Gathering Moss

When we lived in Brazil,
one of my Aunts wrote a letter and posed a question...
She wrote, "Your life is like a rolling stone. It is said a rolling stone gathers no moss. I have a question for you and please ask your friends as well. Which is better, to have moss or to have no moss?"

I asked at bridge or socials as was an interesting topic. ...
"What do you think?" No one had an opinion. It was clear she meant support systems which included friendships.

Our American as well as International friends there lived the same lifestyle. All traveled extensively with jobs that took them and their families all over the world. We never thought of gathering moss. We were gathering awesome experiences shared by others of like mind-set. Those people were and are our moss.

I responded to her question saying none asked had an answer to her question. It was a new thought to all, I think.

My Beloved Aunt Doris came down with cancer the following year...and wrote to say that she finally had the answer...She wrote that in her time of need...the moss that she has collected by living in the same town for 60 years felt REALLY GOOD.

I thought about that. I had only been her moss through letters. We wrote weekly over the years. I still have her letters. They were important to me.
She was the most incredible woman I ever knew. She taught me how to live and in the end, she was a grand example to all as she left this life with such style.

When I think of "moss" as being a support system, she was my first layer.
June

Sentiments for Lunch

I had been out and about; a busy morning ran into lunch time. The drive thru was perfect for a quick snack. Got a little lunch and pulled into the shaded parking lot to enjoy my burger.

Down went the car windows ~ ah, was so nice. The summer breeze enhanced the peaceful spot. I unwrapped my lunch and sipped the soda.
Sitting all alone, my mind went back to the days when our large Station Wagon was full of kids plus the dog that went everywhere with us.
Their loud complaining came to me~loud and clear in my memory.

“Mama, she won't get over,"

"Mama, she’s touching me."

"She's looking at me, MAKE HER STOP." (That was my favorite.)

"I gotta' pee pee." (Someone always had to go.)

"Trixie has bad breath, make her get back."

"She got one of my french fries." etc...

I remembered being so stressed/tired/whipped down. I remembered wishing for just one moment to be alone...a moment of peace and quite, which never, ever came.

Now... looking back, I remembered that wish~

Today~ the car was silent. I was alone. Tender emotions of nostalgia overwhelmed me. I found that I missed them...I missed my little girls being little and with me.
Suddenly I felt very alone and lonely.

That didn't last long.
June

Girls Night Out at the Officer's Club

A few years back after all my children were married or were in college I became a working girl again. Loved my working enviroment and was always invited to go out on Friday nights with the single girls there. We declared one Friday night a month as "Girl's Night Out."

Naturally, we went to the Officer's Club where there were lots of single young men for them to meet. We had so much fun that soon we were going almost every Friday night. It was like being young and single again, except I played the role of mother.

Some evenings we would have so much fun that I laughed for DAYS afterwards. No one could write a situation comedy as funny as real life happenings.


The place was always crowded and the best people watching ever. We had the good fortune to meet some really fun people. One evening we were joined by a guy the girls had talked to a few times before. Danny was Italian, an Officer in the Air Force and should have been a comedian. He was the type of guy who never could get a girl... His stories of how his 'romances' went downhill were too funny for words.

While Danny entertained us with yet another romance went bad story, I noticed a GOOD LOOKING Navy Capt there...had seen him before in his uniform...and there he was again.

I remember wearing a denim dress that. when sitting, came above my knee, otherwise a traditional shirt waist dress. Later, the girls and Danny were dancing and I was sitting holding our table, sipping my drink and watching the crowd.
Within minutes, the good looking older Navy Capt sat down beside me and immediately put his right hand on my exposed knee. I had never had anyone be so forward in my life. I played it cool and pretended not to notice his hand at all.

He quickly introduced himself leaving hand in place and went on to relate to me his job with one of the Senators and each statement seems to reek of how important he truly was. "Really?" I responded to his each and every pause.

The timing was perfect...
There we were...the Capt with his hand still firmly planted in full view on my knee... He had apparently had just completed his resume when Dan came back and sat down on the other side of me...
I said in a very even tone, "________, this is Dan, my husband."

_______ was so cool... he took his hand off my knee to shake Dan's hand...."Nice to meet you...catch you guys later."
and took off...That was one episode that caused me to laugh for three days.
He thought he was such a hot shot...and actually, he was, but that most certainly didn't give him the right to put a hand on me at all, especially, my knee.
Wasn't that fun?
My real husband wasn't impressed.... LOL
June

Misty of Chincoteague Story

Beautiful Days On the Eastern Shore

This is a condensed and edited version of one of my Newspaper Articles published.

Although my children are grown and gone, some of their books remain on my bookshelves.
The "Misty" books are there. "Misty of Chincoteague" was their favorite.

Whenever any one of my daughters takes time to browse my library to discover the books, they can't resist them and all have the same reaction....they say "Ahhhh Misty." Fond memories of trips to Chincoteague no doubt surface.

One of our favorite trips during their growing up years was to Virginia's Eastern shore each summer. That is the home of the famous ponies and where Misty was born, on Chincoteague Island.

The rustic Islands of Assateague and Chincoteague are one destination of the many wonderful places to explore on Virginia's Eastern Shore. Here is where time seems to have stood still. These small islands are separated from the main land and each other by only a channel. The beauty and tranquility of Chincoteague Island's National Wild Life Refuge and the wonders of Assateague Island are protected natural treasures. We love the quietness and natural beauty found there.

These remote islands received world-wide fame with the 1947 publication of Marguerite Henry's "Misty of Chincoteague." If you are not familiar, Misty is not a mythical pony. Misty was one of the "Wild Ponies" born there. We know that she actually was born at the southern point of the island. The book was the first of many "Misty" books and for children of all ages.

The history of the Islands and the resilient Chincoteague Pony is interesting. No one knows for sure how the wild horses of Virginia's Assateague Island got there. However, the theory of a Spanish shipwrecked galleon persists among the residents of Chincoteague, Assateague's sister island and is the favored story among others that exist. This story came from the Indians who once inhabited the islands.

The story goes...

"The storm raged; the Spanish ship was tossed about by tremendous waves, pushed by mighty winds of hurricane force. Suddenly the 16th century galleon, which was laden with supplies destined for Spain's colonies in the New World, broke up under the storm's wrath. The seamen scrambled to save their own lives, leaving the horses to fend for themselves. Making their way for an island which lay suspended and blurred along the obscure horizon, the horses fought the wind and the waves. With their bodies submerged, leaving only their heads above water, their nostrils flaring and gasping for air, the horses found their way to the island where they wearily clambered out of the bitter ocean. Not all survived. It is a cold and hostile shore with an environment poorly designed for the life support system of horses. Yet, in a classic illustration of the survival of species, they adapt and endure and, four centuries later, we look with awe and admiration at their descendants - the Wild Ponies of Assateague."
TRR Pony Express * May/Jun 1996

Despite commercial progress and tourism, Chincoteague has made great efforts to preserve and treasure the look and the feel of a small, intimate community while providing modern conveniences to its visitors. Many of the town's buildings have historical importance and have been restored to their original condition while transformed into shops or Bed and Breakfast Inns. Perhaps the most famous of these is the Miss Molly Inn. This B&B is a fully restored Victorian mansion built in 1886. It is best known for being the place where Marguerite Henry stayed while writing "Misty of Chincoteague."

Bicycling the island, a few years ago with my two oldest grandchildren, we came to a statue of Misty and her foal and speculated this to be the spot where she was born. We are told that her linage continues today and to own a descendant of Misty is a point of pride.

What a great time the three of us had on that special Grandmother/Grandchildren week. Jacob and Megan were ages 8 and 11 when I took them on a vacation to know a favorite spot of their mother when she was young. On that trip, it was just the three of us making memories of Chincoteague Island. A grandmother and a little boy and little girl.

Photos are from a family vacation when the dauthers were young.
June

Jane and friend Lisa crabbing~

Little sisters playing in the surf.

House we rented on Chincoteague one summer.



Waters are shallow so we took a little boat which came in handy to carry the bikes~

Beautiful Lighthouse on the island.

Young Cooks ~ Boiling Corn

One group of friends I call the "Golden Girls" because we have known each other for fifty years. We were children together and bonded early as we walked to school together. The walk was a nice long walk that put down these long solid roots of friendship.
This story is about an incident with one of the Golden Girls, Peggy.

We were in our twenties, just out of school when Peggy and I got an apartment together. Both of our Dad's went with us to buy a car as we now needed our own transportation. We selected great big Pontiac's as gas prices weren't a problem at about 17 cents per gallon.
The dealer had two cars just alike but different colors...mine was yellow and white... Peggy's was aqua and white. Our Dad's got a 'deal' was we bought two cars at the same time.

That was a great summer of our lives. We were young and totally free.

Neither one of us knew how to cook and didn't own a cookbook.
One beautiful summer day, I went for groceries and decided we would enjoy corn on the cob.

Preparing dinner, I asked, "How long do you boil corn?"
Together we decided since most thing take about 30 minutes, that was it. We put the corn in and brought it to a boil and turned it a few times during the 30 minutes of cooking.

Well, that corn was hard. Under-cooked we decided ...so next meal...45 minutes...still wasn't done...
We boiled it a full hour...we were amazed corn took so long to cook.
We were now on a quest to have tender boiled corn.

Next corn attempt, we wanted to boil it about two hours, we decided.
Peggy reminded me to
"June, remember to put the corn on to boil as soon as you get home today."
After an afternoon of boiling and failing, we finally asked someone...

"How long should you boil corn?"
"About 6-7 minutes"

Peggy got engaged almost immediately after meeting Charles, thus ending our apartment living and cooking.
June

Another Mystery~ The Saw

How about writing about the saw you kept hearing one night? Peggy T, Buda, Tx

Yes, I remember this Peggy.

Many years had rolled by since the Hampton House Mystery. My children were all grown and gone. Husband was on a business trip. I was alone, which I enjoy from time to time. Had made a simple supper for myself and taken it on a tray to my favorite chair in the Master Bedroom. I invited my favorite TV show to keep me company. Shortly after settling down, I heard a saw buzzing and wondered what my neighbor could be building.

My supper and first TV show were over and my neighbor was still sawing over there. The saw would run, then would stop. As I cleared away the tray and started a movie, I glanced out to see what he could be building and to my surprise, their house was quite. In fact, it was getting dark and I could tell they were not at home. So~ therefore, it had to be the neighbor across the street.

I settled into a TV movie and put it out of my mind. However, whoever it was, continued to saw...stop and saw more.
This went on for the entire movie...and now it was totally DARK and been dark for some time.
The sawing and stopping was still going on.
WHAT THE HECK?

I went to the front door and there I discovered there were no lights on at any of my neighbor's houses. Everyone seemed to be gone.
I went to the deck and to my surprise, the "sawing" sounds were not outside! I went back and walked out on the front stoop and the noise was not out there either. THE SAWING SOUNDS WERE ONLY INSIDE THE HOUSE. WITH ME!!!

I went from floor to floor listening to try to pinpoint the sound. I checked everything, water, toilets, air conditioner, heat, stove, dishwasher, computer, phones. It was simply a sound that couldn't be pinpointed. I listened to walls and soon had to admit, the sound was more of a screeching noise. Was someone trying to frighten me? Why would this happen when I was alone with no neighbors at home?

I thought of the isolation of the house. I thought of the large lake and woods. I thought I should be concerned and with these thoughts, I phoned the police.

Two young officers responded and I apologized profusely for calling, but I just needed to know if anyone else could even hear this and of so, maybe solve the problem.

They searched, listened, re-checked everything, inside and out. I did notice they stayed together, but then I stayed with them too. They stayed about 45 minutes before saying they had never encountered anything like that before. THEN, the noise just stopped and didn't go again. We were standing downstairs, looking around, and waiting for something to happen.
Silence of the night was all we heard.

One of the Officers said that if he believed in Ghosts, he would entertain that concept.
With this comment, they both put their flashlights away which to me said, "We are done here."

"GHOST?" I said.
They smiled. I didn't.
They left, I didn't.

Another sleepless night. I kept thinking in case I disappeared during the night, that policeman could entertain his concept of what might have happened.
We have NEVER heard that noise again. It remains another unexplained mystery in my life.
June

What Is Meant by "Well-Written"?

"Your writing about writing in this a.m. email set me to thinking about what makes good writing. So often at our book club the hostess/leader comments that a book is well-written and that always sets me to thinking about what they mean when they say that. Are they really dealing with the style, vocabulary, turns of phrase, uses of figures of speech, etc. or do they simply mean it is a good plot?
I would be interested in your views on what is meant when someone says a work is well written." Jane M.

Yes, lets talk about that.

For me, I enjoy falling in love with the characters, or the place and enjoy the story unfolding for me. So now, how is that done?

I would say with lots of "good writing" by placement and timing of information. Style and timing are critical for a fiction. Correctness is critical for a non-fiction.

What do you think? Comments please.

June