Sunday, December 25, 2005
I love Christmas morning at my home. It's always the same - sweet and simple. The children awaken early (too early) and finally, somewhere around 6 a.m., I manage to be coaxed out of bed (to the smell of coffee) to start the gift-opening rituals.
But Christmas is more than presents at our home. There is so much love and laughter, that one can't help but smile and feel good. After the presents, I always make a big breakfast and then the children settle in to enjoy their gifts while I read (I always get a book) or watch a movie - and we just relax.
I don't go anywhere special - we don't do anything out of the ordinary - it's just a sweet and simple day. My children each received a gift that they really loved and seeing them so happy was enough to make my Christmas special.
But this year, my mom received a special gift. She loved it so much that I wanted to share the story with you.
Every year, my brothers and sisters (there are 10 of us) wonder what to give her, but if they would only listen to her - they would know.
First - my mom is elderly - in her 80s. She grew up in Southern California and often told my daughters stories about the swallows returning to San Juan Capistrano (where she lived as a little girl) every year on March 19. I heard my daughters asking her questions and she got misty-eyed and mentioned she had not seen the swallows since she was 12 years old. I knew instantly what I would get her.
I bought her a nice children's picture book - a story about the Swallows of San Juan Capistrano. As she opened her gift, my daughters played "When the Swallows come back" (Gene Autry) and my mom looked at me and then at the book - strangely -- until an envelope fell out. Inside the envelope, I placed a brochure from San Juan Capistrano's chamber of commerce and a copy for hotel accomodations on March 18-20; and a certificate saying that I would take her to San Juan Capistrano to see the Swallows return.
She cried and hugged me. Nothing else mattered at that moment.
To my mom - who has everything - this was the perfect gift.
Friday, December 23, 2005
I know he meant it as a joke but one thing is not funny -- it is getting ridiculous, the way people are so preoccupied with being politically correct. Is it Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays?
With that in mind, I just want to stand and say that I don't care what they all say:
Merry Christmas to one and all -- and may you all have a Blessed 2006.
It has been so long since I've posted anything here. I get so busy on my other favorite sites (AW boards - where I average about 20 posts a day) and I tend to neglect this new site.
Monday, December 05, 2005
Actually, this sounds like fun. I will combine it with chronological events of my growing-up days and it will be fun to reminisce. I suppose it is about books, reading and WRITING, but to me all three go hand in hand.
- Ever since I can remember, I have loved books. One of my favorite pastimes was spending the day at either the local library or at the bookstore. I love the Dr. Ford series (Randy Wayne White) especially Captiva. Other favorite books are To Kill a Mockingbird and The Bridges of Madison County.
- I don't know at what I age I started to read but I do know that by age 4, I was reading out loud to my Dad. I remember the day I was enrolled in kindergarten at Olive Street School and the teacher being impressed that I could read so well.
- By age 8, I was reading Readers Digest monthly to my blind father. It was one of his favorite magazines and I couldn't wait each month for it to arrive in the mail so that I could read it to him. My father subscribed to the magazine in print and in Braille. Sometimes he read and I'd follow along or I'd read and he'd just listen. Some of my favorite memories are of us reading on the porch or in the car on rainy days. We both loved the sound of rain.
- In fourth grade I won first-place at Olive Street School. I had entered a poetry contest and it was read in front of several classes in the cafeteria. A boy in my class (the class clown, no less) ran to me and in front of everyone, got down on one knee, clasped his hands and said: "That's the most beautiful poem I've ever heard. Please say you'll marry me and make me a happy man." I was so shy, I just blushed and sat there embarrassed by the scene, while Michael Brown was scolded by the teacher and asked to return to his seat.
- In 7th grade, I suddenly discovered the Porterville Public Library. It's not that I had never been there, but prior to this I was never allowed to go out on my own. I couldn't wait for Fridays. I'd leave Bartlett Jr. High and my best friend Liz and I would walk to the library. I'd stay there until my dad and brother picked me up on their way home from work. It was 1970 and I read every Nancy Drew book on the shelf. I started with No.1 and was determined to go through them in order but soon found myself skipping around. I was reading three books a week. (always one Nancy book a week, but occasionally two, and always one other book) Once I picked a book up, I could not put it down. I knew then that someday I'd like to be a writer.
- I was in love with Donny Osmond and during the summer of 1971 I entered an essay contest, writing about my family. The best selection won a trip to Salt Lake City to meet Donny Osmond. I wanted to meet him. I did not win but I did win an honorable mention, which was great considering the thousands of submissions the magazine received. It inspired me to write a short story about Donny (fiction) and my sisters fell in love with it. I'd write a chapter a night.
- By 10th grade I had read about 500 books (I actually kept track of them in a binder.) I can't say I had any real favorites. It was not one or two authors I read, it was a little of everything. If I was bored, I'd pick up an encyclopedia or almanac and get lost in it for hours.
- In 11th grade, I read the Red Badge of Courage - which I really loved. And it was this same year that a teacher encouraged me to write. He had given us an assignment - The South wins the Civil War. I did more than just write the typical diary everyone else seemed to be writing. I researched everything I could find on the Civil war and -- keeping the dates intact -- changed the outcome of some of the battles. The emancipation proclamation became the exmancipation proclamation and President Lincoln was still assassinated in my story. But Mr. Renwick was so impressed, he called me aside to ask me about my writing.
- At his encouragement, I enrolled in Creative Writing, a course offered across town, and decided that a career in writing was for me. But alas, I was too shy to bring it up to my counselors and begin to feel that I could never do it. By this time my father had been diagnosed with cancer and he decided to make a dream come true and flew the family to Guadalajara to spend two weeks doing nothing but roaming the pretty countryside, listening to mariachi music in the plaza daily and relaxing. We knew no one in that city, we just relaxed every day. We talked a lot and read a lot and every day I'd write at the plaza. I have one large binder of writing that I still treasure. It has so much information about my dad that I will forever be thankful for those two weeks.
- I entered my Senior year in high school and lost my father shortly after. But the love for reading and writing he instilled in me will forever live in my heart. Shortly after graduation, I discovered Danielle Steel books. Something in the way Danielle wrote, made me want to pick up every book she's ever written.
- I like Steel's books but I can't say she's my absolute favorite writer. I like too many to pick a favorite. I started collecting other books as well and before I knew it, I had a library in my home of more than 2,000 books of almost every genre.
- I love picking up books and rarely pick up only one. I love spending Friday nights at Borders and do so about twice a month. I love to hit their bargain-books section. I have found some great bargains there and usually come home with at least three or four new books. Many of these are coffee-table books, like the Grand Canyon book I picked up last week. I also love to scan the Dollar Store for books. I have found some great hard-cover books with beautiful jackets. I've picked up The Monica Lewinsky Story, The Curse of the Kennedy's, Stephen King's On Writing, Jack Higgins, and one of my favorites, 01-01-00 by R.J. Pineiro - set in my favorite place, the Yucatan, the story is of an unstoppable virus triggering synchronized disaster through the world's computers on the eve of the millennium.
- If only It Were True (Marc Levy) is another book I picked up from the Dollar Store and read about three years ago and suddenly this year, it was made into a movie staring Reece Witherspoon "Just like Heaven." The movies are never as good as the books.
- The latest books I've read were The DaVinci Code, which I read in three days and three nights. I loved that book and absolutely could not put it down. I read Danielle's latest book Toxic Bachelors over the Thanksgiving weekend (actually in two days.) I am now concentrating on finishing my novel "September Skies" and not starting another book. But I know I'll read more soon, I can't stay away from books.
- I'm looking forward to reading The Pacific Between by Ray Wong. (release date: February 2006)
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
An AP story in yesterday's paper talked about a mother in
She made the child stand at a busy
The mother claims she was desperate and needed to do anything she could to straighten up her daughter.
Her mother never left the child's side. She stood with her and though they were only there a couple of hours, they attracted plenty of attention -- letters were written and calls to talk radio shows either praised her or condemned her for publicly humiliating the child. Protective Child Services also showed up.
But apparently it worked. The child's grades, attitude and attendance improved.
Would I ever do such a thing? Probably not.
Fortunately I don't have to. I've been blessed with some amazing kids. My first daughter was born with Down syndrome. She is developmentally disabled and one of the sweetest and kindest children to ever walk the face of the earth. My middle girl has been a 4.0 kid since 4th grade and is currently first in her class of 204 sophomores and my baby has been a gifted child since preschool. She read second-grade level before entering kindergarten. They are active in band, sports, CSF, Key Club, volunteer at the SPCA and have never given me any trouble. I am blessed.
But back to the
How far would you go to protect or encourage a child?
What about adults?
We have a California Superior Court Judge (Howard Broadman) in our town that is known for "creative" sentencing.
Judge Broadman has made defendants quit smoking, attend Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, see psychiatrists, wear T shirts indicating they are on probation and has told an abusive spouse to leave town but to first donate his car to a shelter for battered women.
He made a big splash when he made it a part of the sentencing order for a woman to use a Norplant – birth control implanted in the arm – after she pleaded guilty to beating her children brutally. (He has been written about in Time, Wall Street Journal and People, and has appeared on reality-television show “Law Firm.”
In his defense, the Norplant was not just a sentence. The gal was pregnant and she had said she did not want any more children. The Judge explained that if he made it part of the sentence, the State would pay for the birth control and she could avoid four years of prison. She and her lawyer agreed but later she changed her mind, saying that her reproductive-rights have been violated; they waived the ‘no jail’ carrot in front of her and “forced” her to take the Norplant. It is no surprise that she is appealing the case.
Perhaps if we had more judges like Broadman, we’d have less crime.
Just when I thought I’d heard it all, something else comes along. Yesterday I read an AP story about an Argentine artist (Judi Werthein) and her invention of Brinco (jump) shoes. She would take the shoes to the U.S.-Mexico border in
The red-white-and-green Mexican-flag colored shoes were no ordinary shoes, the article said. The shoelaces dangled a small compass and a flashlight. The tongue of the shoe had a small pocket for money or pain killers. The removable insole had a rough map of the border region. Werthein called the shoes a border crosser’s most important garment.
On a recent visit to
Why was this allowed?
Let me get one thing straight. Just because I am of Mexican descent, it does not mean that I dance with joy when illegal immigrants cross our border. I do not like it. In fact, I was ready to become a minuteman – um…woman, when I heard of it. I was so fascinated by their work, that I took a couple of days to travel to
I am all for Homeland Security. And that means protecting our country at all borders and from all who trespass or aid in the process.
Werthein denies a charge of encouraging illegal immigration and said they will cross with our without her shoes.
Does she think we are stupid? Of course she’s helping them. The story said she interviewed shoe designers, migrants, aid workers and immigrant smugglers to research the best design over a two-year period.
How would we feel if she was helping Al Qaeda like this? How do we know she’s not?
I was so upset when I read this story. No wonder we are such a mess. This woman from Argentine is helping them smuggle to the
If she’s so worried about them, why doesn’t she guide them south to
Yes, it’s sad to see the people of
Think of it like this:
You have a family to protect. Would you stand by and do nothing if strangers were coming into your home through your back door. What if they were poor and hungry?
Wouldn’t you stand guard to keep them out and to protect your family?
Would you let them throw their sleeping bags in your children’s rooms? Let them help themselves to the food in the refrigerator? Sooner than later, that food would be gone and the parents would be broke and their own children would suffer.
Would you let that happen in your home?
Exactly! That’s what I thought.
Saturday, November 12, 2005
I have always been Patriotic and I have always loved Veterans Day. I learned the Pledge of Allegiance before I started kindergarten and I can remember standing in the parking lot of Smith's Market, smiling at the flag. As I grew older, my pride in
I have always loved falling stars. They're so awesome to watch. (The poem I won with in fourth grade was about a shooting star.) About the only thing I love even more are the Northern Lights but I live too far away to enjoy the Aurora Borealis. (I have a friend who lives in
This is my first time participating in Nanowriming and I have really enjoyed it. I decided to use some of my mother's own story to kickstart my novel -- September Skies. It is not entirely her story, but I have incorporated the stories she's told me into my novel. It is a love story set against a backdrop of The Great Depression, three young women struggle to survive. This is their story (in the lines of Titanic or
As a reporter, I never carry a purse when I interview people. Not a problem most of the time since my slacks usually have a small pocket.
But one day I was interviewing a minister from a local church. It was a Sunday and there was church service that day. So, I wore a dress.
There was one problem -- no pockets.
My car key I had on an elastic band around my wrist. My writing pad and pen, well...that belongs in my hand. But, what would I do with my phone?
I thought I was being clever when I placed it snugly between my breasts. I mean, my phone was pretty small. No one could see it or even tell it was there. It was well hidden.
The church service ended. I waited for the right moment to approach the minister and I was writing down a quote from him when the unexpected happened. My phone started to ring. I forgot to put in on mute.
Oh boy. I quickly excused myself by putting up my index finger, “Excuse me a minute, please" and I turned away.
I walked a few feet from him, pulled out my phone, shut it off, quickly hid it again and walked back. It was so fast, I’m not even sure he knew where the ringing came from.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Where were we?”
And without explaining a thing, I continued the interview. I think I handled it rather well. It was a lesson I never forgot. Enrique would have been proud of me!
As a student at COS a couple of years ago, I found several of my classmates with the same problem. Our first assignment (a news story) was so long – we’re talking four to five pages long – that our instructor didn’t read it. She placed a big red mark on it, returned it and asked us to turn it in no longer than two pages long. I learned a lesson. Or did I?
When I was hired by my hometown paper, the problem resurfaced and my first stories were often so long, my mentor would either shake his head or laugh. Oh sure, make fun of my writing. That was about the equivalent of laughing at one of your children – or laughing at a person as they undress prior to sex.
But that is not how he meant it. And thank goodness he taught me about the 18-inch rule.
The 18-inch rule, the clown, the cow and the moon:
Enrique gave me some of the best advice I ever had. OK, so he was the only one giving me advice, though Bill Furth tried but he didn’t teach me anything that I didn’t already know.
This is what Enrique said:
“When you get to nine inches……STOP. Just stop. Don’t go any further. Then, read your work. And you should be about half way done. Then all I had to do was go back in and finish it up. Um…yea...right. That was easier said than done.
It worked. I finally learned to stop writing when I was supposed to. If I was asked for a 10-inch story, I’d stop at five inches and take it from there.
I learned other tidbits of advice from Enrique... Such as “Start with the clown.”
In other words, find the most colorful, interesting thing in your story and start with that. Simple! No further explanation needed.
As to the nursery rhyme of the cow jumping over the moon – the explanation there is simple too.
“Esther, the cow jumped over the moon.”
Mental note to self: Do not write “over 100 people” – it is “more than 100 people”
The same holds true for less than, do not use “under 50 people” unless I have dug a trench and am crawling under them.
I will always remember my first newspaper assignment. I was so excited with my new job. It was my birthday and getting the job was the best gift I had ever received. I was going to be the next Lois Lane – in my very own hometown. I was so ready.
What I was not ready for being asked to write about anything political. Heck, I was so proud of the fact that I always voted…every four years, that is.
What did I know about propositions and initiatives? I rarely bothered with all that. (That has changed and I am now totally aware of everything on the ballot)
Anyway, Enrique (my immediate supervisor and mentor) sent me to cover a speech about Proposition-54 at the local community college. I went – not really knowing what I was doing. Our paper photographer met me there. “Isn’t this cool?” he asked. Um…yea…cool. NOT!
I took notes -- lots and lots of them. I didn’t really know what to do. It was my first day on the job. I had been told it was going to be a day of in-service. Doesn’t that mean watching movies and filling out forms? I had absolutely ZERO idea what to do out there alone.
After the event, I sat in my car for half an hour (my lunch break) and talked to my best friend. I was scared to go back to work. I had no idea what to do with the information I had gathered, or worse, how to write it. He assured me that I would be fine. I wasn’t sure.
Enrique must have sensed it. “What’s the matter?” he asked me as I walked in. “You have that deer-in-the-headlights look.”
I just handed him my notebook -- page after page of scribbled notes. I stood there, quiet, waiting for him to call me an idiot. But he didn’t. He looked it over and being the professional that he was, found something in my notes, circled it -- and handed it back.
“This looks like a good place to start,” he said.
I took it from there. Of course, the story took me about three hours to write and rewrite. But when I left, I left with a smile. It did not matter to me that no one knew it was my birthday or that anyone even wished me a happy birthday.
All that mattered was that I had done it. I wrote a story.
The next day, I literally screamed when I saw it on the front page. Wow. I had really done it. I had written a story for an official newspaper – and if I had t say so myself, it looked damn good. I went out and bought like 15 newspapers. (No idea why). I decided that if I could make it through that first day – that first story, then I could do anything at the paper.