Weather permitting, I will be reading from All on Account of You on Saturday, September 6th, at 3:00 p.m. at The Storyteller’s Bookstore in Wake Forest, as part of the store’s Grand Opening event. Please come by if you can! Here is the schedule:

Author Readings and Storyteller Events

Saturday, September 6, 2008

10-11am              Anita Stone, I Never Met a Flower I Didn’t Like
11am-12pm         Roz Grace, Trina’s Family Reunion
3:00pm-3:30pm  Elaine Klonicki, All on Account of You
6:00-7:00pm       Storytellers Ron Jones and Claire Ramsey

Sunday, September 7, 2008

3-3:30pm             Alice Osborn, Right Lane Ends
3:30-4:00pm       Sharon Wood, Writing From the Authentic Self

Drew Bridges, owner of the store and a semi-retired psychiatrist, opened the store in order to return to his English major roots. Drew Bridges describes himself as an “early career storyteller.” He is well known around the Wake Forest area, having performed at charity events and at local events including Herbfest.

Drew emphasizes his belief that, “Even in today’s world of iMax and iPods gee-whiz technology, there is still room for a more personal form of entertainment.”

The store is designed with open areas for activities and is furnished with a grand piano and a red leather antique barber chair, the “storyteller’s chair.” Paintings and photography from local artists adorn the walls and are for sale as well.

The Storyteller’s Book Store is located under the bridge, at 100 E. Roosevelt Ave, Wake Forest, NC.

For more information about the grand opening or other programs and activities at the store call 919-554-9146 or send an email inquiry to storystore@nc.rr.com.

We lost another WWII veteran today. My uncle, John Stanley, who was 98, served in the Navy on the U.S.S. Texas as a gunner’s mate. Like most of the men in that job, he lost much of his hearing while doing it. On my last visit out to Denver, where he and my aunt lived, he showed me his medals, and an amazing picture of a kamikaze plane just about to crash into the ship behind his.

You know all those old jokes about women falling in love with the milk man? Well, that actually happened to my Aunt Winnie. Uncle Johnny drove a milk truck and he delivered the milk to her house at 5:30 every morning. He fell for when he was 20 and she was 14. The story goes that, because of his affection for her, he left her a small bottle of chocolate milk every day as a treat. Unfortunately, her brother John woke up first, drank the chocolate milk, and never mentioned it to anyone. Uncle Johnny had to wait for two years to date Aunt Winnie, because she wasn’t allowed to date until she turned 16. They were married when she turned 21, and have been married for 71 years! They have seven children.

Uncle Johnny was a numbers man. After the war he got a job selling Prudential insurance, the perfect job for him. He had an incredible memory, and loved trivia. Every time we saw him, he would say something like, “Do you know how many bricks it took to build the (fill in the building or structure)?” Of course we’d have no idea, but he’d tell us exactly how many bricks. Or how many men it took to build it. Or how many man-hours. The numbers were always in the millions, but he’d remember them down to the last digit. He was an affectionate guy, and would always hold my hand when he talked to me. He loved to sing, and made up songs about working the milk route.

For most of his life he was strong and healthy, but he had occasional, bizarre health issues that would have set others way back. Not him. He was blind for an entire year when he was a senior in high school, until his dentist figured out that a wisdom tooth was pushing on a nerve. Once they removed it, he could see again. In his mid-80s his vision was failing again, and he was diagnosed with a benign brain tumor which needed to be removed. He had to shop around to find a doctor who was willing to anesthetize him at his age. We were all very nervous about the surgery, which was quite serious, but he was undaunted. Of course he came out of it with flying colors.

The last time I saw my aunt and uncle in Raleigh was a few years ago, when they flew in to visit my mom. I have an image of them in my mind that I’ll hold on to forever. The two of them were in a guest room in the residence where my mom lives. They were sitting on a bench at the bottom of the bed, side by side, like birds on a telephone wire. The bench was pulled up close to the TV so they could see and hear it, and they were holding hands, as always.

Uncle Johnny was a lifelong Catholic, and up until two years ago when he had a stroke, he was still acting as a Eucharistic Minster at his church, giving out communion at mass. He was also still driving, and attending weekly Rotary meetings. He contributed to his country, his family, his church, and his community in ways too numerous to mention. They just don’t make ‘em like that anymore.

So long, milkman.

This photo was taken in 1992, at my folks’ 50th wedding anniversary mass. My mom and dad, Bill and Angie, are on the left. Uncle Johnny and Aunt Winnie, my mom’s sister, are on the right.

As promised, here are some of the highlights of our recent Las Vegas vacation. Just for fun, I decided to use the categories from my last vacation article Bringing you the North Hollywood news, which was published in the News & Observer in April of 2006:

MOST AMAZING: The Fountains of Bellagio, a choreographed water, music, and light show. Every fifteen minutes, a new show begins with fog rolling out over the lake in front of the building. The fountains undulate with the music, and the spires of water rise to impressive heights, with the water coming out of the jets so hard at times that it creates its own percussion. I could have stood there forever, listening to the music and enjoying the show.

MOST FUN: For Gary, Doug, and Doug’s girlfriend, Carrie, it was seeing The Police (with Sting) and Elvis Costello at the 17,000-seat Garden Arena in the MGM Grand. Next were the roller coasters, especially the one at New York, New York. Not liking speed, heights, and especially the combination of the two, the most fun for me was the gondola ride in the Venetian with Jenny, and the Godiva chocolate-covered fruit basket we ate while waiting for it.

MOST SCARY: Jaywalking on Las Vegas Blvd. Don’t ask me why, but there is no crosswalk to help travelers cross the street from the Hilton Grand Vacations Club on the Las Vegas Strip, where we stayed, to the Sahara Casino and Hotel, which is the closest place to hop on the monorail. We stayed at the Hilton because of the deal we got for listening to a timeshare pitch. We’ve never done this before and it was scary how good their pitch was. But we stood strong and resisted all of their best sales efforts.

MOST DELICIOUS: Our meal at the Tao Asian Bistro. After spending an hour online looking up places to eat which we could get to from the monorail, we gave up and decided to take our chances in one of the casinos. Tao was the first place we saw as we entered the Venetian and, since we all love Asian food, we went for it. Not only did we get seated right away and have a really good waiter who said he regularly waits on Tom Cruise, the “small plates” and sushi were outstanding.

MOST FREQUENTLY HEARD SAYING: While we were there, it was,“How long are you staying?” Everyone there is either coming or going. When we got back, it was, “How much did you lose?” We only gambled the $40 in free chips we got from the time share deal, and we broke even. We also got a $25 gift card for food, which we spent on asian noodles in the 888 Noodle Bar.

MOST SAD/MOST FUNNY: An older woman in a motorized chair who was trying to exit the monorail by driving out backwards. She kept turning the wheel the wrong way and, the harder she tried, the worse off she got, until finally several guys simply hoisted up her chair and deposited it and her outside of the monorail, seconds before the doors closed.

MOST WEIRD: The fact that nothing in Vegas is true. Locals told us that you have to add seven degrees to the temperature given on the weather report because it is under-reported so that it sounds more appealing to tourists. The road signs sometimes send you the wrong way. Even the $9 coupons in the Spirit magazine (Southwest’s excellent airline publication), which we so diligently collected on our flights on the way out, were unnecessary, because the normal daily rate IS only $9. (The sign on the monorail actually says $15, but it is crossed through and marked $9, as if it were recently discounted. Doug has been to Vegas before and he said it’s always that way.)

MOST GREEN: The one million dollars in cash in a glass case in the Paris Hotel. $5,000 stacks were made up of $100 bills. The thing is, it didn’t look like that much money. You could have fit it all in a large duffel bag. We didn’t see any big security guards around, so the case must be made of some special kind of glass

MOST WASTED: Our new friend Chad who we met at the hotel pool. He had a bottle of Jack Daniels with him which he was mixing with Coke in a cup. He offered us some, although he confessed he didn’t have any more cups. Chad is one of those guys who knows everything, has been everywhere, and you wouldn’t let near your daughter. His family owns a hookah bar in L.A. If we’d only known when we were there…

MOST BEAUTIFUL: The 2,000 hand-blown glass flowers by Dale Chihuly, hung from the ceiling of the Bellagio. Which we almost missed, because we saw one large hand-blown bouquet at the floor level and assumed that was the whole deal. We had seen some Dale Chihuly work before, but the size and scope of this celing display was mind-boggling, and the flowers themselves were breathtaking.

MOST AMAZING VIEW: The one from our hotel room on the 15th floor of the Hilton at twilight. We could see the lights of the strip, and the spectacular Spring Mountains to the west in the background. If you go, you should know that there are three Hiltons in Vegas, and their names are ridiculously similar: 1) The Las Vegas Hilton, 2) The Hilton Grand Vacations Club at the Las Vegas Hilton, and their newest hotel 3) The Hilton Grand Vacations Club on the Las Vegas Strip. Go figure. 

MOST THRILLING: Seeing Robin Williams in the lobby of the MGM Grand. We saw the crowd with their cameras flashing before we actually saw him. While we were still star-struck, Jenny threw her digital camera at her dad and ran over and wrapped her arm around Robin for a pic. Here it is:

I guess our “Sin City” adventure was pretty tame compared to most. But for us it wasn’t about the gambling or the glitz. It was just a chance to be together as a family. Until you’re parents with kids who have moved away, especially to the opposite coast, you don’t realize the joy of having everyone together again.

“Aging seems to be the only available way to live a long life.”
                                                                                         Daniel Francoiseprit Auber

My mother said a funny thing the other day. She was frustrated that her sewing machine was acting up, and she said, “I know I threaded it right. I’ve been doing it for centuries.” She’s nearly 90, and it probably does feel to her like she’s been doing some things for centuries.
 
Her machine has been giving her trouble since she had it serviced a month ago, but she sounded defensive, as if I would question her skills. The thought hadn’t occurred to me, and I wondered at first why she felt the need to explain herself.

It made me think about what it must truly be like to be her age, to have people question what she is doing and how she is doing it. Even without Alzheimers, older people become aware that, over time, they are losing the ability to do things they once knew how to do.

As we watch our parents age, it’s easy to get impatient. We experience the changes in terms of how they affect us. They start to repeat themselves. They lose things. They don’t pay their bills. They forget to take their medications. They become, for us, like another one of our children, and we begin to speak to them in the same hassled tone.

We truly forget that it will happen to us one day too. And it will, if we live long enough. There’s no getting around it. Imagine for one minute what it must actually feel like to have your child treat you as if you were the child. To have them remind you of things, explain things to you, drive you places, speak to people on your behalf.

I’m going to try to hold that picture in my head the next time I visit my mom.

I was having a tough day today, mostly due to the torture I received from the substitute dental hygienist at my dentist’s office, until I saw a blog post by Scott Francis. Scott writes a new book marketing blog for Writer’s Digest magazine called Living With the M-Word: Marketing Your Writing Without Selling Out Your Muse. I had commented on his blog yesterday for the first time, and today he mentioned me in his post. Check it out.

Commenting on other people’s blogs is supposed to help bring traffic to your website. I figured I might as well start at the top. Writer’s Digest is the number-one rated writers’ magazine. I suscribe to the print version, which arrives in my mailbox six times a year, and also read the online newsletter, which is where I heard about Scott’s blog. As he says, it’s all about community, and sharing information.

My day got even better late this afternoon when our daughter Jenny arrived home from college. She just finished her freshman year, and is relieved to have her final tests and papers over with. Earlier in the week, her dad and I helped her edit her paper on the reputation of the Monguls. Jenny struggles with writing, but she’s making progress. She and her brother think I’m unbelievably weird because I’m a writer. They like to tease me about writing what they call “term papers” for a living.

I can’t help it–I love to write. The marketing I could do without. But, like Jenny, I’m getting there, and maybe I’ll get there quicker by reading Scott’s blog regularly.

For now, I’m going to go do some other M-word (Mommy) stuff and nurse Jenny through the M-word (Mono) she brought home from college. Wish me luck.

This week I’ve been consoling a friend who is having trouble with his teenager. Normally an optimistic guy, his recent late-night emails reveal the depth of his sadness and frustration. I have been there, with both of my kids, and I wrote a lot of desperate emails to friends, too. The writing helps, and the supportive responses help more.

When my daughter was in the hormone-filled middle school years, she sometimes wrote me notes when she was too upset to speak to me. Sometimes they were scribbled on paper and left on my pillow, and sometimes they were emails. It sounds crazy—there we were in the same house—but you know how it is when the emotion runs so high that you can’t stand to be in the same room with each other.

She is the one who always initiated the notes. To be honest, I never thought about writing to her. But it worked. She explained things I didn’t know about the stress she was under at school or about issues with her friends that were spilling over onto her. And, no matter what, she always signed them, “I love you Mama.”

In turn, I was able to write back and tell her how stressed I was as well, and how scared I was for her, but only because of how precious she was to me.

Once we were able to take it down a notch, we often went to a Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant near us to talk the rest out. It started one day after her dance class when she was still mad at me, but also hungry. So we went to the KFC across the parking lot from her dance studio, and ate and talked for a long time. The conversation went so well that we decided it would be “our place.” We went there often that year and the next, to talk through the hurts and frustrations.

Eventually, we didn’t need to go as often, and later, we actually made up “fights” just so we could go and be together and treat ourselves. We still tease about it.

If you’re in a tug-of-war with your teens, try writing to them for a change, and see how quickly the tone can change from one of blaming each other, to that of understanding. And I promise you, no matter how frustrated or sad or scared you are right now, one day soon you will be so proud of your emerging adults, you’ll be bursting.

“We enjoy warmth because we have been cold. We appreciate light because we have been in darkness. By the same token, we can experience joy because we have known sadness.”
                                                                                                     David L. Weatherford

One of my brothers IMed me today to talk about some of the things that aren’t working in his life. Whenever he does this, he ends the conversation in the same way: “Thanks. I don’t mean to complain.” I told him that if he thought of it as grieving rather than complaining, perhaps he wouldn’t feel so bad about the need to vent from time to time.

Bad things happen to everyone; sometimes the universe just doesn’t give us what we need. It can be very beneficial to share your troubles with a friend, especially if it helps you to think more clearly or to make a decision about what you need to do. A little validation goes a long way, and it never hurts to hear a different perspective.

Most of us were taught to suck up our negative feelings and keep going. Which is not bad advice, except that there’s a step missing. First we have to grieve what it is that we’re missing. So go ahead. The next time you’re feeling down, give in to it. You’ll be tempted to think it’s a waste of time—that there’s no sense in wallowing in misery.

But, actually, there is a purpose to depression, which is a lot easier to understand if you think of it in terms of hibernation. When we don’t feel up to our normal activities, it’s because we need to lick our wounds. To step back from the world and take an inventory of our feelings. Are we angry, frustrated, discouraged? In the end, many of those emotions boil down to being sad about something. A slight, an injustice, a lost opportunity. We can’t move on to the next step, figuring out what we need, until we let the sadness in. Let it permeate. Have a good cry.

Once we do that, we’re freed up to deal with our problems head on. We start to bounce back, as Ginger Rogers explains to Fred Astaire in the 1936 movie Swing Time:

Nothing’s impossible, I have found.
For when my chin is on the ground,
I pick myself up, dust myself off,
Start all over again.

Hello friends! Well, I just got started on this blog back in the fall when my life got crazy busy and I took a hiatus. It’s been a good kind of busy, but I haven’t done enough writing lately, so I’m happy to be back. What I have been doing is working on three major projects: re-publishing a book my uncle wrote which had been out of print for ten years, and working on both a writers’ conference and an anthology for my writers’ group, the Triangle Area Freelancers. 

 In this post I’ll tell you about my uncle’s book, Normandy to the Bulge: an American Infantry GI in Europe During WWII by Richard D. Courtney, now available on Lulu.  I had read the book when it was first published by Southern Illinois University Press in 1997, and my eyes were opened for the first time to the sacrifices the Greatest Generation made for our country. After I finished publishing All on Account of You on Lulu, I realized that I had to help get my uncle’s book back into print.

Normandy starts off with the excitement of a young man just graduating from high school and starting off to war. It goes through his grueling basic training, then his passage on the ship on his way to Europe. The mood changes as he and his fellow soldiers realize for the first time that they could be in real danger. The action begins as they exit their landing craft onto the beach at Normandy in France. Over the next two-and-a-half years, he loses dear friends and has many close calls, but his faith gets him through even the worst of it. He is involved in the liberation of more than one concentration camp, and he and another soldier accept the surrender of the 11th Panzer Division at the end of the war. He comes home much wiser but, surprisingly, not bitter. He is grateful to be alive and to be back home with his family. He cherishes his country and the freedom he helped to protect.

We re-published my uncle’s book last November, just in the nick of time. He’s 82, and not long after he got books in hand and starting selling, he lost his voice. He is now in a rehab center after a lengthy surgery for thyroid cancer. His recovery has been fraught with complications but, tough guy that he is, he’s giving it his all. He still has a tracheotomy and can’t speak yet, but my aunt called last night to order more books for him. She says he uses a white board to write on, and told her that he was ready to start selling, at least to the medical staff and his visitors.

Last fall, before he lost his voice, Uncle Dick was interviewed by the Bob and Tom Show in Indianapolis, the number one syndicated radio show in America. He was supposed to do a live show with them during the winter. Instead, the show played part of the taped interview, and put some audio clips, his picture, and a link to the book on their website. He sold 40 books on Lulu and 72 books on Amazon last month.

 If his story isn’t inspiring, I don’t know what is.

Elaine Luddy Klonicki is a freelance writer who lives in Raleigh, North Carolina. Her column “Box of Chocolates” appeared in The News & Observer. Elaine has written three books: All on Account of You: A True WWII Love Story, Thinking About Therapy? What to Expect From “The Talking Cure” and Captured Words: A Sentimental Journey. She is one of the co-editors of A Taste of Taffy: Samplings From the Triangle Area Freelancers. Through her writing, she shares with others the skills she has learned for living a joyful, purposeful, and inspired life.