Wednesday, February 14, 2018

Celebrating Love ....

It’s February and many of us begin to think about Valentine’s Day, love, and relationships. We are likely conditioned to think about chocolate, champagne, flowers, lingerie, and heart shaped anything. But, those things are superficial even if they are nice. Who doesn’t want a heart shaped box of chocolates, sweetly scented flowers, or racy lingerie?
First Love has come to my mind as something we should consider for Valentine’s Day. It’s so pure, so  sweet, so true, and so young. I want to share a brief memory of my first love. I sincerely hope each of you has that special relationship you hold dear. That one person that awakened you to the possibility of love.  My little story will be posted below.

Besides that, we in Oklahoma, are still having some cold weather. The kind of weather that can be below freezing in the early morning and in the 70’s by the middle of the afternoon. Right now, the sun is shining and I hear birds chirping away.
JOURNEY OF HONOR is moving along. I write every day, even if it turns out to be a short paragraph or a note about something that will pop up later in the story. I have a cover (you’ll get to see it in a couple of months), I have editing lined up, and I have purchased ISBN numbers. It’s getting real, and that frightens me. DIANNE’S DESTINY, was published by The Wild Rose Press, so this journey into self-publishing with the Journey Series is a whole new venture for me.
For now, I wish you a season of love this February. Not just romantic love, but the love of family, friends, and colleagues.
            I imagine each of us can be transported back in time to memories of our first love regardless of how many years has passed. For me, it’s been 50 years. I’m not talking about crushes or the people we “went with” for a class period, a day, a week, or a month. I’m referring to that person that truly took up residence in our hearts, and still maintains a sliver of space somewhere in the deepest corner.
            I met my first love in a Sunday School class when my family was visiting my grandmother in Waurika, Oklahoma. It was spring, 1968. I was shy. He was shy. However, I thought he was mysterious because he wore dark glasses. He was cute and had sandy blonde hair. Following Sunday School I was invited to sit on the back pew with the other teenagers. Whispered conversations and the passing of notes during that hour led to our first date that evening. I think we went to a movie. I remember the drive from small town Waurika to the larger town of Duncan, there is a tall bridge and a dangerous curve that has to be navigated in Comanche. Below the bridge were a lot of boulders, trees, and a full creek. It frightened me. I was from the flat, desert-like prairie of New Mexico, tall bridges on S curves weren’t something I saw every day.
            We talked comfortably without nervousness. That surprised me. We discussed our families, where we lived, music, and our dreams for the future. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do after high school. I still dreamed of graduating and becoming a registered nurse.
            JES and I saw each other every day until my family returned to Lovington. Daily letters passed in the mail for months. JES and a friend brought my grandmother for a visit during the summer. His kindness toward my grandmother raised him to hero status in my heart.
            We dragged Main Street, listened to KOMO out of Oklahoma City, had Pancho burgers from Ole Jax, and just hung out. We talked for hours about nothing and everything. We took a day trip to Carlsbad Caverns. The underground wonders came to life and held a more profound meaning during that day. I had been to the Caverns before, they weren’t new to me.
            When the day came that JES and my grandmother had to return to Oklahoma Grandma Jodie begged my parents to let me move in with her. I wanted to go, how I wanted to go. My parents said no. My heart broke when they left, but I knew we would be together again.
            The letters and phone calls continued. But, alas, something happened in my life to make this remarkable first love die a painful death. It was my fault. Entirely. But, that is another story.
            Authors ask “what if” all the time. If things had worked out the way my teenaged heart thought it should I would have been spared a great deal of heartbreak. But, then I wouldn’t have met Frank. Erick and Bill wouldn’t have been born. I wouldn’t have my granddaughters who own my whole heart.
            The magic of Facebook has reintroduced my first love and me. He is happily married and is content with his life.
Hope you enjoyed today's post and that you'll drop by often. Be sure and sign up to receive my newsletter and visit my website.

Until next time, Journey Onward!


Tuesday, January 16, 2018

Greetings in the New Year!

Well, another year has faded away, replaced by the New Year. 2018, can you believe it? Like every other year 2018 is beginning with hope, resolutions, and goals. The primary hope for my family is to have a year not governed by health issues. Both my husband and I dealt with several issues in 2017. I missed the self-imposed deadline of finishing Journey of Honor by several months.

The writer in me naively thought I would get a multitude of writing work done as I recovered from a total hip replacement. The nurse in me forgot that the human body insists on rest as it recovers from such an insult.

The new deadline to have Journey of Honor in the hands of my editor is March 1st. On March 2nd, I will have my other hip replaced. That goal is doable—if the villain, illness–stays far away from my husband and me.
That's all for today.

Until next time....Journey Onward! 

Monday, December 18, 2017

A Christmas Memory.....

Merry Christmas!
It is that most wonderful time of year again, if you love Christmas as much as I do. I’ve loved it as long and as far back as I can remember. I confess to being one of “those” adults who still believes in Santa Claus, it isn’t Santa as much as the good will, the magic, the anticipation, and the knowledge that a newborn baby came to bring us all we could ever truly need or want. It’s the love. Not the hub-bub and gifts, though I do love giving and receiving gifts as much as the next person.

Christmas is a time of reflection. It’s the quiet time. A time of waiting as Simeon waited his entire life to hold “the newborn king”. The story of Simeon is one of my favorite biblical Christmas stories. We all have our Christmas favorites—food, songs, memories, gifts, ornaments. What is your favorite Christmas Carol? Mine is Silver Bells, read my memory below to learn why. 

When I was 11 years old my mother dressed my brother and me up to go to town for the annual parade complete with the appearance of Santa, shopping, and cheeseburgers with fountain cokes at City CafĂ©. I wore a red and green plaid taffeta dress with a red bow on the left hip.  Plus, several itchy petticoats. That dress made me feel like a million bucks and so very pretty.

Mama gave my brother, John, and me five dollars each to purchase gifts for our family. We lived in Levelland, Texas, a small, dusty, oil-field town that became a wonderland at Christmas. The old-fashioned court house square was hung with white lights, greenery, and bells. Each store had its own decorations and multiple strings of lights. The Main Street light posts had silver bells arching over them. 

Mama made us go into the stinky, old department store first to help her choose a gift for Daddy. The floors were scuffed and they creaked with every step, merchandise was crowded together, and the musty odor made my nose itch. We finally found a blue shirt and socks for Daddy, then Mama marched us to the creepy shoe department in the back corner to have our feet measured. I drug my feet and whined knowing full well that the seemingly 300 foot tall grizzly bear with obsidian eyes, dusty fur worn off on its back paws and chest where people had touched it year after year, and yellow claws would tower over me. I was afraid it would topple over on me. Or, worse, come to life.
The clerk measured my feet first and with Mama’s permission I rushed away to wait at the front of the store. I stumbled onto a large and deep box covered in red paper sitting next to the door. How had I not seen it before? It was full, really full, of stuffed animals. I dug through it as happy as I could be. A small, reclining tiger kept making its way to my hands and heart.

I begged Mama for it, but she said no and rushed us out to shop at Ben Franklin, the 5 and 10 store wonder. My five dollars started making my hand sweat. John and I were sent our separate ways to find gifts for Mama, Daddy, and each other.

I never wasted time shopping. My gifts were never very creative, but John’s were. He spent time thinking and figuring out just what would be the best gift. I quickly found handkerchiefs for Daddy. Three sparkling white handkerchiefs in a small, long, flat box with a clear cover and a gold string tied in a bow to keep it closed. Mama almost always got a small cobalt blue bottle of Evening in Paris perfume. And, probably a car or truck for John.

The thing is, I had some change. I was supposed to save my change. But, I just had to have a quarter pound of hot, roasted redskin peanuts in the tiny paper bag. The best treat ever! I did get in trouble for not saving my change. Sort of. Mama started to get on to me, but stopped, saying “it’s Christmas.”
We hurried through the cold mist for a warm lunch. As we left to watch the parade it began sleeting. The gray sky didn’t dampen our spirits because the parade was set to begin any moment. The gloomy gray actually made the lights seem brighter and more colorful. We watched from the car and waved from lowered windows as veterans with flags, horses, marching bands, twirlers, cheerleaders, floats, and, finally, Santa on the fire truck passed by. 

Then . . . Magic . . . The court house bells pealed out the melody of Silver Bells and a choir on the court house steps sang. “City sidewalks, busy sidewalks . . .”

And, that memorable day with my mother and brother made Silver Bells my favorite carol.

By the way, John and I got new shoes for Christmas and I got that little tiger.

Hope you enjoyed today's post and that you'll drop by often. Be sure and sign up to receive my newsletter and visit my website.

Until next time, Journey Onward!

Saturday, November 11, 2017

What Veteran's Day Means to Me

Good Morning Friends!

Fall is underway and we are rushing into the holiday season. Christmas decorations have been out in stores across America alongside Halloween and Thanksgiving decor. Like many of you, I look forward to the Holidays but, today, I'd like to call your attention to what this day truly represents: Veteran’s Day
Veteran’s Day has always been special to me. My family never failed to stress the importance and honor of living in and serving America. Plus, there was always a parade with marching bands, horses tacked out in the best and most ornate saddles and bridles, and candy. I proudly stood tall with my hand over my heart when the Honor Guard passed. The men removed their hats, some saluted. Many women allowed tears to course down their cheeks.

I knew my father and uncles had served. We had brave, uniformed images of Soldiers and Sailors in the family albums.

Then, came Vietnam. I watched as friends were drafted and served proudly and with honor because they loved the United States of America. Some have their names etched on that long black wall in Washington, D.C.

My husband served in the Navy. Our son retired from the Navy. I was and remain a proud Navy wife and mother.

I hope readers take a moment to consider those who serve our country.

I have included a short story I wrote titled, “Family Legacy” which won Honorable Mention in the short-short category at the 2017 OWFI Conference. The story is about a father’s grief after losing his son. I hope you enjoy the story and the sentiment of it.....

Sam unlocked the door and held the screen to prevent the tell-tale squeak from waking his wife. He dropped into the paint-chipped porch glider to pull on his boots before going for a walk. Any other day the chill in the air, the sounds of birds, and the sweet scent of honeysuckle and roses would have energized him. The past week hadn’t been ordinary, life would never again be the same. Read the entire story HERE.

Hope you enjoyed today's post and that you'll drop by often. Be sure and sign up to receive my newsletter and visit my website.

Until next time, Journey Onward!

Saturday, September 9, 2017


It's been a long time since I visited my own Blog. However, I went to the West Texas Writer's Academy in Canyon, TX again. The class I chose to take this year was Mastering Self-Publishing taught by Bethany Claire. There is so much information out there, but this dynamo of self-publishing was full of confidence and talent. She just wanted to share her knowledge. Look her up at 

I had two lifelong dreams come true in 2016. In May I went to Scotland with my best friend. It was all I imagined and more. 

Mary and me at Melrose Abbey, Scotland

In October I got a mini horse named Flynn. He's feisty, independent, and a bit wild, but what a  treat to look out and see my own four-legged soulful creature. Here he is with me. That's a MacGregor tartan scarf--my family.


And, now, we're back to the present day:

I am currently working on a series I call The Journey Series. Book One--Journey of Honor takes place on the Oregon Trail in 1845. The main character, Rebecca Pierce, is an 18 year-old tomboy, independent girl. Her goal is to reach the Oregon Territory and fulfill a personal vow she made to her father just after he died. She won't let anything or anyone get in the way of that promise. Rebecca is traveling with her mother, Sarah. They decided to go ahead with the family plan to go west.

Zachary Miller is a rider on the trail (meaning he has only his horse and whatever is in his saddle bag). He gets in the way to say the least.

The Oregon Trail was treacherous and tiring. The pioneers were determined, steadfast, and dreaming of a new life.

Journey of Honor is reaching completion of the first draft. Then, of course, I'll begin edits and edits and more edits. That said, I am hoping for a November release followed by a novella titled "Weddings at Journey's End" (hint).
Join me at my website: 

Thursday, April 28, 2016

Memories of the Past and Going Home

Earlier this spring, in March, my son and I took my granddaughters back in time several generations. Our first stop was the Chisholm Trail Monument in Addington, Oklahoma. They received a lesson about the cattle drives of the 19th century. My mind went immediately to my history class in 1968 with Mr. Jerald Haynes, Lovington, New Mexico. He taught in such a way my heart opened to the history around me.
Our next stops were the Addington Cemetery and the Waurika Cemetery where they met their great grandparents and great-great grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins. Teaching moments! That day they learned family history is important.

Our last stop was the Bennett family farm. The home place. In the blink of an eye that falling down, paint peeling, dangerous place became the special small, white house where my grandparents lived. The kitchen window looked out toward the dirt road and my uncle's home. The gray porch was a gathering place. I remember my grandfather sitting there and laughing. He laughed songs. His laugh started in his toes and rumbled out. God, I miss that.   Later, in 1969, my parents moved into the home place. The porch, that porch, the place of gathering was also a place of tragedy.  My father was the youngest of six boys. He died on that porch at the age of 60. He had a heart attack. Years earlier  two other brothers died on that porch. A. W. died on June 11, 1940 of a heart attack at the age of 21. . Dale died on July 14, 1941 at the age of 17 of a gun shot accident. 

I learned to shell peas and snap beans on that porch.

Daddy was much like his father. His laugh was from the soul. His blue eyes literally twinkled when he laughed. I miss him.

As a girl the propane tank became my beautiful horse. We galloped and roamed. Adventure after adventure. A large tree with red berries became a resting place.

Other favorite buildings on that old farm were the old garage with heavy, sliding doors and a dirt floor. It was dark in there and full of stories just waiting to be told. I accompanied my grandmother to the milking shed early in the mornings. And, sneaked into the feed house to grab a handful of cow cake to gnaw on (it's the small round building, the milk shed is behind it). 

The fresh milk was kept in a blue spatter ware pitcher in the ice box. Green bottles of 7-Up sat right along side it. A candy dish of Kraft caramels was always on the long kitchen table. 

My Daddy and uncles learned to drive in the pasture. My brother, cousins, and I learned to drive in that same pasture. I, however, preferred riding on the tail gate so I could touch the cows. My sons and their cousins learned to drive in that pasture. And. on this journey with my granddaughters, they drove on their Daddy's lap in that same pasture. Life is full circle. 

At my age trekking down memory lane is bittersweet. I remember the good times, I remember words. I remember words not said. How can one be sad, yet happy at the same time? I'll remember this day in the spring of 2016 until I take my last breath. I hope my granddaughters will remember it with fondness.
The photo above  includes my grandfather, John A. Bennett, my tiny grrandmother, Cora Blankenship Bennett, my uncle Thurman, and my uncle Obed on THE porch.

Friday, September 4, 2015

Ransom Canyon by Jodi Thomas!


Been a while since I visited with you and shared something here but this is something I can't keep to myself!
I am, once again, feeling the awe associated with hosting one of my favorite and most successful authors on my blog. Jodi Thomas is an award winning, multi-published author on the NYT Bestseller List and USA Today. Besides being able to take readers into small Texas towns full of life and history she weaves story lines with characters we all know.

The new series, RANSOM CANYON, takes us out of Harmony. WINTER’S CAMP is the prequel to RANSOM CANYON. Readers meet James Kirkland in WINTER’S CAMP. He has lived his life as a rover and loner. As time passes he begins to yearn for a home. The day comes when he happens to come up on an Apache camp where he is welcome but alert. He notices a young woman standing to the back with her head down. She is still and is covered in mud from the top of her head to her toes. She stinks. She is treated cruelly. When she looks up and Kirkland sees she has blue eyes he realizes she’s a captive. He bargains for her and leaves with her. One day, out of the blue, she tells Kirkland her name is Millie. Trust is slow to come.

As Kirkland and Millie travel they begin to trust. He is taking her to the place called Ransom Canyon where he plans to build his home. After a multitude of hurdles they marry and begin the Kirkland legacy in Ransom Canyon.

Generations later in RANSOM CANYON Staten Kirkland has become a loner after losing his wife and child. He rarely leaves his ranch. There are times when the loneliness and despair threaten to overrule him. He seeks out fellow loner Quinn O’Gradywho was his wife’s best friend. Eventually, friendship becomes more but Staten isn’t ready for anyone to know. When Quinn’s past horror comes back to haunt her it is Staten who pulls her out of the darkness.

Lucas Reyes is a dependable high school kid who wants nothing more than to go to college. He has worked with his family as ranch hands all of his life. One night Lucas and his friends go to a place that is forbidden. An accident happens that injures the girl Lucas secretly feels more than friendship for, Lauren is injured. Another friend, Reid, talks to the police and other authorities about the accident. He blames it on Lucas and tells the story making himself the hero. Friendships shatter.

Yancey Grey walks into Ransom Canyon a free man. Recently released from prison he looks things over and finds a place to stay in a senior retirement community. He works as a handyman for them and lives in the back of an office. Yancey has spent his life in and out of foster homes and other facilities. He is shy and has never had a true friend. The older citizens take Yancey under their wings. He is grateful but can’t understand it. Ellie, almost a nurse (she’s a student), sees to the health needs of the senior community. She’s all business and serious. After a near fatal shooting on Staten’s ranch Yancy and Ellie become friendlier.

I liked every character but as a retired nurse I fell hard for Ellie. I could see me in her. I’m looking forward to being a member of the Ransom Canyon Community.

A fifth-generation Texan, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Jodi Thomas chooses to set the majority of her novels in her home state, where her grandmother was born in a covered wagon. A former teacher, Thomas traces the beginning of her storytelling career to the days when her twin sisters were young and impressionable. 

With a degree in family studies, Thomas is a marriage and family counselor by education, a background that enables her to write about family dynamics. Honored in 2002 as a Distinguished Alumni by Texas Tech University in Lubbock, Thomas enjoys interacting with students on the West Texas A&M University campus, where she currently serves as Writer in Residence.

Commenting on her contribution to the arts, Thomas said, “When I was teaching classes full-time, I thought I was making the world a better place. Now I think of a teacher or nurse or mother settling back and relaxing with one of my books. I want to take her away on an adventure that will entertain her. Maybe, in a small way, I’m still making the world a better place.”

When not working on a novel or inspiring students to pursue a writing career, Thomas enjoys traveling with her husband, renovating a historic home they bought in Amarillo and “checking up” on their two grown sons.

For more information, please visit Jodi’s website at