tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-330296572024-03-26T23:37:47.395-07:00The Bone-eye: A Writer's AdventuresBonnie Jo Campbell's blogbonniejohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383768846489028702noreply@blogger.comBlogger208125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33029657.post-6180879497977598572012-04-18T17:58:00.003-07:002012-04-18T18:00:07.087-07:00Story Week Rocks Chicago!<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WX35QEyvfqg/T49jfOAZrGI/AAAAAAAAAu8/w6RQwOrhx8E/s1600/StoryWeeketc%2B011.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WX35QEyvfqg/T49jfOAZrGI/AAAAAAAAAu8/w6RQwOrhx8E/s400/StoryWeeketc%2B011.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732910238652804194" /></a><br />Hey, everybody still following this blog: <br />I'm currently blogging at Wordpress, and you can read my new blog about Story Week and Columbia College here: <br />http://gorillagirladventures.wordpress.com/bonniejohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383768846489028702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33029657.post-75961240690868987072012-03-30T20:58:00.003-07:002012-03-30T21:00:04.545-07:00Visiting Oakland University<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--Ww6GM6_54o/T3aA_N9WA9I/AAAAAAAAAuo/kptiiLywv7k/s1600/GinaOakland%2B001.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--Ww6GM6_54o/T3aA_N9WA9I/AAAAAAAAAuo/kptiiLywv7k/s400/GinaOakland%2B001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5725905799815234514" /></a><br /><br />Hello, Blog Readers! I still think I'm moving to WordPress...and so you can read my new blog entry about Oakland University here:<br /><br />http://gorillagirladventures.wordpress.com/2012/03/30/oakland-university-visit/<br /><br />Why do I feel indecisive about this? BJCbonniejohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383768846489028702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33029657.post-15782720573919067332012-03-11T17:51:00.002-07:002012-03-11T17:53:45.674-07:00Eating at AWP 2012<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Orchb4wZ5kc/T11I85FpSmI/AAAAAAAAAuY/JxSkSx6zxCs/s1600/AWP%2Btime%2B029.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Orchb4wZ5kc/T11I85FpSmI/AAAAAAAAAuY/JxSkSx6zxCs/s400/AWP%2Btime%2B029.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5718807312784247394" /></a><br /><br /><br />I'm moving my blog to wordpress, so go here to read the latest entry<br /><br />http://gorillagirladventures.wordpress.com/2012/03/09/awp-2012-fun/<br /><br />I wonder if there's any way to take my old blog entries with me to word press.<br /><br />Happy end of winter! BJCbonniejohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383768846489028702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33029657.post-44197682653494029382012-02-18T19:49:00.003-08:002012-02-19T19:43:17.764-08:00First Visit to Notre Dame<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R5s67be_2I0/T0BxtQQ5LDI/AAAAAAAAAuA/WKuLwNysNe0/s1600/NotreDame%2B004.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R5s67be_2I0/T0BxtQQ5LDI/AAAAAAAAAuA/WKuLwNysNe0/s400/NotreDame%2B004.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710689349779663922" /></a><br /><br />What a great visit at the Notre Dame Literary Festival this week! Though my pal Susan Ramsey got her MFA at Notre Dame, along with other friends, I have never been to the Notre Dame campus before now. Wow, talk about a lot of sports fields! My host for much of the visit was festival organizer Arnav Dutt, who seemed to be the most popular undergraduate on campus. Wherever we were, people were waving at him and hugging him. The other student organizer of the Literary Festival was Aubrey Butts. Also in this photo is Joshua Wilson, Program Coordinator from the student activities office. <br /><br />The candy pictured in this photo is from Don York, the tow truck driver. I was out running in the neighborhood and he pulled over beside me and said Happy Valentine's Day and handed me the box of candy. Very surprising! (By the way, I am wearing the wrong pants in this photo; these are the jeans I usually wear for doing farm chores and for driving. I had washed a nicer pair of jeans to wear for my reading, but forgot to bring them.)<br /><br />The photo I wish I'd taken was of Jaimy Gordon, William O'Rourke, and me at our panel on Thursday afternoon. Jaimy, who was recovering from laryngitis, said all manner of smart things; William was clever, and I filled in a few bits here and there. William O'Rourke published a story of mine, "Dream Houses," in Notre Dame Review in 2011, and I am grateful for that. Jaimy read on Wednesday night, and I read on Thursday.<br /><br />Another photo that I should have taken was of Touchdown Jesus, which you can see here, in the center of campus: http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3239/2964989607_455a2786fd.jpg <br /><br />Also reading on Thursday, right after me, was Blake Butler, and I wanted to hear him read, but I was out at the bookselling table talking to all manner of Michigan expats and also talking/arguing with the gracious bookseller about politics and reproductive rights.Note to self: when at a Catholic University, make larger effort to avoid discussing reproductive rights. <br /><br />Aubrey Butts was from Michigan, as was Melanie Page (of Mt. Pleasant), and this guy (pictured below) last name Fuchs, whose dad Hardy Fuchs teaches German at Kalamazoo College. And just to show how things come back around to where they begin, Professor Fuchs is pals with Jaimy Gordon and her gentleman friend Peter Blickle. <br /><br />I got a glimpse of Jarrett Haley, of Bull Men's Fiction, but he slipped away before I could chat with him, lure him into a fistfight, or even photograph him. I thought I might get a glimpse of ex-Kalamazooan David Dodd Lee, who teaches at University of Indiana at South Bend, but there was, alas, no DDL sighting. <br /> <br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-k-RWr8a-tXY/T0Bx1uGc87I/AAAAAAAAAuM/AsqOBKziN4o/s1600/NotreDame%2B001.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-k-RWr8a-tXY/T0Bx1uGc87I/AAAAAAAAAuM/AsqOBKziN4o/s400/NotreDame%2B001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710689495227888562" /></a>bonniejohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383768846489028702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33029657.post-227308886776903042012-02-11T17:55:00.000-08:002012-02-12T19:07:48.512-08:00Nashville Skyline<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KPcLYFEN5jo/TzccWLquSCI/AAAAAAAAAtw/hdwfiqFKjlY/s1600/Nashville%2B003.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KPcLYFEN5jo/TzccWLquSCI/AAAAAAAAAtw/hdwfiqFKjlY/s400/Nashville%2B003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5708062220130076706" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Tony Earley invited me to Vanderbilt University, and I was bowled over. I mean, Tony Earley, author of the novel JIM THE BOY, whose narrator is such a good kid and of the story, "The Prophet of Jupiter" that ran in <span style="font-style:italic;">Harper's</span> and also the author of that very funny graduation speech at Warren Wilson. He took me to eat BBQ at Pucketts where I had "meat and two." Then he showed me his house in East Nashville. He and his wife have put on a kitchen addition and filled the place with fabulous color. <br /><br />I also got to meet faculty fiction writers Lorraine Lopez and Nancy Reisman (and also Nancy's charming poet husband who has great hair, Rick Hilles). <br /><br />What a pleasure to meet the graduate students, and to visit again with student Jill Schepmann, whom I'd met at the Southern Festival of Books last October. She kindly got me to my hotel, and then, the following day, to breakfast at Noshville restaurant and to the airport for my flight home. Our dinner at Sunset Grill was delicious; I had scallops that were wow! <br /><br />After the reading Thursday night, we went to a reception at the Robert Penn Warren Center, and that is where the last of us posed around a statue of Robert Penn Warren, wearing winter hat and scarf. <br /><br />Pictured here are (across the back), Amanda Abel, Tony Early, me, Robert Penn Warren, Claire Jimenez, Marysa LaRowe, Janet Thielke (and across the front) Kate Greene, Jill Schepmann, Rebecca Bernard.<br /> <br />Afterwards, the gals took me out to Dooley's for drinks. My record in Nashville is perfect; every night that I've spent in Nashville so far has been filled with great conversation and too much to drink. Thank you everybody who was so hospitable.<br /><br />(Not to drop names, but last time I was here, I somehow ended up in my hotel bar drinking too much with Stewart O'Nan and Chad Harbach.) <br /><br />Vanderbilt was recently named one of the top 20 MFA programs in the country, and Tony Earley told me that they accept only one percent of their applicants. <br /><br />If you want to look up any of these fabulous folks, <br />Link to pages about Vanderbilt MFA students: http://www.vanderbilt.edu/creativewriting/description-of-program/current-mfa-students/<br />Link to faculty pages: <br />http://www.vanderbilt.edu/creativewriting/faculty/<br />Tony Early giving the Warren Wilson graduation speech<br />http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KoB72plJyPUbonniejohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383768846489028702noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33029657.post-71981404145074826922012-02-02T19:46:00.002-08:002012-02-26T07:51:01.285-08:00The Good Kitchen<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ReRCEfBf6U4/TytT0aNaCqI/AAAAAAAAArw/k2xBl7WIcCI/s1600/kitchen1.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ReRCEfBf6U4/TytT0aNaCqI/AAAAAAAAArw/k2xBl7WIcCI/s400/kitchen1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704745512848722594" /></a><br /><br />Some of you might wonder why I haven’t posted a blog in a while. One of the reasons has to do with my bad kitchen. My bad kitchen was nothing new, and I’d put up with it for twenty-four years, but suddenly it seemed too bad to tolerate. My old cast iron kitchen sink was supposed to be white, but it was brown with all of its porcelain finish worn off. My countertop was dingy and stained and had wrinkles in it, wrinkles from fifty years ago. The “wallpaper” behind my sink was actually shelf paper layered upon older shelf paper. <br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oJVrmE_7TXo/TytUkKG7a1I/AAAAAAAAAsI/rJT535MI4wA/s1600/trimstoveTJC%2B002.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 112px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oJVrmE_7TXo/TytUkKG7a1I/AAAAAAAAAsI/rJT535MI4wA/s200/trimstoveTJC%2B002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704746333160303442" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VXOM3BEJpBQ/TytU-ZYzeGI/AAAAAAAAAsU/u3u3yCb2EsE/s1600/_MG_0094.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VXOM3BEJpBQ/TytU-ZYzeGI/AAAAAAAAAsU/u3u3yCb2EsE/s320/_MG_0094.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704746783938410594" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pAopjhWHhMo/TytaapCVXlI/AAAAAAAAAs4/GKmx-4yvJf4/s1600/trimstoveTJC%2B010.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pAopjhWHhMo/TytaapCVXlI/AAAAAAAAAs4/GKmx-4yvJf4/s320/trimstoveTJC%2B010.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704752766733606482" /></a><br /><br /><br />I didn’t realize that the kitchen I wanted was considered “retro” until I tried to create it and discovered that Home Depot and Lowes didn’t have the materials that I wanted to use. I know that some of you believe in moving gracefully into the future, whatever that entails, but some of us want to move more slowly or even resist. For those who are like me, I suggest you visit the Retro Renovations website, created by the remarkable Pam Kueber whose motto is “Love the home you’re in.”<br /><br />http://retrorenovation.com/<br /><br />For anyone who likes a mid-century style kitchen or elements of that style in their modern home, I suggest you start reading Pam’s blog and study her website. Here you can find ideas, instructions, lists of materials, and the contacts and links for manufacturers who still create these products, which are often cheaper (and always more interesting) than the contemporary stuff . <br /><br />My dream kitchen involved a cast iron sink that sits flush or just below a laminated countertop, in the same way the one I was taking out did. The key to this sink set up is the Hudee ring (pronounced “Hootie”) If any of you are interested in this style of sink, which allows you to wipe your crumbs off the counter and into your cast iron sink, you should read about the hudee ring:<br /><br />http://retrorenovation.com/2011/06/28/a-short-history-of-hudee-rings-from-the-president-of-vance-industries-including-sex-sells/<br /><br />Let me make clear that my brother Tom Campbell did all the heavy lifting in this arena, gaining a real understanding of how this hardware works to support a 90 lb cast iron sink slightly below a plywood countertop. (And by the way, Tom is currently unemployed and might be engaged at a reasonable rate.)<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cTHLArMDLVk/TytXaPt954I/AAAAAAAAAss/fXAkqQ8GNYw/s1600/trimstoveTJC%2B028.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 224px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cTHLArMDLVk/TytXaPt954I/AAAAAAAAAss/fXAkqQ8GNYw/s400/trimstoveTJC%2B028.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704749461402412930" /></a><br /><br />And I did not want a pre-formed laminated pressboard countertop. I wanted plywood, and if I couldn’t have the coral boomerang laminate (Formica stopped making it), then I wanted the Red Xabia Arborite laminate that I found on Pam’s site. The price was very reasonable, and I was able to order a 5x12 sheet of the stuff so that my 11-foot-long counter does not have a seam in it. (Thank you, Tom, for insisting I order the longer piece). I’ve posted a photograph of us installing the countertop---note the lengths of PVC separating the laminate from the plywood before we glued it down. <br /><br />All the contractors I talked to said I would not be able to install my own laminate on my countertop, but Tom and I did just fine, despite losing a lot of brain cells due to inhaling contact cement. <br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UCts2LZk6bg/TytUBVQ6qdI/AAAAAAAAAr8/_eOdd-mqNio/s1600/IMG_9744.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UCts2LZk6bg/TytUBVQ6qdI/AAAAAAAAAr8/_eOdd-mqNio/s400/IMG_9744.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704745734859565522" /></a><br /><br />Also, I must mention Eagle Mouldings aluminum trim. The new-style pre-formed countertop that you might order doesn’t need trim (and that’s probably part of its appeal), but I’ve always loved countertops built with shiny metal, and Thor Smithe, who owns Eagle Mouldings was a pleasure to work with.<br /><br /> http://www.eaglemouldingsinc.com/Products.aspx<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uPGlV58adv4/TywodsAt1LI/AAAAAAAAAtc/ESj6Xvg7U9o/s1600/KitchenMore%2B022.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uPGlV58adv4/TywodsAt1LI/AAAAAAAAAtc/ESj6Xvg7U9o/s320/KitchenMore%2B022.JPG" border="0" <br />alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704979318467056818" /></a><br /><br />I called him, and he talked me through the trim options for my project. Here is some of the trim:<br /><br /><br />And let's not forget the 1947 Kalamazoo Electric stove that Darling Christopher found to make our mid-century kitchen complete. <br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OFa49_BbdDQ/Tyta5PxmUiI/AAAAAAAAAtE/sKiAmbmDGjU/s1600/KitchenMore%2B031.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 224px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OFa49_BbdDQ/Tyta5PxmUiI/AAAAAAAAAtE/sKiAmbmDGjU/s400/KitchenMore%2B031.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704753292528472610" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RxZNALOMkJI/TytbUikq62I/AAAAAAAAAtQ/__zC9cY4V0k/s1600/KitchenMore%2B043.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RxZNALOMkJI/TytbUikq62I/AAAAAAAAAtQ/__zC9cY4V0k/s400/KitchenMore%2B043.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704753761430989666" /></a><br /><br />I am very happy with the result. I have been saying that I do not intend to take on any more projects, but my brother Tom found on the Retro Renovation site replacements for all the American Standard sink hardware for my bathroom sink. Hmmm... maybe in another 24 years.bonniejohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383768846489028702noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33029657.post-58517234647516096662011-11-20T11:25:00.000-08:002011-11-25T10:04:54.612-08:00Finding the Tusk in Tuscaloosa<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IjuScYUx9Bo/TslSas3TDBI/AAAAAAAAAp0/Lyn7XEXQAMQ/s1600/nov2011%2B003.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IjuScYUx9Bo/TslSas3TDBI/AAAAAAAAAp0/Lyn7XEXQAMQ/s400/nov2011%2B003.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5677159423950392338" /></a><br /><br />Here is a table full fabulous graduate students from the University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa. For three days I conducted a class with a few dozen students, many of whom joined me for pizza at Mellow Mushroom, where I got to try a squash-based pizza and a steak dinner on a crust. The names of the people moving clockwise from me (stage left) with you and moving to the right are: Dara Ewing (of course), Saiyde Meerzai, Laurel Billings, Stephen Thomas, Kenny Kruse, Emma Furman, Ashley Chambers, Katie Berger, Rachel Adams, and Andy Johnson.<br /><br />I was treated kindly by Dara Ewing, Assistant to the Director, Program in Creative Writing. Dara drove me both ways from and to the airport in Birmingham, kept me fed and happy, as well as up to date about all the goings on about the campus. Wendy Rawlings, Director of the program, bought me a nice glass of wine with dinner on the night of my reading, since the official university money can't go toward the purchase of liquor, no matter what sort of alcohol-soaked artists they bring in. The campus was gearing up for a big football game, and on my last night there, about a thousand portable toilets appeared in the quad. <br /><br />At my reading, I was introduced by Tessa Fontaine, who gave me the most excellent modular introduction imaginable. It was a little difficult to follow her fabulousness. Afterward, I was lucky enough to get to chat with Michael Martone, whose hair looks better than everybody else's hair. A wonderful Book Arts student, Stephanie Jacobs made a broadsheet of my short short "Donkey Foal," and it was so gorgeous that they were all snatched up. I had a couple extras, but can't seem to find them. Maybe I'll get Stephanie to take a picture of one and post it somewhere.<br /><br />Below see two photos from the hotel I stayed at on the campus. I'm posed here with fiction writer Kellie Wells, who now teaches at U of A. and her excellent boyfriend Tom. Farther below see my elbow on the tusk of Tuscaloosa. I did buy Chris a Crimson Tide T-shirt. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CvxolzbGFc0/TslS82mGo4I/AAAAAAAAAqA/QgPjz48auVo/s1600/nov2011%2B005.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CvxolzbGFc0/TslS82mGo4I/AAAAAAAAAqA/QgPjz48auVo/s400/nov2011%2B005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5677160010678182786" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jjMrd0pOuEw/TslTUPmK4vI/AAAAAAAAAqM/7cb2xzF94jE/s1600/nov2011%2B007.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jjMrd0pOuEw/TslTUPmK4vI/AAAAAAAAAqM/7cb2xzF94jE/s400/nov2011%2B007.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5677160412526338802" /></a>bonniejohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383768846489028702noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33029657.post-84077399942824706202011-10-26T20:19:00.001-07:002011-10-26T20:19:51.254-07:00Harvest update!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Wqsps3kFVgc/TqjIG-dGFdI/AAAAAAAAAok/tbYMoI0tXW8/s1600/NashvilleMadisonWine%2B029.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 224px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Wqsps3kFVgc/TqjIG-dGFdI/AAAAAAAAAok/tbYMoI0tXW8/s400/NashvilleMadisonWine%2B029.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668000153215571410" /></a><br /><br />Okay,so the elderberry wine is at 11 percent alcohol already, so this picture of me in my Bull Men's Fiction shirt is a little outdated. It shows me at the stage of smashing the elderberries in my fingers. Grapes are big enough that one can get in the bathtub or a trough and stomp around on them, but elderberries must be pinched between your fingers, or at the very least smashed in the closed fists and it takes a really long time to pulverize them. You can't use a food processor or do anything else that would smash the seeds inside, because then the wine would be bitter, so human hands are the best tool. Let me give a shout out to Bull Men's Fiction Here's their website where you can read all kinds of fascinating manly literary stuff: http://bullmensfiction.com/<br /><br />I put the pulp inside my primary fermenter in mesh bag, so that when I needed to remove the pulp a week later, I could just remove the bag and squeeze it and let all the juice drip through it. Now it is happily fermenting in the kitchen, smelling wonderful. <br /><br />Once the wine was under control. I moved on to the pawpaws. I wasn't keen on going pawpaw picking until my ma said that pawpaws were part of my heritage and she wasn't always going to be there to pick pawpaws and that I really had to visit all her favorite patches with her to make sure that I knew where they were. Well, it was a windfall. Or rather, a tree-shake. You can't pick the fruits from the branches, but must wait until they fall. Shaking the tree to make them fall is okay. Here are a few of them. They are America's largest native fruit, custardy, papaya-like, mango-like, banana-like. Di Seuss, the famous poet said they are "a melange of all fruits." If you haven't tried one, you're missing out! <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-L09cuqpHJhE/TqjL7u-91hI/AAAAAAAAAow/jxWn-SbSl5k/s1600/pawpaws.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-L09cuqpHJhE/TqjL7u-91hI/AAAAAAAAAow/jxWn-SbSl5k/s400/pawpaws.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668004358130619922" /></a><br /><br />Next week we'll look into the osage orange harvest!bonniejohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383768846489028702noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33029657.post-61549579876421224542011-10-17T17:41:00.000-07:002011-10-18T10:37:19.286-07:00We Need Your Comstock Stories!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8JrepxQ0-bg/TpzMS4WIIQI/AAAAAAAAAoA/A6usCsn9FKQ/s1600/ComstockStoryProj%25231.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8JrepxQ0-bg/TpzMS4WIIQI/AAAAAAAAAoA/A6usCsn9FKQ/s400/ComstockStoryProj%25231.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664627056060145922" /></a><br />Tell Us Your Comstock Stories!<br /><br />The Comstock Township Library and Comstock writer Bonnie Jo Campbell want to hear your little stories, and soon (by November 1). The stories or anecdotes must be true and short and have some connection to Comstock, Michigan or nearby areas or Comstock folks. The stories might be historical or they might have taken place last week. We want to hear about your lives, your families, and your bodies, minds and souls. Humor is always welcome, so we hope you’ll have fun with this. <br /><br />A few years ago, I worked with the Comstock Township Library to collect big and little stories from folks who have a connection to my hometown, and we got about seventy submissions, all of which were a delight to read. Some people wrote about farming or local businesses, some wrote about tragedies and comedies, some wrote about their favorite local eccentrics, past and present. Some just told what life was like in a different time or about landmarks that have disappeared. Nellie Buckhout wrote about the circus elephant that died and ended up at the old rendering works on East Main. Susanna Campbell wrote several stories, one about the time her milkcow got in the oat bin.<br /><br />This autumn I’m working with the library again, and I want to encourage anyone with a current or past Comstock connection to share stories with us. We are especially interested in the kinds of stories that you like to tell around the table when your family and friends get together. These can be a few sentences or several pages. The due date is November 1, and you can drop off your work in person, mail it, or send it electronically on or before November 1. You can also contact me through my website (www.bonniejocampbell.com). I’m going to choose a few favorites and the library will give prizes. Anyone who is interested in telling or hearing stories can get together with us at the library at 7pm, November 10. All are welcome for a fun evening of storytelling.<br /><br />Tell us about local people (or animals) that you think we should notice or remember ● Perhaps you have stories about people and their jobs (celery, corset-making, Bell’s beer) ● Farming and livestock ● Interesting houses ● Church activities and personalities ●Nature (poison ivy?) ●Native American relics ● Tragedies (train wrecks, tornadoes, untimely deaths) ● Celebrations odd and ordinary ● Girl scout or Boy scout or 4-H experiences ● Encounters with the police or other authorities ● Interesting crimes ● Meeting a famous person ● Remarkable student-teacher relationships ● Personal successes and failures ● Learning to drive ● Love in surprising places ● Weddings ● Funerals ● Weird relatives ● Special abilities that some people have ● Experiences on the roads, river, streams or railroad tracks<br /><br />If you want to see what folks wrote the last time around, you can find it all in a volume in the local history room of the Comstock library. Oh, and we’re willing to expand the boundaries of Comstock if you have a story that comes close---maybe something from Galesburg or the fairgrounds. If you know somebody who wants to tell a story rather than write it, we can find somebody to transcribe it for you. Writers do not need to be Comstock residents. The library’s phone number is 345-0136.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-knZtsCNVS8o/TpzMrIGwjjI/AAAAAAAAAoM/X6BYxM8tSxI/s1600/ComstockStoryProj%25232.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-knZtsCNVS8o/TpzMrIGwjjI/AAAAAAAAAoM/X6BYxM8tSxI/s320/ComstockStoryProj%25232.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664627472607514162" /></a><br /><br />Below, I am pasting in an old newsletter from 2005 featuring some Comstock stories. I look forward to hearing from you. BJC<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">The Letter Parade April 2005</span><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />Comstock Story Project</span><br /><br />For the last month or so, I have been collecting stories about Comstock: anecdotes, profiles and informative pieces, for a project I’m doing for the Comstock Township Library. The pieces can be historical or contemporary. They can be as short as a few lines or as long as a few pages, and can be written by locals or by outsiders looking in. I’m not looking for profound insight or literary merit; I’m just hoping to create, through the different visions and voices, a kind of patchwork of Comstock and its people, past and present. I’m reprinting a few pieces of my own here, plus some other family contributions that might give a sense of at least one neighborhood. Seventy-five pages of these stories are now collected in a spiral bound book in the Comstock Library’s history room. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Tom in the Trees</span> by Bonnie<br /><br />My brother Tom lived in trees much of his early life. For a while he lived in what we called “the playhouse,” an old one-room wash-house built for my granny’s wringer washer, where we used to all hang out, but after that was partially burned down—probably by us smoking—Tom took to the trees. He was always a good climber, Tom, but that wasn’t the whole story; I think he just liked to be above it all, able to watch life from a superior position. He was untouchable up there. His forts started out simple, but his later tree houses were elaborate multi-level affairs that contained mattresses, stereos, a television, space heaters. He ran extension cords from the barns and workshop to keep himself powered. His biggest fort had a screened-in porch. In 1979 a tornado passed through Comstock and tore apart that last tree house; my brother George remembers going up to the barnyard afterward and seeing Tom’s stereo dangling from a tree by its electric cord, while much of the structural wood was scattered on the ground. Tom is the middle of us five kids, and back then he had pale skin, through which you could see blue veins, and also the most marvelous thick hair, nearly white and long enough that it formed pipe curls. He never would ride the bus to school, and until he got a driver’s license he rode his bike in all weather. My sister Sheila reminds me that Tom used to wear sweaters to school in the cold mornings but that he wouldn’t want to wear them home when it was warmer, so he stored them in his locker, until his locker was full. Then he’d stuff all his sweaters inside one sweater and make Sheila carry it home on the bus for him. She called it Tom’s sweater ball. Tom slept in his tree houses summer and winter—one winter he installed a wood stove. And I think one of his cats used to stay up there with him. Tom says this last tree fort, was a twelve-by-twelve shed that he disassembled on the ground and reassembled in the trees. The amazing thing is that none of these tree houses collapsed while he was in it.<br /> Tom says, “The fact that we were not maimed by one of these works of architecture was due to my constant following of Frank Lloyd Wright’s principles. You had to take into account the fluid dynamics of the wind blowing through the trees.” Tom remembers lying on his back, staring at the trees, toking a joint, and getting one of those energy spurts that only a sixteen year old could understand, one for whom “even drugs could not quell his emotions.”<br /> Tom is forty-two now and still a great builder. Recently he constructed an elaborate deck on his house, which is set high above Long Lake. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Comstock Kid Stories from Terry Herlihy</span> (Terry was born in 1944)<br /><br />1. Our Comstock house was downstream from a rendering works, run by my friend Doug Hahn's dad. They had ice-cold bottles of kool-aid pop for two cents in the break room, but the smell was so horrendously awful you couldn't tell cherry from grape. My beagle Pepper loved the place. All over the field around the plant there were piles of hair ten feet high and full of worms. The plant rendered dead meat into tallow and dumped the rest into the creek where it would drift past the house and pollute the ponds downstream.<br /> Doug had a fat hound dog that was always pregnant or nursing a dozen pups. The older pups would stay around long enough to knock up Mom so after 10 generations they were almost as good as clones.<br /> Doug was really afraid of his dad. One time we were fishing in Morrow lake and he pulled his lure out of the water to avoid hooking a big bass ‘cause he thought it might break the line and get him beaten up for losing the lure. He really got his ass kicked when he threw a huge cherry bomb with the wick burned down to nothing into his dad's furnace. He should have stuck to losing lures. Another time we were launching corks out of bottles using dry ice and water as a propellant. Then we got bored with chasing corks decided to launch the bottles. After Doug walked in the launch path for a better view, my mom took him to the hospital to get his head sewed up.<br /><br />2. From the time I was two until I was nine, my mom was a Girl Scout leader, and I got dragged all over. On one hike, I was near the rear when the whole troop walked upstream along the creek, above where the third dam used to be, in the muck or morrow or whatever that gook is. It was practically like quicksand. In minutes, Mom and about 15 scouts were up to their arm pits, some of them way out from solid ground. Because I weighed only about 45 pounds, I could crawl out with branches for the girls to crawl up on. It took an hour to get them all out. <br /> Before Girl Scout cookies, the Comstock troop had everyone saving newspaper and magazines, which they picked up and sold to the paper mills in Kalamazoo. When the cookie deal hit, the troop blew off all the paper savers, but I had a little wagon (the one that is still at the family cottage), and I picked up all the paper and magazines until I had a truckload, and then dad would bring a truck home from work to take the stuff to the paper mill. Sometimes Dad would charge me a dime a mile for the truck so I would give him a dollar out of the 35 dollars I would get.<br /> The girl scouts never picked up returnable bottles to raise money so they were pretty much mine. I would walk from school every day and turn them in at each store along the way, and that kept me funded, so I could buy with candy, pop and gum to rot out my teeth as fast as they could grow in. Also money was good for buying every comic book I wanted, including Uncle Scrooge McDuck, Little Lulu, and Bugs Bunny.<br /> I was also in the 4-H club, and my dad taught me photography with an old box camera. Either the 4-H or scouts taught me to identify birds and trees, but I moved to Chicago before I could win a stuffed turtle like my sister Susy got.<br /> The Korean War ran up scrap steel prices way up to current prices for a while. It's amazing how much stuff I found laying around in the woods, like plows, racks, pieces of cars and bikes, and they would add up to a truck load in a jiffy, like $75 less $1 for dad the trucker.<br /> I buried a box in the ground to see what critters would fall in at night. I caught lots of toads, frogs, and turtles, and a shrew that bit my finger badly. I worried for months about whether it had had rabies. I left the box there for years, but I built ramps for the shrews to get out. I also filled the trees with ladders and platforms and dug tunnels in the ground, trenches covered with boards and dirt.<br /> The science teacher came to 2nd grade to ask where the frogs on top of each other might be found (they do that when they lay eggs). I didn't want to embarrass her in front of the class, but we all knew that every last frog egg had been laid weeks before<br /><br />3. Dick Ackerman lived just north of us on on 26th Street. When we were in second grade, in 1956, Dick Ackerman and I had a contest for how many pairs of pants we could wear to school one minus-20 F day. He had seven. I had six. He got busted when he mooned the principal when he only meant to pull down pair number six.<br /> Dick and I used to swim in the pond, and that was always followed by leach removal with a saltshaker. Dick held the record for the most leaches, about 27 or so at one time. I used to show Dick all the critters along the path I took to school (along the pond), the biggest turtles, the loudest frog, etc. Once in the winter I went through the ice and was black with muck to the neck. I continued on to school, but they sent me home to change. In the summer we would spend hours foraging for dewberries, wild strawberries, blackberries, and random raspberries. Mushrooms too, though puff balls and moral mushrooms were the only ones I knew. I would pick puffballs as big as softballs and my mom would fry them for me. Usually, though, they were already gone to spores, and we would stomp them into dust. That dust wasn't anywhere near as dense as the dust we would make in Dick's dad's garage throwing dirt in the air for hours until our lungs were so full of dust we couldn't breathe. I don't know why we did that. <br /> Dick Ackerman tried to invent the waterproof cherry bomb by lighting and putting one in a jar, but it went off while he was screwing on the lid. He and I did lots of kid stuff like making a blast furnace behind the house with a piece of stove exhaust duct and some granite blocks. It could melt glass pretty well. We caught northern pike in the creek with an orange sack and coat hanger fishnets. Dick found a rifle that we kept hidden. We would have killed ourselves if we knew how to buy ammo. I liked the fact that Dick didn't kill frogs and turtles like everyone else did. There was a myth about the mulberry tree in Dick’s yard: he said it had been planted in 5 lbs of sugar and that was why its fruit was white and sweet.<br /> Dick’s mom and dad on a hot day would take us to Pickerel lake which was about 100 F and filled with floating cotexes and other trash. On the drive there and back, Dick’s dad and mom drank a case or so of Pfeiffer's beer and threw the bottles out of the car. (This was also the height of polio season). One summer Dick grew a watermelon, watching it for months, and his brother ate it just when Dick was going to pick it. Dick claimed that he fell out of the tree house above our stable and landed right on my sister’s horse. We used to play cards with Dick's brother's deck of cards, which featured photos of naked people doing weird stuff on them. Dick claimed to have introduced the girls of 26th Street to sex and claimed to have some resultant descendants. The last time I saw him we were driving around at 100 mph on back roads with Listerine for brake fluid (so it wouldn't freeze). <br /> The fact that I was forbidden to see Dick sort of cut down on our contact, but I'm sure I would have tried out his homemade scuba tanks with him if I had been there. Instead, he tried them out alone in the upper pond, and he drowned. He was seventeen or eighteen, I think.<br /><br />4. Don't forget Herman the Railroad crossing guy. When a train came, he would get out of his shack with a paddle to stop cars. When we kids finished spending all our money on candy or pop at Reed's or the Beer Store, we would hang out with Herman in his shack. He would bore us with stories of doing the same railroad job up the line somewhere. His paddle was a smaller version of the stop/slow paddles of held up by the highway flag-people.<br /> In the summer the best swimming was at Lambeck's creek, which was what they called the creek upstream of the rendering works. Upstream of the place it wasn't full of floating hunks of dead stuff. Mr. Lambeck had neat stuffed animals all over his cabin, not beanie-baby-type animals but dead deer heads and creatures all over his walls. <br /> I would go all these places with my dog Pepper. He actually accomplished the romantic feats Dick bragged about. There were farmers who actually shot at us from their farms, surrounded by half-beagle half-pedigreed pups.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">The Hill House by Bonnie<br /></span><br />In the summer, my mother expected all of us kids to be outside doing something, and often we spent the entire day on the run, riding horses, taking walks, staging neighborhood battles between good and evil. As I recall, the only kids we thought were evil were Gerry Mattimore and Tom Bloom, and sometimes if we weren’t battling them, we hung out with them, though they had once killed one of our laying hens. My brother Mike’s best friend was Roy Hill and he was always with us Campbell kids, whether we were building tree forts or stealing road signs, or slogging upstream in the Comstock Creek. Roy developed a method of getting rid of bloodsuckers without salt; he stuck the end of a certain kind of stick into the leech’s head and twisted in a certain way, and the leech came off. My brother Mike recently reminded me that all the girls liked Roy, but that Roy didn’t really like girls though nobody (including Roy) really knew what that meant back then. Roy lived on Worden Street in a house where the upstairs bedroom plaster walls revealed a lot of plaster lathe; he lived with his sister Diane, his mother Una, a woman they called Aunt Gloria, and Gloria’s daughter Rose. Una was a small thin chain smoker who liked to laugh. Aunt Gloria was gigantic and rather grumpy, and she kept a secret food stash of decadent sweet things in a locked metal cupboard. In retrospect, it seems clear Gloria and Una were domestic partners. One day Gloria fell through the rotting porch boards outside the house’s back door, and she was so big they had to lift her out with a tow truck winch. Roy moved to Florida when he was about nineteen. He came back once or twice after that to visit, and then ten or twelve years ago he died in an automobile accident. <br /> When the road commission put in the new K Avenue and closed off the Worden Street railroad crossing, only one house was taken down, the mustard colored Hill House. Before they put tore it down, I went there and tried to look in the boarded up windows, to see where Aunt Gloria’s metal cupboard. As far as I could tell, Roy and Diane had mostly survived on white bread and margarine and whatever junk food they bought at the beer store. I talked to the neighbors, the June & George Boney, and they expressed sadness about the Hill House coming down and about the Worden Street rail crossing being closed down. They told me a story about their realtor getting her car stuck on the tracks—she got out and let the train take her car down the line, even though it contained a briefcase with a thousand dollars in it. June described another event, seeing her neighbors, a mother and a grandmother, hit by the train and killed before her eyes, while she was watching their children. The Boneys said that Una had died and that Roy’s sister Diane still lived somewhere around town. The Boney house was a mirror image of the Hill House, though the Boney’s had always looked more kept-up. June Boney told me that they’d gotten a call a few years ago, and they’d heard an almost undecipherable female voice, like a little girl’s voice, asking them, “please come get me. I’m ready to come home.” The voice deteriorated into weeping. Then a nurse came on the line and apologized, said it was Gloria, mostly out of her mind, just talking crazy.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">The Power Plant</span>, by Michael Campbell<br /> <br />The Kalamazoo River passes through Galesburg, Comstock, Kalamazoo. Many years ago my Grandfather as a general contractor (Herlihy Mid-Continent Company) had the winning bid to build a power plant in Comstock. As part of the construction, a dam had to be built providing a reserve of water. This would later be called Morrow or Kilowatt Lake.<br /> It would be about forty years ago when I started riding a bus to Comstock East Elementary School. One thing that was very noticeable along the route was the power plant near M-96 and North 28th Street. It was an area called East Comstock, near the school. Dozens of coal cars would be lined up to heat water for the steam turbines. Heavy black smoke poured from the stacks, leaving a light layer of soot on the playground. During the winter we would still pick up and eat a handful of snow in spite of the color.<br /> I got used to seeing the plant, but there were still times that stood out, such as waiting for coal cars to reach the side rails and release steam. The violent steam discharge would happen abruptly and end the same way. Imagine the sound of nearby jet or thunder.<br /> The power plant still exist today, with its landmark twin stacks but only generates a few megawatts with its hydroelectric generators.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">What We Did For Fun in the 40's</span>, by Joanna Herlihy <br /><br />I most vividly remember the years 1942-45 when I was 8 to 11 years old. World War 2 dominated Comstock then—war news, ration books, big brothers and fathers going into the service. War dominated our play too. My next door neighbor on Prospect Ave, Keith Bunting, led a commando unit with headquarters in a homemade shack. We regularly participated in maneuvers, wearing army helmets and carrying improvised weapons. Keith recounted army stories from his brother Allen who was stationed in India. I led exercises with the younger children, parading with flag, baton and drums.<br /> Field exercises flowed over into outdoor endurance activities such as hikes and cook-outs. The most rigorous hike was east along the river, past St. Anthony's toward the power plant--rigorous because of the underbrush and the fear of rattlesnakes. We had all heard of the man who was bitten by a rattlesnake near the dam. He ran a mile back to town for help and then died.<br /> We hiked north of the tracks too, into the woods behind the castle on the hill, taking care not to step on the cow pies in Farmer Snow's pasture. We hiked along the path past the 2nd pond to the 3rd pond--which disappeared when the dam broke at the end of the 40's. There was a spooky abandoned mill by the 3rd dam (someone said it was a rug cleaning factory). We crawled under it then. Around 1950 the Lawrences tore it down and built a handsome house. We didn't hike further north by the 3rd pond. That was rendering works territory.<br /> Swimming was never simple. The river was full of grass with bloodsuckers. Sometimes we waded across the river; nobody had a boat and we never really swam there. The ponds weren't so attractive for swimming either with all the muck on the bottom and strange creatures. The best swimming was a mile north of the tracks at Lyons Lake, upstream from the rendering works. The water was so clear you could see the deep drop-offs in the old marl pit. Winter sports were great. The 1st pond was the best for skating. It seemed like the whole town was there, skating for hours in the cold weather, day and night. Kids my age sometimes ventured to join in crack-the-whip with the big kids. My feet would be so cold when I got home. My mother made me soak them in cold water to avoid frostbite. <br /> The best sledding was down the hill behind the old high school with a bend at the bottom by the Allen's house, coming out by the I.O.O.F. hall. Other hills were blacklisted by memories of past accidents. Having the railroad tracks at the bottom of the steepest hill was a bummer. The most fun of all for me was when I could go with my friend Nancy Parkhurst to the Saturday night dances at the I.O.O.F. hall. The evening program was interspersed with dances like the schottische which children like me could join in.<br /> Other nighttime fun may have happened only in my neighborhood. There was a season when Keith Bunting would periodically announce that we should be on the look out for the Green Hornet that night. The word would spread to all the neighborhood children. We might be out in the dusk playing hide and seek when the strike would come. And we would all chase the hooded Hornet without success. The rumor was that Mickey Ott played the role of the popular radio show character, but nobody ever proved his identity. <br /> Night was the best time by the river, too. I'll never forget the moonlight reflecting from the ripples by the sycamore tree.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Mike Pierce,</span> by Christopher Magson <br /><br />Mike Pierce and his girlfriend rented a house on the north side of Kilowatt Lake, near the power plant. He worked at the paper mill with me in Parchment. <br /> At the mill, management decided to crack down on drug use and Mike ended up selling some pot to a plant—a blond chubby woman with bad skin and caked make-up, a woman who was apparently working for the Michigan state police. He was fired of course and jail time seemed inevitable. He had done some time in prison at one point and decided he would not be able to do time again. He made a pipe bomb and lit it off in his back yard while his head was resting on it. The police wanted his girlfriend to identify him, but she kept repeating “there’s nothing left, there’s just nothing left.” He had a few bad habits, such as the pornography he kept in his locker at work, and using overpowering cologne. Really, though, he was just an aging hippie in a paper mill and there was no harm in him. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">The Furnace of the “H” House</span>, by Bonnie<br /><br />While my mother was away this March (2005) at a folk festival with her gentleman friend Loring, the boiler pipes in her attic burst and hundreds of gallons of water poured into what was my old bedroom. It poured from the attic pipes through the ceiling, through the light socket and through the newly revealed divisions between the sections of ceiling plaster. My mother had inadvertently turned off the heat, and the water stopped circulating, froze in the pipes and burst. It was only by sheer chance that I happened to stop by the house shortly after the pipes burst. Had a few more hours passed, the damage might have been irreparable. When I got there, it sounded as though someone was running the bathtub faucet full blast. My brother George zoomed over, and while I moved books out of the room, and placed and emptied tubs and buckets strategically, George figured out how to shut off the water at the furnace. Two days later my brother Tom sweated new copper pipe and repaired the damage. Almost everything important dried out. <br /> My mother has lived most of her life in the house she now occupies on 26th Street. She was a little girl when my grandfather, Frank Herlihy, built it in the shape of an H, for Herlihy. There is one hilltop position from which a person might get the view that shows to advantage that letter of the alphabet. Otherwise it is simply a rambling house that is expensive to heat, because of the surface area and the many windows. There are two four by ten foot picture windows and eight-eight windows that are 2'x5', each with four panes. <br /> This was not the first time the furnace has given us trouble. I should mention that the original oil burner furnace, in place for forty years, was a massive gray thing (insulated by what was probably asbestos) occupying an entire small room (called the “furnace pit”) and resembling an elephant. When I was in high school, my mother got the idea of saving money by converting this old boiler from oil back to coal, so that she could burn wood in the coal box, and during this time us kids often awoke in winter with skims of ice upon our bedside water glasses. Because wood is not so intensely energy packed as coal, the wood burner scenario required constant attention, constant feeding of wood into the fire box, even to keep the house moderately warm. One year my mother took a trip to California with Uncle Terry, in March, and the kids she’d left in charge didn’t keep the fire going. The pipes burst in the concrete floor. Luckily at that time I was away at College. <br /> There was one time before that when I was about seven, when we were away visiting my grandparents in St. Joe, and we got home after supper, and found the entire interior of the house and everything in it coated with black soot. My mother said the furnace had exploded. At the time I was grateful we had not been there, but now I think, Wow! That must have been something. Years later we were still finding patches of soot on the tops of doorframes. <br /> My mother says she was about eleven when her father was showing her how to kick start the furnace using the re-set button. She had to know this because they were leaving her alone for a weekend. He pressed the re-set button right after the furnace had quit cycling, so he and my Mom were next to it when it exploded. Apparently the box had been really hot since it had just turned off, and starting it again blew the door open and sent soot everywhere, onto my mother and grandfather especially.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">The Dam Story by Susanna <br /></span><br />Comstock in the early days had a series of three ponds and dams. The first pond next to the RR tracks ran a machine shop. The second pond was ornamental. Above the stone decorative waterfall was a wooden timber dam on which a sawmill was located. A 100 year old lady was my source of information: Maude Lockwood.<br /> Now we come to the third pond. Research is sketchy, but on-going. My father built this house on the Comstock Creek between the second and third ponds in 1946 and 47. Mr. Lawrence who we bought the property from showed us the old mill wheel of the grain mill under his house built over the old building. It could be still in place. The third pond dam was earth with a skin of concrete.<br /> We youths were told to keep away from this dam, which was heavily sandbagged and seriously leaking. Of course we went there every day and also to the nearby grape vine swing that would take you 25 feet up in the air. Then we’d hang out and guess when the dam would bust. We knew it was going to happen (I was 8 or 9). Of course our parents didn’t know we were hanging out on the perforated dam, leaking gallons of pond water.<br /> And then one night at 3:00 a.m. while we were asleep, it busted. Wow! Wading gleefully in mud up to our necks the next day with handfuls of fish, turtles, frogs and muck. It took out the old sawmill dam and so lowered our pond level for all time. There was massive outflow. It went 12 feet on the banks but it didn’t break the other dams. <br /> Only a few pieces of concrete remain of that third dam. It was a huge mess of muck and slime for a few years until it stabilized, and now is just marshy. <br /> Back then the rumor was that someone dynamited the dam because it was so dangerous to us kids. More recently, a local source told me that a Mr. Hunt had dynamited the dam because he was so annoyed at the Kalamazoo Rendering Works for dumping animal waste into the third pond. The DNR has no record of the third pond, though they were able to date the first and second pond dams at about 1890. <br /> My property on the creek still has the mill races that diverted water from the overflow from the third pond during this active period as a grain mill. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Oats and Old Red</span>, by Susanna<br /><br />One summer day in 1969 I wandered in to visit my farmer friends in the old home place. The parents were absent due to a crisis down in Missouri. My friends had pretty much maxed out their credit cards on seed and farm stuff, parts, etc.<br /> They offered me a great deal on oats, which as a horse and donkey trader, I had use for all the time. What I didn’t have was an oat bin. I paid in advance for the grain and went home and constructed an amazing bin (it lasted 1969-2003). Old Red, my Hereford-Ayrshire milk cow watched with interest. <br /> The first load I shoveled into my new bin, with Red watching curiously. The second load followed, but some children crisis happened and I went to the house to settle it and took way too much time. When I came back to unload, the cow had a guilty look on her bovine mug. <br /> I emptied the truck and considered it a good deal and a job done. <br /> However, as happens on the farm, it was not done. About 4 hours later and of course after-hours for the vet (as with kids after-clinic hours), Red began huge moos of a desperate nature. In my absence she had stuffed herself on oats.<br /> There was only one vet on call, in Augusta, and when I reached him he said he’d promised for 3 weeks to take his wife out for her birthday, and he’d stood her up, and she was near divorcing him. <br /> He told me to cut the fittings off a piece of garden hose and shove it down the cow to let out the oat gas and call him back. <br /> I snuck up on the cow with the hose and a huge amount of disgusting gas came seething out, so I called the vet to report the results. He replied, “You didn’t leave it in long enough, do it again.” This time the cow was wise to me. A Battle Royal. If any more oat gas came out, I was not aware of it while I was being trampled. Red and I survived in our relationship for years to come. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Charlene</span>, by Susanna<br /><br />One Christmas vacation—in those boring days for the kids after the day, before the New Year’s Eve stuff—the phone rings.<br /> It’s Mister Tom Taylor, extremely excited. “Dahlin, Charlene drowned in the pond. Do you want her?”<br /> Now, I realized that the victim was indeed a cow, and with a houseful of serious carnivores it would be a plus to harvest one, but I had to ask. “How long ago did she drown?”<br /> “Forty-five minutes ago,” replied Tom. “She was fine this morning. She walked out onto the ice to get a drink of water and went through.” Tom’s care of his livestock was always a bit sketchy. I would have broken the ice for my cows.<br /> As I mentioned, a bunch of kids on a vacation plus idle adults made up quite a crew. We arrived in several trucks to (indeed) see a cow floating upside down in a pond a hundred feet from shore. Now what?<br /> Tom was accompanied by Jack Polk (a bane of my existence from years ago when working at Herlihy’s, the guy who disappeared at noon after my payroll was finished.)<br /> The first bright idea was to launch a boat. Unfortunately a family of woodchucks had filled it two-thirds full with dirt. We dug it out and launched it on the pond. Meantime, son Tom hd found a hundred feet of cable and clamps and hitched it to the 1970 Ford four-by-four.<br /> The boat crew fell through the ice but they did manage to hook onto the cow. <br /> An unforgettable sight. An upside down cow bouncing across the ice at 20 miles per hour. <br /> Then it was time for the serious stuff. I had to gut her—thank God no calf—perhaps she suicided—and our saw dealer put vegetable oil in a new saw to do the honors of cutting and we took her to a no-questions-asked shady meat cutting place. <br /> In retrospect, Charlene was one great cow, providing entertainment as well as eating. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Comstock Beer Service by Bonnie<br /></span><br />When we were kids, the Beer Store, as we called it, was owned by Don Phillips, who lived across the creek from us. Back then, the Beer Store had the coldest freezer in town and we bought our ice cream there. Often on Sunday nights my mother would buy us kids a half gallon of Neopolitan ice cream, the pink, white and brown stuff. It was frozen too solid to scoop, and we couldn’t stand to wait for it to thaw, and so Mom would cut it for us with a big butcher knife into slices resembling the flags of some European nation. We’d also buy ice cream treats during the day sometimes, to take down and eat under the bridge, in the “tunnel.” The “tunnel” was an old underpass beneath the railroad tracks and E. Michigan that had been half-heartedly gated shut, but we just walked around the gate. The concrete was crumbling and it sometimes smelled like urine or worse, but the creek was fast and shallow there. We’d get orange push-ups or vanilla ice cream sandwiches or vanilla ice cream bars, nutty buddies, or something that had some crushed cakey stuff on it in strawberry or chocolate, and we’d wade in the water, avoiding the broken glass littering the pebbled creek bed. I was somewhat interested in adventure as a youth, but mostly I was interested in sweets. <br /> Once when my brother Tom and sister Sheila were at the Beer Store, we told our dog Brownie to stay put outside the door. She was a black and white dog, so there was no explaining why we called her “Brownie.” In any case, when a westbound train came, she did not stay put. She ran out in front of the train in order to keep it from getting away and ended up slipping under the cowcatcher. As soon as the train had passed, we ran to the tracks and found Brownie there in the center, lying perfect still, dazed, with a bit of hair shorn off the top of her head but panting and very much alive. We called my mom, who came and picked us all up. Mom brought a gunnysack, assuming that “Brownie got ran over by the train” meant a bloody mess. It took Brownie three days to recover enough to walk, and though her hearing was never very good after that, she lived on fine for several years<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Hillbilly Heaven by Bonnie</span><br /><br />Between the years I was eleven and fifteen, everybody hung out at Hillbilly Heaven, drinking contraband alcohol, smoking pot and cigarettes, making out and listening to music. Hillbilly Heaven was what we called the top flat part of the Balkema’s gravel pit before Balkema gouged so much of it away to sell as bank run gravel. Apparently Balkema didn’t mind kids parking there, and it was nice to have somewhere to go. I could walk there from our house in about fifteen minutes, so long as the concrete block and plank bridge across the creek wasn’t out. During the daytime I often rode my horse Sparky there, up and down the hills, and I studied the trash that people had left, liquor bottles and empty cigarette packs. But really, all things considered, the kids were pretty well behaved at Hillbilly Heaven and didn’t litter very much. I remember the time that Mark Mort, who was handsome and had his driver’s license, kicked my neighbor Margaret Boer out of his car because she wouldn’t make out with him. Margaret Boer was tall and willowy with long, thick dark hair, but her Dutch Reform parents were very strict, and I wonder what she was even doing up there. Years later she and Mark Mort got together again; they married and had three kids. Now they’re divorced. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Also: Other stories of interest</span> include Denise Martin’s observation of a train wreck, Jaci Dillon’s memories of Kite Fest, Jamie Blake’s visit to the Tap Room, Peter Green’s memories about going to the cottage and his story of the great cherry theft, Linda Green Metzler’s appreciation of Susanna’s chickens’ eggs, Margaret von Steinen’s appreciation for Comstock’s small town life, and lots of stories that refer to the rendering works and to the dead elephant that ended up there. Let me know if you want to see any of these and I’ll ask the authors’ permission to share them online. In any case, they are all in a spiral bound volume at the Comstock Library.bonniejohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383768846489028702noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33029657.post-9133186424125309082011-10-11T11:26:00.001-07:002011-10-11T12:18:03.586-07:00The Writers and Donkeys of Missoula Montana<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1CcLs2eSePg/TpSK2X-VQZI/AAAAAAAAAnQ/I_us3lvTPPI/s1600/wineMontana%2B011.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1CcLs2eSePg/TpSK2X-VQZI/AAAAAAAAAnQ/I_us3lvTPPI/s400/wineMontana%2B011.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662303298264580498" /></a><br /><br />What a great (whirlwind) visit to the http://www.humanitiesmontana.org/programs/fob/index.php in Missoula, Montana! Chris & Julia LaTray picked me up at the airport and most generously got me to the Holiday Inn where all the action was. The first day was rain, but the panel on Living and Writing the American West was bright and shiny. It included Dan Aadland, Rick Bass, Judy Blunt, William Kittredge, Melissa Kwasny, Kris Saknussemm, Robert Wrigley, Williard Wyman, moderated by Russel Rowland. Folks discussed the fictional west vs. the real west, issues of manhood, and Native American issues. Robert Wrigley said the west "allowed for the possibility of wildness." Williard Wyman said the existence of the West meant that "We don't have to hang ourselves." Judy Blunt gracefully handled an audience question about why the university "allowed" some students of European heritage to say something unkind to a student of Native American heritage. ("People come into our university with different life experiences...") After the panel included I thanked Rick Bass for saying my book was "Singular and hypnotic."<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aBPQiTXrT9Y/TpSOWR__ygI/AAAAAAAAAnc/Z-72iazXj7o/s1600/bookfestposter2011.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 242px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aBPQiTXrT9Y/TpSOWR__ygI/AAAAAAAAAnc/Z-72iazXj7o/s320/bookfestposter2011.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662307144951646722" /></a><br /><br />After a lovely reception, the LaTrays and I went to dinner with Garth, owner of Shakespeare & Company bookstore, and Karen, Garth's wife. Here's a photo<br /><br />The short story panel the following morning included Glen Chamberlain Alan Heathcock, Shann Ray, Melanie Rae Thon, moderated nicely by David Abrams. My panel later included Jonathon Evison, Joe Henry, Jenny Shank and was moderated by Kim Anderson. Jonathan Evison was something; not only is his book West of Here brilliant, but he has two more books ready to go (he said) and he only sleeps four hours a night. The greatest thing about the panel was that Kim Anderson said that Once Upon a River qualified as Western Fiction according to every description except its taking place on (and being written on) the wrong side of the Mississippi. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oSBy036AUsw/TpSQ3WVIocI/AAAAAAAAAno/D1Ru9Bj5w_U/s1600/wineMontana%2B013.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oSBy036AUsw/TpSQ3WVIocI/AAAAAAAAAno/D1Ru9Bj5w_U/s400/wineMontana%2B013.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662309912072987074" /></a><br /><br />Other highlights included meeting Jenny and some other University of Montana writing students--I'm so sorry, gals, that I stuck you with my bill for coffee when I ran out of there! The most exciting gal might have been Laura K. Ferguson, author of a book called My Life as Laura: Or How I Searched for Laura Ingalls Wilder and Found Myself. She was one of Judy Blunt's students and has invited me to Athens, Ohio to drink Donkey Coffee. Speaking of Donkeys, Julia LaTray is a fashion designer, and her company Donkey Girl Fashions pays spiritual tribute to the great animal. Here she and I stand under her sign at the craft market. Also Chris's Mom Becky was there, and she was swell. <br /><br />Here is Chris La Tray's blog about the Montana Festival of the Book<br /><br />http://chrislatray.com/2011/10/11/friends-come-and-then-they-go/<br /><br />Here is a picture of me with donkey wearing a Donkey Girl shirt: <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G36hVA-3aw4/TpSWTVy9nqI/AAAAAAAAAn0/eEon_3oPng8/s1600/_MG_7331.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G36hVA-3aw4/TpSWTVy9nqI/AAAAAAAAAn0/eEon_3oPng8/s400/_MG_7331.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662315890524135074" /></a>bonniejohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383768846489028702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33029657.post-66046550077668665422011-09-30T19:42:00.000-07:002011-10-01T22:21:18.589-07:00Happy Birthday Mary Szpur<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xrmMlNBRvV4/ToZ-41y7OKI/AAAAAAAAAmw/vnHZVqLaFZ4/s1600/Lansing%2Betc%2B009.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xrmMlNBRvV4/ToZ-41y7OKI/AAAAAAAAAmw/vnHZVqLaFZ4/s400/Lansing%2Betc%2B009.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658349496816056482" /></a><br /><br />This photo is of Nancy Garrity, taken at Mary Szpur's birthday party earlier this month. Mary & Nancy's neighbor in Chicago is (pictured below) Christy Webber, and she showed up with this stuffed raccoon. Her dog is Oscar.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-s05BHfdWiaI/ToaCEZMSd5I/AAAAAAAAAnA/10Ge3EPdvn0/s1600/Lansing%2Betc%2B005.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-s05BHfdWiaI/ToaCEZMSd5I/AAAAAAAAAnA/10Ge3EPdvn0/s320/Lansing%2Betc%2B005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658352993831122834" /></a><br /><br />I've traveled to Douglas, Michigan to Mary's birthday party since 2004. September 2 comes at the right time to take a break, usually labor day weekend. Mary's been a great pal of mine since 1983, when we both led a bicycle tour in Eastern Europe. We found we got along well because we both worried a lot, and that made sure that the trip went smoothly. We formed a company called Goulash Tours, Inc. and went on a couple more trips together after that, and we've had other adventures as well, though not as many as we would like, since everybody is so darned busy. Mary has gone through a couple of careers, as I have, and she has settled into being a Physician Assistant. She's a great writer, and once wrote a series of brilliant essays about working as part of the medical staff in a prison in Illinois. She's been a great supporter of my writing, and has spent way too much money on copies of my books for her friends. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JonMpNOzGC0/TodYC5leLwI/AAAAAAAAAnI/x_2-lkiyuic/s1600/GMPullSzpurVisitTurtleRescuePrintersRow%2B060.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JonMpNOzGC0/TodYC5leLwI/AAAAAAAAAnI/x_2-lkiyuic/s320/GMPullSzpurVisitTurtleRescuePrintersRow%2B060.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658588263655288578" /></a><br /><br />The food was delicious, cooked mostly by Nancy and Bill Fry. Bill cooked Cornell Chicken from a newspaper recipe and it very moist. The wine, as always, was very good. <br /><br />So, thank you Mary, for being such a great pal, and Happy Birthday! <br /><br />Because Christopher wasn't able to join us at Mary's party this year (he was working), we didn't get the usual excellent photos. Below is a photo Chris took in 2010 at Mary's party using a timer, so he could be in the photo. The people in this photo include Peter Larson, Bill Fry, Carla Vissers, Mike Dempsey, Jan Rogatz, Nancy Garrity, Chris Magson, and Mary herself and me. Not in that order. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-y3f2bJRFtw8/ToaBnXkCaOI/AAAAAAAAAm4/1BCuWhohxJk/s1600/Mary%2527sBDay2010.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-y3f2bJRFtw8/ToaBnXkCaOI/AAAAAAAAAm4/1BCuWhohxJk/s400/Mary%2527sBDay2010.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658352495177656546" /></a><br /><br />Also at the party this year (not pictured) were Nancy's sailing shipmates from 2011 Race to Mackinac T 10 Class winner boat Erica: Michael and Barb Kaczor, and Peter Good and Susan Havenga. <br /><br />By the way, Christy is president and founder of Christy Webber Landscaping. She is originally from Michigan, I'm proud to say. Her son Oliver (not pictured) was at the party, after having helped Nancy make the birthday cupcakes.bonniejohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383768846489028702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33029657.post-58904041507883034382011-09-21T11:01:00.000-07:002011-09-22T20:19:35.293-07:00Lofty Visit to Minneapolis / St. Paul!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NYkNwjaPcuU/Tnom_-x-aLI/AAAAAAAAAmo/UmbpvrtYR3c/s1600/2011-09-15%2B10.08.10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NYkNwjaPcuU/Tnom_-x-aLI/AAAAAAAAAmo/UmbpvrtYR3c/s400/2011-09-15%2B10.08.10.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654875162743302322" /></a><br />Great visit to Minneapolis! What a pleasure to read at the Loft!<br /><br />Alicia Conroy and Chris Schmid kindly allowed me to stay with them in Minneapolis, just a few blocks from the River Parkway, so early on Thursday I borrowed one of Chris's twenty three-speeds (A Schwinn Alicia called "Big Blue") and I set out for a fifteen mile ride. I visited Micawbers Books in St. Anthony Park (St. Paul) to sign some stock, and then ate at the fabulous Finnish Bistro around the corner. While I normally don't order crab cakes in the midwest, I took a chance and it paid off. Yum! Then I biked to Common Good Books, the store owned by Garrison Keillor. I biked around by the campus of St. where my pal Leslie Adrienne Miller teaches (we missed you, Leslie!). Then I traveled south along the River Parkway to cross the river and then headed north back to Chris and Alicia. I hadn't been feeling so joyful of late, but crabcakes and a three hour bike ride is just what it takes. <br /><br />The reading at The Loft was so lovely. A great audience asked great questions. Some friends of Heidi's Bell's (Randy & Sabrina) showed up to say hello, Dodd Demas came by and took my picture next to a "reserved" sign and said it was false advertising. Afterward, some of us went out to Spill The Wine (folks included fiction writer Alicia Conroy, poet Kathryn Kaysar, Loft Program Director Jerod Santek, Loft Employee Lucas Schulze, and former Poet Laureate of Kansas Denise Low-Weso, who happens to be current President of the Board AWP.) I was so interested in the conversation, the wine, and the little plates of food that I didn't think to take a photo of us with my phone. <br /><br />I wish that Laurie Hertzel, Books Editor at the Star Tribune had joined us. She generously publicized my reading and then she even wrote a review of my reading! <br /><br />http://www.startribune.com/entertainment/books/129953563.html<br /><br />The following morning I was also distracted by the delightful company of my companions, this time at Day By Day, a breakfast joint that at one time was staffed by Alcoholics, where I breakfasted with Alicia, Chris and the fabulous Lisa Durose, who has said that she wants to be my official biographer. I said okay because I know I could beat her up if I had to in order to make her say the right thing. She said that the snake infestation problem in her St. Paul yard and basement has improved slightly.<br /><br />The photos attached are of the 3-speed bike Chris Schmid let me ride--he says he tinkers with the bikes more than he rides them. (And if only I had taken a photo of Lucas Schulze, you would have seen how handsome and French he looks!).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vsY6VQHm1M8/Tnom3o3F96I/AAAAAAAAAmg/LLB7IE2QGY8/s1600/2011-09-15%2B14.22.09.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vsY6VQHm1M8/Tnom3o3F96I/AAAAAAAAAmg/LLB7IE2QGY8/s400/2011-09-15%2B14.22.09.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654875019420235682" /></a>bonniejohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383768846489028702noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33029657.post-53767129426277370412011-09-07T17:20:00.001-07:002011-09-08T10:50:22.122-07:00Donkey Foal: a very short storyThis story appeared in The Southern Review 2010, and this baby donkey is Don Quixote, and he is one day old in this photo. The Mama is Jenny, RIP. Jack is tied to a tree in the background.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p-wWg-a2Rcg/TmgMchR03zI/AAAAAAAAAmQ/VYzkZy05OC4/s1600/BonnieJo_19.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 261px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p-wWg-a2Rcg/TmgMchR03zI/AAAAAAAAAmQ/VYzkZy05OC4/s400/BonnieJo_19.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649779416645295922" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:donotpromoteqf/> <w:lidthemeother>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:lidthemeasian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:lidthemecomplexscript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:splitpgbreakandparamark/> <w:enableopentypekerning/> <w:dontflipmirrorindents/> <w:overridetablestylehps/> <w:usefelayout/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathpr> <m:mathfont val="Cambria Math"> <m:brkbin val="before"> <m:brkbinsub val="--"> <m:smallfrac val="off"> <m:dispdef/> <m:lmargin val="0"> <m:rmargin val="0"> <m:defjc val="centerGroup"> <m:wrapindent val="1440"> <m:intlim val="subSup"> <m:narylim val="undOvr"> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" defunhidewhenused="true" defsemihidden="true" defqformat="false" defpriority="99" latentstylecount="267"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="0" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Normal"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="9" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="heading 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="9" qformat="true" name="heading 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="9" qformat="true" name="heading 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="9" qformat="true" name="heading 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="9" qformat="true" name="heading 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="9" qformat="true" name="heading 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="9" qformat="true" name="heading 7"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="9" qformat="true" name="heading 8"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="9" qformat="true" name="heading 9"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" name="toc 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" name="toc 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" name="toc 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" name="toc 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" name="toc 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" name="toc 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" name="toc 7"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" name="toc 8"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" name="toc 9"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="35" qformat="true" name="caption"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="10" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Title"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="1" name="Default Paragraph Font"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="11" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Subtitle"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="22" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Strong"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="20" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Emphasis"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="59" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Table Grid"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Placeholder Text"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="1" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="No Spacing"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="60" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Shading"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="61" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light List"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="62" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Grid"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="63" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="64" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="65" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="66" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="67" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="68" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="69" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="70" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Dark List"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="71" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Shading"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="72" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful List"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="73" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Grid"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="60" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Shading Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="61" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light List Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="62" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Grid Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="63" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="64" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="65" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Revision"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="34" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="List Paragraph"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="29" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Quote"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="30" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Intense Quote"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="66" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="67" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="68" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="69" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="70" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Dark List Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="71" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="72" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful List Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="73" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="60" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Shading Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="61" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light List Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="62" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Grid Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="63" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="64" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="65" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="66" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="67" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="68" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="69" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="70" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Dark List Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="71" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="72" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful List Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="73" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="60" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Shading Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="61" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light List Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="62" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Grid Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="63" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="64" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="65" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="66" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="67" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="68" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="69" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="70" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Dark List Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="71" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="72" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful List Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="73" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="60" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Shading Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="61" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light List Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="62" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Grid Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="63" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="64" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="65" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="66" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="67" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="68" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="69" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="70" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Dark List Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="71" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="72" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful List Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="73" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="60" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Shading Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="61" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light List Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="62" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Grid Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="63" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="64" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="65" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="66" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="67" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="68" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="69" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="70" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Dark List Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="71" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="72" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful List Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="73" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="60" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Shading Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="61" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light List Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="62" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Grid Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="63" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="64" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="65" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="66" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="67" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="68" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="69" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="70" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Dark List Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="71" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="72" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful List Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="73" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="19" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Subtle Emphasis"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="21" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Intense Emphasis"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="31" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Subtle Reference"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="32" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Intense Reference"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="33" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Book Title"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="37" name="Bibliography"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" qformat="true" name="TOC Heading"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style> <![endif]--> <div class="WordSection1"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><b><span style=" line-height:200%;font-size:16.0pt;" >Donkey Foal </span></b></p> </div> <span style="line-height:200%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-Times New Roman";mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language:AR-SAfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" > </span> <div class="WordSection2"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%">Us six kids paraded our new donkey baby around town on its tiny black hooves, still soft from the womb, and shouted with joy to folks, Come look! Pet the donkey for a quarter! how cute! how fuzzy! Long‑legged and knock‑kneed, big‑eyed and soft as a plush toy! You can't resist! We walked him into town, past the equestrian statue and under the bridge. When we had enough donations we tied his neck rope to the no‑parking sign and went into the candy store to buy sour fruit poppers and super jaw busters. We exited in a line, oldest to youngest, as was our habit, and one by one, we saw no donkey, no neck rope. When we stopped rattling our candy wrappers and all fell silent for the first time that day, we could hear the mama donkey braying from almost a mile away, braying for her baby, whom she hadn't nursed in hours. We ran in six directions and searched the town, searched at home too, but found not a tiny turd, not a tuft of soft hair. We marched back to the farm togetherin a solemn line. We knew that we should not have been going around talking about cute; all morning we should have pointed and said to passersby: Look how vulnerable! How fragile! Our sign should not have read Pet the fuzzy baby for a quarter, but rather, Life is a grave responsibility. When the plump curly‑haired woman said, Look how sweet! we should have shaken our heads. We should have said, Look more closely, ma'am. See how death sleeps beneath all skin! See how death stares back at you through bright new eyes!</p> </div> <span style="line-height:200%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-Times New Roman";mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language:AR-SAfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" > </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-s7cswwcrifY/TmgNXIcC6FI/AAAAAAAAAmY/Jqv-ccaq5KM/s1600/BonnieJo_13.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 261px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-s7cswwcrifY/TmgNXIcC6FI/AAAAAAAAAmY/Jqv-ccaq5KM/s400/BonnieJo_13.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649780423589554258" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Photos are by Jerry Campbell. <br /><br />The Southern Review Spring 2009 was edited by Jeanne Leiby (1964-2011), whom we love and miss.bonniejohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383768846489028702noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33029657.post-83224861242378647492011-09-05T18:47:00.000-07:002011-09-05T18:47:36.787-07:00Grand Visit to Grand Rapids<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1TEONx9McBs/TmV2gFOD6-I/AAAAAAAAAl4/H4wlAE99jT4/s1600/August2011%2B067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1TEONx9McBs/TmV2gFOD6-I/AAAAAAAAAl4/H4wlAE99jT4/s400/August2011%2B067.JPG" width="224" /></a></div>
The Grand Rapids library is gorgeous, a big old-fashioned library with columns, finished in 1904, paid for by the benefactor and native son Martin A. Ryerson Jr., son of a Michigan lumber baron who was a benefactor of the Art Institute of Chicago, University of Chicago (one of my alma maters), and other institutions. I read on the third floor in the Ryerson Auditorum, featuring high ceilings, arched windows and crown moulding. The patrons were smart and asked good questions. One guy asked why my characters didn't swear more. Another guy said it was hard to take what happened with Margo's boat. I agreed. In the photo above, you'll see me in the auditorium with Emily from Schuler Books in Grand Rapids, and with Chris Byron, who works at the library and organized my reading.
The guy who said that about the boat was Robert VanderMolen, a Grand Rapids poet and manly character (a friend of Larry Tenharmsel, of course!). We chatted on the steps outside the library for a long time, waiting for Chris to get out of work. Here's one photo that shows the two of us and another that shows the front of the library. If I hadn't worried about my drive home, I would have tagged along with him and Chris for a drink.
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gmla2cqBur0/TmV5J64vc2I/AAAAAAAAAmA/udniRSsoJA0/s1600/August2011%2B069.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gmla2cqBur0/TmV5J64vc2I/AAAAAAAAAmA/udniRSsoJA0/s400/August2011%2B069.JPG" width="224" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-b3zeZ1qKyTc/TmV5cyON1tI/AAAAAAAAAmI/WBecyYdsw7U/s1600/August2011%2B068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-b3zeZ1qKyTc/TmV5cyON1tI/AAAAAAAAAmI/WBecyYdsw7U/s400/August2011%2B068.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
bonniejohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383768846489028702noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33029657.post-29031981780454490282011-08-27T09:09:00.000-07:002011-08-29T11:10:39.857-07:00Once Upon a River goes to the Rockies<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m-gTT0Bo8qk/TlkYxuKdrMI/AAAAAAAAAlw/y1B1Gzp8FZg/s1600/LiteraryLifeColorado%2B006.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m-gTT0Bo8qk/TlkYxuKdrMI/AAAAAAAAAlw/y1B1Gzp8FZg/s400/LiteraryLifeColorado%2B006.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645570850370202818" /></a>
<br />
<br />Look at these gorgeous faces! These women read Once Upon a River in their book group called, I think, Winos Who Read, just before my visit to the Bookworm in Edwards, Colorado. At the Bookworm, I got to hang out with Besse, who organizes events at the store, and also with Heather Sappenfield, formerly my MFA student, now smarter and more prolific than the rest of us. She gave me my first mountain biking lesson... on a mountain! (Heather tells me we were on the Village to Village Trail on first Beaver Creek Mountain and then on Arrowhead Mountain.) She also loaned me (and then gave me) the lovely bright blue and white flowered biking jersey I'm wearing below. She told me I was a good student because I didn't fall and didn't chicken out at any point. Heather is not only an official mountain bike instructor, but she races and wins! (And she went above and beyond all reasonable duties and drove me two and a half hours each way to the Denver airport from her home in Avon.) After my visit at the Bookworm, I was escorted out to dinner around the corner at Etown by Heather, Besse and a very exciting women named Anuschka, who had done all sorts of things around the world and was now studying auto repair. There I had my first ever fish tacos. Thanks Heather! Thanks Besse! Thanks Bookworm!
<br />
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yMQE5FovC_0/TlkXYYGDmrI/AAAAAAAAAlY/BktN40hsPTE/s1600/BabesBikes2.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yMQE5FovC_0/TlkXYYGDmrI/AAAAAAAAAlY/BktN40hsPTE/s400/BabesBikes2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645569315437779634" /></a>
<br />
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SjN3sCJWPkM/TlkX4a3e7ZI/AAAAAAAAAlg/jOQG7FcTLGg/s1600/Rolling%2Bthrough%2BParadise.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SjN3sCJWPkM/TlkX4a3e7ZI/AAAAAAAAAlg/jOQG7FcTLGg/s400/Rolling%2Bthrough%2BParadise.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645569865937776018" /></a>
<br />
<br />And finally, here we are at the Molly Brown House in Denver. Since we were there, Heather has written a story that involves Molly Brown. Like I said, she's prolific.
<br />
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9or5o8lq2co/TlkYXCerpYI/AAAAAAAAAlo/NurXDEcaWWc/s1600/Molly%2BBrown%2BHouse%2B%25282%2529.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9or5o8lq2co/TlkYXCerpYI/AAAAAAAAAlo/NurXDEcaWWc/s400/Molly%2BBrown%2BHouse%2B%25282%2529.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645570391967245698" /></a>
<br />bonniejohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383768846489028702noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33029657.post-20070183366706210082011-08-17T20:38:00.000-07:002011-08-17T21:11:26.633-07:00Jaimy & I meet up North<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RFkf8C0s_Rs/TkyK0ahxUcI/AAAAAAAAAkg/V5OGjlHrg5k/s1600/_MG_8290a.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 321px; height: 229px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RFkf8C0s_Rs/TkyK0ahxUcI/AAAAAAAAAkg/V5OGjlHrg5k/s400/_MG_8290a.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642037066267185602" /></a>
<br />
<br />I've been up north, visiting bookstores in order to promote Once Upon a River, and on Thursday, Aug 11, I met up with my MFA advisor Jaimy Gordon at McLean & Eakin Booksellers in Petoskey, Michigan to have a discussion mostly about my book, but also about Jaimy's <span style="font-style:italic;">Lord of Misrule</span>, which won the 2010 National Book Award. In case you haven't read that book, do it now--it's a wild ride.
<br />
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BlivOZXz2B8/TkyOahElsKI/AAAAAAAAAko/RQdZaT0tbT8/s1600/_MG_8283a.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 181px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BlivOZXz2B8/TkyOahElsKI/AAAAAAAAAko/RQdZaT0tbT8/s200/_MG_8283a.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642041019393749154" /></a>
<br />
<br />Jaimy, as usual, was brilliant and said lots of interesting things. She and I were commiserating that many of the reviewers of our books seem to be mostly summarizing the plots, and she said she intended to never again put so much plot into a novel.
<br />We found that our books had many other things in common. Her young female protagonist Maggie had the given name Margaret, same as my Margo Crane does.
<br />
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cFIKHVXmQIc/TkyO3oti6rI/AAAAAAAAAkw/Tf2gsPNzG_E/s1600/_MG_8299a.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cFIKHVXmQIc/TkyO3oti6rI/AAAAAAAAAkw/Tf2gsPNzG_E/s200/_MG_8299a.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642041519660788402" /></a>
<br />
<br />Notice that I got to sit in the special YELLOW CHAIR, because my book was newer than Jaimy's (and I think she was already in the yellow chair earlier this year.) In this photo (take by darling Christopher), I was describing some of the details of the sex scenes in Jaimy's book. After the Q&A, the owners Jessilyn & Matt Norcross gave both of us Kilwin chocolates, made right there in Petoskey. Yum!
<br />
<br />bonniejohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383768846489028702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33029657.post-80098747695067412592011-08-01T19:12:00.000-07:002011-08-01T19:34:32.378-07:00Hay Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OC5SQZLdJ28/TjddPcQQ5uI/AAAAAAAAAj4/IqBRljA73_k/s1600/hay2011%2B001.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OC5SQZLdJ28/TjddPcQQ5uI/AAAAAAAAAj4/IqBRljA73_k/s400/hay2011%2B001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636075978541295330" /></a><br /><br />The temperature was 98 degrees, the humidity was 98 percent, and the sky was clouding over, threatening rain on our 200 bales of hay, but our fine crew went out with two trucks. My big Ford F-350 with dual back wheels held 85 bales, and my brother's Diesel Ford truck held 35 bales. I'm pretty rugged, but I'll confess that I felt a little nauseous after loading my truck. Pictured here with me are my little brother Geo, martial artist Jamie Blake, the soon-to-be married niece Kellee with Nich Martin, my nephew Jonathon, little J., and nephew Matt. When we got the hay home and in the barn, Susanna had turned on the old Chrysler Air Conditioning unit and her house was nice and cool. We drank some Budweisers and felt the contentment that people feel when they have worked hard. <br /><br />There was one little tragedy. A garter snake got baled up with the hay and we found the poor guy all limp sticking out between two leaves of hay. Here he is after Jonathon removed him from the hay and put him on the hood of my truck. On a sweeter note, I found this lovely logo on an old crib mattress spring in the barnyard. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gbvt1blYMo4/Tjdg9ZP8C3I/AAAAAAAAAkQ/MWtSD1K_9ws/s1600/hay2011%2B004.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 179px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gbvt1blYMo4/Tjdg9ZP8C3I/AAAAAAAAAkQ/MWtSD1K_9ws/s320/hay2011%2B004.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636080066543487858" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6728PX_CN0s/TjdhzGEBJZI/AAAAAAAAAkY/4dbAaB3TFSo/s1600/hay2011%2B005.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6728PX_CN0s/TjdhzGEBJZI/AAAAAAAAAkY/4dbAaB3TFSo/s320/hay2011%2B005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636080989106152850" /></a>bonniejohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383768846489028702noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33029657.post-45237837539884268032011-07-30T18:35:00.001-07:002011-07-30T19:08:28.734-07:00Literary Life Bookstore, Grand Rapids<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BvztuX9N8RI/TjSxm_fXjMI/AAAAAAAAAjo/5cvdhxlRO34/s1600/LiteraryLifeColorado%2B003.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BvztuX9N8RI/TjSxm_fXjMI/AAAAAAAAAjo/5cvdhxlRO34/s400/LiteraryLifeColorado%2B003.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635324317183478978" /></a><br />What a great visit at Literary Life Bookstore in Grand Rapids where we had a meet and greet at this charming place. In this photo are Marsha Meyers (of Portage Library), Michael Dunn (artist, husb. of Marsha Meyer), Jennifer (of Lit Life Books), BJC, my niece, Zach who works at bookstore, Gina Bea (of Kalamazoo), George Dila (of Ludington Writers), Judith (of the universe). Below see Steve Helderman, having me sign a copy of hardcover <span style="font-style:italic;">Women & Other Animals.</span> (I don't think there are any of those left at Univ. of Massachusetts Press.) Not pictured here is Caitlin Horrocks, another Michigan writer who is in the <span style="font-style:italic;">New York Times Book Review </span>this week! I bought her book, <span style="font-style:italic;">This is Not My City</span>, and had her sign it for me. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-35n6b6B2whY/TjSzA4G-RBI/AAAAAAAAAjw/f1H9-TE2cAg/s1600/LiteraryLifeColorado%2B001.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-35n6b6B2whY/TjSzA4G-RBI/AAAAAAAAAjw/f1H9-TE2cAg/s320/LiteraryLifeColorado%2B001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635325861390337042" /></a>bonniejohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383768846489028702noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33029657.post-13645252752393150172011-07-26T11:09:00.000-07:002011-07-30T20:34:41.308-07:00Great Lakes, Great Books, Great Visit<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MiewMqXaBSI/Ti8DHIlko7I/AAAAAAAAAjg/aLTID6dMQRQ/s1600/GreatLakesBooksNortonFlowers%2B003.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 322px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MiewMqXaBSI/Ti8DHIlko7I/AAAAAAAAAjg/aLTID6dMQRQ/s400/GreatLakesBooksNortonFlowers%2B003.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633725079962821554" /></a><br /><br />What a pleasure to head up to Big Rapids, Michigan to see my old pal Lynn Anderson, who manages Great Lakes Books. I've read from all four of my books at her store, and she always beats the band to get out the local folks, and she also provides snacks. This time she collected some river gear (oars, paddles, nets, nautical rope) and had a great display, as shown in this photo. For this photo Lynn also let me hold the .22 rifle her mother gave her. It's pretty old, and I didn't see a maker's mark on it, but it has a sweet octagonal barrel. The audience asked good questions and we had a great conversation about life, writing, and all that connects them.<br /><br />In the photo see me with Lynn Anderson, and Mary and Bob Loesch who provided the birds-eye maple canoe paddles and the old oar. The rest of the display was from Levi Vermeer, Cathy Johnson, and Jared Frank, GLBS employees.bonniejohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383768846489028702noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33029657.post-68536211689483117362011-07-17T19:22:00.001-07:002011-07-17T21:39:04.103-07:00Women & Children FirstMary Szpur sent these great photos from my Thursday July 14 reading at Women & Children First in Chicago. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lthY5psmAzs/TiOZp4vnF6I/AAAAAAAAAjI/QOnsqheW5po/s1600/DonnaSeaman.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lthY5psmAzs/TiOZp4vnF6I/AAAAAAAAAjI/QOnsqheW5po/s320/DonnaSeaman.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630512904029018018" /></a> Here's Reviewer Donna Seaman.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DwjtyL2fH5M/TiOZhGGSTSI/AAAAAAAAAjA/u8vldfz32Mc/s1600/AmyMerrickHusbMe.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DwjtyL2fH5M/TiOZhGGSTSI/AAAAAAAAAjA/u8vldfz32Mc/s320/AmyMerrickHusbMe.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630512752994962722" /></a><br />Here's Pacific University MFA graduate Amy Merrick & pal.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LfZm4Ffzd3w/TiOdGGBHEMI/AAAAAAAAAjY/UxwirgZ8P5w/s1600/MelanieBon.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LfZm4Ffzd3w/TiOdGGBHEMI/AAAAAAAAAjY/UxwirgZ8P5w/s320/MelanieBon.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630516687163297986" /></a><br />Here is Melanie Kubale<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rqM2ZemxZL4/TiOZU5KzZMI/AAAAAAAAAi4/hHrqDP_Hbb8/s1600/4gals.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rqM2ZemxZL4/TiOZU5KzZMI/AAAAAAAAAi4/hHrqDP_Hbb8/s320/4gals.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630512543365817538" /></a><br />Becky Frey, Nancy Garrity, Jackie Loewe, and Jill Pollack (of Story Studio Chicago)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gZzmoVhOoys/TiOZNQMMAbI/AAAAAAAAAiw/V96z2npMW3Q/s1600/JackSherryKidBon.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gZzmoVhOoys/TiOZNQMMAbI/AAAAAAAAAiw/V96z2npMW3Q/s320/JackSherryKidBon.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630512412106686898" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Here's Playwright Jack Helbig & Sherry Kent with super child Margaret, aspiring gymnast.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5qv2XFUIbMM/TiOcwUxygEI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/xT33QHiJ5ps/s1600/KarenMiller.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5qv2XFUIbMM/TiOcwUxygEI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/xT33QHiJ5ps/s320/KarenMiller.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630516313168445506" /></a><br />Here's Librarian Karen Miller, who graduated high school with me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s0tmMBchgUU/TiOZIaT4uxI/AAAAAAAAAio/qlu2XhKquss/s1600/SherylBonAnnLinda.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s0tmMBchgUU/TiOZIaT4uxI/AAAAAAAAAio/qlu2XhKquss/s320/SherylBonAnnLinda.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630512328923986706" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />Here's Publicist Sheryl Johnston, Ann Christophersen & Linda Bubon, co-owners of bookstore.<br /><br />Many more were present, but were not caught on film.bonniejohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383768846489028702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33029657.post-90262401370485352942011-07-16T07:48:00.000-07:002011-07-16T13:44:30.799-07:00Boswell Books in Milwaukee<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QodD9H5SXSQ/TiGk4IlND8I/AAAAAAAAAig/maGfJht3dnc/s1600/BoswellBooks%2B001.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QodD9H5SXSQ/TiGk4IlND8I/AAAAAAAAAig/maGfJht3dnc/s400/BoswellBooks%2B001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629962293472989122" /></a><br />Even though I read at the other Milwaukee area bookstore on Wednesday night, Daniel Goldin of Boswell Books picked me up at Hotel Metro Thursday morning and drove me to his bookstore, where he bought me coffee. He and Stacie Michelle Williams and I made funny chatter and bitched and said outrageous things, and time passed very quickly. I read on his blog that he decided not to quote me, and that is a good thing, because, well, the company was sort of intoxicating and I felt a little drunk. <br /><br />I did not tackle Daniel and wrestle him to the ground (he's not a real physical guy he said. His saying this made the professional in me me decide to politely resist hugging him... though, then, I sort of wanted to hug him more, or else wrestle him to ground), but when he dropped at the train station, he offered a complicated series of handshakes that made me feel very close to him. <br /><br />The main thing is, look how good looking he and Stacie are. I mean, really. You would have said crazy things, too. And just so you know, the blue in Daniel's shirt exactly matched his eyes.<br /><br />The train station in Milwaukee is very attractive, and within the attractive structure there is an attractive little cafe. However, this cafe features packaged salads with labels that are misleading--or rather, wrong! The tuna salad said the ingredients were "tuna, mayo, peas, onions" while in fact the salad was mostly pasta with only a smear of tuna. I mean, really.<br /><br />And I was off to Chicago.bonniejohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383768846489028702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33029657.post-19064525752539274662011-07-14T07:47:00.000-07:002011-07-15T21:11:35.923-07:00Milwaukee!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B-lEkNjPcDM/Th8B4TFovzI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/sEPCqI_0ibk/s1600/NextChapBooksMillipedes%2B041.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B-lEkNjPcDM/Th8B4TFovzI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/sEPCqI_0ibk/s400/NextChapBooksMillipedes%2B041.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629220125944626994" /></a><br /><br />What a pleasure to read at Next Chapter Books. A bunch of smart people were in the audience, including a few old pals and some new friends. This was the first time that a publisher has assigned me a Minder, and she (Mary) graciously retrieved me from my late train and got me to the best hotel in Milwaukee, Hotel Metro, where I got to be in the Master Suite! <br /><br />Pictured are Mary Gielow(my minder), Sharon (pal of Jan, who is Carla's pal) Lanora (bookstore owner), Jennifer Singleton Miller (Pacific Univ. grad), Emmyline (daughter of Jennifer), Carla Vissers (my pal), Jan (Carla's pal). What fun!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-r3UkNqkAeEA/Th8EQtxg7uI/AAAAAAAAAiY/_5ma06668bM/s1600/NextChapBooksMillipedes%2B043.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-r3UkNqkAeEA/Th8EQtxg7uI/AAAAAAAAAiY/_5ma06668bM/s320/NextChapBooksMillipedes%2B043.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629222744448102114" /></a><br /><br />You may have heard Lanora, owner at Next Chapter, on the NPR show "The Story," with Dick Gordon, where she described how she ended up an owner of the store. Here's the link to her store<br />http://www.nextchapterbookshop.com/bonniejohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383768846489028702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33029657.post-33247484878480802292011-07-12T10:52:00.000-07:002011-07-16T07:03:00.792-07:00The Book is Released, Ready to Eat<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3KOLsrfvWOg/Th5z8fCcHmI/AAAAAAAAAiA/HH3X0WgTffk/s1600/Kellee%2527s%2Bcake.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3KOLsrfvWOg/Th5z8fCcHmI/AAAAAAAAAiA/HH3X0WgTffk/s400/Kellee%2527s%2Bcake.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629064067220774498" /></a><br /><br />Thanks everyone for a great party at Bell's Brewery. There are so many great photos on facebook (if you're friends with any of the following folks, check out their posts Chris Magson, Lee Ann Johnson, Gary Allen, Mark Dando, Gina Betcher)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k0nLjWto12k/Th0WVUrxsLI/AAAAAAAAAhw/zCtcJsOsaBA/s1600/Stackobookcake.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k0nLjWto12k/Th0WVUrxsLI/AAAAAAAAAhw/zCtcJsOsaBA/s320/Stackobookcake.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628679664868372658" /></a><br />I'm attaching the photos of the edible books. The winner (top) was Kellee Campbell, with carrot cake topped with river-green frosting, brown sugar for sand, a rowboat made of chocolate brownies and gummy fish. Also edible plants. <br /><br />One of the other edible delights was this stack of four books cake, and I'm eating it right now, and it's so good, absolutely delicious and I don't know who made it. Please let me know if you know. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-crfvuWgqqOQ/Th51LTByMsI/AAAAAAAAAiI/RKNUtWLpbdA/s1600/Jane%2527s%2BCake.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 290px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-crfvuWgqqOQ/Th51LTByMsI/AAAAAAAAAiI/RKNUtWLpbdA/s320/Jane%2527s%2BCake.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629065421206467266" /></a>Also, Jane Nuyen's cake is pictured here. She was so sweet to drive all the way from St. Louis to come to the party, and then I just put her to work. Also, dear sweet Mariel Watson showed up and was willing to mind the door and hand out door prize tickets for three hours straight. Thanks Sass Havilar for handing out the door prizes. <br /><br />Also featured beautifully were Jaci Dillon's River Rock cookies!<br /><br />A couple of party attendees wrote better blogs than this about the party:<br /><br />In attendance were Tim Chilcote of <span style="font-style:italic;">Bull Men's Fiction</span>, along with the magazine's founder. Tim filed this blog about the event:<br /><br />http://bullmensfiction.blogspot.com/2011/07/once-upon-river-of-beer.html<br /><br />Zinta Aistars, editor of <span style="font-style:italic;">The Smoking Poet</span>, filed this report. <br /><br />http://zintaaistars.blogspot.com/2011/07/flow-of-this-literary-river.htmlbonniejohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383768846489028702noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33029657.post-28822443122787927602011-07-03T18:00:00.001-07:002011-07-03T18:24:30.285-07:00Bathroom Snakes<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oOy7fn8jnTQ/ThERENE1euI/AAAAAAAAAhg/-4hTq5NA3N0/s1600/douglasHeidiCarla%252Cbathroomsnake%252Cmothersday2011%2B046.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 112px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oOy7fn8jnTQ/ThERENE1euI/AAAAAAAAAhg/-4hTq5NA3N0/s200/douglasHeidiCarla%252Cbathroomsnake%252Cmothersday2011%2B046.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625296173489552098" /></a><br />Okay, so we had to do some work on our plumbing, and this involved taking out the toilet and removing five feet of sewer pipe, and yes, it involved yours truly up to her elbows in raw sewage. Anyhow, so my brother Tom helped us figure out what to do. We had a bathroom snake for cleaning out the pipes (curled in bucket above), but while we had the toilet disconnected, while we were outside, apparently another snake made its way up the pipes and into the bathroom. We found it the next night. I saw it slide behind a shelf unit. At 3 AM, Christopher was able to grab it from the ceramic tile floor. Here it is, on Chris's hand, just as we were setting it free outdoors.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3nNGvy7vZ6Q/ThER0SbrXvI/AAAAAAAAAho/DeT1T3ZJpGU/s1600/douglasHeidiCarla%252Cbathroomsnake%252Cmothersday2011%2B043.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3nNGvy7vZ6Q/ThER0SbrXvI/AAAAAAAAAho/DeT1T3ZJpGU/s400/douglasHeidiCarla%252Cbathroomsnake%252Cmothersday2011%2B043.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625296999561256690" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />By the way, my brother the plumber is unemployed, so if you need some work done, now might be a good time. Let me know if you need his numberbonniejohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383768846489028702noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33029657.post-68301700337184052842011-06-21T23:55:00.000-07:002011-06-22T00:09:56.363-07:00Female Faculty Party at Pacific Low Res MFA<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MQERMWSFkWU/TgGSYnqw1LI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/rq8BO7mj1d4/s1600/Oregon2011LoveCake%2B020.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MQERMWSFkWU/TgGSYnqw1LI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/rq8BO7mj1d4/s400/Oregon2011LoveCake%2B020.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620934761597949106" /></a><br />What a pleasure to come to Pacific University to visit my faculty pals! Here are posted some fabulous gals who were willing to don American Salvage tattoos for good sport. See here: Shelley Washburn, Judy Blunt, Rachael Toor, Sandra Alcosser, Kathlene Postma, BJC. Below see the full complement of Pacific female faculty in all their gorgeousness. Just so you know, Judy Blunt baked us a Persian Love Cake with candied rose petals. And the whole evening was was all about the love. (Pictured, in addition to those above, Dorianne Laux,Colleen Sump, Kellie Wells, Anne Hood, Laura Hendrie, Rachael Toor, Debra Gwartney.)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-r2dsCfaE50s/TgGUol6uHfI/AAAAAAAAAhY/Mfwr7mh20yU/s1600/Oregon2011LoveCake%2B018.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-r2dsCfaE50s/TgGUol6uHfI/AAAAAAAAAhY/Mfwr7mh20yU/s400/Oregon2011LoveCake%2B018.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620937235029171698" /></a>bonniejohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383768846489028702noreply@blogger.com1