Are We Going Overboard with Correctness?

 

 

When I was in elementary school we did not get a day off for Columbus' birthday.

Our teachers read us stories about Columbus and his journey that gave him the distinction of discovering America.  It was only years later that students were allowed this day as a holiday.  Some school systems still do not recognize it as a holiday.

 

My husband and I were sitting in a café in a hotel in Durham last February and the local news was on the television. There was  an item from the Asheville City council.  The day before they had passed a regulation to change the name of Columbus Day to "Indigenous Day."

why are we so afraid of hurting someone's feelings, or giving someone an award they worked hard to attain?  Why is there no winner in children's sports?  Is it because everyone deserves a prize?  Would Johnny's emotional growth be stunted if he did not make the honor society and his friend did? There was an article in the paper after graduation in a high school in North Carolina concerning not allowing honor club members to wear the club logo on their graduation gowns. Another school system was considering doing away with honor clubs.  I wonder if the administrators making these unthinkable decisions did not work hard enough to qualify for these honors. Are we to make the classroom one where everyone is the same mediocre student with no goals or new ideas?  Competition should be encouraged.  Striving for the best one can do is what made this country the one people are willing to do whatever will get them within its borders. 

Most people over thirty-five have figured out that life is "no bed of roses" but it is better the more we strive to do our best.  I believe that social media tends to make us paranoid about so many things.  And we encourage this by baring our lives with fluff that isn't important. I don't really care what you ate for dinner unless you are planning to send me a fabulous new recipe.

You won't be around to make your child's decisions and protect him from this big cruel world forever. Give him some tools to ensure a stable lifestyle.  Encourage him to be around positive people.  Give him a thirst for learning by reading to him even before his is born. Give him opportunities in place of things. Give him respect and he will learn to respect you and others.
And please don't buy into the philosophy of changing the name of "National Ice Cream Day" to "Frozen Cream, Sugar, and Fat Day!




MEMOIR MOMENTS AND WRITING TIPS: In the Blink of an Eye

MEMOIR MOMENTS AND WRITING TIPS: In the Blink of an Eye:           For most of us our lives are not humdrum or boring.  The ones of us who are retired wonder how we ever found time to work.  Of ...

In the Blink of an Eye

 

        For most of us our lives are not humdrum or boring.  The ones of us who are retired wonder how we ever found time to work.  Of course we didn't do all the "fun" things we are involved in now.  Some of us find ourselves going to the doctor or doctors more than we would like to do.  For months and perhaps years you keep those appointments and you are doing pretty well.  I had my primary care doctor to say to me recently, "if you were as good as you look on paper you would be a picture of health,"  So when a test shows something wrong and scans and MRIS are ordered we know we are probably in big trouble.

 

      In just a blink of an eye you are in deep trouble and wondering why things happen so fast.  I don't have an answer for that but I have the knowledge of how it affects the patient and the whole family.

 

Here is my story:

 

My husband's cancer had been kept under control for about eleven years with the uses of hormones.  Last fall he began to have problems and after each visit to the emergency room he felt better for a few days.  These visits became routine until his doctor decided to do more extensive tests.  The results were not good.  The cancer had metastasized into several vital organs and his bones. He was accepted into a study at Duke University Medical Center.  That was a good thing but it meant travelling four hours each way every two to three weeks.  In the meantime he developed severe back pain for which he took radiation treatments.  They were very painful and he was unfortunate to contract the shingles. I won't go into all the details but because he couldn't get down enough liquids and nourishment his electrolytes were in a shambles and he was dehydrated.  After five days in the hospital he was released to continue his treatments.  We, my husband and I, talked about Hospice Care.  He was back in the hospital the day after returning home.  We mentioned Hospice to a nurse and before we could blink he was signed up.  The following day the equipment was being brought into the house. In three days a bed was set up in my office and he was receiving wonderful care to ease his pain and make him comfortable.

    

 

In the blink of an eye our roles had changed.  My husband who had been my caregiver was now my patient  to care for.  I loved the role but my physical disabilities were still with me.  We decided to hire help for me and for my husband.  My daughter was there and she needed  more assistance.

In the blink of an eye our home had become more like a wing of a hospital.  There were walkers, wheelchair, A hospital bed, oxygen equipment and various other signs of illness.  The telephone and doorbell rang often.  In the blink of an eye our home had changed.  We had schedules to keep,  meals to serve the sick in bed, extra laundry to do, and dispositions to keep mellow.

 

In the blink of an eye our whole lifestyle had changed.  But we are thankful that Hospice  is here and that we have friends and family to give us support. We especially appreciate the many prayers offered for strength and peace.  We pray that when your 'blink' comes you will have the same support.

Detours In Our Lives

I grew up in a small village in the mountains of Southwest Virginia. Everyone knew everyone and also everyone's business.  For the most part it was a caring and good place to have grown up.  At the time I did not think anything about the clouds of pollution spewed into the air by the Radford Arsenal.  We had become used to our windows rattling every time they put off a test of powder(ammunition).  Our fathers brought home nice checks.  They had great benefits and everyone seemed glad to have the best paying jobs in the area, Although shiftwork changed the dynamics of the family m we managed to live a typical 50s life.  Most of our families escaped terrible disasters and life was good for the most part.

Then before we knew it we were adults with children.  Along with parenthood we faced many problems, some even tragic, such as the death of a child.  Thankfully we did not.  Our one big life changing event was our divorce after thirty-seven years. There are still wounds that will probably never heal.

Our parents on both sides have passed on.  They lived full lives but we all wish that we didn't have to see them suffer with cancer and other diseases at the end.  I wish they were still here to listen and give advice.

Now I have entered a time in my life where my dear sweet husband is coming to the end of his eighty-eight years. Most of my waking hours are given to his care.  I wish I could do more.  Hospice is an immense help.  If I were well it would be easier.  I want to do so much more but my body says, "no."  My emotions are up and down,  When I think about his suffering I feel selfish that I would want to keep him here in that state. When he is peacefully asleep under a narcotic's affect I want to say, "don't leave me.  I don't know what I will do without you.  Then I think of friends and acquaintances who have lost their husbands, some much younger  than mine.

Life will go on but I don't like this particular detour.  I am not alone.  Friends and family have been supportive.  I could not do without them. A huge thank you to all of you.  You know who you are.

And now I will close this post with a reminder to everyone.  Life is full of twists and turns, even detours but you can make the adjustment with faith and friends.

Thank you for reading this post.  I welcome comments.

Darlene Eichler,
Writer and Teacher

 

 

 

                                   

                                       MEMOIR CLASS-PART II

 

The last spring class for Memoir Writing 101 took place on Wednesday, April 13, 2016

At least I had intended it to be just that but life takes funny turns. After I received some notes from students and listened to their crediting me for giving them the impetus and skills to begin to write I feel guilty that I won't continue with those few students who have not been with me for six, five, four, three years.  The majority of then have not finished their memoirs on paper,

they say most of it is in their heads.  I feel, in some respects I have let them down.  

So, I have decided to teach a shorter memoir class this fall.  As it looks now, I will take and hour's break after the Wednesday class of "Memoir To Fiction" and hold class from 1:00 to 2:30.  I hope this will fit into the students' schedules.

Remember everyone has a story and they need to learn to tell it well.

Have a wonderful summer,

Darlene Eichler                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

My Memoir Class

I am always talking or writing about my memoir class.  Not only are they great writers but they are compassionate, sympathetic and concerned about one another and their teacher.  In my experience of groups of similar backgrounds -same ethnic groups, live in the same locale, have many things in common, have few problems "getting along." (Unless of course they are family!) Just kidding!  This class negates that theory.  They are an eclectic group, several from New York City, others from Update New York, New Jersey, Virginia, North Carolina,   Texas, Ireland, and England.  There are retired educators, nurses, business people, librarians, artists, social workers, therapists, and others.

I don't remember any disagreements,  although their experiences are so different.  Their writing tends to bond the group together as a family. They write for different purposes--some to record family history. Others write for healing, some for the pure pleasure of writing and a few as the first step to expand their writing into novels. No matter the reason they come every Wednesday morning from 10-12.  I am thankful. I believe I receive more than they do. Eachonevin their own way has given me courage and strength to fight the battle over Parkinson's and RA,  these two tough foes, add to that recent gallbladder surgery and I began to think I would have to give up teaching.  Then I remembered my mantra in my book "You Don't Look Sick. Get up, dress up, show up and never give up.  I'm giving it my best and I think  we will have another great session beginning on March 9, 2016.

Thanks to each of you for being there for me.

Darlene






Darlene Eichler

IS CHRISTMAS OVER?

Tucker, my thirteen year old grandson, noticed that some of the neighbors were taking down their Christmas decorations the day after Christmas Day.  His question was, "is Christmas really over.
My answer was quick and firm.  "No, Christmas is not over until Epiphany on January 6.  Having been a member of a liturgical church for most of my life I was quite aware of the celebration in the church.

I'm afraid the answer to his question in the secular world is, yes.  Some stores had Valentines and Easter bunnies out before the 25th arrived.  Even some of the clerks were complaining.

We spend so much time dreaming and planning for this Christian holiday.  How can the spirit leave so quickly on the 26th?  In most of us it does not go away on the 26th or January 6th.  The spirit of Christmas is love--love for family, friends and even our enemies. You say that is impossible to do.  I agree it is the hardest thing you will ever do.  I'm sure you notice how friendlier sales persons are during the season.  And most of us reciprocate.  Why is some of that great caring spirit lost on December 26th?

I remarked to one of my adult grandchildren how I had this feeling that I was still waiting on Christmas to come.  I feel that something hasn't arrived.  could it have ben the warm weather that threw us off?  Maybe it is the constant news of killings and tornadoes and devastation by wind and flooding?  I hope it comes to me soon--I don't like the feeling.

I wish all of my readers a healthy and peaceful New Year.  I promise to write more posts in 2016.
Darlene

GROWING OLD IS AN EYE-OPENER

It barely misses a day and when it isn't there, I think I have been imagining it all along.  Maybe I'm entering the lost world of dementia or Alzheimer's but I find that hard to imagine with my brain filled with writing, teaching and keeping up with my active family. My friends say "you don't look your age but seldom do they say, "you don't act your age."  They could be telling an untruth.  I hope not.

This intrusive thing I'm talking about is the way younger persons treat me.  "Let me help you with that, honey.  Well here comes grandma," from the mouth of a smart mouth first class jerk. I felt like hitting him with one of my carry-ons but I didn't have the strength to lift it. "Would this table be better for you?"  As I have walked three steps. The waitress' voice can be heard out in the parking lot, "sugar, what would you like to drink?"  I don't answer right away and she turns to my husband, "what does she usually drink?"

And then there are the non-verbal activities--the young man stands there holding the door and I'm just half way across the parking lot. I hurry as much as my Parkinson's and arthritis will allow. Than I feel I must make a silly remark to hide my embarrassment.  There are other times when you wonder if you have become invisible  They pretend you aren't there talking about their gigs and data matter.  Once I spoke up and asked if they had downloaded their 2Gs of data into their new 09 IPhone and they looked at me as if I were from outer space and continued their conversation.

All this to say treat everyone as an individual.  Just because they have gray hair and wobble as they walk, it doesn't mean they are old in their minds. You may be surprised at how much we know that never crossed your mind.  Have a meaningful conversation with a senior citizen today.  You might enjoy it!  And keep calling us honey and sugar and holding doors for us.  We know you mean well, except for the jerk on the airplane!

Darlene Eichler
Writer, Memoirist
Teacher, Blogger

WALLS

WALLS

BY

DARLENE EICHLER

My mind won’t quit thinking about walls.  I have tried to put the word in the recesses of my mind but it seems that everyday I am reminded of walls, one kind or another.  The first time I started to think about the meaning of the word in relationship to the immigrant situation.  One of the many politicians running for president made the statement that if elected, he would build a wall like one has never seen to end the alien problem with Mexico.  My immediate thought was that we are not a nation of wall builders but one of tearing down walls.  If we had built walls to keep out immigrants many years ago, we no doubt would be living in our ancestors’ home country.  America is a country built by immigrants.  Then I began to think of the definition of walls.  There are walls built of almost any material--wood, stone, steel, hedges, and many other  barriers.  There are walls to keep people and things in and walls to keep out intruders--political walls, walls of social classes, walls of prejudices, we can go on forever.  Walls do not have to be built of tangible materials.  We build walls all around our space without lifting a tool. Our body language, our persona, and our words become impenetrable barriers.

The Pope spoke of the negative effects of walls in relation to the displaced throngs of immigrants flooding Europe.  I have stopped watching news programs where this massive problem is shown.  I cannot watch and get my mind around the inhumanity to man reflected in the faces of frightened and hungry children.  There was just a tiny glimmer of hope with the Pope stressing the need to help the downtrodden.  “Do unto to others as you would have them do to you.”

Perhaps more of our world leaders heard and will heed the Pope’s urging.

What can I as one person do?  I will start with those personal walls of  blindness to social injustice, to prejudice, to economic unfairness, and to religious intolerance.  I will be more conscious of my churches programs for those in need, whatever the cause.  I will personally continue my Christian service for the hungry, the sick, and the homeless.  I will work to help educate those who need to learn the basics of education that will give new meaning to their lives.  I want to give back and share the wonderful resources given to me by my parents, my church, and my teachers.  All cared about the younger generation.  Walls were not built.  We were given freedom to follow our dreams.

To paraphrase the former President Reagan, "Mr.  Gorbachev tear down this wall."
And the wall came tumbling down to the shock and amazement of the world.

Let us tear down our walls of hate and control, never to rebuild them.

HALLELUJAH! THE BOOK IS OUT!

No, not my book, (although I have two new ones out) John, my son's book.  The memoir that bares his soul in the telling of being in a controlling religious cult.
It was a difficult one to write.  I know.  We have talked and emailed for hours on end. I can say that every time we were together for the past two years, the book was the center of our conversation. Don't get me wrong.  I was proud to be a part of it and I would like to think I helped in some way.

The book, "Locked In," is powerful.  It will shock, surprise, bring you to tears and warm your heart in places.  It will answer so many questions.  Questions about how someone could end up in a cult, or how you know you are in a cult, and how to escape from the cult.  You will find yourself saying, "no way that could take place today.  You will be amazed at the hypocrisy and turning away from the truth.  You will wonder if you would ever be drawn into such a group.  Would the time ever be right that they could satisfy your needs take you in? You will find answers to such questions as to why they don't celebrate Christmas, all holidays, and birthdays. So many little things that one never thinks about being forbidden by God can be humorous.

So many persons have asked for months when is the book coming out.  Well this is your lucky day.  Go to Amazon and purchase one.  You will be glad you did.  It is an eye opener for some and for others it is a reaffirmation of what they went through as a member of this group.  My son has done a great job with his first book! 

Gun Shots-Intrusion In Paradise

I had turned off my regular morning show, planning to get on with my day without the stories of Hollywood gossip, the latest in fashions and a meal to cook in fifteen minutes.  I needed to concentrate on my Memoir class meeting this afternoon.  In a few minutes my husband came  rushing into the den and shouts " turn on Fox News.  Something bad has happened in Virginia." I  immediately thought of another school shooting. The picture came on and I began to read the caption.  Shooting in Moneta, Smith Mountain Lake, television reporters.  What was going on?  George and I had taken my aunt to lunch at one of the many restaurants at Smith Mountain Lake last Monday. The area has become a tourist mecca since I was a child and visited with my cousin on a tobacco farm which "gave up" some of its land to become a part of the man-made lake. (Not for free I might add.)  The inlets and coves are lined with million dollar homes, each with its own dock. There are more modest homes back from the lake waters.  Do you remember the movie "What About Bob?" with Bill Murray?  The lake scenes in the movie were on Smith Mountain Lake. Do you remember the scene in the cafe?  It had been a gas station when I was a three year old and lived up and across the main road.  I sat on the steps waiting for my Daddy to come home from work.  My Mother graduated from Moneta High School which has long ago been torn down.  Smith Mountain Lake put tiny Moneta on the map fifty years ago as a place to come and relax from the busyness of everyday life.  Smith Mountain Lake put Moneta in the world news as a place where three innocent people going about their duties in the early morning hours could be wounded and shot and killed by a mentally unstable former co-worker. The show was live and some of the victims' family members were watching.  No doubt this is the way the shooter planned it.
When this tragic scene began replaying in my head I thought of the many lives that would be touched by this
unbelievable deed. The young woman's fiance, the young man's fiance whose wedding dress arrived that day, the co-workers who appeared to be a close-knit group, the families, neighbors, college friends, and on and on.  Then, I won't forget that the shooter had a family.  I cannot imagine how they feel.

I look back sixty years or more and I see fields of tobacco.  I see persons of all ages involved in doing their jobs in those fields.  I see myself, a tow-headed skinny kid, pale skin turning pink from the hot Piedmont sun. wiping sweat with the back of my dirty hand.  I hear my aunt say, come on chaps, lets go to the house and find something cold to drink,  She doesn't have  to call but once.

Back to Monday, August 17th, 2015, Smith Mountain Lake.   I saw no tobacco fields, just stores and restaurants, blacktop and manicured green areas, and new homes.   Forward to Wednesday, August 26, 2015, 6:45 a.m. Bridgewater Plaza, West---eight shots rang out and Paradise was gone.

Your comments are encouraged.
Darlene Eichler
Writer, Teacher,
Blogger, Memorist
dargeeic@aol.com

SOMETIMES A WRITER'S SKIN CANNOT BE THICK ENOUGH

Often I have made this comment to my younger writer friends,"you need thick skin to be a published writer." Some look at me with skepticism while others nod as if it didn't take them long to find that out.  Just because someone spends hours alone writing what is in their heart, doesn't mean that they have lost all sensitivity to negative remarks and criticism.  If anything is true the majority of writers are more sensitive, intuitive persons.  They learn to read body language and understand, "I'll come back and buy your book," to mean no sale.They can tell when some acquaintances want you to give them your book.  It is as if they went into a bookstore and saw your publication and think because they know you they should get it at a discount.  A book is a piece of art just like a beautifully crafted quilt or a specialty piece of jewelry.  Do you know what I mean? Craftsman should receive awards for their creations.  I have a dear friend who always buys local authors' works. He does that to show he recognizes the hard work that goes into a book.  Now he is a published author and he understands what a good thing he has been doing.

      Recently I gave my all to a preschool celebration for the end of school.  I prepared by attending a two hour meeting with the Director.  I had my illustrator make drawings from the book I was reading for the children to color. I took colorful posters, lots of books (I had been told I would sell many, I sold three to adults, not parents). I thought I was well prepared.  The children brought their favorite stuffed animals, as I did. The mothers and family members were present. There was excitement about a parade to follow the program.  The parade would be led by a man and his service dog. It was a special time for the children. The excitement had been building so when it came time to hear the author, dressed like a cat, read her book, the children were talkative and younger siblings were crying.  It was probably their nap times  It would have been ideal if they had sat there quiet as little mice, but that wouldn't have been natural.  I had the attention of some and received responses.  I chalked it up as a typical experience with young children.  Evidently the Director did not see it that way. Being an overly sensitive person, I felt the chill after the event was over.  There was not a thank you card or a simple gift to remind my illustrator and me of the event.  I have always felt it only good manners to do so.

     I thought that within the next few days I would be getting a call to be asked a few questions for info to go into the fabulous article with pictures to go into the local paper.  No email, no calls.  I even sent my friend a note to see if she or the Director were sick or there were problems. I have received no response and it has been over six months. I truly cannot understand the silence nor can my illustrator.

     I will put it in my memoir bank as one of the most hurtful, shocking, unbelievable experiences of my career.  It will remain a mystery.  I hope the answer is not what keeps popping into my head.  It is such an unchristian thought that I won't mention it.  I'm still looking for that fantastic article in the local paper.

     I'm not sure my skin is thick enough for this incident that happened  in a church sponsored activity. I could probably take it with a grain of salt if it happened in a secular setting.

     In standing back and looking at the situation, here is my theory:  they wanted a cute little kitten and they got an old mama cat!!!!!!

Thank you for reading this post.  Your comments and questions are welcomed.

Darlene Eichler

Writer, Memoirist, and Blogger

WHEN I WAS LITTLE

Sometimes it is hard to remember when I was little, if I stop and think about it.  At times those flashbacks come without any thought.  I am having more and more of those lately.  I think it is because I am what I would have called in my younger years, an old person.  There is no doubt about it.  Oh, I like to say that I don't feel old and my mind is still young.  All I have to do is try to get out of bed every morning and the old, creaky bones let me know.  "Lady, you are no longer young."  When I go into the bathroom and look in the mirror, I know I am an old lady.  Not just any old lady, but my own mother! Almost everyone says that.  All of us old ladies do not look like our mothers.  It is biologically impossible.  Our father's genes are in their somewhere. I think we see our mothers because we do have some similarities and we put those together with our imagination and there is our mother.  Of course some daughters could pass for twins of their mothers. Now back to my point.....when I was little I put everyone into three categories.....children, adults (which included parents, school teachers, and service people), and old people.  I thought it was many, many years until I would be an old person.  Maybe by the time I got there science would have a miracle drug to make us young again. I didn't give it too much thought because I couldn't picture myself old. It seemed as long as ten Christmases away.  I enjoyed my childhood but I wanted so badly to grow up fast.  At one point when I was very young,  I thought children grew up overnight.  I kept waiting.  Finally I realized it took a long process.  When I became a teen-ager the time started to pass faster.  Before I knew it I was graduating from high school.  I had the most important decision to make.....what would I do now?  After considering several careers I came up with nursing.  The time flew.  Although I didn't graduate I jumped right into marriage and motherhood.  Some days I didn't look at the calendar.  More children came along and the years flew by, except when you held a sick baby in your arms waiting for a diagnosis, except when you sat by a telephone waiting for that call to let you know your child had arrived safely to basic training. The years were on the fast track by then but most of the time you didn't notice.  Then the first great-grandchild was born. You begin to feel your body slowing down.  It seemed that you couldn't do all the things you had planned in your retirement years.  There were more doctors appointments with "ologist" after the malady you were seeking help for. There were the urologist, oncologist, ophthalmologist, psychologist, gerontologist,the rheumatologist, the audiologist, the neurologist, the gynecologist, oncologist, and on and on.  You get the picture.
     Going to doctors was not enough for me.  I felt that I should be giving back to my community.
At first it was slow going but before I knew it I was almost as busy as when I worked a full time job.  There was one major difference.  I chose my activities and hours.  There was little stress and in the process of volunteering I made many new friends. Life was good. Although health problems have come along, I'm still able to do most of the activities I desire.  Teaching and helping others is the best medicine for all those annoying illnesses of old age.  If I had to stay home and sit in my rocking chair all day doing nothing, soon I would be able to do nothing but sit in my rocking chair.

My advise to those senior citizens who have just moved here after retirement;  look at the list of volunteer opportunities listed in the Sun News once a week.  Find one that suits your talents and interests and get busy.  You will enjoy "old age."  I promise.

My grandmother, Ethel Patterson Bays
Age at death-19 years

Senior Moments Can Be Funny or Not

You have probably said it or thought it several times a day, that is, if you are over the age of fifty.  As soon as the words exit your mouth you regret saying them.  Those words are, "I forgot or I don't remember"  or something that means the same. Intuitively you know those are words of a senior citizen or an old codger or someone "over the hill." You are "marked" no matter the words which come after that. So, do you accept it or not?

I have made a New Year's resolution to help me with this memory problem.  We have in our blended family twelve grandchildren and twelve great grand children. That is a group any way you look at it. Just keeping up with their birthdays is no small feat I will admit I do forget or get them mixed up at times.  Their parents are too young to understand.  Give them a few more years and they will think, "Oh, I shouldn't have been so critical of the seniors. My reasoning is that we have crammed too much in our brains over the years.  All we can retrieve is that stuff in the very back that happened many years ago!

Oh, I forget to tell you my solution to the birthday cards! I bought one for everyone, wrote their name where the stamp goes and put them in the appropriate pocket of the correct month on the calendar.

Don't let it get to you.  Sometimes it is good to forget some things.

It will help your brain to free up some memory by writing your memoir.  That will clean out some of that stuff way in the back!

Comments are encouraged.  Darlene Eichler/Nan Turner

                          dargeeic@aol.com 




                                           

More on WHEN A VACTION NOT A VACATION

JUST IN CASE SOME OF MY FRIENDS TOOK ME SERIOUSly in the PRIOR post, let me explain.  The post was a criticism of me and my addiction to writing.  The use of our electronic media has ruined some of the pleasures of life...like vacations, for example.It is unusual to see someone just sitting and relaxing without a smart phone or Ipad in their hand.

I truly did have a wonderful vacation with my friends. They are not attached to electronic things We had wonderful conversations which brought back great memories.  Yes, I will proaably write about some of them.

So, if you read "When is a Vacation Not A Vacation," remember it was supposed to be funny and directed toward my writing addiction!

Remember social media" in not so social at times.

Darlene Eichler/Nan Turner

WHEN IS A VACATION NOT A VACATION?i

Even if one lives in a tourist area a vacation is needed for rest to body and mind. We missed our annual trip to Florida last year because of the weather.  We had to postpone it a month this year because of my health  and the myriad of medical tests I was prescribed.  The day finally arrived.  We drove to Wilmington to save money on our tickets.  Our one large piece of luggage, bulging like a bloated hog, held more than it should. I held my breath when it was lifted onto the scales. Whew!  Twenty-five dollars, please. Security was next.  would our small handbag of medications make it through? I must remember to show my electronic card for my Loop recorder.  I was assured I would not have to go through the metal detector.  Hold your arms above your head and step on the yellow footprints. After the "pat down,"  I was home free.

This was to be a vacation of relaxation.  We would take short trips and attend special happenings but mainly we would sit at home and enjoy each other's company.  I left my computer and Ipad at home.  I had my Iphone but I am not too good using it as anything but a phone and a camera. Oh, yes, email, too.  But it didn't give me a writing instrument .  After about two days I began to have a feeling that something was missing. Had I forgotten one of my medications?  No, they were all there?  What could it be?  Had I forgotten something really important to do at home.  Did I close the cat  in the guest room?  Or forget to turn the thermostat back?  No, I was pretty sure those things had been done.  Then it hit me like a brick.  I had not written anything in days! How can I remedy that?  I brought a small notebook and I would write the old fashioned way. That evening after everyone had gone to bed I decided to sit on my side of the bed and write.  There was no place to rest the notebook.   Soon my neck began to hurt and I closed the notebook. Perhaps I could go in the bathroom and find comfort.  That lasted for a few minutes.  Besides I seemed to have writers'  block or was it cramp?  I decided to go to bed and try to sleep.  Sleep at 11:30!  /A t home I would just be getting my second wind.  But I did fall asleep. I had some amazing dreams but little came to mind he following morning.  I gave myself a stern lecture..Darlene, forget the writing until you go home, after all no one seems interested.  So sit back enjoy the conversations of times gone by.  Some day my friends might be surprised to recognize one of their stories in print.
        I  can't wait to open my computer

A LETTER TO MY MEMOIR CLASS

Well, here we are into the year 2015.  Some of us have been together for going on five years.  In that time we have created some memories and remembered some we had shoved into the back of our mind. We listen to our classmates read their homework and we remember more than we have time to write.

It has been a joy to watch every student grow in their writing.  I am so grateful some of you have been in class as long as you have.  Maybe you dont recgonize the progress you have made but others do.

You have made me a better teacher.  You forced me to have fresh, interesting lesson  plans each week.   I cannot put into words how your support and caring spirits have helped me with my chronic illnesses.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart,
Darlene

LEAVES TURNING BRING BACK MEMORIES

As a young child I don't think I paid much attention to the change of seasons, except for winter which brought snow and Christmas. Life in the Blue Ridge Mountains could be a challenge no matter what season. As I grew older I found myself looking forward to fall when we were surrounded with brilliant reds, golds, and vibrant oranges.  The sounds are still playing out in my memories---the Blue Duke Marching Band,  the shouts of anxious fans for the game to begin,  the cheer leaders cheering on the crowd to join in the,"Two bits, four bits, six bits a dollar, all for Dublin, stand up and holler." 

Then there were the smells---the spicy aroma of slow cooked apples and cinnamon that magically turned into apple butter---buttery smell of corn popping--my mother's pumpkin pie, fresh from the oven.  If we were lucky she would make an applesauce cake with a mixture of aromas--walnuts, gathered by the children who carried the tell-tale stains from the tannin in the walnut covering.

There were always school events and fund raisers to attend in the fall.  How I recall those Cake Walks in the school basement.  Soon it was Halloween and trying to put together the scariest costume ever.  We had never heard of Trick or Treat. My church usually gave a great party.  We would "bob for apples," except for those who didn't want to put their faces
in water.  Many of the adults took part by dressing up.  Some of them were masters of disguise and we could never guess their identities.  When the took off their masks we laughed ourselves silly.They had fooled us again..

There was always a lull after Thanksgiving until about two weeks before Christmas. The beautiful colored leaves were gone, frost had killed the the fall flowers and the landscape was bleak.  Decorations and Christmas merchandise were not placed in stores until closer to  the big day.  Christmas was not near as commercial as it is today.  it seemed so long between Thanksgiving and when Santa Claus would arrive.  I'm certain our parents tired of "how many more days until Christmas?" This is a good place to add that most of the parents in my little part of the world developed a way to keep the children from dwelling on the dangerous places their fathers worked---some were coal miners and many worked at the 'arsenal where gun powder and other explosives were manufactured.  Deadly explosions could and did happen.  We didn't talk about it but we knew the danger was there. We were Innocent children who liked to be with other children roaming the hillsides, wading in the creek, and playing in the snow.

It was not a perfect childhood but it was one filled with good memories.

Your comments are encouraged.

Darlene Bays Eichler
Teacher of Memoirs
Writer of Books

BOOK SIGNING ON SATURDAY

This Saturday is the day to meet Emma.  Who is Emma, you ask. She is the granddaughter of Miss Boots' owner in "Where's the Kitty." Do you think Miss Boots is excited to have a little girl in her home?  No!  She is hiding somewhere in almost all of the pictures. Emma wants to be her friend and goes to great lengths to let Miss Boots know.  The surprise ending will delight readers, especially dog lovers.

       What: Book Signing
              Where:GEORGETOWN, S.C.
               TIME:1:00 TO 3:00
                AUTHOR--DARLENE EICHLER
                ILLUSTRATOR-BETTY WYLES
                BOOKS-"WHERE'S THE KITTY"
                                 "EMMA SAVES THE DAY"
                    ALL OF DARLENE'S BOOKS
                    CHRISTMAS SPECIALS!