Back in 2011, sans outline or plot, I typed out the first chapter of something I called “The Prop Queen.” A friend of mine was dying and I was desperate to hold onto to her. Of all the people I’ve ever met … then or since … she is the one who most belongs in a book.
I shared what I had with a friend who was always nice enough to read my garbage and provide an honest assessment. “I have a good feeling about this one” she said which was a shock.
And she was right. A year later I’d scratched out about two hundred pages. Mostly by dredging forth characters from my childhood and having them join in the mayhem. At my sister’s urging, I typed out a synopsis for a hybrid publisher and it was accepted which meant I had to come up with an ending. Booktrope published Flipka in 2013. For some readers my quick and dirty ending worked fine but most felt it needed a sequel. Which God help me, I hope I didn’t promise.
Fridays with Flipka
I still have about five paperback copies of the original Flipka if you become so engrossed that you simply must know what happened! Otherwise, you just might be able to guess!
Like many people, I can no longer watch the news. I used to look forward to the weekly commentaries of Rachel Maddow and Fareed Zakaria but now even they seem stuck on reporting the same inexplicable erosion of sanity.
Our heatwave was broken early Sunday morning by the arrival of sub-tropical clouds. I tried to catch the symphony in the skies above but alas, iPhone cameras are still not up to task (or I really don’t know how to use them which is far more likely.)
Sunrises like this often remind me of the poem which begins a famous though often misused book:
In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The world was without form and void, And darkness was upon the face of the deep, And the Spirit of God was moving over The face of the waters And God saw the light was good: And God separated the light from the darkness God called the light Day, And the darkness he called Night. And there was evening And there was morning, one day.
When I went to Sunday school we read stories from the Bible about how nice Jesus was, how brave David was, and how the Wise Men followed the star of Bethlehem to visit the baby Jesus who was lying in his crib surrounded by sheep and goats and chicken because Methodist Jesus was like a Disney heroine – all of the animals loved him. Being that it was a protestant church, we didn’t spend too much time on the miracles or the saints. Nor were we ever told we were going to Hell if we had unclean thoughts or doubted anything in the Bible. It was a pleasant hour of hearing stories followed by cookies and juice.
One good thing about the hot spell was this little guy! Generally we get too much fog for tomatoes to ripen properly. I also noticed that our one grapevine is making the effect to produce grapes.
I doubt this one cluster will produce a decent Merlot!
I don’t understand why anyone who’s read through most of the Bible can think it’s an instruction manual for good moral behavior. I don’t understand why they can’t respect it for what it is. But there are too many things I don’t understand. And so I’ll just focus on growing tomatoes.
PS: A while back I wrote about a memorial for a friend who spent the last twenty years of her life battling to save a piece of shoreline from oil refineries and Indian Gaming Casinos. For those who are interested, here is an update on that effort.
When we first moved into this house there was a vegetable garden in the backyard with several varieties of tomatoes and sugar peas and cucumbers. Probably a few other veggies too but it’s been a long time and so I can’t remember. Besides the vegetable garden, the previous owner had an iris garden and a lavender patch. Her gardens were what sold me on the house. But you know, gardens take a lot of work. Unless, of course, you’re lucky enough to have a good gardener and not a mow and blow operation.
Soon to be tomatoes. Hopefully!
The next year I attempted to grow a vegetable garden with what little time I had between raising children, working and volunteering. And occasionally trying to write a story or paint a picture.
Alas, the green beans were inedible and various garden pests – rats, moles, snakes, squirrels, birds – took care of the other veggies. The moles were the worst because they eat the roots of the plants.
Jalapenos
Well, it took a few years and the loss of hundreds of dollars (plants, dirt, fertilizer, etc.) until I gave up.
Allied forces launched an attack on the Germans occupying France. Few expected them to succeed.
Omaha Beach circa 2005
Above are the remnants of temporary ports known as Mulberry harbors. Some are on the beach; others are floating in the breakwater. They were used during the D-day invasion on June 6, 1944 but were badly damaged in a violent storm later in the month. When we visited Normandy in 2005 I wasn’t that interested in military history so they could have been “bombardons” or “phoenixes” which also provided landing ramps for troops and equipment. But they definitely weren’t “gooseberries” or “corncobs” – ships scuttled for use as breakwaters. (My husband, as you might have guessed, is a WWII buff)
The French have left these remnants on the beach as a reminder, knowing that it’s impossible to stand on this beach without feeling overwhelmed.
To the south of Omaha is Pointe du Hoc, a cliff that rises 90 feet straight out of the water, or so it seems. On this day, eighty years ago, Rudder’s Rangers used climbing equipment and, with heavy weapons on their backs, assaulted this cliff. We found a painting depicting this scene in the dining room of our hotel in Grandcamp Maisy (which isn’t a campground but a charming fishing village with views not only of Pointe du Hoc of but the Contentin Peninsula)
Dining room of our hotel in Grandcamp Maisy
I wished I’d had the good sense to ask the name of the artist but we had such a busy schedule that I never had the chance.
We tried visiting the remnants of the German bunkers on the top of Pointe du Hoc but it was raining like crazy and thus hard to get any good pictures. I can tell you, the craters left by the bombing on June 6, 1944 are still there.
Above is a place we visited on a cloudy day. It is the immaculately cared for American Cemetery at Colleville-sur-Mer. Another place that will leave you breathless.
Saying nothing in particular 