l. To my friend and colleague, Pat Laster, Just finished reading A Journey of Choice. Good job on bringing these characters together. They blend into a story that ends in a fast-paced, satisfying style. Your title is appropriate. I think the book needs a sequel. Your last chapter practically leads into the beginning of another episode. Write it!
Your friend, Freeda Baker Nichols
~~~
2. Billie Ferguson, Benton, called the book "interesting--the different points of view." She'd never read a book like that. It kept the characters straight along with their inner feelings. She, too, said, "It has sequel written all over it."
~~~
3. High school ('54) classmate Marie Zoellner said, "I cried; I didn't want it to end."
~~~
4. High school ('54)classmate Mildred Craig left a voice mail: "If anybody'd told me I would go home on a Saturday, sit down with a book and read 70-something pages, I'd have told them they were crazy! But I did and thoroughly enjoyed it. I only stopped because I had things to do."
~~~
I thank all who read and commented on my first novel. I DO have a folder marked "Sequel" and a computer document titled "Liddy Grindle's first Christmas..." PL
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
February: short month; short poems
hawk eyeing the squirrel
it followed to a cypress
squirrel eyes the hawk, too
(picture by Rick McFarland,
Arkansas Democrat Gazette)
~~
yesterday, plucking
6-inch frozen stems with buds
now, yellow showing
~~
without those who care
no reason to make
snow ice cream
~~
cat sitting in snow
black on white
next glance, only white
~~
cat stalking leaves
not quite buried
by the snow
~~
cardinal, bluejay
bright against snow-laden gray
of bare branches
~~
five inches of snow
yet she bundles up and car crawls
five miles to the gym
~~
on the snowy heap
of garbage a handful
of wilted jonquils
##
c 2011 - Pat Laster, dba lovepat press
it followed to a cypress
squirrel eyes the hawk, too
(picture by Rick McFarland,
Arkansas Democrat Gazette)
~~
yesterday, plucking
6-inch frozen stems with buds
now, yellow showing
~~
without those who care
no reason to make
snow ice cream
~~
cat sitting in snow
black on white
next glance, only white
~~
cat stalking leaves
not quite buried
by the snow
~~
cardinal, bluejay
bright against snow-laden gray
of bare branches
~~
five inches of snow
yet she bundles up and car crawls
five miles to the gym
~~
on the snowy heap
of garbage a handful
of wilted jonquils
##
c 2011 - Pat Laster, dba lovepat press
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Chester drawers or chest of drawers?
In last Thursday’s Saline Courier was an account of a woman whose father “had passed” and who gave a great number of furniture items to a burned-out family. The reporter is a young woman who seems to be a go-getter—always involved in the newspaper’s sponsoring some charitable event or another.
In the list of items given to the newly-bereft family was “chester drawers.” I yelled out an “Oh, my gosh! I’m not believing this!” and immediately wrote the phrase in my journal.
“Chest OF drawers, sweetie,” I said to her, though she was not in my dining room, “chest OF drawers.”
I Googled (I know some hard noses who will sniff at using that as a verb, but it is SO right; somehow ‘I search-engined’ leaves something to be desired.) “chester drawers” and—I’ll be switched—several sites came up.
The first one I visited was eBay where a twelve-inch, hard record was for sale at $9.99 or best offer. The performer was Chester Drawers; the song, “Rock the Turntables” and the source was shazamsrecords.
Chester Drawers was a real person? Oh, sure, like Captain Kangaroo and Mr. Greenjeans, I supposed. Yep, er yes! Next in the list was Eddie Bowman aka Chester Drawers. This site (eBay again) advertized a book, “Crazy Cat,” for $15.99, o.b.o.
Then there was Chester storage. A furniture company, Chester, made accent tables. On Shopzilla were links to stores selling chester drawers, but all entries and pictures were drawers, and chests, not chester drawers.
I returned to Eddie Bowman’s website. A picture of a sort of hillbilly type with a funny hat, large spectacles, mis-matched, gaudy shirts over overalls and topped with a LOUD tie—he was a Mr. Greenjeans type.
Here is what I learned. “Eddie Bowman, better known as Chester Drawers by people around the world (Have I been hiding under a rock all these years? Who else has heard of this singer?), has been writing songs for many years. Living near Branson, he has also been a professional entertainer and comedian.
“Eddie has entertained people and children from all walks of life all across the US. He is most famous for his children’s books, especially his “Silly Song Series.” All of Eddie’s children’s books are on the national readers program, Accelerated Reader. He has also written three additional humorous and inspirational books.”
Next, I investigated what looked like either a thesis or a position paper, 17 pages with tables, graphs and pictures on “the bureau question: what do you call it?”
Last, I found “100 most often mispronounced words and phrases in English,” (yourdictionary.com) which I added to my favorites list. Here is the item: “DON’T SAY: chester drawers;DO SAY: chest of drawers. COMMENT: The drawers of Chester is a typical way of looking at these chests down south but it misses the point.”
Who’d a’ thought a person could learn so much about one phrase? Certainly not me. So, is Miss Reporter correct or not? Do you say “chester drawers”?
by Pat Laster, d.b.a. lovepat press c 2011
In the list of items given to the newly-bereft family was “chester drawers.” I yelled out an “Oh, my gosh! I’m not believing this!” and immediately wrote the phrase in my journal.
“Chest OF drawers, sweetie,” I said to her, though she was not in my dining room, “chest OF drawers.”
I Googled (I know some hard noses who will sniff at using that as a verb, but it is SO right; somehow ‘I search-engined’ leaves something to be desired.) “chester drawers” and—I’ll be switched—several sites came up.
The first one I visited was eBay where a twelve-inch, hard record was for sale at $9.99 or best offer. The performer was Chester Drawers; the song, “Rock the Turntables” and the source was shazamsrecords.
Chester Drawers was a real person? Oh, sure, like Captain Kangaroo and Mr. Greenjeans, I supposed. Yep, er yes! Next in the list was Eddie Bowman aka Chester Drawers. This site (eBay again) advertized a book, “Crazy Cat,” for $15.99, o.b.o.
Then there was Chester storage. A furniture company, Chester, made accent tables. On Shopzilla were links to stores selling chester drawers, but all entries and pictures were drawers, and chests, not chester drawers.
I returned to Eddie Bowman’s website. A picture of a sort of hillbilly type with a funny hat, large spectacles, mis-matched, gaudy shirts over overalls and topped with a LOUD tie—he was a Mr. Greenjeans type.
Here is what I learned. “Eddie Bowman, better known as Chester Drawers by people around the world (Have I been hiding under a rock all these years? Who else has heard of this singer?), has been writing songs for many years. Living near Branson, he has also been a professional entertainer and comedian.
“Eddie has entertained people and children from all walks of life all across the US. He is most famous for his children’s books, especially his “Silly Song Series.” All of Eddie’s children’s books are on the national readers program, Accelerated Reader. He has also written three additional humorous and inspirational books.”
Next, I investigated what looked like either a thesis or a position paper, 17 pages with tables, graphs and pictures on “the bureau question: what do you call it?”
Last, I found “100 most often mispronounced words and phrases in English,” (yourdictionary.com) which I added to my favorites list. Here is the item: “DON’T SAY: chester drawers;DO SAY: chest of drawers. COMMENT: The drawers of Chester is a typical way of looking at these chests down south but it misses the point.”
Who’d a’ thought a person could learn so much about one phrase? Certainly not me. So, is Miss Reporter correct or not? Do you say “chester drawers”?
by Pat Laster, d.b.a. lovepat press c 2011
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Additional observations - A Journey of Choice, Pat Laster
A note card: "Jan 3: Dear Pat, I have finished reading 'A Journey of Choice. I could hardly put it down to do my work. It is so very well written and entertaining. Thanks for letting me know it was published and how to order it. Love, Joan B." (Malvern)
~~
A phone conversation: " I like the dialogue. I liked the thoughts and especially the thoughts about happiness. I stopped once and said, 'I know this person.'" - Beverly L. (Benton)
~~
An email: "Dear Pat: I have your wonderful book here and am really enjoying it. I intended to read it only early in the day, but last night I couldn't help myself and brought it to bed. I want to go slowly and savor every word, you see. It's a fine story, memorable heroine, beautiful language. I was wondering if you had finished it. Congratulations. Dot McL. (Somerset, New Jersey)
~~
Another email: "I finished the book (2nd time) Monday evening.I read it as if I had never read any part or parts of it - and WOW! I enjoyed it twice as much!" Jeanie C. (Hot Springs, member of the former Steel Magnolias, a writers' group from central Arkansas, who was privy to the earliest chapters.)
~~
A third email: "I just finished your book this weekend... Nice twists and unexpected things. I very much enjoyed it." Vicki K.-S. (Eureka Springs)
_ _ _ _
Re book signings: Thirteen folks bought books during the Saline County AR library book signing events during late January. Thanks to all those and to the ones whose comments are above. pl
~~
A phone conversation: " I like the dialogue. I liked the thoughts and especially the thoughts about happiness. I stopped once and said, 'I know this person.'" - Beverly L. (Benton)
~~
An email: "Dear Pat: I have your wonderful book here and am really enjoying it. I intended to read it only early in the day, but last night I couldn't help myself and brought it to bed. I want to go slowly and savor every word, you see. It's a fine story, memorable heroine, beautiful language. I was wondering if you had finished it. Congratulations. Dot McL. (Somerset, New Jersey)
~~
Another email: "I finished the book (2nd time) Monday evening.I read it as if I had never read any part or parts of it - and WOW! I enjoyed it twice as much!" Jeanie C. (Hot Springs, member of the former Steel Magnolias, a writers' group from central Arkansas, who was privy to the earliest chapters.)
~~
A third email: "I just finished your book this weekend... Nice twists and unexpected things. I very much enjoyed it." Vicki K.-S. (Eureka Springs)
_ _ _ _
Re book signings: Thirteen folks bought books during the Saline County AR library book signing events during late January. Thanks to all those and to the ones whose comments are above. pl
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Snow time: how to beat the cold
by Pat Laster, author, A Journey of Choice
How ‘bout that snow??? Oh, wait. That’s how I began a previous post. Tsk, tsk! So I’ll piggyback off Paul Greenberg’s annual Arkansas Democrat Gazette offering by responding to it.
To wit: Longjohns. I don’t wear longjohns, though I sometimes wear pajamas under my fleece pants. Does that count?
Fireplaces. Though mine burns gas rather than wood, it still radiates heat into the room and gives the nostalgic hint of the real thing. Except for the aroma. Last week when grandson Billy and his friend Sam played in the snow, they left boots, shoes and gloves on the hearth to dry. Talk about nostalgia. I almost cried. I DID take a picture for proof.
Bathroom heaters. Never take them out, Greenberg says, but I didn’t have a choice. When the gas line had to be re-placed, the inspector, well, inspected, and demanded that the ancient wall heater go. “Old Ark-La,” he said, dismissively, and out it came. A portable electric heater warms the small room enough for baths.
A goosedown comforter. I’ll take whatever fills the comforter that covers my bed—the pricey one I found at Tuesday Morning last year. Billy took my previous one and I couldn’t stand to hear him whine that he needed it for keeps.
Exercise the mind; turn off the teevee (sic), which Mr. G opines is a good idea any time of the year. Amen to that—for myself. In a rocker pulled close to the fire (see above), feet on a footstool, and a throw (see below) over my legs, I tackle another in the Oxford Anthology of Short Stories borrowed from the Writers Colony at Dairy Hollow.
After my novel came out, I decided to work on short stories, so I brought the book home and have been slogging through it. Now, I try to read at least one, sometimes two if they’re short, every night. Any unknown words—and there are many—I transcribe in my chair-side journal to look up the next day. I go online to see reviews and essays about the stories I read the night(s) before. I’m using my mind all right. Pushing its limits perhaps, but I keep at it.
Back to P. G.: Sweaters. Galoshes. Gloves . . . “Do I have any boots?” Billy asked before he and Sam went outside. “Where are those I used to wear?” He’d outgrown those about five years ago and hadn’t needed them since, so he didn’t have anything but his regular sneakers (see Fireplace above). Gloves I had, so Sam used them; BJ found his, but went out bareheaded, though somewhere amongst all his clothes he has a new Old Navy cap.
Galoshes remind me of those horrid yellow rubber boots that I had to wear as a child. Guess what? In TJMaxx recently, I saw some high-top yellow boots! (What do they say? ‘What goes around comes around’?)
I’ll add something Herr Greenberg didn’t mention: throws—those large squares meant to be thrown over your shoulders or—as I use them—over your legs. My relatives were fond of giving our late mother throws so that I inherited at least a half dozen. Plus those I’ve received since becoming the eldest--the matriarch. I keep one on every chair, the sofa and the love seat, wherever people sit.
Another way—not in Mr. Greenberg’s list––to keep warm during this cold spell/ season is to read John Greenleaf Whittier’s Snowbound, a seven-hundred-fifty-nine line poem, and be thankful we don’t live in New England where winters are much, much worse than in central Arkansas.
How ‘bout that snow??? Oh, wait. That’s how I began a previous post. Tsk, tsk! So I’ll piggyback off Paul Greenberg’s annual Arkansas Democrat Gazette offering by responding to it.
To wit: Longjohns. I don’t wear longjohns, though I sometimes wear pajamas under my fleece pants. Does that count?
Fireplaces. Though mine burns gas rather than wood, it still radiates heat into the room and gives the nostalgic hint of the real thing. Except for the aroma. Last week when grandson Billy and his friend Sam played in the snow, they left boots, shoes and gloves on the hearth to dry. Talk about nostalgia. I almost cried. I DID take a picture for proof.
Bathroom heaters. Never take them out, Greenberg says, but I didn’t have a choice. When the gas line had to be re-placed, the inspector, well, inspected, and demanded that the ancient wall heater go. “Old Ark-La,” he said, dismissively, and out it came. A portable electric heater warms the small room enough for baths.
A goosedown comforter. I’ll take whatever fills the comforter that covers my bed—the pricey one I found at Tuesday Morning last year. Billy took my previous one and I couldn’t stand to hear him whine that he needed it for keeps.
Exercise the mind; turn off the teevee (sic), which Mr. G opines is a good idea any time of the year. Amen to that—for myself. In a rocker pulled close to the fire (see above), feet on a footstool, and a throw (see below) over my legs, I tackle another in the Oxford Anthology of Short Stories borrowed from the Writers Colony at Dairy Hollow.
After my novel came out, I decided to work on short stories, so I brought the book home and have been slogging through it. Now, I try to read at least one, sometimes two if they’re short, every night. Any unknown words—and there are many—I transcribe in my chair-side journal to look up the next day. I go online to see reviews and essays about the stories I read the night(s) before. I’m using my mind all right. Pushing its limits perhaps, but I keep at it.
Back to P. G.: Sweaters. Galoshes. Gloves . . . “Do I have any boots?” Billy asked before he and Sam went outside. “Where are those I used to wear?” He’d outgrown those about five years ago and hadn’t needed them since, so he didn’t have anything but his regular sneakers (see Fireplace above). Gloves I had, so Sam used them; BJ found his, but went out bareheaded, though somewhere amongst all his clothes he has a new Old Navy cap.
Galoshes remind me of those horrid yellow rubber boots that I had to wear as a child. Guess what? In TJMaxx recently, I saw some high-top yellow boots! (What do they say? ‘What goes around comes around’?)
I’ll add something Herr Greenberg didn’t mention: throws—those large squares meant to be thrown over your shoulders or—as I use them—over your legs. My relatives were fond of giving our late mother throws so that I inherited at least a half dozen. Plus those I’ve received since becoming the eldest--the matriarch. I keep one on every chair, the sofa and the love seat, wherever people sit.
Another way—not in Mr. Greenberg’s list––to keep warm during this cold spell/ season is to read John Greenleaf Whittier’s Snowbound, a seven-hundred-fifty-nine line poem, and be thankful we don’t live in New England where winters are much, much worse than in central Arkansas.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
A Big Snow for Arkansas
by Pat Laster, author of A Journey of Choice
Haiku
after many years
snow togs again
drying by the fire
~
pair of cardinals
caught in a snow-covered pine
for a news picture
~
thermometer
under a blanket of snow
reads 22 degrees
~
a cat lying
in a cleared-out place
in the snowy yard
~
snow caps
on clumps of beautyberries~
cat sitting in sun
~
swing full of snow
while the sun shines,
the wind pushes
~
still icy patches
where the trees block the sun
road clogged with semis
c 2011, lovepat press
Happy 41st birthday to my last-born, Annamarie
Haiku
after many years
snow togs again
drying by the fire
~
pair of cardinals
caught in a snow-covered pine
for a news picture
~
thermometer
under a blanket of snow
reads 22 degrees
~
a cat lying
in a cleared-out place
in the snowy yard
~
snow caps
on clumps of beautyberries~
cat sitting in sun
~
swing full of snow
while the sun shines,
the wind pushes
~
still icy patches
where the trees block the sun
road clogged with semis
c 2011, lovepat press
Happy 41st birthday to my last-born, Annamarie
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Hard to move forward when the past clings
by Pat Laster (author, A Journey of Choice)
How ‘bout them Hogs? I typed that opening before the Sugar Bowl game. Back to the keyboard during halftime with the Hogs ‘way behind. How ‘bout them Hogs? I ask again. We’ll see, won’t we?
During the first half, I went through my sewing sack and set aside ribbons, shoe strings, loose buttons, sewing AND machine needles, and various other items I would never use. Those things will go to Goodwill or the Habitat Restore.
I kept three pair of tiny scissors, a seam ripper that I’ll never use, 4 thimbles—one a small beat-up metal one that I’ll “give” a fictional history, and another advertising Sweet Rose Flour. Anyone with information about that company or logo, I would love to hear from you (patlaster@up-link.net.)
After that, I used navy thread for hemming three pairs of fleece pants, and rose thread for a pair of red ones. Not a bad accomplishment for one evening. I felt almost old timey––doing handwork, rocking in front of the fire and listening to my late Daddy’s radio.
How ‘bout them Hogs? They weren’t up to snuff; too little too late; all tuckered out; something.Ohio and Terrelle Pryor, you know. But the Razorback Nation's gotta put it behind us and move forward, as surely many losing coaches told their players.
I’m having trouble moving ahead. I used all the plastic tubs on the place for Christmas paraphernalia and still needed more. I tried to move ahead to the next season by stripping the Christmas table linens (oops! it was flannel-backed plastic!). That went fine, but the cloth I pulled down to replace it was too large for the table.
I refolded it and opened the largest buffet drawer where other large cloths lay. Under those three cloths were old boxes, gee-gaws, and loose pictures. I could do nothing but lay the cloths on the table and go through the boxes. Boxes full of the past. My maternal grandmother’s past, those things that Mom inherited that became mine. One box contained quilt blocks, another––lined with a cloth that I did not take out and look at––held small perfume vials, porcelain figurines, keepsakes from someone to someone else.
I poked through every box, every card, every clipping. I laid out those things collegian grandson Billy needed to see––clippings of mine and his Papa’s wedding, my engagement picture––recital programs, graduation invitations and church bulletins. Even an invitation to one of his birthday parties.
I called my aunt, the only living daughter of Grandma Severn and she said she’d done the same thing not long ago, and no, she didn’t want what I had. We laughed and wondered if any of our children or grandchildren would cherish them as they matured into the family lore and traditions. We both hope and trust so.
My grandmother came from Kansas and many of her relatives still lived (and live) there. One yellowed clipping dated May 13, 1954 was from The Anderson Countian. On page eleven, Welda news continued (“Additional Welda”) for fifty-two and a half column inches!!
I know folks love to read about the happenings in their area and to look for their names, but this clipping seemed a bit much. I’d like to see an issue of that paper today if it still exists. [Checking online shows that yes, it still exists and so do two other papers! Who said newspapers were vanishing?]
Here are some excerpts: “The senior class and their sponsors...returned from their sneak trip...Among points of interest visited were Rockaway Beach, Lake of the Ozarks, Bridal Cave and Bagnall Dam.”
The practice of listing every name mentioned as “Mr. and Mrs. So-and-So” took up many column inches. Other items included people who were dinner guests of their parents, those who were “Sunday evening visitors.” A little boy from Colorado “spent Saturday night with his cousin...”And “Little Norma Jean Owens returned home with her grandparents for a visit.”
Seven-and-a-half inches were given to a report of the Methodist Women’s Society of Christian Service (now UMW).
Such detailed descriptions! My final example (and from only the second of six columns) involved the name of my grandmother’s sister Cora’s folks, to wit: “A pot luck supper was held at the Lowell Brecheisen home...in honor of Mr. Louis Brecheisen who will be inducted into the army Friday.”
Like “them Hogs,” I gotta put the past behind me and move forward into whatever the new year holds.
c 2011 lovepat press
How ‘bout them Hogs? I typed that opening before the Sugar Bowl game. Back to the keyboard during halftime with the Hogs ‘way behind. How ‘bout them Hogs? I ask again. We’ll see, won’t we?
During the first half, I went through my sewing sack and set aside ribbons, shoe strings, loose buttons, sewing AND machine needles, and various other items I would never use. Those things will go to Goodwill or the Habitat Restore.
I kept three pair of tiny scissors, a seam ripper that I’ll never use, 4 thimbles—one a small beat-up metal one that I’ll “give” a fictional history, and another advertising Sweet Rose Flour. Anyone with information about that company or logo, I would love to hear from you (patlaster@up-link.net.)
After that, I used navy thread for hemming three pairs of fleece pants, and rose thread for a pair of red ones. Not a bad accomplishment for one evening. I felt almost old timey––doing handwork, rocking in front of the fire and listening to my late Daddy’s radio.
How ‘bout them Hogs? They weren’t up to snuff; too little too late; all tuckered out; something.Ohio and Terrelle Pryor, you know. But the Razorback Nation's gotta put it behind us and move forward, as surely many losing coaches told their players.
I’m having trouble moving ahead. I used all the plastic tubs on the place for Christmas paraphernalia and still needed more. I tried to move ahead to the next season by stripping the Christmas table linens (oops! it was flannel-backed plastic!). That went fine, but the cloth I pulled down to replace it was too large for the table.
I refolded it and opened the largest buffet drawer where other large cloths lay. Under those three cloths were old boxes, gee-gaws, and loose pictures. I could do nothing but lay the cloths on the table and go through the boxes. Boxes full of the past. My maternal grandmother’s past, those things that Mom inherited that became mine. One box contained quilt blocks, another––lined with a cloth that I did not take out and look at––held small perfume vials, porcelain figurines, keepsakes from someone to someone else.
I poked through every box, every card, every clipping. I laid out those things collegian grandson Billy needed to see––clippings of mine and his Papa’s wedding, my engagement picture––recital programs, graduation invitations and church bulletins. Even an invitation to one of his birthday parties.
I called my aunt, the only living daughter of Grandma Severn and she said she’d done the same thing not long ago, and no, she didn’t want what I had. We laughed and wondered if any of our children or grandchildren would cherish them as they matured into the family lore and traditions. We both hope and trust so.
My grandmother came from Kansas and many of her relatives still lived (and live) there. One yellowed clipping dated May 13, 1954 was from The Anderson Countian. On page eleven, Welda news continued (“Additional Welda”) for fifty-two and a half column inches!!
I know folks love to read about the happenings in their area and to look for their names, but this clipping seemed a bit much. I’d like to see an issue of that paper today if it still exists. [Checking online shows that yes, it still exists and so do two other papers! Who said newspapers were vanishing?]
Here are some excerpts: “The senior class and their sponsors...returned from their sneak trip...Among points of interest visited were Rockaway Beach, Lake of the Ozarks, Bridal Cave and Bagnall Dam.”
The practice of listing every name mentioned as “Mr. and Mrs. So-and-So” took up many column inches. Other items included people who were dinner guests of their parents, those who were “Sunday evening visitors.” A little boy from Colorado “spent Saturday night with his cousin...”And “Little Norma Jean Owens returned home with her grandparents for a visit.”
Seven-and-a-half inches were given to a report of the Methodist Women’s Society of Christian Service (now UMW).
Such detailed descriptions! My final example (and from only the second of six columns) involved the name of my grandmother’s sister Cora’s folks, to wit: “A pot luck supper was held at the Lowell Brecheisen home...in honor of Mr. Louis Brecheisen who will be inducted into the army Friday.”
Like “them Hogs,” I gotta put the past behind me and move forward into whatever the new year holds.
c 2011 lovepat press
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