Aunt Judy

Before the filles du roi...Desperate to escape her past, Jeanne, a poor widow, accompanies a rich woman to Quebec. The sea voyage is long, one of privation and danger. In 1640, the decision to emigrate takes raw courage, but the struggling colony of Quebec, so far a collection of rough soldiers and fur traders, needs French women if it is ever to take firm root in the wilderness.

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My Aunt, as she was in the 1930's

Hope you don't mind coming along with me for a little family history. And history it now is,  sorry to say. We're all inescapably riding Time's Arrow...

Below is an excerpt from my aunt's obituary. I am her namesake. On the day this blog is published, she would have begun her 98th year. The day following, I will be attending her memorial service. At this time, I will reconnect with members of the family--cousins, and their children and grandchildren. Some, I haven't seen in twenty years, others I have never met in the flesh, only via pictures. 

      

Juliet “Judy” W. (Liddle) Hennessy died Jan. 10, 2025, at home in Yellow Springs. She was 97 years old. She was born March 28, 1927, in Rockville Centre, New York, to Dr. Albert W. and Ruth P. Liddle and joined two sisters, Dorothy and Jean. At the time, her father taught English literature, including Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton and others at New York University. He was recruited by Arthur Morgan to come to Yellow Springs and teach at Antioch College.

Shortly after Judy’s birth, the young family moved to Yellow Springs in a 1925 Model T Ford, arriving and camping in a tent in Glen Helen near the Birch Creek Cascades for several weeks, until lodging was available. When Mrs. Lucy Morgan came to welcome the family to Yellow Springs and Antioch, she left her calling card in the tent flap, as they were out and about.

Somehow or other, I have come the oldest living member of my grandparents' descendants.

My Aunt had all her wits about her when she died, something you can't always say about such old people. When I was born, World War II was still in progress, both in Europe and in the Pacific. My Dad was in Burma. My Uncle Richard, married to sister Jean, was in Europe. Judy was not married yet, because her beaus were away at war. Judy worked at Wright Field (Wright Patterson)  in those days. 

                                          . 

L to R: Aunt Judy, my Mother, Dorothy, & Aunt Jean

The three sisters, Judy, her sister Jean, and my mother, Dorothy, were all still living in their parents' house, a big four square with an enormous maple which shaded the brick patio behind the kitchen. There was an astonishing garden, too, filled with roses, spring bulbs and many other flowers and also--long before our time--native plants, such as Jack-in-the-Pulpit, Ferns, Trillium, Dutchman's Britches, May apples, Trout Lilies and Dog-Tooth violets. Grandpa also grew grapes on arbors, raspberries, rhubarb as well as lettuce and huge, delicious tomatoes. There was a pear tree and cherry trees, too, all benefiting from horse manure from my mother's much loved mare. 

My earliest memories are of moonlight coming through the leaves on that old tree and making patterns on the crib sheet where I was dozing. From the room next door, a large bathroom, I could hear the women of the house talking and bathing. This was a safe place then, and it remains so in memory. 

Here are some B&W pictures from the late 40's and 50's. That's me, the flower girl at Judy's wedding, wondering what the heck the grown-ups are doing? I could tell it was some kind of adult in-joke, and somehow I felt a little embarrassed by this undignified, giggly moment. However, it was clearly the time of breaking into that delicious cake, so of course I was intrigued, especially if this odd behavior meant there's soon be cake for me! 

The groom is my Uncle Leo, a great guy she'd met at Antioch College where she was working, and where he was studying chemistry on the GI bill after tours of duty in the navy, where he served in both WW II and in Korea. He was a favorite uncle, with a legendarily dry wit, and a taste for jazz, both cool and hot. He and my father sometimes went stag to jazz clubs in Dayton. In those days Dayton was a big melting pot, still bustling with factories and employing hosts of workers. Leo became a brilliant chemist, and he had a successful career. 

Homecoming Court picture

At Ohio State, my aunt was on homecoming court as the independent representative, sponsored by the returning war veterans. She graduated with degrees in Sociology and Home Economics, but all she truly ever wanted to be was to be a wife and mother. She worked for some years, however, at Wright Field (Wright Patterson Airforce Base) in Springfield, and at Antioch College, until my cousins began arriving.

This picture is of my first bus trip--off to a department store for shopping and lunch. I remember being lectured by my mother about being a good girl and not causing any trouble, which probably accounts for my anxious expression. However, once I was away with Aunt Judy, there was no worry at all. We had lunch in a tea room at the department store, and I remember feeling rather grown-up. 

My Aunt was very special to me. One memory I have is of staying overnight with Judy and Leo when they lived in a tiny apartment. I have memories of sleeping overnight in a space that might have been a deep closet shelf, proceeded by many cautions not to fall off, but I remember this as a grand adventure. Judy and Leo always made things fun. 

Those happy days when our family lived together in that unique little college town eventually came to an end. My parents were the first to leave, heading to the Finger Lakes area in New York, near Syracuse, where my Dad worked in the then nascent industrial air-conditioning business.  Here's a picture of me, my 6 month old Cousin Kevin and my  Aunt in an upstairs bedroom when they came to visit us. 

~~Juliet Waldron

Write a Novel...It Will Be Easy--And other Fairy Tales By Connie Vines #Connie Vines author, #BWL, #Fragrance #book teaser

Connie is motivated by jewelry or colorful baubles.

 "You should be a writer," my maternal grandmother said while sprinkling the top of the Kolacky cookies with powdered sugar. "My mother. Your babi (bah-bee) was from Bohemia...she loved her romance stories...."

My grandmother, in her youth

The paternal side of the family held another opinion regarding novelists.

My paternal grandmother, born and raised in Texas, didn't voice acetates for my father's cousin, Clarence "Clancy" Carlile, a published author. My grandfather was Clancy's uncle. 

Clancy's first novel contained a gripe/scene featuring breakfast oatmeal.

My grandmother practically spit nails whenever the subject was mentioned. So, I dutifully vowed "never to read "that" novel.

Oklahoma Reservation/ 1938-1942
My father (far left), Clancy beside him. My grandparents are on the far right. 

Of course, I was still an early reader when I made that vow. 

Later, as I transitioned from writing magazine articles and nonfiction to writing Western romance, I recalled my promise to my late grandmother.

Although the book was out of print, I found a copy in my late twenties. My first novel (Lynx) opens in a  "Honky-Tonk" as a nod to my Uncle "Red" Clancy Carlile. 

That is what is known as "Back Story".

Information a reader must know to tie into a current scene or a future plot point :)

This information also hints at "Character Motivation" or an "Inciting Incident".

In this blog post, you can understand how my life influences my writing (though I'm seldom aware of it until it jumps out at me or a sibling points it out).

All this is good, but it doesn't fulfill the title's promise (which is obviously tongue-in-cheek).

My Findings:

1. Writers are often introverts because they are energized by time alone with their minds. They may love being with people, but it tires and drains them. I spent many years feeling guilty because I turned down invitations to "events"

2. I focus on research. Therefore, I allow one day a week to indulge in my obsession. 

3. I'm easily distracted. Therefore, I have to push myself along. 

4. I post reminders (I love sticky notes!) around the house and on my office whiteboard: 

Why I started writing the story in the first place.  

Possible characters/plot for the next book in the series, etc.

5. I set deadlines and reward myself (coffee break or sitting in my garden with my 2 pups). 

 6. Place images representing your goals (future novels, etc) in your writing area.

7. Gather memories and experiences from your life. This will trigger emotions and remind you how much others have influenced or inspired your novels.

8. Though I'm an introvert, I do interact with others. I'm a huge fan of events like "Charmed Writers." We (Members of OCRW) write nonstop for days—well, almost nonstop for days. We log in our time and page count on the Facebook group page and add a mini update/and/or gifs. 

My Charms: Handcuffs, for 6 straight hours of writing. Owl, writing from midnight to sunrise.

 

And believe it or not, the early bird was when I crawled out of bed before sunrise to write.

Updates:

At the moment, I am on my computer writing the first book of my Fragrance and Love Series. 

While I'm not sharing snippets of my work-in-progress, I'm sharing the story that inspired the series!  

 "Gumbo Ya Ya"  "Love Potion No.9" is the second story in the anthology.

*

It is said that the sense of smell is the most intimately linked of all our senses to memory, and I believe it to be true. One whiff of a familiar scent, even one we have not encountered in years, can transport us to a time and place long forgotten, even before we consciously recall the memory.

*

"Don't shake your finger at me, Simone Basso. I know what I'm doing." Persia Richmnd said, holding a pipette to fill a crystal half-ounce atomizer with perfume. The top notes of peach blossoms and bergamot,  and the mid-notes of gardenia, honey and tuberose tantalized... 

The fragrance was New Orleans, culture at its most upscale moments and Mardi Gras at its naughtiest... Ooooh, La La!

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/57681480-gumbo-ya-ya

https://books.apple.com/us/book/gumbo-ya-ya/id1560874874

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1077128

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Happy Reading!

I hope you enjoyed my post.

Connie

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Do you know how to breathe to be happy and energized? Most people don’t. - by Vijaya Schartz

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I learned from Tai-Chi that proper breathing technique not only makes for a more enjoyable life, but it can also help you through stress, fatigue, and challenging emotions.

In today’s busy life, sitting at computers, driving to work, taking elevators, getting food delivered, not only don’t we get enough exercise, but it seems we have forgotten how to breathe.

Lung and breathing problems are the most common ailments among mature adults. Even for someone who never smoked, a lifetime of shallow breathing deprives the blood of much needed oxygen, which weakens the entire body, including the immune system.

But there is hope. Healthy breathing at any age increases serotonin levels (which makes us happy). It increases energy levels, boosts the brain power, and benefits the muscles, and all the organs in our body.

Most people breathe from the top of the lungs, lifting the shoulders, or worse, hunched over. Little do they know that the lungs are very narrow at the top, and wide at the bottom. If you only breathe from the top of the lungs, you only use 10% of your lung capacity. But if you breathe from the diaphragm, filling the bottom part of the lungs, you are using 90% of your lung capacity, significantly increasing the amount of oxygen going into your blood.

Simple exercise to train your body to breathe from the diaphragm: 

Lie down on your back (on the floor, a bed, a couch…). Place a hefty book on your stomach. As you inhale, try to make the book rise, and watch it fall when you exhale. If you do this at night before falling asleep, eventually your body will get into that healthy rhythm and keep it all night. In time, your body will relearn to breathe more deeply, and it will become your new normal.

Simple principles:

Breathe from the diaphragm. It provides more oxygen to your blood. If you are not used to it, it might make you dizzy at first. Just sit down. Your brain will quickly welcome the extra oxygen.

Always breathe through the nose. Mouth breathing doesn’t filter the air of impurities, nor does it change the air temperature before it reaches the lungs. And exhaling through the mouth might be too fast for your system.

Never completely empty your lungs. A small amount of carbon dioxide is still needed in the lungs to carry the oxygen to the blood. People who exhale too fast and too completely can go into panic attack mode. In that case, the doctor will tell you to breathe inside a bag. Guess what’s in the bag? The carbon dioxide you just exhaled.

Keep your back straight and shoulders down. You cannot fill the bottom of your lungs if you are hunched over.

These principles only apply to everyday life, they do not apply to special breathing exercises, like prana-yoga, and various meditation methods using the breath to achieve a specific state of consciousness.

And if you need feel-good books to place on your stomach, don’t forget these epic science fiction fantasy series.

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Happy Reading!

Vijaya Schartz, award-winning author

Strong Heroines, Brave Heroes, cats

https://www.vijayaschartz.com

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A Sticky Situation- by Jeff Tribe

 There is something particularly special about making one’s own maple syrup.

A penultimate Canadian practice Indigenous Peoples generously shared with settlers, it represents the year’s first harvest from a bounteous natural world. Traditionally, Canada’s First People would let the spring’s opening run of sap pass, respectfully viewing it as ‘for the tree’ before tapping into its flow of delicious sweetness.

The ‘how’ has changed over the centuries. One can only imagine the patience and commitment required to make the 40-to-1 transition from sap to syrup using heated rocks. A progression from those determined origins through steel pot and on past multi-pan wood-fired evaporator to gas-powered works of stainless steel efficiency on the back end of reverse-osmosis technology, digital readouts rather than ‘flaking’ off a scoop indicating the magical moment syrup has arrived.

Maple syrup is big business in Canada. According to Quebec industry statistics, that province’s annual production, accounting for over 90 per cent of Canadian totals, contributes $1.1-billion in revenue. Syrup can also be involved in big crime, as proven by The Great Canadian Maple Syrup Heist of 2011 and 2012, a true story stranger in many ways than fiction.

Amongst the ranks of professionals, there’s still room for a rag-tag band of crazies hanging a few buckets on sugar maples to keep family traditions alive. Boiling on a kitchen stove is a thing quite probably done but once given the attendant sweet stickiness. Wiser to get by with a pot or pan over some concrete blocks, a propane-powered turkey deep fryer, naphtha camp stove or upgrade to a customized barrel wood stove and a stainless steel pan inside a ‘sugar shack’ framed out of a former children’s playground set.

Just focus on the end result, rather than input costs and hours of labour required.

Whether producing hundreds of gallons or a few jars for family and friends, the process is essentially the same: a lot of time, a lot of work and one hopes, some amount of quiet satisfaction and enjoyment. In between adding wood to the fire, there’s ample opportunity to ponder the vagaries of the universe or alternatively, enjoy a good book, one might suggest for example, Jay Lang’s ‘Little Blue,’ ‘Brides of Banff Springs’ by Victoria Chatham, or Donalee Moulton’s March, 2025 release, ‘Bind.’

If you listen to enough bubbling sap you might also be struck by the progressive parallels between syrup-making and reading a novel. 

While inserting spiles into trees or opening a book’s cover, there is a general sense of where things are going. However, differences from author to author, title to title or year to year are what makes the experience uniquely interesting. 

Both processes start with a sense of excitement, one tapping trees to begin a flow of sap, the other words unfolding with an introduction to compelling characters and the various factors and forces driving them. The plot and sap both thicken with time, gaining depth and colour, the boiler and reader increasingly engaged in the effort. 

The final stages, culmination of much work which has gone before, are the most crucial. Pushing thickened sap the few final degrees toward syrup is a delicate art, much as an author bringing together disparate plot lines, challenges and conflict into a satisfying conclusion.

And whether straight up in a bowl, over ice cream, enhancing the flavour of good, Canadian whiskey, or alternatively, read from the deck of a cottage, one’s favourite armchair - or in front of a bubbling pan of hot sap - both offer a valuable experience enjoyable in their own right. 

Tribe, Jeff - BWL Publishing Inc.

Canadian Authors by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

 

 

 

 

https://books2read.com/Romancing-the-Klondike

 

https://books2read.com/Rushing-the-Klondike

https://books2read.com/Sleuthing-the-Klondike

 https://bwlpublishing.ca/donaldson-yarmey-joan/

      I am a proud Canadian author of over twenty fiction and non-fiction books in my long writing career. But I am just one of thousands of published writers from this huge country. Canada has had a long and illustrious history of producing world renown authors and books going all the way back to the 18^th century.

     Frances Moore was born in England in 1724. She was a well-known poet and playwright in England before she and her husband, Reverend John Brooke moved to Quebec City in 1763, for John to take up the post of army chaplain. During her time there Frances wrote The History of Emily Montague, a love story set in the newly formed Quebec province.

     The story is told through the voices of her characters by way of personal letters between the two. This is known as epistolary (of letters) type of writing and it was popular during the1700s in Europe. The Brookes’ returned to England in 1768 and the novel was published in 1769 the London bookseller, James Dodsley. The History of Emily Montague was the first novel written in what is now Canada and the first with a Canadian setting. Frances died in 1789.

 Ontario

William Robertson Davies was born August 28, 1913 in Thamesville, Ontario (ON). He grew up surrounded by books and he participated in theatrical productions, developing a lifelong love of drama. He attended Upper Canada College then studied at Queen’s University at Kingston, ON. He moved to Oxford, England where he received a Bachelor Degree in Literature from Balliol College in 1938. His thesis, Shakespeare’s Boy Actors, was published in 1939 and he began acting in London.

     William married Brenda Mathews, an Australian who was working as a stage manager. They moved to Canada in 1940 and he began a career as literary editor at Saturday Night magazine. Their first child was born in December 1940. Two years later he accepted the position of editor of the Peterborough Examiner in Peterborough, ON. During this time he wrote humorous essays under the name Samuel Marchbanks and wrote and produced many stage plays.

     In 1947, several of his essays were published in The Diary of Samuel Marchbanks, and The Table Talk of Samuel Marchbanks came out in 1949. Davies used his early upbringing to provide themes for his novels and his first novel Tempest Tost was published in 1951. His second, Leaven of Malice, came out in 1954. In 1955 he became publisher of the Peterborough Examiner and his third novel, A Mixture of Frailties was published in 1958.

     Besides novel and play writing, and being a newspaper publisher, Davies taught literature at Trinity College at the University of Toronto from 1960 until 1981. He left his post as publisher of the Peterborough Examiner in 1962 and became a Master of Massey College, the University of Toronto’s new graduate college, in 1963. Along with his father William Rupert Davies and his brother Arthur Davies, William bought the Kingston Whig-Standard newspaper, CHEX-AM and CKWS-AM radio stations, and CHEX-TV and CKWS-TV television stations. His third book of essays, Samuel Marchbanks’ Almanack was published in 1967.

     William Robertson Davies wrote a total of eighteen fiction and non-fiction books, plus fifteen plays. He won many awards for his writing including the Governor-General’s Literary Award and the Stephen Leacock Award for Humour. He was named a Companion of the Order of Canada.

     William Robertson Davies died on December 2, 1995, in Orangeville ON.

 

Josiah Henson was born on June 15, 1789, into slavery in Port Tobacco, Charles County, Maryland. When his family was separated by each being sold to different plantations, his mother pleaded with her new owner, Isaac Riley, to buy her youngest son so she would have him with her. Riley agreed and Josiah came to work for him. Josiah was twenty-two years-of-age when he married. He also became a Methodist Minister and was made the supervisor of his master's farm.

     In 1825, Mr. Riley fell on hard times and was sued by a brother-in-law. Henson guided eighteen of Riley’s slaves to Riley’s brother’s plantation in Kentucky. When he returned and asked to buy his freedom from Riley for $450.00 (350.00 cash and $100.00 IOU), Riley added an extra zero to the IOU. Cheated of his money, Henson returned to Kentucky. In 1830, he learned that he might be sold again so he, his wife, and their four children escaped to Kent County, in Upper Canada (now Ontario), which had been a refuge for slaves since 1793. That was the year Lieutenant-Governor John Graves Simcoe passed: An Act to prevent the further introduction of Slaves, and limit the Term of Contracts for Servitude within this Province. While the legislation did not immediately end slavery, it did prevent the importation of slaves and so any United States slave who entered the province was automatically free.

     Josiah Henson worked on farms in Upper Canada before moving with friends to Colchester to set up a Black settlement on rented land. He eventually was able to buy 200 acres in Dawn Township and made the community self-sufficient. The settlement reached a population of 500 at its height, earning money by exporting black walnut lumber to the United States and Britain. Henson purchased an adjoining 200 acres for his family to live on.

     Henson served in the Canadian Army as a military officer. He led a black militia unit in the Canadian Rebellion of 1837-38. When slavery was abolished in the United States many residents of the Dawn Settlement returned to their original home. Josiah Henson and his wife had eight more children in Upper Canada and he remarried a widow from Boston when his first wife died. He continued to live in Dawn for the rest of his life and many of his descendants still live in the area.

     Henson wrote his autobiography The Life of Josiah Henson, Formerly a Slave, Now an Inhabitant of Canada, as narrated by Himself. It was published in 1849 and many believe he inspired the main character in Harriet Beecher Stowes’ Uncle Tom’s Cabin (1852). Henson then expanded his memoir and published it as Truth Stranger Than Fiction. Father Henson’s Story of His Own Life which came out in 1858. Since people were still interested in his life, in 1876 his story was updated and published as Uncle Tom’s Story of His Life: An autobiography of the Rev. Josiah Henson.

     Josiah Henson died on May 5, 1883 at the age of ninety-four.