Books We Love Insider Blog: #SLCarlson

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Monday, July 4, 2022

Memories of the 4th of July by S. L. Carlson

I am S. L. Carlson, a proud and grateful BWL Publishing Inc. author. My books can be viewed and purchased by visiting https://www.bookswelove.net/carlson-s-l

Memories of the 4^th of July by S. L. Carlson

I realize Books We Love is a Canadian Press. Realize, too, that I am an American. Hence, 4^th of July memories on this blog post day of the 4^th of July.

My dad loved the 4^th of July. Actually, he loved being able to buy and set off the illegal M-80’s. Loud-loud bangs. I grew up with Dad exploding those as near to us as he dared. When I was engaged, Jeff and I went to my parents’ home over the 4^th of July. Dad threw an M-80 near my bare feet. I was used to Dad doing that, but it was always unexpected. As it went off, Jeff pulled me to behind him, protecting me. (My hero.) Dad was so impressed with Jeff’s quick action, that he didn’t set off another firework that entire weekend.

Jeff and I lived for ten years in Buffalo, New York. Our house was a fifteen-minute drive to one of the bridges going over the Niagara River. Our summer vacations, when our boys were small, were spent at our favorite Provincial Park: Algonquin. Canada is dear to my heart. And we still have dear friends residing there.

Living so very close to Canada, and with Canada Day being on the 1^st of July, the entire area celebrated a weeklong Friendship Festival. Events. Reenactments. Food. Parades. Parties. And, of course, fireworks every night throughout many locations on both sides of the river.

[picture many fireworks shots here]

One year, we watched fireworks from about a mile away from a third-floor gym. After about twenty minutes, the fireworks ended. We waited, then we finally went to bed. In the morning, we read in the newspaper (pre-internet), that one of the holders for the fireworks fell over. The lit projectile miraculously passed through a crowd of hundreds watching, crossed the road, and burst through the first doors of a hospital, exploding in that enclosed area. No one was hit or hurt!

My one and only trip to England was over the 4^th of July. While there, Jeff and I kept rather hush-hush about our nationality, because many Americans can be rather obnoxious travellers. Something we actually witnessed. Needless to say, there were no fireworks, but some brilliant memories.

We also lived in the Black Hills of South Dakota for nearly ten years. That is a strikingly beautiful, but semi-arid land, and so for several years no fireworks were permitted because of wildfire danger. (It only takes a spark!) One year, a friend was visiting, so we decided to bite the bullet, fight the crowds, and go hours early out to Mount Rushmore to watch fireworks set off over the four presidents. Although we were there four hours early, we still had to park more than a mile away on a 2-lane hill near Keystone. Walk-walk-walk. No place in Amphitheatre left to sit. Found some free ground, quickly surrounded by others. Plopped down. Wait-wait-wait. Fog rolls in. FOG? The Hills are never foggy! There were times we could not even see the lit-up granite faces. Fireworks delayed an hour. Then another thirty minutes. Then, about 11 PM, cancelled. Walk-walk-yawn-walk downhill back to the van. Some kind driver finally allowed us pull out. The following night it was clear, but we didn’t feel like going back up for another long-long wait. We made designs with sparklers in our backyard.

Then we lived in Battle Creek, Michigan, for about ten years. The 4^th of July weekend was called Field of Flight, with air shows and hot air balloon races. The non-commercial airport was about a mile from our house, so we had the privilege of watching/hearing the US Thunderbirds or Blue Angels or the Canadian force Snowbirds practicing and performing over our house. What a thrill raced down me at each of their passes.

There were also hot air balloons each morning and evening, depending on weather and wind. It was so cool to hear the “fffffft” of fire air going into balloons right over our roof. I’d rush outside to wave and give a shout out to the pilots.

Oftentimes, it was neighborhood dogs who set off the alarm of the hot air balloons approaching. Of course, the end of the festival concluded with fireworks.

In one of my unicorn books, I included fireworks through the POV of my main character who had never seen them before. Can you imagine? I hope you can. If not, read about it in a BWL book.

Happy celebrating, however you do. Build those memories.

S. L. Carlson Blog & Website: https://authorslcarlson.wordpress.com

BWL Inc. Publisher Author Page: https://www.bookswelove.net/carlson-s-l

Saturday, December 4, 2021

Vinegar Pie for the Holidays, Anyone? by S. L. Carlson

I am S. L. Carlson, a proud and grateful BWL Publishing Inc. author. My books can be viewed and purchased by visiting https://www.bookswelove.net/carlson-s-l

Being in the midst of (or between) holiday cooking and eating, of course, I need to address the issue of food, both in reality, but also in stories.

Throughout my books, people eat. So do unicorns and trolls. But what food do they eat, you may wonder? Would it taste delicious? Bland? Awful? Writing/Reading about sensory experiences help to remove the reader from their reality and place the reader into the novel’s presence.

Here is from War Unicorn: The Ring. Aldric is our hero; Neighbor is the unicorn.

“Aldric, stop.”

“What?”

“Your wish did not come true.”

Aldric froze, thinking about that for a moment. He released a mighty sigh and dropped cross-legged on the ground, slapping his palms to his cheeks and elbows to his knees. Neighbor yanked more grass and chewed it. His own stomach growled. He pulled up some grass himself and chewed it, spitting it right back out.

“How you can eat that stuff?”

“Carrots taste better,” Neighbor answered.

“Maybe I should wish for carrots, then. Is that a wish that would work?”

Neighbor shook her head and neighed a laugh.

What memory of a taste is vivid for you? What delicious food would you wish for? For me, it’s my grandmother’s lemon meringue pie.

My grandmother made the best lemon meringue pie I have ever-ever tasted. Ever since she died, I’ve tried eating and making dozens over the years, always hoping for that precious Grandmother’s Lemon Meringue Pie Taste. Grandmother was a farmer’s wife, plump and jolly. She was not a cookbook cook. She was a cook-and-taste-it cook. So, following her death, I continue my trial-and-error quest for that most tasty memory.

Interesting fact: Pre-electricity/refrigeration, citrus fruits were not available year-round in history, nor, naturally, in fantasy worlds, if you follow the rule of science/nature. So what did people actually use in pies when lemons weren’t in season? In case you skimmed over the title of this post: THEY USED VINEGAR!

Now your first reaction is probably similar to what my first reaction was -- vinegar: ugh! But in light of having written vinegar pies into one of my historical novels, I do what I always do. I make the dish so I can taste it and then describe it better in my novels than just using my imagination; for my first imagination-thought of vinegar pie was ugh!

It took me about twelve tries, tweeking here, tweeking there, to come up with a vinegar pie recipe which I really, really and actually do like. And today I will share it here with you readers because I really, really and actually do like you.

If you are brave enough to try this recipe, let me know if you love the pie or go ugh. I’m counting on the former. Happy holidays, with wishes for tasty treats.