The Unexpected Gift Inside a Book by Eileen O'Finlan

 

                        

                                           

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I grew up hearing family stories and reminiscences from both of my parents, especially my mom. She told many of them so often I eventually knew them by heart. My mom often spoke of her old friend, Carleton Carpenter. They grew up together in Bennington, Vermont. She talked about how close they were as youngsters and the many things they did together growing up in the 1920s and '30s. She would reminisce about how Carleton used to write plays and get all the kids in the neighborhood together to put them on, directing everyone with authority. This is no surprise when you realize that he went on to act on Broadway and in several movies, often playing opposite Debbie Reynolds.

One day, several years ago, when my mom (and Carleton who was the same age) were in their 90s, I found out that Carleton Carpenter had written a memoir called The Absolute Joy of Work: From Vermont, to Broadway, Hollywood, and Damn 'Near Round the World. I bought a copy for Mom which she loved. 

Then I got the idea of trying to see if I could reconnect these two old friends. They'd lost touch after high school so it was a longshot but worth a try. It took a while, but I finally tracked him down and got an address. He was living in New York. I wrote to him, explained who I was, and hoped he'd remember my mom. He was, after all, in his 90s, and I had no idea what he might or might not remember. I was so excited when I got a letter back from him saying that he certainly did remember his old friend, Barbara, and was so glad that I had contacted him. He included a letter for my mom in the envelope. I don't know who was more delighted, Mom or me!

I had given Mr. Carpenter our phone number in the letter I sent to him and he put his in the letters he sent to us. I set up a date and time with him to call my mom. After that call, she spent the day looking like she was in a blissful daze. She just couldn't get over the fact that she had been reconnected with a dear old friend who she hadn't seen or heard from in over 70 years. They continued to write to each other and talk on the phone frequently. She caught him up on her life, who she'd married, her kids, where she'd worked and lived. And he told her all about her acting career and his close friendship with Debbie Reynolds and how sad he was at her recent passing.

It was only a few years later that Mom slipped so suddenly and deeply into dementia that she had to be moved to a nursing home. I learned that Carleton Carpenter passed away on January 31, 2022. I chose not to tell Mom because by then she thought she was living in Vermont and he was her neighbor. It would only confuse and upset her. Mom passed away almost one year later.

Recently, I came across Mom's copy of the memoir he'd written and decided to read it. It begins with his childhood in Vermont. As I read, I noticed that Mom had underlined the names of several people and places he mentioned. Obviously, these were people and places she remembered. Now, as I read it, I imagine what it must have been like for her to read that book and be taken back to her childhood and the happy days she spent with Carleton and their friends and neighbors in Bennington.

I have also found that it is a gift for me because I feel as though through the underlined passages she is pointing things out to me, once again telling me her stories and sharing her childhood with me. I am so glad I found this book and decided to read it. I had thought that there was no way I could ever have that experience again and yet, here it is. I've always found books to be a great gift, but this one has given more than I could have hoped for in a way I never would have expected.

 

  

 

A Rock and Roll Story by Scot Bihlman

 Hello from Los Angeles! I’m excited to announce the release of my new book, Zen Tones, and thrilled to be part of the amazing BWL community! This book chronicles a musical journey through the challenges of the entertainment industry, while also exploring life through philosophy, psychology, and creativity. Along the way, it’s filled with motorcycle adventures and tattoos! Are there any motorcycle enthusiasts or tattoo lovers out there? Feel free to share your stories—what do they mean to you, and what journeys have they represented?

And always remember to stay zen, setting your tone to love and respect for both yourself and others.

Out of Hibernation

 

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And so our Minnesota winter is coming to an end. 

It's time to do the slow wake up like the black bear. My muscles are aching to stretch and be pressed to their limits again. The hard ground feels different under my feet now that I'm wearing paddock boots or tennis shoes that hug my feet and encourage me to run instead of trudge. It's like when I was a kid and got a new pair of tennies and thought they made me run super-fast. Quite different from the bulky mukluks that warm to -30 degrees. 

It's time to dream of green plants and baby chicks. My green thumb is itching, so I bought a seed starter kit. We'll see if the cat doesn't have her way with that little setup in the window. My longing for new life won over my good sense, so I am also collecting eggs for the incubator. Can you have too many chickens? I think not. 

It's time to plan summery adventures. A Harley trip out to Yellowstone National Park ought to do the trick. Another trip to North Dakota is a must too. I miss my Kuntz Nokota Ranch family! And who knows what other getaways will crop up as the days go by and the farm sitters remain willing. 

But it's also time to play at home. Make crafty stuff I don't really need. Ride my horses and love on them without the bulk of layer upon layer of Carhartt. Run out to get the mail or quickly close the chicken coop without spending ten minutes dressing for it. Watch my flowers grow. Listen to my birds sing. Soak up the sun on the back porch in the afternoon with the dogs as the poplars and birch sway in the background.

It's time to swipe away the sleepy cobwebs in my dusty mind and get back into action mode. I am excited about a speaking event coming up this month at the local library where I will promote Echoes of the Nokota. It's always an honor to tell folks about Frank Kuntz and the Nokota horses. Maybe some spring horse events will provide opportunities too. Most of us are ready to creep out of our winter nests.

And finally, it's time to keep writing! The second installment of Forever Fields is underway. I am popping and humming and brimming with ideas. What fun it is to launch again into a world I have already prepared with Nokota Voices. Paisley Noon and her faithful dog Prairie and steady steed Journey have so much more to come!

Happy Spring, everyone. And happy writing!  

Local Author Visit: Julie Christen In-Person

How has one man’s life mission to make an unjust thing right – save North Dakota’s native horses – changed history?  Never in his dreams did Frank Kuntz think that he would become the one they were waiting for.

This is Frank’s story.

Join us at the Cambridge Library as local author, Julie Christen shares her inspiration for her non-fiction book, Echoes of the Nokota.

Julie lives in central Minnesota and has all her life. She has taught 8th grade English plus 6th and 8th grade health in the same room in the same district for nearly 30 years. Some say she has “staying power”. She is fiercely dedicated to the things in life that make her heart happy – books books books, her family, her animals, and her writing. She and her superhuman husband ride a Harley and their horses when they’re not working on some part of Small Potatoes farm.

Date:

Saturday, March 22, 2025

Time:

10:00am - 11:00am

Time Zone:

Central Time - US & Canada (change)

Location:

Opportunity Room (seating for 24)

Library:

Cambridge Public Library

Audience:

  Adults     Seniors     Teens  

Categories:

  Authors & Writing  

Getting into a new kind of Bind by donalee Moulton

We’re leaving winter behind and welcoming spring. This spring is particularly celebratory. I’m welcoming a new book. Bind is the first in my series, the Lotus Detective Agency.  I thought this month I’d share an excerpt with you – and would love your feedback.

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Here’s a little background:

 

Everything that happens in a yoga studio is not Zen. Sometimes it’s grand larceny. Three yogis, two cops, and one damn cute dog join forces to discover who’s stolen a Patek Philippe watch from what was supposed to be a secure locker.  Time is ticking.

 

And here’s the excerpt.

From Bind

Ten yogis are in various stretches, twists, meditations, and yawns when Kristi walks back into the studio. She forces a smile, and the smile spreads of its own accord into her muscles, her bones, her heart. This is her sanctuary. She is at home here. The rawness she feels is still there, but it has moved to the edges now.

Today’s bind is a yogi squat. One leg is extended; the other is bent. One arm goes under the bent leg; the other goes around the back until they meet. In theory. Lexie can’t wait until this month is over, and it’s only day three. Bhodi looks around the room to see if anyone else has completed the bind. Surprisingly, Honey seems to have easily maintained the squat and the bind. Bonnie begins the countdown until she can come out of the contortion, which for her is a little squat and a hint of a bind.

Kristi takes this opportunity to explain the benefits of binds. “These poses allow muscles to release, relax, and open. You can go deeper. You can also focus on alignment and flexibility while building strength.” She breathes in.

“Dear God,” thinks Lexie, “there’s more.”

“If you make her stop,” Bonnie says to her higher spirit, “I will give you my first born.”

Kristi continues to talk, and smile. “Remember to breathe when you’re in the bind. Don’t tighten. And come out of the bind if you feel any pain. Go to your edge, but no further.”

Archina isn’t sure where her edge is, but she fears she left it behind several minutes ago. Woo Woo unbinds. She believes in the mind, body, spirit philosophy of yoga, but enough of this shit.

If it’s one thing Kristi knows, it’s how to read a room full of yogis. The edge has been reached. She tells everyone to stand up, give themselves a hug, and as a special treat, this morning there will be an extended savasana that includes a meditation. (Kristi always has a guided meditation on her phone.) The room smiles, even Bhodi. Eleven bodies move from the vertical to the horizontal. Archina grabs a blanket; Lexie puts a bolster under her knees; Kevin, the newest member of the group, reaches for his socks.

The Dalai Lama is midway through his 13-minute meditation on the disturbed mind when the studio door opens. Twelve faces turn to look at the human who belongs to the shoes that just clomped into their zen-like state. All twelve agree, zen is overrated. Standing at the entranceway to the studio is a 6’2” man with ripped muscles, ebony skin, and a three-day stubble. “He can bind with me any time he wants,” Kevin thinks.

It takes the intruder less than a second to realize he has interrupted the class at an inopportune time. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “I thought class was over.”

“We’re running a little late,” says Kristi in a voice the class has not heard before.

“Please continue,” says Ripped. “I will come back.”

“Too late now,” says Bhodi. He gets the evil eye from most of the class.

“How can we help?” says Kristi introducing herself.

Ripped steps forward, hand extended. “My name is Michael …”

Before he can continue, Woo Woo interjects. “No, it isn’t. Your name is Lewis.”

The demi-god looks at her in surprise. He’s not alone. The whole class stares at Woo Woo.

“I’m so sorry,” Woo Woo says turning a deep magenta. “I don’t know why I said that.” But she does. Sometimes a thought, an image, a tickertape runs through Woo Woo’s mind. She knows it’s a message, and she usually tries to convey it. On this occasion, she wishes she hadn’t.

Michael turns back to Kristi, leader of the pack. “Terrell. Michael Terrell.”

“Did you want to join the class?” Bhodi asks. The snark is obvious.

“Please,” thinks Kevin. “Please join.”

Terrell smiles. “It’s on my bucket list, but today I’m here for a less pleasant reason. I’m a detective with the Halifax Police Department. I’m looking into a watch that seems to have gone missing from the gym.”

Kristi tries to control her breathing. No one else tries to control anything. Lexie’s eyes fly wide open. Charlene gasps. Bonnie recoils.

Honey farts.

  

BWL Publishing new releases March 1, 2025

Elizabeth loves her job at the Manitoba Legislature building in Winnipeg, Manitoba. However, being marooned at work on the eve of the winter solstice due to a blizzard was not on her list of holiday events. The legislature building is full of mysterious symbols, hidden in plain sight. From the Bison to the Pool of the Black Star, there is more to the symbols than Elizabeth ever imagined. To her surprise she encounters another soul in the building with her. A mysterious man who says his name is Septimus. Together they must thwart a once every hundred year threat to the honesty and morality of those who pass through the doors of the legislature. Sacred Geometry, sacred numbers and a message only the Sphynx on the roof can supply.

 Editorial Review, JD Shipton

Behind the seemingly banal stone colonnades, walls, and statues of what would normally be considered one of the least exciting buildings in town (The Manitoba Legislature), lie centuries of tradition, ages of myth and legend, and a very animated cast of specters, ghouls, and demigods.  How would you react if you happened upon such a cast after work in a building you thought you knew?  This book is a reminder that what we might perceive at the surface often gives us but a shallow reflection of what really is. 

 

                 https://books2read.com/Night-at-the-Legislature