Writing--A Half-Century of Change

So I hit a landmark occasion over the weekend and can now claim that I am a half-century in age. Wow . . . when you word it that way, it makes one sound rather old. ;) And since I seem to be approaching AARP mode, I feel it's only natural that I wax eloquently about some of the changes I've observed during my loooonnngg years in this mortal existence, especially as a writer.

First of all, despite what my children may think, we did have access to items like books when I was a kid. ;) Parchment documents were before my time. The big change here would be a subject matter that has been discussed lately on this blog: the advent of items like the Kindle or Nook. Books are now available in a computer format for easy download on these devices. Gone are the days when one could browse happily in the bosom of a favorite bookstore. Now most books (Hardbound editions are still available) can be purchased online, or in larger bookstore chains that are surviving the impact of E-Books.

While I'm enthralled with the idea of possessing an E-book reader that contains an unlimited library of books that can be carried around in one's purse, I will still want my old-fashioned books. In fact, to honor my noteworthy birthday this year, my kids got together and created a new library for me near the family room of our home, complete with brand new bookshelves. They are already filled with my collection of books, and most are organized into specific genres. I'm calling this my Kindle, the home edition. ;)

Another change: keyboarding had an entirely different meaning when I was in high school. It meant spending an hour in typing class every day, learning how to use an electric typewriter. In college, I enhanced this skill by taking advanced typing classes, figuring this knowledge could help me secure gainful employment. And those skills have come in handy with the career that developed in the writing world, so all of that training was not a waste of time. I can type faster than any of my kids, and they are impressed with my dexterity.

My first manuscript was composed on a sleek electric typewriter that was top of the line in its day. While it was impressive and even possessed a small memory capacity, if I decided to make any changes in a chapter, it meant retyping the entire thing. Let's just say that I was thrilled with my first computer, and the word processor it contained. This advancing technology has made that aspect of writing much easier. My current best friend: a nifty new laptop my husband bought for me last year. It uses Windows 7 and possesses more memory that I seem to have at the moment. =D

Back in the day, research for my books meant a series of interviews, hours spent at the local library, and traveling about the countryside. I still travel about the countryside when researching a setting for a book, but I use the internet to research details I can find at the click of a button. Instead of seeking out an expert mechanic to learn how to use the latest jack while changing a tire, I can use a Google search to find out the same information in much less time. I also cheat these days and tend to use an online dictionary and thesaurus. It saves time, and often comes up with more meanings or synonyms than I can find in my worn reference books in my new library downstairs.

Selling books these days is very different. My first book was published in 1994. To get word out, it meant advertising in newspapers, radio interviews, and booksignings. Booksignings still exist, and advertising compliments of newspapers and interviews still take place, but most of that can be done once again, compliments of the internet. Most newspapers and radio stations are available online. Utilizing items like Facebook, Twitter, Blogger, and online groups like the ForeverFriends Readers' list, grants access to an untold audience.

All in all, there have been many good changes during the past few years. While I will always treasure old-fashioned items like my books, I am impressed with the technology that in my opinion, has made it much easier to write.

Climb Every Mountain

This past week I had the opportunity to help take our Laurels to a nearby canyon for a rappelling adventure. Originally, four of our girls were planning on participating. By the actual day of this activity, we were down to two who could still attend. Both girls are remarkable young ladies, but one has faced tremendous challenges. Her name is Sam, short for Samantha. She was in a horrible car accident about 8 months ago. Comatose for a time, she has fought an intense battle to regain abilities and skills most of us take for granted. She is still waging war on a daily basis against obstacles like double vision. I have no doubt that she will conquer these trials--she is a determined young woman and it is amazing to see the progress she has made.


Sam was an honor student in the past, and it was not surprising to me to see her name back on that same honor roll this past May at the end of the school year. She is also playing the piano for us in Y. W. again although she usually accomplishes this task by keeping one eye closed. She is a wonderful example of perseverance and courage and the light of Christ shines from her eyes when she shares her testimony of those things that matter most.


As we stood together, waiting for her turn to tackle the mountain on Saturday, she told me something I will always try to remember. She was sharing her secret for succeeding in life. It is simply this: "If I do well at something like cooking, I enjoy my efforts. If I'm not thrilled by what I've done, I can either accept it as is and be grateful for it, or try again and improve. The main thing is to be happy."


I suspect that is the key in life. We all face trials in this mortal realm. It's part of why we're here, part of our growing and learning process. Our attitude will determine how well we will do. Sam's positive mindset has helped her overcome tremendous challenges this past year. I was visiting with Sam and her mother at the hospital on a day when a physical therapist was trying to help Sam relearn to walk up steps. I was so touched by how hard Sam concentrated on lifting her foot, one step at a time. Ironically, I had brought her a framed picture that afternoon, something that has hung in a place of honor on the wall of my computer room for several years. It shows someone walking up a golden staircase, one step at a time. I had originally bought that picture to help remind me that all things are possible when we believe in ourselves. After the accident, I  purchased a new frame for it, and presented it to Sam, knowing of the challenges she faced at the time.

I thought of that picture again on Saturday as I tearfully watched Sam climb up the face of a mountain, step by step. I was not at all surprised when she reached the top, grinning over her victory that day. I know it took a tremendous effort for her to accomplish that feat. At one point, one of her legs began to tremble uncontrollably, but she ignored it, and continued to push herself, determined to conquer this challenge. The joy in her step at she rappelled down that same mountain several minutes later was obvious to us all. She had successfully attained a goal, believing in herself every step of the way. And to me, that is the secret of living this life to the fullest.

Summer is Simmering

Like many who dwell in our neck of the woods, we've been hopefully awaiting summer's arrival. It has been a looooong (emphasis on looooong) winter and we are craving sunshine, warm days, and all of the fun things that go with this time of year like camping, boating, fishing, reunions (did I really mention that last item?), etc.

Summer is on its way. This past weekend, we saw glimpses of the sun and it was lovely. My husband made good use of the brief nice weather and helped me plant our garden, and all three flower beds. Then it turned off cold and nasty again and froze 3 nights in a row. Sigh . . .


All is not lost, I'm keeping the tomatoes and pepper plants covered. I only planted hardy flowers that could survive at the North Pole, and our garden isn't up yet. When it does surface, it will mostly consist of root crops that don't freeze, like carrots, beets, onions,  and so forth.


I snapped several photos (I know . . . gasp! . . . .) over the weekend and decided to share a few of them in this post. It is proof that summer is on its way and one of these days, the sun will shine and stay that way . . . at least for a little while.

This is a photo that was actually snapped on May 22, the day my new grandson was born. Yep, that's me holding the cute little tyke.

See, the four foot drift over our front yard has finally melted. This is a quick shot I took the other day of our dog, Brandy, and our cat, Cleo, who were both enjoying a warm nap in the sun.

Here's a shot I took over the weekend at Mud Lake, also known as Dingle Marsh, north of the famed Bear Lake. As you can see, it's full of water due to this year's impressive run-off.

Here is a shot I took that same night near Bear Lake. The past few years, we've been able to drive down that boat ramp you can see to cross the beach to play in the water. That won't be happening this year because of the water depth. We may be lucky to have any beach left when the snow all melts. ;)

This is another shot of Mud Lake, the south end, across the road from Bear Lake.

As you can see, we smacked into a plethora of bugs on our trip around the lake that night. (Yep, our windshield looked the same.) This doesn't bode well for future camping trips. I suspect we'll endure numerous mosquitoes this year.

Numerous homes that line the east side of Bear Lake are enjoying true lake front property this year. =D

The pelicans were enjoying the high tide as well.

This is a shot of the sun dipping low over the lake.

Sunsets are beautiful over Bear Lake. This is a photo I shot near the south end of the lake.

Time to call it a day.

Diet Coke Run

Typically when most people envision a Diet Coke run, they think of jaunting to a local convenience store to fill their mugs, or perhaps to a local favorite eatery to grab a refreshing drink. Some may think this is a new type of marathon race, considering how many of those are in existence. For me, a Diet Coke run was something I shared with a dear friend whenever we could work it into our crazy schedules. For several years, this good friend and I shared many things in common. Both Type 1 diabetics, we fought the same daily battle. Teaming up in diabetic rebellion, we faced doctor appointments together, and even ran the local county diabetic support group for many years. We always went for a Diet Coke run afterwards to touch base and toast our continuing war against a dreaded disease.

Today, I purchased two Diet Cokes from a local store, and headed up a lonely road. Stopping near a recent mound of earth, I pulled out a cheery bouquet of sunflowers, and both Diet Cokes. I placed the bouquet of sunflowers near the other flowers that were set there over the weekend, and placed one bottle of Diet Coke near the sunflowers. Then I pulled out the second bottle, removed its lid, and drank a toast to my friend. It was my way of showing respect and honor to Denise, letting her and her family know this valiant woman is not forgotten.

It is the traditionally celebrated Memorial Day today. Numerous tributes have been taking place all weekend. We've been decorating graves since Saturday, reminiscing about ancestors and close family members and friends who have passed from this mortal existence. Last night, we watched a tribute on TV for veterans who paid the ultimate sacrifice for their country. Tonight, I'll be helping my husband take down all of the American flags that were set in place on veterans' graves last Thursday night in the local cemetery. Since Kennon is the head of the Bennington Cemetery Board, it's one of his responsibilities to make sure those flags are only in place for the allotted time during this commemorative holiday.

There are many ways to remember those who are no longer in mortal mode. Each year, a close friend and I make the rounds of several cemeteries in our valley, leaving behind small tokens of love on the graves of six special people who were taken in an instant from our lives in a fatal car accident. It's something we have done now for 14 years--our way of letting their families know we're thinking of them on this tender day. We will continue to do so until we are no longer in mortal mode ourselves.

Some people think this is a morbid tradition. I've actually heard some people say that it's a form of worshiping the dead. I beg to differ. I was raised in a family who spent Memorial Weekend decorating the graves of loved ones. In my opinion, it is an important tradition. It was upon these occasions that I learned family stories and legends that are part of our treasured family history. These stories need to be passed onto future generations as we pay tribute to those who paved the way for us, and those who gave their lives for our freedom.

It is up to us to decide how we will honor those who have gone before. I know for many people, this is the weekend that marks the beginning of summer. Lots of camping, boating, and traveling adventures are taking place. There is nothing wrong with that, but I hope that at some point during this holiday, most will pause for a moment to ponder the lives of those who are no longer with us. Though I doubt the deceased  care how many flowers are left near their headstones, I suspect it does matter that they are not forgotten.

You Know It's Time to Consult Miss Clairol When . . .

So there I was, standing innocently in line at a local store, minding my own business, when I was once again asked an insulting question: "Ma'am, do you qualify for the senior discount?" I'm sure the look on my face spoke volumes. ;)

I've noticed this kind of thing happens when the following trends take place:

A) I've had a bad week.

B) I've endured an arthritis flare-up from Hades.

C) My true roots begin to surface.

D) The clerk is a sweet young thing who pops chewing gum for entertainment.

This week I would have to add: E) All of the above. I tried to comfort myself by pondering that the diaper-clad clerk (okay, she was wearing jeans and a t-shirt) was trying to save me money. These days, that counts for quite a bit. On the other hand, I still feel insulted since I'm about ten years shy of the qualification standards for this thoughtful discount.

Since I wasn't prepared to offer a witty reply, I merely said something like: "Gee, I wish." To which the sweet young thing responded . . . "Oh, well, have a nice day."

Right. I've just been called an old person, and now I'm supposed to enjoy the rest of my day. In my defense, I've been fighting a family trend for years. I started going grey in my twenties. I have cousins who gave up dyeing their hair and were totally white-headed by the time they were in their forties. To my credit, I've been successfully keeping this character-building trait a secret for years. Evidently I'm slipping a bit.

So . . . I went to another store and bought a nice box of hair accentuation. I promptly used it the next day, and my husband remarked that it was good to see that I was feeling better. Ah. So maybe I was looking a bit gray around the gills this past week. I blame the weather. A lot. I suffer from a form of rheumatoid arthritis and when the barometric pressure changes, I become a great weather forecaster. This past week has been most impressive with regard to pressurization. The other day I felt like I was a walking canker sore; every part of my body hurt. And that's the day I was asked if I qualified for special privileges. 

Two weeks ago I received an invitation to join the AARP. Now if this stood for: Arty Articulate Really Cool Person, I would've been excited. (I know, then it would be the AARCP) Instead it means: Any Airhead can Ridicule this Person. To my credit, I am reaching a landmark birthday this year. The kind that is celebrated with black balloons, etc. That does not mean I'm ready for nursing home mode!

So . . . to counter all of this I am going to start an exercise program, keep my hair looking as it should at this age, and wear a badge that says: "Ask stupid questions at your own risk!" I will also attempt to keep my sense of humor intact, since it's looking like that will be the best defense of all.

Beauty Is Truly in the Eye of the Beholder

A few years ago I stood on a small hillside overlooking a field below. To the casual observer, there wasn’t anything special about this place. To me, it is a site of historical significance, a place of peace and solace where unexpected healing can transpire.

I had been there once before, ten years earlier. At that time, our family had traveled with close friends. As we exited our cars, most of us experienced a sense of profound reverence. Even our children were whispering as we walked around. My oldest son later told me it was like being in the temple. I tend to concur with that opinion. 

While there, two close friends and I wandered into the trees on the small hillside. It was a pain-filled day for one of us—it marked the birthday of a beloved daughter who had passed away a few months before. As our friend quietly grieved for her daughter, a beautiful young woman who would have been fifteen, we walked in silence, yearning for comfort.

We had brought along a small vase containing flowers that were originally meant for an ancestor’s grave. Two of us share a common lineage and we had planned to leave that vase of silk flowers on a grandmother’s grave in Nauvoo. To our sad shock, we learned that her grave was among those lost when mobbers ruined the old cemetery. And so we brought that vase of flowers with us as we wandered into the heart of Adam-Ondi-Ahman.

It didn’t take us long to find a beautiful place to leave the vase—a tribute to our friend’s daughter. As we stood together, gazing down at the flowers, a peaceful love eased our heavy hearts. Somehow we knew life would go on, despite the pain of that time. It was the first ray of hope to brighten that dismal day.

When we eventually walked out to where our families were waiting, the three of us passed by a young couple. They were glaring around as if puzzled. Both were shabbily dressed, and the young man held a can of beer in his hand. “What’s so special about this place?” he growled as we walked past. It was like a slap in the face after the spiritual boost we had experienced in that same location.

The three of us later talked about that day and we decided that so much of what we encounter in life depends on our mindset. If we are prepared to embrace truth and beauty, we will find it. If our expectations are lower, we will find that, too.

Ten years later as I stood on that same hillside, seeking solace for a silent grief I carried, I felt very much alone. I was the only one who wanted to be there that day. Everyone else thought stopping in this out of the way location was a waste of time. While my traveling companions stood around, discussing the plainness of the area, I slipped off alone.

Once again prayers were answered and the peace I had been seeking was granted. That spiritual experience would carry me through several darkened days that were ahead. I will be forever grateful for the vision of hope that slipped into my heart to sustain me when the need was great.

It was a witness to me of the importance of faith . . . and attitude. Those two items truly make a difference in how we see the world. We could be standing in the most beautiful spot in existence, but if our minds and hearts aren’t open, we will miss what is there. Do we see the beauty, or do we focus on the flaws? I suspect those questions are of eternal significance, when all is said and done.

Exciting New Book!

I've heard it said that desperation is the mother of all invention. This often happens in my own life when I'm in the middle of creating delicious cuisine for supper and realize I'm missing some of the key ingredients. =) Since it's more than a hop, skip, or a jump to the nearest store, I usually come up with a different way to tackle the meal in question.


I suspect we've all experienced moments in our lives when we've faced a challenging problem and had to think of a way to handle it in a creative fashion. Like last year at girls' camp when the girls from my ward invented a way to keep the food tent upright. It looked something like this:

What you can't see is the heavy rock they tied to one end of a rope to balance the weight of the tent. They threw it up into the pine tree, using a limb to hold the rope in place. And it worked! True ingenuity! =)


Three sisters that I know used a combination of meditation, prayer, and inspiration to come up with a solution to a dilemma they faced. Their mother had suffered from ill health for quite some time. She was unable to speak and though her mind was sharp until her death, her inability to express her needs was extremely frustrating to everyone involved. Susan, Jean, and Trudy often agonized over how they could help their mother and did their best to serve as translators for the hospital staff until their mother passed from this mortal world.


Susan's husband was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's disease shortly after these three sisters lost their mother. Once again this family was faced with the problem of being able to communicate with a loved one. Toward the end of Clayton's life, it was nearly impossible for him to express his needs to the hospital staff. In Jean's own words: "No patient should have to suffer such frustration in trying to express simple needs."


She began praying for answers and eventually, some ideas came to mind. She envisioned a small book with simple sentences that corresponded to brightly colored icons. The patient could point to the icons to communicate with hospital staff, family, or friends.


Jean shared her ideas with her sisters, and soon the three of them began working together to create this book. Trudy is a gifted artist and she began coming up with ideas for the icons. Susan and Jean spent hours constructing simple sentences that would help most patients convey their needs or concerns. When it was finished, they used the proto-type with Clayton and were amazed by how well it worked.


Most hospitals have flash cards that are used when patients struggle to communicate. The problem with the cards is the time it takes to find the right one. With this book, the patient can quickly locate the icon that represents his or her concern. It has been used with numerous patients and all have expressed how helpful it has been in situations where communication is limited.


When Susan, Jean, and Trudy saw how well their proto-type worked, they decided to get this helpful tool published. It is now available for purchase on this link:   Communication for the Cognizant Nonverbal Patient This sixteen page book has the potential to help most patients who struggle with communication. I've been impressed with its ability to help those who cannot express themselves.


In recent months, one of my Laurels (yes, I'm still serving as the fearless leader for the YW in our ward) was seriously injured in a car accident. She was comatose for a time, and when she finally regained consciousness, she was unable to speak. Susan is her aunt and she loaned the proto-type of this book to her niece and her family. It proved to be an invaluable resource, providing a way for my Laurel to speak with a different voice until hers was restored. 


I predict this little book will help countless lives. I am convinced that Jean, Susan, and Trudy were inspired to create it. For less than what you would pay for three gallons of gas, you can have a book on hand that may help a member of your family to maintain dignity and peace of mind. 


If you are interested in learning more, click on  My Companion Voice Blog or go to Facebook and visit My Companion Voice.