Rosebud's Blog

Sunday, November 24, 2024

Give The Gift of Books!

I am delighted to have my book, The Happy Clam, featured in the New England Independent Booksellers Association (NEIBA) 2024 Holiday Catalog! Please stop by and support your local bookshop! #HolidayCatalog2024

I had the chance to attend the NEIBA conference in September at the Newton Marriott, and share a table with other authors and publishers from the Independent Publishers of New England (IPNE). But, what a day! The exhibit hall was cavernous and filled with tables piled high in books, each publisher or vendor sharing their wares.

In an industry known for its slim margins, fierce competition, and sheer struggle to survive, the booksellers share a labor of love. In this room, they are treated like royalty, and offered as many books as they can carry, to give them a read.

There are books for everybody, all genres, all tastes. Do you like literary fiction? Thoughtful narrative nonfiction? Humor? History? Memoir? They had it all.

Here are a couple of books I recommend for this holiday gift-giving! Both are about travel, one is a true story and the other is fiction, and one looks back and one looks far forward.

The Ride of Her Life, by Elizabeth Letts, tells the true story of Annie Wilkins who travels across the country in 1955, from Maine to California, riding on horseback, at a time when the automobile was starting to take over the roads, and interstate highways were just being built. It’s like a trip back in time as well as across the country.

The Last Gifts of the Universe, by Riley August, is a story about a couple of siblings and their cat traveling across the universe in their spaceship. Wildly imaginative, it does what a book should – makes you want to turn the page to find out what happens next!

What is next?

Happy Holidays, and may the new year hold promise of hope and peace for all!

Calendar:

The Annual Holiday Gift Faire is being held Sunday December 1^st at the American Legion Nonantum Post 440, located at 295 California Street, Newton, MA. Hours are 10 AM to 4 PM. Plenty of free parking! Stop by my table for books, bows, and geodes.

A couple of gifts of song –

The surprise duet by Tracy Chapman and Luke Combs at the Country Music Awards, what a treat, and how unexpected, as the first chords of the song began, and then you saw her, radiant and smiling, her voice silky smooth, still so beautiful after all these years. That was a gift.

https://youtu.be/zEqb6xbeuCo?si=-pSo2a2JytjmEDZN

And for all those missing Russo’s especially during this holiday season, and can relate to remembering a different place and time that once existed, the sounds and smells as you walked in the door, check out my blog from December 2017.

Do you remember Gilly Assuncao’s singing the song, “It’s Time to Say Goodbye,” at the store? Here’s the best recording of that performance I’ve found (Sunday, Dec. 17th, 2017). I was so lucky to be there. Another gift.

https://youtu.be/oDsAnX78lOY

Rose Schmidt is the author of The Happy Clam (© 2020), and Go Forward, Support! The Rugby of Life (© 2003), both published by Gainline Press. The views expressed herein are solely those of the author, and do not reflect the views of any other agency or organization. Use of individual quotes with proper citation and attribution, within the limits of fair use, is permitted. If you would like to request permission to use or reprint any of the content on the site, please contact me. Twitter: Rosebud@GainlineRS

A Tale of Two States

I'm the one on the left, if that isn't clear

Road Trip! For the first time in a long time, we hit the road and sky, making the trek back to Illinois at the end of October for Family Weekend at Eastern Illinois University in Charleston, IL. Snacks for the car ride south, we headed out.

Driving down Route 47 was like a drive down memory lane, the flat farm till plains and open sky, but the fields now dotted with wind turbines, their giant blades spinning slowly, dwarfing the farms around them. These are new.

The campus is compact, friendly and welcoming, with plenty of events for the weekend.

But we opt to head south, to the little tourist town of Casey (pronounced Kay-zee, after the old radio station, WKZI). Along our way, we start to see oil wells, with their pump arms cycling up and down, and a sulfurous smell saturating the air. We pass through the aptly named town of Oilfield.

I Google the history of Casey, IL, and learn that John D. Rockefeller paid over a million dollars for the oil field back in 1910. Casey found its place on the map, as the nearest town with banks and saloons, situated along the railroad, and eventually along Interstate 70 when it was built.

https://www.cityofcaseyil.org/tourism/casey-history

Illinois truly is a tale of two states. Wind turbines and oil wells. And the farther south we drove, the fewer Kamala signs there were, foreshadowing what was to come. It’s a tale that has been told over and over, the divide between urban and rural. Illinois is a microcosm of the country, with Chicago and college towns voting blue, and the rest of the state voting red.

But that hadn’t happened yet, and so we were cheery and playing tourists in Casey, seeing the sites. Its tagline is “Big Things in a Small Town.”

https://www.bigthingssmalltown.com/

It’s home to the world’s largest rocking chair, mail box, key, pencil, taco, wind chimes, and the list goes on.

A town tabby cat plays mayor and greeter.

And the Casey Coffee Company has some of the best coffee anywhere!

It was also a trip back in time, back to the late 1980s when I practically lived there, when there was another kind of drilling going on, for siting a proposed low-level radioactive waste facility, which was never built. I look for old landmarks, some are still there, some are gone. The Casey Motel is no more, nor is the Bottle House. But Richard’s Farm restaurant is still there.

I don’t go looking for the apple house, but a poem from Spoon River Anthology comes to mind, from one of my earliest forays into theater, when I played the part of Hare Drummer:

“Do the boys and girls still go to Siever’s

For cider, after school, in late September?

Or gather hazel nuts among the thickets

On Aaron Hatfield’s farm when the frosts begin?

For many times with the laughing girls and boys

Played I along the road and over the hills

When the sun was low and the air was cool,

Stopping to club the walnut tree

Standing leafless against a flaming west.

Now, the smell of the autumn smoke,

And the dropping acorns,

And the echoes about the vales

Bring dreams of life.

They hover over me.

They question me:

Where are those laughing comrades?

How many are with me, how many

In the old orchards along the way to Siever’s,

And in the woods that overlook

The quiet water?”

References:

Masters, Edgar Lee. 1915. Spoon River Anthology. St. Louis: William Marion Reedy. New York: McMillan and Company.

Monday, September 2, 2024

September Song

Summer’s heat has finally broken, and cooler, calmer days are here. And plenty of book goings-on. Mark your calendars:

Saturday September 14^th is the third annual local author fair being hosted by Hummingbird Books in Chestnut Hill, MA, located on “The Street,” between Shake Shack and Legal Seafood, and it is just as delicious as that sounds!

Bring a non-perishable food item as they will be collecting donations to the Brookline Food Pantry at the fair.

Here is the full list of authors who will be at the fair, including me, just look for the aquamarine tablecloth.

But I am truly humbled to be included in the presence of these local authors, they are literally rock stars, or maybe I should say book stars. You won’t be disappointed. From fiction to psychology, history to children’s books, they’ve curated a delightful cross-section of Boston-area authors. I can’t wait to make the rounds and check out as many of their books as I can.

You never quite know who might show up. Last year, author Christy Cashman stopped by my table, and it wasn’t until later that I realized that she wrote the book, The Truth About Horses, and then months later after finally reading it, I can only agree that all the praise is well-deserved, for a book that treads breathtaking miracles and heartbreaking reality in the same breath.

Before we get to the weekend festivities, the New England Independent Booksellers Association (NEIBA) conference is coming to town September 11-13, 2024, at the Newton Marriott. Welcome to town! And please stop by the table where the Independent Publishers of New England (IPNE) will be sharing their works, from fresh finds hot off the presses to diamonds in the rough mined from the backlist.

If we’re heading into the ‘Ber months, you know the holiday markets can’t be far away, the most wonderful time of the year. But before we hunker around the hearth again, let’s take a quick look back at the summer in photos.

First, so many flowers!

June was pride month, a few pics from the local celebration in town.

A jaunt up to Maine to visit friends and the Mineral & Gem Museum in Bethel.

The antique car show at the Commander’s Mansion in Watertown, showcasing a time when cars were art.

Saturday, January 13, 2024

Pennies From Heaven

Or: Four Funerals and a Wedding

Do you believe in pennies from heaven?

It was New Year’s Day, and we were at Market Basket, and in the parking lot, I saw this black balloon, left over from the previous night’s festivities, no doubt, and as it bobbed and weaved, pushed back and forth by the breeze, it came to a stop right here and I looked down, and what did I see, but this shiny penny. It was as though the wind had pushed the balloon to lead me to it.

Who is this from? Three funerals in as many weeks.

From Rumi, on the question, how many paths are there to God?

There are as many paths to God as there are souls on Earth.

Funerals are each as uniquely individual as the person who has passed.

A broken heart is an open heart. And there is still hope for the living, because the future is still ahead of us, unwritten, like the blank pages of my journal. Like when the Patriots were down 28 to 3 in the third quarter in the SuperBowl against Atlanta. It was still possible to pull off a win, because the rest of the game hadn’t been played yet. We’re still on the playing field. The future hasn’t happened yet, and so all is possible.

But the pages behind us? Filled, filled with everything, including regrets, so many regrets, the words not spoken, equally as well the harsh words spoken that can’t be taken back. When we’re young, we think we’re going to try to live a life free of regrets. You get older, and they just pile up, just add it to the stack heap.

Comfort, where do we find comfort?

Even God felt regret – grieving at seeing the faults of their creation.

And the Lord regretted that He had made man upon the earth, and He became grieved in His heart.

Genesis 6:6

God was about to smite all creation, but found Noah, who “walked with God,” and thus spared Noah and his family by building an ark to survive the flood.

Even God had regret. And Jesus wept. And the regrets pile up.

Who is this penny from?

At the eulogy for our neighbor, Chris, his niece and nephew summed up his life in a three-word sentence: He was there. What an inspiration. There’s a New Year’s Resolution. And so the next day I found myself on a plane, headed to Chicago for my Uncle Warren’s funeral and to see family, cousins, nieces, Dad. As much as I could fit into my time there, the first time flying since the start of the pandemic. Othwerworldly, some things were just the same, and others, it felt like I had time traveled, or been asleep like Rip Van Winkle, awaking from a deep sleep, to find a changed world. Some things minor, like Nuts on Clark has been replaced by Garretts Popcorn shop at Midway. Hmmm. And some things just the same. Portillo’s, Harner’s.

It felt good to be there.

There was a fourth funeral for Father David Engbarth, the Pastor at Our Lady of Good Counsel parish from 2007 to 2014. He was the one to say the funeral Mass for my Mom, and now in hindsight, I realize how lucky, blessed I was, that he allowed me to speak and say a eulogy at her funeral. I didn’t realize it was a rule, at least at that Church, not allowing lay people to say eulogies. He broke a rule for me. So many rules, though. Thank you father David. He truly “walked with God.”

https://www.daleidenmortuary.com/obituaries/David-Engbarth/#!/Obituary

Remember the movie, “Four Weddings and a Funeral?” It seems like these days, it’s more like “Four Funerals and a Wedding,” which we also have on the horizon. We need some happy events. Maybe there should be a sequel.

Also, in this movie, there’s a poem that’s read during the eulogy toward the end of the movie, which, no spoiler alert, look at the title, you knew there was going to be a funeral. The poem is by W. H. Auden, and yes yes yes, it still speaks true today, for how the grieving widow, siblings, and children must feel. What comfort can there be, it’s all short of bringing the person back.

Reprinting the poem below, under fair use.

Funeral Blues (also known as Stop All the Clocks)

By W. H. Auden (1936)

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead

Scribbling on the sky the message ‘He is Dead’.

Put crepe bows round the necks of the public doves,

Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,

My working week and my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;

For nothing now can ever come to any good.

How does grief change over time, to soften, to bring comfort? Is there such a thing as good grief?

I give you another poem, read at the cemetery after my sister’s funeral 16 years ago.

Immortality

By Clare Harner (1934)

Do not stand

By my grave, and weep.

I am not there,

I do not sleep –

I am the thousand winds that blow

I am the diamond glints in snow

I am the sunlight in ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumn rain.

As you awake with morning’s hush,

I am the swift, upflinging rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight,

I am the day transcending night.

Do not stand by my grave and cry

I am not there, I did not die.

Subsequent versions of this poem circulated, with the first and last stanzas replaced with the following, implying the comfort that not only was the person not truly dead, but still with them yet.

I give you this one thought to keep –

I am with you still, I do not sleep.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not think of me as gone –

I am with you still, in each new dawn.

How can you comfort the grieving? What can you do, but be there.

And maybe bring sushi from Shanghai & Tokyo. Or sweet rolls from Harner’s. I wonder if any relation to Clare Harner, the poet. That would sort of bring things full circle, wouldn't it.

Until next time, Happy New Year! And I wish you peace.

Or pcace. It has been that sort of year.

Who was this penny from? Do you believe in pennies from heaven?

POST SCRIPT

A few more finds and observations along my way.

Christmas Eve, I found a movie, “A Cape Cod Christmas,” filmed in Falmouth, MA, and so full of familiar places and landmarks, but what struck me most was the opening song, “Lover’s Lane,” by Les Sampou, a local artist, and she was kind enough to share this with me.

https://youtu.be/jbIJbrnmZEI?si=dq86M_WhwVUR-GpJ

For more of her original works, check out her website. She also performs locally around the South Shore and Cape mostly.

https://lessampoumusic.com/

Another farewell – to Coach Bill Belichick, thanks for the memories. Perhaps it was fitting that the Army-Navy game was played at Gillette in your final year.

Holiday Markets

Also, leading up to the holidays, I had the chance to participate in some holiday markets and sell my wares, books and geodes (rocks, paper, and scissors, since I offered gift-wrapping too) at the American Legion Post 156 in Waltham and Post 440 in Newton, raising money for the VFW. Of course, I wound up buying way more than I sold, and my only regret was that I didn’t buy even more, or follow up with some of my fellow vendors.

The woman at the back of the room (behind and to the left of Santa) knits the cutest tiny Christmas sweater ornaments, and I am trying to find her, as I’d like to share my Mom’s mitten pattern. A little help internet?

Isabel Soaping & Co., Newburyport, MA.

https://isabelsoaping.com/

Enjoying my soaps, including the shampoo bar. Delightful! Lavendar-Rosemary, Roasted Pinecone.

Laryssa Filatov Fiber Artist & Illustrator https://laryssafilatov.com/

Danny Renzella Acrylic Paintings – you can follow him on Instagram, his handle is AverageAcrylics, but I think they’re far from average, except in the sense that we’re all the same and unique and special and average all at the same time. Loved these paintings so much had to bring them home!

So many artists, loved the painted rocks too!

Thistle – Author of Under The Garden Gate, a children’s book about all the various outdoor creatures who have come to share their home.

https://www.amazon.com/Under-Garden-Gate-Delightful-backyard/dp/1941573479

More books to read:

The Sane Society, by Erich Fromm (1955). I am only three chapters into it, but stunning how his observations about how society and culture both shape the individual, and how each individual shapes society still rings true today. Thanks to my local Post Office for the book recommendation!

The Angel and the Assassin, by Donna Jackson Nakazawa. Probably the most important book I read in 2023, sharing the research that now shows that the brain is not separate from the body’s immune system, and the vital role that microglial cells play. Long overlooked, they play a vital role in brain health, serving as the janitorial crews keeping the brain nice and tidy. Inflammation and stress can set them off, making them go haywire and start destroying healthy synapses. Luckily there is good news to share too, that researchers at MIT have shown that being exposed to 40 Hz gamma waves (either flickering lights or sound) can re-set the microglial cells and calm the brain. This could have huge implications for autoimmune issues, and Alzheimer’s and dementia. There are plenty of 40 Hz gamma wave audio available on YouTube, check it out.

We say, there are no saints, no villains. People are just a mixed bag. Or maybe we can be both villains and saints, at the same time, both at the macro level as well as at the molecular level. Some interesting parallels there.

More health stuff:

Mum’s Cream from Le Nadur, developed right here in Massachusetts by Biochemists Denise O'Hara, PhD, and Mengmeng Wang, M.D., PhD. It’s designed with all-natural ingredients so it’s safe enough for expecting mothers to be, but so effective, why wouldn’t everyone want to use it?

https://lenadur.co/

While I’m at it, a little promotion of my book, The Happy Clam, just named a top book of 2023 by Exceptional Needs Today magazine. Thanks, Amy Tobik, for the recognition!

Check out their website to sign up for a free subscription to their online magazine today.

https://www.exceptionalneedstoday.com/

Thank you to O’Some Café for hosting my holiday book giveaway! You're awesome!

I do recommend the Brown Sugar Tiger Latte!

Mark Your Calendars:

Geodes & Journals Program has been funded via grant from the Massachusetts Cultural Council and Watertown Cultural Council, and will be partnering with the Watertown Boys & Girls Club again to introduce kids to geology and writing through geodes and journals. Fun! Dates TBD. Thank you MCC/WCC!

https://watertownbgc.org/

March 20, 2024 – International Day of Happiness.

March 21, 2024 – Celeste Ng at the Watertown Free Public Library for a talk about her newest book, Our Missing Hearts.

April 7, 2024 – National Geologists Day.

October 13-19, 2024 – Earth Science Week.

Next Time: Book Talk Recap

References

Auden, W. H., 1936. “Funeral Blues,” first published in the play, The Ascent of F6.

Harner, Clare. 1934. “Immortality,” first published in the poetry magazine, The Gypsy.