Memoirous

January 1 You Determine Where You’ll Go You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who’ll decide where to go... ― Dr. Seuss, from Oh, the Places You’ll Go!

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Christmas 1944 Alice Gundry’s Recipe For the Best Potato Pancakes Ever Start with leftover mashed potatoes. Add finely chopped onion, salt and pepper. Knead in flour until no longer sticky. Form a handful of potato mixture into a patty and fry in hot bacon fat until golden on both sides. Delicious! We fed upon our dreams, bittersweet dreams of food and release. Gift giving for our second Christmas in Los Baños revolved around food, our most precious commodity. Alice and I exchanged recipes. Mother managed to save a can of jam from last year’s Red Cross Christmas package. We each got half a teaspoonful. Freddy surprised us with chicken. While Mother was preparing our one holiday meal, I took a walk over to see little Maggie Suchey. I had made a doll out of split bamboo for her. As I walked over to the family barracks, I couldn’t avoid passing by the corner room belonging to Mr. and Mrs. Leecher. Mr. Leecher ran a black market operation inside the camp. It was rumored ...

Read the rest of the story--(available in digital format, eBook from Amazon , Nook, Smashwords. Christmas at Los Baños The transfer to Los Baños took place two weeks later. Except for missing Frank, Ann, and the girls, I was glad to leave. Too many memories lingered in the halls and courtyard of STIC. I looked forward to seeing Papa and meeting Freddy Urs. I still had the money for him that his mother had given me before I left Panay. We traveled by railcar to Los Baños, which was approximately thirty miles south of Manila. Ironically, Los Baños—“the baths”—had been a resort famous for its curative waters. Laguna de Bay, a huge lake, bordered the edge of town, and nearby was the picturesque volcano Mount Makiling. The internment camp had originally been an agricultural college. It felt odd walking along the rows of fruit trees—tangerine, kalamansi , mango, papaya—toward the gates and fences of our prison camp. We arrived dusty and travel-worn, anxious and excited. I h...

In the cold month of December we could use a little paradise--here is an excerpt from my YA novel (available in digital format, eBook from Amazon, Nook, Smashwords, y'all!).   ANOTHER EXCERPT Christmas in Captivity Christmas Day arrived—my second in the Philippines, my first in captivity. It came without store-bought presents, without Papa, Julie, or mother. Mother mostly lay in bed except for when I took her by the hand and led her to the shower, the toilet, or to meals. She had hardly spoken a word since her outburst about the wedding album. As I looked into her vacant face, I often wondered what she thought about. Was she thinking of Papa? Without Papa she was missing her other half, the part of her that said she fixed good meals, thanked her for being a good wife, held her hand, and smoothed her hair at the dinner table. It was hard watching her crumble a little bit more each day. I busied myself making Christmas presents for the girls from materials availabl...

In the cold month of December we could use a little paradise--here is an excerpt from my YA novel (available in digital format, eBook from Amazon, Nook, Smashwords, y'all!). It is Christmas 1941--after the attack on Pearl Harbor the Philippines were targeted and the Japanese invaded the islands, slowly working their way down from Manila which capitulated (not the case at the end of the war where Filipinos and Americans  fought corner to corner against the Japanese. The city was heavily damaged. and the civilian population paid in many casualties). Anyway Louise's father was in the capital city when it fell and there are questions of when, if ever, he might be able to reunite with the family on the island of Panay. Christmas excerpt Beyond Paradise Mother volunteered to make a Christmas Eve dinner for the Fletchers. By combining pantries on the compound everyone got a little bit of everything. We received a canned ham plus several cans of green beans, creamed corn, ...

Thanks for these gray hairs Thanks for these weird discolored spots (liver marks?) Thanks for my thunder thighs— They help me to climb the stairs Thanks for wind in my pipes (to climb the stairs) Thanks that I can sing Thanks that I sing badly Thanks for stretch marks Thanks for a great big ass Thanks for the gaps in my teeth because without these teeth I would never be able to Eat Little Debbie Nutty Bars, Hot Tamale candy, and those addictive restaurant-style tortilla chips. Thanks for the flab under my arms— they’re like little bat wings! Thanks that I’m not dead. Thanks for one more day to dance naked.

You know summer is over when —snow piles up on window ACs. You know summer is over when —all the swimming pools are empty hulls. You know summer is over when —the streets glisten from icy rain. You know summer is over when —you shiver stepping out of the shower. You know summer is over when —even the dogs put on jackets. You know summer is over when —the marigolds die. You know summer is over when —they bring the patio umbrella inside. You know summer is over when —the mice run into the house. You know summer is over when —Starbucks begins to advertise their Pumpkin Chai Latte. You know summer is over when —the lake turns green beneath a slate gray sky. Can you think of a few of your own? --send them to me in the Comments!

This past weekend I went down to Columbia College (here in Chicago!) for the annual Chicago Book Expo . I'm fairly modest when it comes to purchasing books and journals. I simply don't have the income to buy as much as I want. My priority first and foremost is to support my friends--thus I bought Pig Park while at T he Book Cellar . Anyway, I just HAD to buy a journal called the Court Green when I saw that they had a section in a particular volume dedicated to James Schuyler. Fans of this blog know that that's my boy. It always seems that around this time of year I like to spotlight his poem December ("Katherine going on five" is Katherine Koch who contributed an article about Jimmy in the Court Green ) and the Zen-like Advent. Here is a throwback to an earlier blog: I Just Can't Help Myself , where I have written out part/all of these poems. --The day looks warmer than it is. Jimmy and Liz by Fairfield Porter

2014 was a momentous one for my critique group. Myself an another member both came out with books. Check out: PIG PARK by Claudia Gualalupe Martinez CLICK HERE to order Aren't we the BEST! 2015 is bound to be even better.

Yesterday, Sunday, instead of services, my church joined with other groups across the city and country to protest the recent grand jury decisions and, in general, the increase in aggressive policing tactics. I attend a multi-generational, multi-ethnic church so there are always lots of opinions—in this instance we were on the same page.   I was proud of us and the energy that went into the message. There was art, singing, and performance; we certainly got people’s attention. The most powerful demonstration was when we put “bodies”—clothes stuffed to look like bodies out in the middle of the road with sheets covering them. The sheets had names (representing several recent policing fatalities) painted on them in black lettering.  Now for a self-revelation: I was really uncomfortable during the protest. I didn’t want to walk in the road, stop traffic, or perform civil disobedience. It wasn’t that I was afraid because in a heart beat I’ll speak up or unwisely...

Do you remember these? Every Christmas all four of us kids would find a Book of candy Life Savers in our stocking. Right away I’d eat my favorites—what were they?—most likely wintOgreen and cherry. Then I’d move onto secondary ones. Until all that were left in the “book” were butterscotch and rum-flavored rolls. They might stay bookmarked well into February or March. Sometimes my sister and I would make trades. Swap one of hers for one of mine. The boys most likely gobbled theirs down before New Years. We came to expect the Book of Life Savers. Even the year Mom was in the hospital, we recognized that familiar oblong box sticking out of the cuff of our knit stockings. Even after we left home for college and one or two of us might return home for the holiday there would be a Book of Life Savers waiting for us. For my parents it might have been a throw-away gift, an easy pick, something they didn’t have to put much thought or effort into. But, for me, in the rearview ...

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