Magic in Deline, NWT

Our author posts this month, both for the  Books We Love Canadian Historical Brides’ blog and for this, are supposed to have a Halloween theme. I dug around and found ghost stories here and there in the NWT, but didn’t find them particularly interesting. I’ve had a few encounters with strangeness over the years myself, but thought that for this blog, too, I’d take a pass on the ghosts.

The 1^st Nation’s people of NWT/Nunavut have their own burial customs--from air burial to various strategies devised to handle permafrost—as well as tales of restless, unhappy dead. However, for me, the religious aspect of the old holiday is more  interesting. Now, in the NWT, the spirits of nature still manifest powerfully in the minds and hearts of the inhabitants, so here I’ll retell a pair of stories which are more spiritual rather than “ghostly.”

Some of the most inspirational and deeply moving stories I've encountered are told in Deline. Near a  town of about 600 souls, is Great Bear Lake, a body of water still so pure that you can drink straight from it. (That, to me, is MAGIC on our ever-more polluted planet!)

Deline has occasional UFOs, which were said to be buzzing around during the mid-1990’s, but I'd rather talk about a local hero/prophet. This man died in 1940, but left a monumental legacy behind. His name was Eht’se Ayah and he possessed traditional Shamanic powers. As one instance, he could “see” people coming to visit days before they arrived in town. He was, more importantly,  a brilliant religious teacher, affirming the generosity, charity and spiritual inter-connectedness with all life which abounds in the Athabascan belief system and marrying it to the best of the dominant culture's Christianity.  

Shrine to Prophet Ayah, Photo by Angela Gzowski for UpHere magazine

                              http://uphere.ca/articles/visions-deline


It is upon his alarming prophetic vision that  recent actions to preserve Great Bear Lake were founded. He dreamed that Great Bear would be the last source of freshwater in the world, and that "people from the south" would come in desperate hoards to fish and drink during the planetary destruction of the end times.  The power of this vision was the historic catalyst for the concerted action which culminated in the setting up of Tsá Tué Biosphere Reserve, a UNESCO biosphere Reserve.

According to the New York Times writer,  PETER KUJAWINSK's FEB. 7, 2017 article:

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“It is the first time that an aboriginal government in Canada will represent everyone in the community, aboriginal and non-aboriginal alike. Taken together, the UNESCO and self-government announcements reinforce Deline’s ability to control what happens to Great Bear Lake.”

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/02/07/travel/great-bear-lake-arctic-unesco-biosphere-canada.html

Okay—but where’s the "magic" in conservation? Stay with me! The people of Deline are Sahtuto’ine, meaning Bear Lake People, or, commonly, North Slavey. They have a sacred story from the days long before Eht’se Ayah, told by the Sahtuto'ine forever, and one which the Prophet surely would have heard as a child.

 Once, very long ago, there was a fisherman who was also a shaman. One day, a fish bit a hook from his line but then broke free. In those days, each hook was very valuable, so he wanted to retrieve it. Because of his shamanic connection to the prey animal upon which his life depended, he was able to transform himself into a Burbot and swim down deep into the lake in order to search for the missing hook.

When he arrived at the bottom, he discovered a miraculous secret: a huge beating heart lay at the bottom of Great Bear Lake! Around the heart, a throng of fish of every kind--the Inconnu, Pike, Walleye, Lake Trout and Grayling--were gathered. The fish rejoiced and thanked this unsuspected, holy presence. 

This enormous heart, the fisherman realized, was the living source of all the freshwater in the world. And to this day, upon the continued beating of this heart, all life, everywhere on our planet, depends. 

~~Juliet Waldron

http://www.julietwaldron.com

See all my historical novels @

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Story-star Kendra Spark – Growing up with Ghosts

Hello everyone and thanks so much for stopping into BWL today: ) I’m Kendra Spark, the story-star of Unorthodox, a paranormal suspense-thriller with elements of romance and a generous portion of supernatural; ) The story released on September 15, 2017, and I’m as excited about it as S. Peters-Davis is, my author: )

S. (that’s what I call her) asked if I would share what it was like growing up with the ability to see and communicate with ghosts…so here goes…

I honestly don’t remember a time I didn’t see ghosts, mostly because I didn’t know the difference between people alive or people dead, they all looked the same to me and pretty much treated me the same. The first time I realized it was when my mother asked about my imaginary friend. At five years old, I didn’t really understand the word imaginary, other than it meant not real, but Jonny stood right beside my mother. Our chat about Jonny didn’t go so well.

Mom ended up taking me to a few doctors to find out what was up with a daughter who always played with imaginary friends. Thank goodness Grandma Ellie whooshed in and saved the day before I ended up on medication. Grandma knew about Jonny, she could see what I saw.

The thing is, ghosts knew I could see them…I never hid it, so they kept coming around, wanting me to give someone a message or just wanting to talk. They were mostly lonely.

As I grew older it was tougher to chat in public with spirits. I got labeled for being a weirdo and became a bully target. I shut down all “air-talk” and only my best friend, Jenna, knew about my ability. It mostly scared her, so I didn’t talk too much about it with her either, only with my grandmother.

I didn’t have a lot of friends, not even in college, but I loved journaling about my ghost experiences. That was partly why I became a writer…I adored writing out their stories. Plus the fact I was an avid reader and enjoyed losing myself in someone else’s life, especially mystery-suspense romance stories.

Ghosts are part of my life and I’ve finally accepted my ability as something worthy…even though I won’t share this with most people. They don’t see what I see and will never understand, unless they actually know I’m an honorable person who doesn’t lie…like you all now know: )

Thank you for stopping in and hearing all about my ghost sight – about why I do what I do; ) I hope you enjoy S. Peters-Davis’ book about me, Unorthodox, A Kendra Spark Novel – I plan on being in a few more of her stories.

Happy reading; )   

Unorthodox Amazon Link: https://www.amazon.com/Unorthodox-Kendra-Sparks-Novel-Book-ebook/dp/B073MZZPVM/

HALLOWEEN CONTEST - THREE PRIZES -- AN EBOOK READER, A BASKET OF GODIVA TREATS CHOICE OF PRINT OR EBOOK SUSPENSE NOVEL – scroll down to enter: http://bwlpublishing.ca

About my author:

S. Peters-Davis writes multi-genre stories, but loves penning a good page-turning suspense-thriller, especially when it’s a ghost story and a romance. When she’s not writing, editing, or reading, she’s hiking, RV’ing, fishing, playing with grandchildren, or enjoying time with her favorite muse (her husband) in Southwest Michigan.

She also writes YA paranormal, supernatural novels as DK Davis.

Website – http://suda788.wixsite.com/spetersdavis1    

Twitter – https://twitter.com/spdavis788  

FB – https://www.facebook.com/susan.petersdavis

BWL Author Page – http://bookswelove.net/authors/peters-davis-s/

Yoga: Sublime or Ridiculous?

In a way, it had to happen.

As with most things that enter Western popular culture, yoga has entered the domain of the dumbed-down. The two latest trends in yoga practice in America are things called beer-yoga and goat-yoga, which involve asana (yoga postures) while gulping pints of beer or playing with furry farm animals. Poor Patanajli must be rolling in his samadhi!

Part of this trend has to do with the way yoga spread in America: through privately owned yoga studios, who keep searching for new trends to keep their clientele coming. Competition between studios, which seem to have sprung up on almost every street corner, pushes owners to keep expanding their repertoire of services; whether in combining yoga with Pilates (fairly common,) or with Zumba (Brazilian dance) and in many other ways.

Representation of Patanjali, the compiler of the Yoga-sutras

As a way of popularizing yoga, these privately owned studios, often started by brave souls (mostly women) who, in the early days, travelled to India, or studied, at great cost, under well-known masters, were very successful. Playing by the rules of the market, they struggled to find what the public wanted, and by trial-and-error, became successful. Successful business models were built, and the industry flourished.

But the downside of market-based yoga teaching is that it precludes really deep study of the tradition. In my observation, most studios offer classes in hatha yoga, hot yoga, yin-yang or Iyengar. But beyond this, not much else is taught. After all, if the rent has to be paid, the emphasis is going to be on what sells.

Traditionally, yoga is seen as a spiritual discipline, with the ultimate goal being spiritual realization. Yoga was originally practiced in the forests of India, and knowledge was passed, in the teacher’s ashram, from elder to student. The learning would take many, many years.

Ashtanga yoga, or raja-yoga as it is called in the Bhagavad-Gita, is what most in the west understand as yoga, and asana, one part of it, is what is mostly taught in yoga studios. But ashtanga (eight-limbed) yoga, is much more. The eight-limbs include a moral code, contained in the Yamas and Niyamas, Asana (postures), Pranyama (breath control), Pratyahara (sensory transcendence), Dharana (Concentration) Dhyana (Meditation) and finally, the goal of yoga, Samadhi (connection with the Divine.) The Bhagavad-Gita also mentions other yoga systems, such as Bhakti-yoga, a theistic version of yoga based on devotion to the Divine. As can be seen, yoga is a much deeper topic than is mostly understood. Yoga based solely on the body, and not connected to the spirit, is limited.

The yoga market, in America anyways, seems to have reached its saturation. It seems obvious that many studios will disappear. As a yoga practitioner, I hope that those left behind, and the students they attract, will dive deeper into the subject and discover its true essence.

Mohan Ashtakala is the author of "The Yoga Zapper - A Novel" published by Books We Love.

www.yogazapper.com

www.bookswelove.com

The Festival of Colours

Visit Mohan's Books We Love author page to view and purchase

The Festival of Colours

            As a child growing up in North India, I vividly remember Holi, the Festival of Colours. At that age, it meant a time when adult control over children disappeared and I could get away with all sorts of naughty things. Taking full advantage of the opportunity, I dowsed family members, what to speak of complete strangers, with buckets of water and handfuls of vividly colored corn starch without fear of punishment.

            Holi is a time when social barriers of class, age and even of gender disappear and one can, under a disguise of color, celebrate in equality.

            As with most things in India, the festival is cloaked with legends. In one, a devout young boy, Prahlad, is tortured by his evil aunt Holika. She has the power of being unaffected by fire. She carries the young Prahlad into a bonfire, expecting him to die, but miraculously, he escapes harm while she is consumed. Indeed, one of the traditions of Holi, named after Holika, is the burning of a bonfire during the (usually) two-day festival.

       

      Another legend has to do with Radha and Krishna, the Divine lovers who are worshiped across the sub-continent. Krishna, in his boyhood, would engage in any number of pranks to tease Radha, the leader of the Gopis, the cowherd girls in the village of Vrindavan, where they grew up. The current festival is a remembrance of those playful pastimes in which Krishna splashed of water and threw colored flower petals at his beloved.

Lathmar Holi

            Interestingly, in one village called Lathmar in the Vrindavan region, the women folk exact revenge for this teasing. During the Lathmar Holi, the women of the town gather the men from their town or neighboring villages and,  ritually, but gently, take sticks to their menfolk. Needless to say, the playful revenge creates a great deal of mirth for all.

            The celebration, which coincides with the beginning of spring, is celebrated throughout India, Nepal and several other South Asian countries. Increasingly, it is now appearing around the world and attracts not just ethnic Indians but locals. “Color Festivals” as they are known, are observed in many parts of Europe, Australia and the United States.

Surprisingly, one of the largest such festivals occurs annually at a Krishna temple near Salt

American Festival goers in Utah

Lake City in Utah. In 2016, an astounding thirty-five people, mostly young college students, showed up for two days of color throwing, music and dance. Holi has become so popular there that tour buses ply visitors from around the Western states, and being alcohol and drug free, it suits well the local Mormon ethos, whose adherents form the vast majority of the celebrants.

Indeed, in keeping with its original intent, Holi is becoming a celebration observed all around the world, rising above all human dualities, whether color, nationality, class or gender.

-Mohan Ashtakala is the author of "The Yoga Zapper," published by Books We Love. www.yogazapper.com ; bookswelove.com

A summer to remember

Helllooooooo all!
It's the 16th day of the 2016th year - is that supposed to mean something special? Personally, I think every day is special, each for its own reason, or, for no reason at all. Just being.

This summer has been one of the most memorable in all my 50+ years. Weather was hot and dry and for sailing, winds were strong enough to warrant plenty of 'wind warnings' in Georgian Bay. However, the fish were too shy for my liking. When I bought the Styrofoam container of worms at the Marina, the girl at the counter assured me they were well trained. She was wrong. But, fish or no fish, just being on the water was its own reward.

Promote promote promote!

Between sailing escapades, I've been promoting my book, The Twisted Climb. It's a book for young adults and, as I like to add, for adults who are young at heart. I have two events taking place next month: one is a signing event at a Chapters store near me, and the other is a 'Meet the Author' night, part of Ontario Public Library Week celebrating authors and books. I'm sooooo pumped! For the latter, I'm one of five invited authors who will read an excerpt from their book and then participate in a Question & Answer period.

Amazon

I took to heart Jude Pittman's advice about configuring Amazon / Author Central for countries around the world. It's exhilarating to know that your book is available in another continent. And at £2.10 there is no excuse for my Irish family not to buy. Right?

Ball hockey girls are the best!

More summer excitement came from my ball hockey team. They've been great supporters in my writing / publishing journey and proved it with a congratulatory cupcake-cake. So it is true. Ball hockey girls are the best!

Twitter

My son informed me that being an author means being a tweeter. Doesn't that sound ridiculous? But, apparently not. So, I've dipped my toe into the twitter-verse or whatever it's called, and I'm experimenting with this form of social media. I have a Facebook account (www.facebook.com/J.C.Kavanagh) which gives me free marketing exposure, so the next step, he tells me, is twitting. Or tweeting. Whatever.
Before I become a 'professional' with my twat or twit or tweet, I'm practicing under the following name: @JoanieJCK. Send me a tweet! I'll practice with my fellow BWL authors. Thanks for sharing my journey.

Joanie
J.C. Kavanagh
The Twisted Climb
A book for young adults and adults young at heart.

Email: author.j.c.kavanagh@gmail.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/J.C.Kavanagh
Twitter: @JoanieJCK

It's August! How did that happen? by Nancy M Bell

Seems like it was just yesterday it was June and the light was growing stronger. Suddenly I realize it's the middle of August. The birds are starting to flock, the caragana peas are popping all over the place and the light is drawing in a little closer every day. Hours of daylight shortening as we move toward the longest night in December.

It's been busy. Last month I shared my lovely day at the Stephan G Stephansson House reading poetry and enjoying this amazing historical site. This month I have just returned from presenting and enjoying the Calgary writers festival When Words Collide. What a wonderful experience. Seven hundred writers and fans all crammed into one hotel for three days. So much creative energy. I did a Blue Pencil cafe for eight writers and totally impressed by the quality of the word I was presented with. If you feel inclined you should check out their site and consider joining us for next year.

One exciting thing that happened at When Words Collide is that Books We Love announced the upcoming series- Canadian Historical Brides. This is a series of thirteen books, one set in each province and territory. Each book has a different author who will chose a historical event to center her story around and a bride who figures in the story line. The cover art I have seen so far is marvelous.
My own contribution to the series is book four which is set in Ontario in the WW1 era. The title is His Brother's Bride and is based very loosely on elements of my grandparents' story. After all what do we know better than our own family stories. There is always bits and pieces we can pluck out, turn in our hands and use in our stories.

I love the cover the Books We Love talented cover artist has created.

The first book in the series will release in October of 2016 and is set in Saskatchewan, book two releases in November 2016 set in the Yukon, book 3 releases December 2016 set in Alberta at the famously haunted Banff Springs Hotel. My contribution is book four and will release in February 2017. The rest of the series will release at two month intervals so keep your eyes peeled you won't want to miss a single book in this series.

Til next month, stay well, stay happy.

These Days Everyone's a Writer by Stuart R. West

CLICK HERE TO BUY!

"Everyone has a book in them, but in most cases that's where it should stay."

The quote is most often attributed to Christoper Hitchens (1949-2011), a famous journalist and intellectual. Some sources argue the origin of the quote. Regardless of who said it, I couldn't agree more.

It's not that I'm snobby or believe my writing's the cat's pajamas. On the contrary, I'm always striving to improve my writing. And I've been more than willing to help out new writers. After all, every writer should be given a chance. Or so I used to think.

Over the past several years, I've had people crawling out of the woodwork asking me to read their Great American Novels. People I've never met before. People who have no business writing. People who become a little "stalkery."

I took on many cases until it became overwhelming and more than a little discouraging.

I worked on one guy's coming of age (groan!) novel for more than two years. At the end of our trial by fire, he still didn't get it. It was a mess, more head-hopping than a psychic's convention. I tried telling him what he was doing wrong. Every time he'd respond, "Oh, yeah, I get it now." Then he'd continue to do the same thing.

My mother, a "snow-bird" in Florida, has a new suitor who's a writer! He's written a spiritual self-help book. Wants my opinion. I honestly don't know how I could be of help to him when I'm writing jolly serial killer books and what-not.

Recently during a medical exam with a tongue depressor lodged into my mouth, a young doctor told me he's writing a book about government mandates on the beautification of homes and lawns. I said, "Really?" He said, "Yeah, it's a comedy." Not exactly water-cooler talk.

The other day my neighbor told me he's writing a book.

"Cool!" I said, while inside I died a little bit. But trapped as I was, I pursued it.

"What's the book about?" I asked.

"Well...that's hard to say...something about a Christian alien planet."

Noooo! "Huh. Okay, let me read it."

"I'm just starting it. But I will."

I told him I couldn't wait, ran inside and locked the doors.

Some of these writers take my advice to heart and actually work at improvement. All writers should. But some of my other pet projects? I've had a few writers get quite angry regarding my commentary, yell at me, then take their toys and go home.

The advent of "self-publishing" is a double-edged sword. While it opened up an alternate venue for fledgling writers who may not have had a chance via the traditional "over the transom" route in the past, it's also full of people who are absolutely clueless.

Which is why I appreciate dedicated publishers like Books We Love who uphold a high level of quality in the books they put out.

From now on, though, I'm closing the door on new writers who hit me up. (Except, of course, for my neighbor's upcoming epic about an alien Christian planet!)

CLICK HERE TO BUY!

Calling all Muses, Dead and Alive, by Sandy Semerad

As a writer, I’m always searching for a muse, and when country music superstar Merle Haggard died recently, I became reacquainted with his story and found him more inspiring than ever.

Haggard grew up dirt poor and became a hellion. He was sent to reformatory schools, but no school could reform him.  At 20, he robbed a restaurant. After he was arrested, he broke out of the county jail, was recaptured and sentenced to San Quentin. In prison, he gambled and brewed beer and was thrown into solitary confinement. There he conversed through an air vent with a death row inmate.

This conversation changed him, he said, and when Johnny Cash performed at San Quentin, Haggard was inspired to become a musician. He taught himself to play the guitar, and after his release, he worked in the oil fields, as he wrote and performed music. He eventually composed 38 number one hits.

I find his story amazing. He overcame impossible odds to achieve great success, and he found his muses in unlikely places.

Going for a simple walk can bring out a muse for me. I love to walk on the beach near where I live. Nature created the white sands from crystal rocks. The gulf sparkles like emeralds in the sunshine. I sometimes hear music in the gulf’s roar. The other day, Larry and I were walking our dog P-Nut, and I started to sing a tune I was hearing.

I asked Larry if he’d heard the tune before. He plays the piano and has performed with many musical groups. He also composes music.

“Sounds different,” he said.

I explained how the tune flowed through me. He didn’t think this was strange at all, but creative.

In thinking about the creative process, I remembered the time Larry asked me to sing, “If I Can Dream,” at the church where he plays piano. This song was written for Elvis Presley. Elvis was the only artist to record the song, as far as I know.

On the morning of my performance, I walked to the podium to sing, but then I flew into some kind of unconscious zone. The congregation clapped afterwards, so I figured I did okay.

Larry said, kindly, “You nailed it.”

The preacher smiled and said, “You wiggled your hips while you were singing.”

“You channeled Elvis,” Larry teased me.

But all joking aside, I’ve had many strange things happen to me, mostly when I write. I can never predict how my characters are going to behave. I think I know them. I have created their back story and outlined extensively, but then when I start the writing process, my characters always surprise me. They’re like jazz musicians. They know the structure and the rules, but they want to jam and do their own thing.

My characters eventually return to the story line, but I often have to figure out how to rescue them or not. Sometimes they create such a mess I must call on my slumbering muse. She’s the one who appears in my dreams after I go to sleep while thinking about the problem. This muse seems to have the ability to provide a solution by morning.

Most of the time, I draw from my own experiences, as a newspaper reporter, columnist, broadcaster, political activist, exercise enthusiast, wife, mother and grandmother. I’m more comfortable writing about what I know. Some of my favorite authors do the same. John Grisham, an attorney, writes great legal thrillers, and many of Stephen King’s protagonists are authors. In fact, King is considered one of American’s most prolific authors. Also, my fellow authors at Books We Love write tales on subjects they're passionate about.

In two of my novels (Sex, Love & Murder and A Message in the Roses), my protagonists are reporters. However in Hurricane House, the lead character is not a journalist, but a catastrophe Investigator (CAT, for short). Creating this unique protagonist seemed to make more sense. Luckily I know a CAT, and he generously shared his knowledge with me. As to describing the hurricane, that was easy. Larry and I have survived a few of those.

I created A Message in the Roses, from a murder trial I covered as a newspaper reporter in Atlanta. But even though I lived through this trial, I had to immerse myself in 80s music again and read news accounts from that time before my muse decided to resurface.

While working on the sequel, I’ve tried to set reasonable writing goals, allowing for my day job and family responsibilities. This time around, I’ve had to call on a variety of muses, alive and dead. Will they lift me to a higher plane and help me write my best novel yet? I hope so.

To read more about my writing, please visit my website: www.sandysemerad.com

          

Here’s my latest novel, A MESSAGE IN THE ROSES:

                                               Buy from Amazon

  

I'd Like More Peace in Today's Bloody Politics by Sandy Semerad

 I've been reading a book on nonviolent communication, hoping to achieve more harmony in my life.

I write about murder, but I prefer to live in harmony and get along, rather than argue. This particular book gives the following advice on how to do that: Don’t judge. Observe and listen. Mirror back what the other person is saying. It also provides tips on how to express feelings.

When I express my feelings, rather than keep them bottled up, I’m less likely to get angry. It’s helpful to use words like I’m feeling happy, sad, frustrated, angry, etc. and not use judgmental words like rejected, abandoned and attacked, this book advises.

As I was learning how to communicate better, my mind wandered to the tumultuous political climate and the heated rhetoric spouted by some of our Presidential candidates. I’m wondering what the experts could do to diffuse their anger.

What would they advise Republican front runner Donald Trump? He wants to “Make America great again,” he claims. “Build a wall and make Mexico pay for it.”

While his supporters agree with him, the Republican establishment would like to stop Trump. Former U.S. presidential candidate Mitt Romney called Trump “a fraud,” but Romney’s denouncement didn’t seem to hurt Trump’s campaign.

Many of Trump’s adversaries have entered the fray. Even popular author and liberal democrat Stephen King has criticized the billionaire businessman. King wrote this slogan which he thought best represented Trump’s philosophy: “If you’re white, you’re all right. Any other hue, I don’t trust you.”

Trump usually fights back, going for the jugular. He shouts, “Get them out,” referring to protesters attending his rallies. Or he might yell, “I’d like to punch him in the face.” Recently, a Trump supporter did just that at one of his events.

Supporters of nonviolence have recommended a much more civilized approach, but I doubt the angry rhetoric and name calling will stop anytime soon in this heated political climate.

Trump called Texas Senator Ted Cruz a liar, and referred to another competitor Marco Rubio, as “little Rubio,” and the battle escalated. Rubio responded by saying Trump’s hands were small, insinuating his manhood was also small. 

Ohio Governor John Kasich wants to position himself above the fracas with his “positive vision for America,” he says. But Kasich’s message doesn’t seem to resonate with the majority of voters. He won his home state, but trails in the polls, and claims he wouldn't accept a Vice Presidential nod from either Trump or Cruz. Senator Rubio failed to win Florida, his home state, a death knell for him, so he dropped out.

Cruz says he’s "Reigniting the Promise of America.” But I’m uncertain as to what this means. When I think of America, I think of the American people, a conglomeration of men and women and children, all nationalities, all races, religions, enjoying the freedoms stated in the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, the Gettysburg Address, and the Emancipation Proclamation, although I would add the word women, to insure all women and men are created equal.

Cruz also wants to “Take America back.” Does he want to take us back to the time when the thirteen colonies declared independence from Britain in 1776? I have no idea.

I prefer clearer messages, and I cringe when I hear name calling and combative words coming from someone who wants to be hired as our next President.  

On the democratic side, the candidates appear more cordial. They focus on the issues and the differences between them. Although Senator Bernie Sanders has riled up voters by saying, "A political revolution is coming." When he asks his packed audiences of young voters “Are you ready for a revolution?” they yell, “Yes.”

While I don’t “feel the Bern,” I see his appeal. When I was in my teens and early twenties, I wanted to be a rebel, too.

Democratic front runner Hillary Clinton offers a more practical approach. “I will work for you,” is one of her slogans. “I’m fighting for you,” is another one. She has also countered Trump’s message. “America is already great,” she says. “I want to make America whole,” and recently I saw this sign attributed to her: “A woman’s place is in the White House.”

When Hillary Clinton ran against Barack Obama and lost to him in the 2008 election, her slogan was, “Solutions for America.”

 President Obama, a dynamic campaigner, used this saying, “Yes we can.”

In President George W. Bush’s campaigns, he had several different slogans: “Compassionate Conservatism,” “Leave no child behind,” “Yes, American can,” “Moving America Forward,” “A Safer World and More Hopeful America.”

President Bill Clinton used these: “Building a Bridge to the 21^st Century,” “Putting People First,” and “Don’t Stop Thinking about Tomorrow.”

One of my favorite Presidents, Abraham Lincoln, used this catchphrase at a time when we were embroiled in a Civil War. “Don’t Swap Horses in Midstream.”

But as far as avoiding conflict, many of these political figures, past and present, seemed to have subscribed to the adage, “Politics is a blood sport.”

As for me, I prefer to avoid bloodshed and combative behavior. I’d rather leave that to the characters in my novels.

Here’s my latest novel, A Message in the Roses:

Buy Link

Please visit my website to find out more:

http://www.sandysemerad.com/

The Schuyler Sisters

A Master Passion

 

Seen from a certain angle, the Schuyler girls were fairy tale princesses. They had white wigs, French dresses and a daddy who owned most of upstate New York. They had other identities, too, as frontier girls, occasionally in peril because their father’s kingdom really was land which had once belonged to the first people who'd come here. This backstory is a familiar feature of the early days of America, how plantations--that obscuring euphemism--took root, their aim to "tame"  (harvest) all they could get from a bountiful "wilderness.” 

That's not the foreground of my stories. The girls are. They drew my  interest particularly because I'm deprived--an only child. I've had to research the experience of siblings. As I read about the life that these girls lived, I realized that Margaret, Elizabeth and Angelica literally grew up together. Dutch ladies they were, but you could almost call them "Irish triplets", these same sex sibs born bam-bam-bam in 1756, 1757, and 1758. How could they not be emotionally entwined?

Back to the fairy tale idea. As it happened, these Schuyler girls each grew up and each one married a handsome prince.

Margaret was the youngest and the last to be married. She chose a life in the old-time Hudson Valley Dutch style, which, by that time, was already passing away. She married a van Rensselaer—her cousin, a boy she’d known all her life, whose family owned "the other half of upstate."  Land was the basis for her husband's wealth, though this, i8n the next generation would prove impossible to keep.  It was a safe and well-nigh predictable marriage--even though her father was, as usual, incensed because it began with an elopement--so romantic it was almost de rigueur for any spirited 18th century lady of fashion.
 

 Margaret Schuyler van Rensselaer

Elizabeth, the middle sister, married a wanderer, a fortune-seeker, a self-taught knight in shining armor who sometimes, like Sir Lancelot, went completely mad. Her life overflowed with drama, and she was nowhere near as materially comfortable or secure as the other two sisters, but she always knew who she was: her husband's "Queen Bess." She bore eight children and raised every one in a time where this wasn't a given. She lived almost until the Civil War, still standing by her man and his reputation fifty years after death had parted them.
 

 Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton "Betsy"

 

Angelica was, by all accounts, "the fairest of them all." She picked for herself a dashing lord of the material world, a buccaneer with a credible alias as an English gentleman. Her daring husband knew how to conduct a lady out an upstairs window and down a ladder in the middle of the night, away to a forbidden marriage. After the romance was over, he became a businessman with the stamina to write insurance all day and gamble all night. With his position and money, he took Angelica to London, and to Paris where her wit and beauty enchanted royals as well as the brilliant and the notorious.

Angelica Schuyler Church

 

Of these ladies, I’d imagine that only Betsy would ever have stood before a blackened, cavernous fireplace with a stick of wood or a ladle in hand, directing the business of her kitchen. The complex odors of a wood fire, which seem to us moderns like camping, would have filled the room and saturated clothing. Mrs. Hamilton wouldn't have worn her good dresses down in the cookshop, barely even for a visit. A certain amount of greasy smoke would have been everywhere, necessitating a spring cleaning that ended with a white washing. There was little of the new stove technology in her world, except, perhaps, in the better city homes she shared with her husband in Philadelphia and New York.

 

Like the English great houses, these early American “mansions” would not have been in a rush to modernize. The best they could do was to create a wing to house a kitchen, often a one story addition to the back of the house. In the cities, the kitchen would be down stairs--way downstairs!

There were plenty of hands—labor both slave and free—and plenty of fuel, for the menfolk are busy chopping down the great northeastern boreal forest, consuming it for building and energy, for shipping and industry. She might not have dirtied her hands scrubbing the floors, but she’d know how it should be done, and she wouldn’t hesitate to explain it to you while you worked on your knees before her. She wasn’t retiring, although she probably wasn’t taller than five feet. Nothing shy about this lady within the confines of her home; she was a Leo and a Schuyler, too, after all.

 

The Grange, NY, NY

Alexander Hamilton's final home

Upon which he spent entirely too much money.

 
Theirs is a delightful family/historical story, three women living through such a profound transition. I only wonder that it hasn't been retold more. It's been an honor and a delight to attempt to try.

 

 

 

~~Juliet Waldron

http://www.julietwaldron.com

https://www.facebook.com/jwhistfic