My headache did, so then I decided to wish something else. I wished that a problem I was having with a meter reader would go away and the company came out today and fixed it. I wished I had more time to get things done today and I woke up from my last nap to find myself a little more rested and yet it was only 1:30 in the afternoon and I still had most of the afternoon left. I wished for my son's recent car problems to be easier for him and Mike and Mike just left me a message that things look as thought they will work out by the end of the week.

I felt so grateful that the more I asked for the more I got. I also got inspired to wish for a few big things as well. I don't want to give up too much, but if I end up selling enough books to put me on the NY Best sellers list, I wouldn't complain. My other wish is that my family is all happy at the same time. That is more like a lightening strike than a reasonable request, yet I have spoken to everybody today and they all seem pretty good. I am stunned by that one. Maybe the Best Sellers list is not too much to ask.

"The Beginning of the End"

The title of this piece is the title of the chapter I wrote about how Danny my ex-husband died of cancer. It was devastating time for me, but for my kids it just kept rearing it's ugly head at every turn. There have been constant reminders about how they lost their father in times and places that were/are so unexpected. They continue to mourn, even now, which some folks find unfathomable. But the truth of the matter is children must be allowed the time to handle things as they are ready and not as adults deem fit.

I have been obsessively watching the Michael Jackson news lately, for lack of any want to watch the real news. I admit, it's total avoidance of reality, but I find it a nice reprieve from both of the wars and the deluge of bad economic news. I watched the memorial start to finish. I did have better things to do, but I couldn't tear myself away. I wasn't sure why I was so fascinated, but I continued to watch every program that remotely dealt with his death. I watched his 11 year old daughter cry at a microphone, telling the world how much she loved her daddy and showing her broken heart. There was speculation that she was being "exploited" and prompted. I couldn't help but feel that was ridiculous. I was glad she had the grace under fire, and the courage to tell us about the love she had for him and the love she felt when he was with her. She took the opportunity to publicly grieve. I was glad she could. My own tears streamed down my face as I watched this tiny girl and her brothers cling to their family as the weight of losing their father sunk in. Whatever one thinks about Michael Jackson, at some point he became a man who fathered children, who are now forced to survive without him.

Anderson Cooper was talking to Larry King about the fact they were both fatherless children at a young age. He mentioned a quote that brought a huge amount of insight to me.

"Fatherless children think anything is possible and nothing is safe."

I immediately understood what that meant, after having watched my own kids deal with the death of their dad. It is a mere statement of truth. Children in my opinion are not resilient, as so many like to say. They are just little people trying the best that they can to deal with what life hands them without any experience or control of their circumstances. Kids "look" resilient because they have no choices. They do as expected because an adult is guiding them to do it. They do not bounce back, as once presumed. They grieve when they can in whatever form they can. A counselor told me after Danny died that my kids would grieve at different times in their lives because they were so little it would take time for them to come to terms with it. The years it took for kids to fully participate in the grieving aspect of the death of their father was then misconstrued as resilience. My kids were never allowed to publicly grieve. They had been, much to my dismay, dismissed as too young to understand. The truth is they felt everything a thousand times over. When there weren't adults around to shut them up, they grieved in the purest, gut wrenching form. Most adults assumed that because they were young they didn't really feel it, understand it or emotionally grasp it. They were absolutely WRONG. Children get this type of mourning better than adults because there is no baggage to stop or circumvent it. For kids it comes from their guts.

I see where my own children see everything as possible and nothing as safe. They lost their hero on September 1997. They would never be the same. They have learned to cry when they need to, laugh when they feel it, and love those who deserve it. It has taken all the years of maturing and talking and feeling to move into the people they are today. I am fortunate that my kids didn't move completely inward when they were shut out of the public grieving process. They managed to become more empathetic to other fatherless kids. They call it the "Dead Dad Club". Maudlin, yes, but necessary in some ways. Those who have lost their hero at a young age deserve their own club, for the bravery they have to exhibit.

My heart breaks whenever I see kids who have lost a parent. Michael Jackson's children are no exception. They will face the remainder of their days without the one constant unconditional love they had since the day they were born. Every holiday, every milestone will hold an empty chair to remind them that he didn't get to witness their accomplishments in life. Playing a CD to hear his voice isn't going to fix that. Neither is any amount of money. Some kids in the "Dead Dad Club" have inheritances and they all say the same thing. They would give every dime back with interest for 5 more minutes with their Dad, who they loved so very much.

Is That Right?

Lately I have noticed my eye sight and hearing aren't what they used to be. I think it's partially because I am distracted. I feel I may endanger people if I choose to drive at this point. I can't seem to gather or retain information right now. It reminds me of when I was young and I would sing in public performances. I would get so worked up about being nervous and all that could could go wrong I would suddenly blank on the words while I was rehearsing, right before I would go on. That is pretty much how I feel right now, a little blank.

My kids, who always have something to talk about, because unlike me they get out of the house, stare right at me and start talking and I can't seem to keep up. I watch intently, the way they are forming words and their expressions and then I try and repeat the information back to them only to discover that I haven't caught what they actually said. It's rather frustrating to both of us. They also start talking on their way out of the room and I, for the life of me, can't hear a single word. I tell them daily they have to get my attention and look into my face when they speak. Unfortunately, they forget, and my deafness perseveres.

Some of this I think is due to all the rock concerts I insisted on going to . Some is because I wore head phones for 10 years that blasted Chrissy Hynde and The Pretenders, Bruce Springsteen, and Prince. Some of it I think is because I am becoming absent minded due to feeling just a little overwhelmed. Life can do that do that sometimes, so I am trying to roll with it for now.

I hopeful that I will regain some of my lost senses when things calm down here. I realize that this can be a by-product of sensory overload. Usually, when I have had my fill of extra curriculars going on in the house, I notice that certain senses start to break down and disappear. It's a bit like selective hearing, only I am not necessarily the one making the choice.

All too soon, all the hectic, manic activity going on around me will begin to subside leaving the house once again quiet and slightly dull. I will slip back into some kind of pattern where I can nearly guess what is going to be said long before anyone actually speaks. My ears and eyes will return to peak performance and I will catch every sigh emanating from the pooches.

In the mean time the kids, Mike and I continue to have to write things down because I am in my deaf stage. I would do what is on the list, if I could only find my glasses.

Asked and Answered

I have recently been a little panicked about whether or not the book will sell. My family like every family has to face the daunting economic down turn. We are just as effected as any family in this country. Was it smart to write and publish a book right now? Probably not, but the truth of the matter is, it's never a good time to jump off a cliff and hope for the best. I had to, at some point, put my money where my mouth was with my kids. I have preached ad nauseum that if you do what you love the money will come. It's scary to have to back up your beliefs with nothing but hopes and dreams and a little faith. I wrote the book hopeful it would sell. I dreamed about the day I could put the book in others hands and hear what they brought to the book in their own personal stories. I have to walk in faith and believe that if I use the talent God gave me then all would work out for the best.

I am not opposed to begging people to help sell the book, but I will admit that asking folks on a daily basis to help me spread the word has been uncomfortable at times. I have never been one to extend my hands, palms up, requesting a hand out. I wouldn't say it is strictly about pride, although I would be remiss if I said I had none, but more about not wanting to impose myself on others. I am reminded by my family quite regularly recently that I am not asking for a hand out, but rather a hand up. That seems more palatable to me. I, myself have no difficulty helping those who need a hand up. They also remind me that I have done the work in writing the book, so I am not asking for anyone to support something I haven't worked for. I like that, so I keep those words in my head when I am on the phone or in person asking for help.

I have been praying more lately for opportunities. I have been spending quality spiritual time asking for a sign that this is the right path for me and my family. I am open to waiting, however I do not want my family to pay any unnecessary price. Each morning when I get up I ask for guidance, patience and opportunities to be a positive force in the world. I have recently gotten some pretty clear and wonderful answers.

A couple of weeks ago I was praying for the men in my life. There was a storm brewing at my house while I was a way promoting the book. For those of you who have read my book, you know that I receive pennies from heaven. I was praying long and hard for my boys, all three of them to be taken care of and watched over. I was travelling with my parents and I have a nervous bladder. Needless to say, I needed to stop in the middle of nowhere to go to the bathroom. My dad found a service station and pulled over. I read a sign on the door that said,"No public restrooms inside. Portables in back." I walked around back to discover two Johnnie-on -the -spots that looked like they hadn't been serviced in years. I climbed into one and nearly fell over from the smell. Luckily for me, I am gifted at peeing standing up. Enough years of rustic camping has taught me that sitting down is a luxury not a necessity. I was in and out in record time. As I was walking back to their car I looked own to see 3 pennies on the ground right behind the car. I knew my prayers were heard and all would be O.K. I breathed a huge a sigh of relief due to the empty bladder and answered prayer and relaxed for the rest of the trip.

This past week I have had to face the prospect of going back to work if the book sales doesn't improve. At first I panicked and felt overwhelmed at the idea of promoting my current book, working on my next title and working a part time job, all while still being mother, wife, chief, cook and bottle washer. I have worked several jobs at once and I can tell you I am not as good at multi-tasking as I would hope. My prayers in the last week have been simple. "Show me the doors that I need to knock on." Everyday I would get up early, pray in silence and then get busy working on promoting my book. I would look up at the end of the day, hours later , still at the computer, not feeling as if I had accomplished much. Until yesterday...

I called a local book store in Nacogdoches Texas, about 2 1/2 hours away from Houston and just asked if they carry local authors. The next thing I knew I was faxing back forms to Hastings Books, Music, and Videos about how they would be carrying 25 of my books and I would be doing a signing on September 19, 2009 from 1 PM to 3 PM. The young woman I spoke with was kind and thoughtful and understanding. I couldn't have asked for a nicer person to help me. So there it was. I got my answer. I am now in my second book store. I breathed a giant, joyful sigh of relief and felt better than I have in days.

I am not sure how others make it through their trials without having a spiritual life to depend on. One person told me once that I pray because I am too weak to realize I am in this alone. I see how they could think that way. The world can be a cruel place at times. But for me, I have had too many little miracles, too many answers to looming questions to not believe in a power greater than the piece of meat encased in my skull. More times than I can count I have had help exactly when I needed it the most, simply because I asked in a quiet prayer, early in the morning. I am too weak to handle everything on my own, that much is true. I am dependent on my faith to guide me when I have no idea what I am supposed to be doing.

My mom used to say "What's the worst thing that can happen if you ask?" The worst thing is being told "No." I have had my fair share of that answer, too.

But in the end, for me, I just never want to get to the point when I feel so isolated and alone, like I have nothing going for me, that I am too afraid to ask.

Nowhere To Hide

I have recently had to acknowledge and accept the truths of others in my life. I refer to it as their truth because I don't necessarily agree to everything that is said. Still, I feel it is important to hear what it is that they have to say. I, unfortunately, have been portrayed as less than honorable in these truths. It hurt. It hurt enough for me to sit in a park with my husband and daughter and cry for several hours. My truth is that what was said is categorically not true. I know different. In protecting my family and extended family, I have stayed mute. I refuse to defend my honor, even though physical proof and personal testimony will bare it out. I do this not out of cowardice, but kindness for those who might be hurt as collateral damage. Battling against family, in my estimation, will never end with productive results. I am honoring my parents by remembering that if I have nothing nice to say, then it is best at this time to say nothing. I have said the equivalent of nothing for 20 years. I must admit, I have moments of pure weakness when I wonder if I have actually done more harm than good by staying quiet. It's, ironically, nearly the only time I have stayed quiet about anything.

My children, husband and I have no rugs to hide things under. We squarely face our ugliness, vulnerability and mistakes without the welcome mat over heads to protect us. It's galling. It is a visceral experience that takes great courage and determination to get through. Our mantra is "life is hard, wear a helmet". That is not to say brutal truth is always required. We are continually learning that honesty although sometimes painful, can be dealt out with a velvet glove just as easily as a metal fist. We say what we feel in order for the others in our life to see and hear our truth and maybe, just maybe, hear us with their heart versus a judgemental ear. It is a good system, especially when it cuts our predisposed assumptions and speculation in half. It's always about the fact that any relationship is a 50%-50% deal. It is only as valuable as the people that value each other. I value these lovies in my life. I value what they think, how they feel and the truth inside them that they carry. My family means everything to me, therefore I must walk the walk and listen to them even when it's unflattering about me. I have much to learn and I believe these people, who love me so very much, have the lessons I am supposed to learn.

Should those who speak so unkindly about me, outside our inner sanctum, go unchecked with no real balance of defense? I have no real answers for that. Cognitively I have many documents, quotes, dates and times that I can draw from in a moments notice that substantially back up my own personal truths. Emotionally, I sit feeling like a child that is being bullied on a playground, unsure of whether to fight of flee. Spiritually, I know that this is not the time for me to do either. When things become turbulent, I have learned through the quiet of each morning that patience is often the best option when certainty and rugs to hide under can't be found.

Personal persecution is one the toughest things a person can endure, barring physical illness. It can lead to physical symptoms of illness. I know that day in the park, it sure did with me. I shook, felt sick to my stomach, and my complexion was that of a white sheet on a freshly made bed. I knew then, as I know just as strongly now that my characterization by others has nothing to do with me. I am the collateral damage, I referred to earlier. If I am unrecognizable in any given story , then surely it is not me. So there it is, the elusive answer I had searched for weeks for, to speak up or stay still. I will maintain radio silence, since the chatter that I took so hard is not me. Why defend a figment of someones imagination? Why enter a contest filled with urine and waste? Why waste a solitary minute trying to figure out the "why" in a question never truly asked to my person?

Don't get me wrong, it still hurts. Anyone wrongly accused will attest to the hurt they feel when they have been so misjudged. I can't learn from what I believe to be false, but I can learn from the hurt I feel. I can work on myself and try harder as a human being to be slow to judge, slow to chatter about someone I do not know, be responsible with my words and deeds and to always remember that we are all just humans doing the best we can with what we have.

I wasn't crazy about the experience I had to go through, but I am ecstatic at the notion it's never too late to learn. I have kept the lesson from this most uncomfortable experience and the rest is left out for the wind to whisk it up into the clouds for greater minds than mine to decide what's best. I am ever mindful I cannot accept anything with a closed fist, so I will continue to do my best to keep my hands and mind open. The toughest times are usually the most revealing, so I will look at it as though I were raising my arms on a roller coaster, continually trying to be brave.

Send Me Your Pictures!

My cousin, who I must tell you, is always at the ready to help me, sent in a picture of herself next to her cruiser. Miss Rita has spent her entire professional life serving her community as a law enforcement officer. She recently received a lifetime achievement award by her community. Seeing this picture brought tears to my eyes. Miss Rita is retiring after many long, dangerous and illustrious years as a Kentucky State Patrolwoman. I am so very proud of her I can't even tell you. In a time of her life when truly everyone should be celebrating her and all her many accomplishments, including a prestigious national award, she makes a point to send me a picture of my book next to her cruiser. It is indeed poignant to me that both our lifelong pursuits be in one picture.

Miss Rita has been a huge influence in my life. She is my cousin, my family and more importantly, my friend.

This picture represents the very essence of why I want folks to send in pictures of themselves and the book. My book is nothing if it is not read. My book has failed if it cannot touch an other's life and allow for the inspiration of their stories.

Please continue to send your pictures of you in your world. Your stories are as important and I would like to share them.

Next

I keep thinking about what is next for me. I have been obsessively making lists of all the things I have to do.

1. Get ready for cocktail book release party on 17th in Houston
2. Get media kits ready for party
3. Obsess over low ranking on Amazon.com
4. Lie in fetal position and cry like a child due to previously low rankings
5. Berate myself for crying like a child
6. Get back to getting ready for party
7. Write in morning random babbling that will later be ripped apart to form stories
8. Throw notebook across room after abject frustration sets in
9. Go back and obsess about rankings again
10. Pace like a wild animal trying to come up with subjects to write about
11. Look through want ads for a "real" job and stop this writing nonsense
12. Remember I am my happiest when I write
13. Do writing exercises to increase brain flow
14. Look up 3 hours later and realize I have written another story
15. Look at the house that needs cleaning and wish for a maid
16. Make dinner because I have to or the family will starve, since no one can find their way to the fridge
17. Think about how hard Mike has to work in order for me to do this
18. Feel overwhelmed and guilty and go back to the fetal position
19. Obsess over rankings and pray that someone discovers me
20. Look around and realize I won't succeed if I don't try
21. Try harder
22. Try again
23. Keep trying
24. Remember that my family loves me and wants me to be happy
25. Be happy!

Tomorrow is another day and another list. As long as I continue to wake up, there is hope.

God Bless America!

Happy 4th of July! We have no set plans today. The kids are scattered to the wind with work, friends and other "stuff". Mike and I have an endless chore list of stuff we need to catch up on, so we will be house bound, sweeping, cleaning and getting ready for the book release party in a couple of weeks.

In passing, folks have asked us what our plans for the holiday are...Mike and I have both always had jobs where working holidays is the norm and making plans was out of the question. Today, although we are both home, is much the same.

Mike has to get up at an unsavory hour tomorrow morning and head back to work. Most weeks he works 6 days and doubles along the way, graciously supporting me until I can stand on my own two feet. I continue to press forward, pushing hard on my marketing plan to sell the current book, all the while starting the work on the next book.

I was thinking about what it means to be an American today. Unfortunately, lately, the middle class has taken very large hits economically, professionally and faithfully. I say faithfully because I , like so many others, try and have faith in our democracy and those who run it. What we have seen of late, is they have run it right into the ground. I still believe in the Constitution of the United States and what it means to have real freedom. Although, I disagree with how my country is being run, I still believe in the flag waving, hard working, faithful American people who do the living and dying in this country to keep it working and protected.

My America and the freedom it allows, are the average folks who are not able to take today off. They are the store clerks, the nurses, the airline workers, the policemen and women, and the fire departments. They are still humming along, as if it were any other work day. All so I could enjoy the benefit of security, and grilled hot dogs.

I said a little prayer of thanks and hope for the military personnel, who so far from home are putting their lives on the line everyday, not just for our freedom, but in effort to help others experience what we so often take for granted. I asked that they are able to show for even a second, what it is like to live and breathe in freedom. There is no greater feeling than knowing without doubt, that our individual rights are protected everyday and that no one force is greater than the collective voices of the American people.

As I run the vacuum, I hum "God Bless America" and try to remember while I am doing my chores that I have the greatest blessing of choosing my own fate, be it today, tomorrow or 20 years in the future, thanks to the genius of the forefathers who wrote a single document protecting me and all I love.

May you have a joyful 4th of July today and some point find yourself humming "God Bless America".

The Adventures of Advancing Backward

My dear friend Tom and his wife went to the north east coast in Maine and Massachusetts when I was in Ohio signing books. Like "Flat Stanley" he and Dawn, the lovely Mrs. took the book and took pictures all over the north east on their trip. I loved the idea. My book is now officially more well travelled than the author. It's a writer's dream come true.

So, I had this idea...what if everyone who has bought the book took pictures of where they are and sent them to me so I could create a slide show? Think "Sisterhood of The Travelling Pants" only all ages and genders and holding the book instead of wearing magical pants. It's still a one size fits all situation. I would love to see pictures of everyone with the book in different locations. Flat Kellie! Those of you who knew me when I was young, keep your jokes on that one to yourself.

I will create a slide show and put it on YouTube with a soundtrack of course. Send me pictures of you holding the book and the location of where you are to my email, kellieketcham@yahoo.com! Let's have some fun with this.

I knew I loved writing. I knew this would be an adventure for me. But what I didn't realize, fully until now, is how happy it makes me feel seeing other people holding and reading the book. For every person who has shared their own stories with me after reading my book, let me say how profoundly I have been moved. That truly, was the point in writing for me, the ability to talk to other folks about their life stories and the ways in which we are all connected.

Send me your pictures and let's see how far the book has gone, one reader at a time!