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!
Nona

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!
Nona


Saturday, September 9, 2017

UPDATE ABOUT DREAMS AND WRITING

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
www.bethanyclaire.com 

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.

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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.

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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).
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Join me at my website: https:www.winonabennettcrosswriter.com