Christmas Story - The Urn of Fate, Janet Lane Walters YA #BooksWeLove #MFRWauthor #shortstory

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The Urn of Fate

Pedro tossed a stone down the hill and sighed. He felt a tugging at his woolen scarf and turned to stroke Blanca, his pet merino sheep.

“Si, Blanca, soon it will be time to go down but I must think now. Jaime’s coming for a few days. Can you imagine, he’s to be my special friend until next Christmas?”

Pedro put his arm around Blanca and she settled beside him. Christmas hadn’t been good this year. Pedro frowned as he remembered how excited he’d been when his grandmother, Abuela, had picked up the Urn of Fate and started to draw names. Pedro had held his breath.

Last year, Tio Carlos had been his special friend. Tio Carlos had given him Blanca and had taught him many things about being a shepherd.

This year, Abuela had drawn Jaime’s name to be Pedro’s special friend. Pedro wondered what Jaime would give him. Jaime always had his nose in a book.

Pedro had been so disappointed he had run from the room, saying he had to feed Blanca and the chickens. His eyes had burned with tears. Abuela had planned the whole thing but it wouldn’t work. He and Jamie could never be special friends.

“Pedro, Pedro, come quickly,” his mother called.

Pedro rose slowly and untied Blanca’s rope. “We must go, little one.” He and Blanca made their way cautiously down the hill. Blanca was going to lamb soon and Pedro took special care of her. She was his future. Someday, he would have the largest flock of sheep in Spain.

“Pedro, I want you to take some eggs to Abuela.”

“Si, Mamacita,” said Pedro. “First, I must put Blanca in her pen.”

“Let Jaime do that while you gather the eggs.”

Pedro hadn’t noticed Jaime standing in the doorway. “Hello, Jaime,” he said. “I’ll get the eggs and you put Blanca in her pen. Be sure the door is shut.”

“May I pet her?” asked Jaime.

“Sure.”

As the boys started down the hill to their grandmother’s, Jaime said. “Blanca is a merino. I read they produce fine wool.”

Pedro grinned. Maybe Jaime wouldn’t be so bad after all.

When they reached their grandmother’s house, Pedro carried the eggs in. Jaime followed him.

“Good day, Abuela,” said Jaime.

Abuela took the eggs. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m glad Jaime could visit you. It will do you good to be outdoors more, Jaime.”

“Si Abuela,” Jaime said.

“And you, Pedro, Jaime can interest you in books. The schoolmaster has been talking to me.”

“I don’t need books. I’m going to be a shepherd.”

“Some knowledge might help.”

“Si, Abuela,” said Pedro. “Come, Jaime, Mamacita will have supper ready.”

The sky was growing dark and the wind had begun to blow.

“Hurry, Jaime,” said Pedro. “It’s going to snow and Tio Carlos said Blanca might have her lamb any time. I want to be with her.”

“Can you only think of that smelly sheep,” said Jaime. “Tio Carlos always smells like sheep.”

“So will I. I’m going to be a shepherd.”

“And I’m going to be a school teacher.”

When they reached home, Jaime went to the house but Pedro headed for Blanca’s pen. A few minutes alter, he burst into the house. “Blanca’s gone! It’s all your fault, Jaime. The door wasn’t closed tight.” He ran out.

“Pedro, wait for me,” called Jaime. “I’ll help you.” He pulled on his coat and tried to tuck the loose ends of his scarf in as he ran after Jaime. “I’m sorry I didn’t do it right.”

“I should have done it myself,” said Pedro. “Blanca, Blanca!” He tried to follow the tracks Blanca had left.

The wind began to blow and snow swirled through the air. Finally, Pedro stopped and slumped to the ground.

“It’s no use. The wind has hidden her tracks.”

“Pedro,” called Jaime. “Here’s a bit of wool on this bush. We must search like the American Indians do. I studied them in English class. We’ll find her.”

Pedro stumbled after Jaime. Each time Jaime found a new sign of Blanca’s travels, Pedro was amazed. The storm was so thick he could hardly see Jaime.

“I must rest,” Jaime said.

“But look, there’s a big lump in front of those bushes over there.”

Pedro ran forward. “We’ve found her. Oh, Blanca, why did you run away?”

He knelt beside Blanca on the ground.  His eyes widened when he saw the two lambs nestled against her. “Jaime, come quickly. Blanca has two lambs. We must get them home.”

“Pedro,” Jaime screamed.

Pedro turned and saw Jaime lying on the ground. He ran over.

“I tripped on a tree root,” said Jaime. “My ankle hurts. I can’t stand. Now we’ll never get Blanca and her two lambs home.”

“You found Blanca and I will get us home,” said Pedro.

Pedro found some stout branches and put one on either side of Jaime’s injured leg. He tied them with his and Jaime’s scarves. Then he carried Blanca and the lambs to Jaime.

“Put the lambs in your coat to keep them warm while I try to make some kind of sled with some of these pine branches. I’m glad you didn’t take Blanca’s rope off. We can use that.”

After Pedro wove the branches together, he put Jaime and Blanca on the makeshift sled. He tugged on the short rope and started down the hill. The sled bounced over the uneven ground and Pedro thought it might fall apart before they got far. He hoped he could find some shelter for Jaime and Blanca so he could continue home for help.

“Pedro,” said Jaime. “Sheep are soft. Can we be friends?”

“Didn’t the Urn of Fate choose us?” said Pedro. “Maybe you can find me some books about sheep.”

“Pedro, look. There are some lights moving up the hill.”

Pedro looked up. Mamacita must have called men from the village to look for us. We’re almost home, my Blanca, my two lambs and my special friend. Here we are,” he shouted.

The End

Achieving the green, by J.C. Kavanagh

 

Voted Best Young Adult book, 2016

 

 

 
I'm excited to share the news that last week I earned the kickboxing rank of Green Belt, the fourth ranking of nine belts. Kickboxing is a physical and mental workout but so good for the body and mind. I love it. Each belt level requires a minimum of 80 hours training before applying for the test/exam. You probably know that kickboxing is the combination of two martial arts techniques - Muay Thai and Karate. I've been a student at the Dojo (training centre) for four years and I'm not planning on stopping until my body says so. Next belt: blue.
Oss!
 
 


Japanese symbols for 'Oss,' conveying the idea of
'persevering when pushed'

What is oss? The Japanese term 'oss,' has two definitions. The first definition means Oshi Shinobu, which translates 'to push' and 'to suffer,' and conveys the idea of 'persevering when pushed.'  The second and more liberal translation is that 'oss' is an abbreviation for Onegai Shimasu, which means a request, a solicitation, an invitation or indication of understanding.  Oss! 

My Green belt promotion at
TNT School of Martial Arts

 
Here's another sneak preview of my upcoming book, The Twisted Climb: Darkness Descends.
DRAFT

Black hairy spiders, each the size of a man’s hand, were scuttling out of the hole. Their hulking, pulsing bodies were grotesquely disproportionate to their spiny legs. Multi-faceted eyes reflected dozens of moons, like a disco ball over a lake. The onslaught of freakish spiders continued as they swarmed across the sand and into the night air, scrabbling over each other as they sought to protect their uncovered nest. There were hundreds of them and, like a legion of eight-legged beasts, they just kept coming.

“The cliff!” Connor shouted. “Head for the cliff!”

The three raced toward the precipice, churning sand in their wake. Connor glanced back and saw the army of spiders scurrying toward them at rocket speed. He grabbed hold of Jayden’s hand and, still running, grabbed Max’s hand too.

“JUMP!”

 

***
Do something special today. And enjoy life!

 

J.C. Kavanagh

The Twisted Climb

BEST Young Adult Book 2016, P&E Readers' Poll

A novel for teens, young adults and adults young at heart

Email: author.j.c.kavanagh@gmail.com

www.facebook.com/J.C.Kavanagh

www.Amazon.com/author/jckavanagh

Twitter @JCKavanagh1 (Author J.C. Kavanagh)

 

India and Ancient America

One of the epics of India, the Ramayana, contains a chapter which tells of a remarkable journey through the centre of the earth.

Ancient Hanuman coin

During the battle against Ravana, the King of Lanka, Lord Rama and his brother Lakshman, two of the main protagonists of the tale, are captured by Mahiravana, the step-brother of the evil king. Guardian of a tunnel to Patala-loka (Patala – below the feet; and loka – abode or kingdom.) 

Mahiravana carried the brothers down into the bowels of the earth for a distance of 90,000 yoganas (a yogana equals approximately 12 kilometers or seven and a half miles.)

According to the legend, the tunnel went in a direct line, starting at the tip of peninsular India, through the center of the earth, and re-emerged at the other side, which would place it somewhere in South or Central America, possibly in the land of the Aztecs or the Inca. Indeed, in the epic, the land where they ended up is described as covered with gold. In the end, Hanuman rescues the brothers, they return to India, and continue their battle against Ravana.

This tale is just one of many that inspires writers to hypothesize about civilizational connections between India and ancient America.

For example, ancient Mexican Aztec doctrine of the World's Ages—the universe being destroyed four consecutive times—is reminiscent of the Indian Yugas. The Yuga system postulates that the time is divided into four repeating ages that differ in terms of spiritual qualities. Even the reputed colors of these mythical four ages, white, yellow, red and black are identical with and in the same order as one of the two versions of the Indian Yugas.

The Decimal system 

Another interesting similarity is the use of zero. The Mayas of Yucatan were the first people, besides the Indians, to use a zero sign and represent number values by the position of basic symbols. The similarity between the Indian zero and the Mayan zero is indeed striking. The decimal system and the use of zero was reputedly invented (and used first) by the Indian mathematician Brahmagupta. In 773, zero reached Baghdad where it became part of the Arabic number system, and later on, introduced to Europe by the Italian mathematician Fibonacci (c. 1170–1250), who grew up in North Africa.

Mayan numerals - 1 to 19

So far as the logical principle is concerned, the Indian and Mayan mathematical system and representation of zero are identical, but its expression is not. While the Indian system of notation is decimal (based on ten), the Mayan is on based on units of twenty. Consequently, their 100 stood for 400, while 1000 stood for 8000. Disputes about the common origin of these two numeric systems continue amongst scholars, in the absence of conclusive evidence. As chronological evidence stands today, the Mayan zero appears to be anterior by several centuries to its Hindu counterpart.

Mayan Numerals 20 to 29

Many other similarities exist, such as mythologies, rituals such as the use of fire, and even in temple architecture. 

Did a connection between India and America exist in the past? No one knows, but it does make for interesting discussion!

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

www.yogazapper.com

www.bwlpublishing.ca

Christmases Past...by Sheila Claydon

My latest book, Empty Hearts, is a vintage romance. It isn't about Christmas, but the cover, designed by the wonderful Michelle Lee at Stardust Creations at http://michelleleedesigns.net evokes the spirit of Christmas, chilly though it is.

I have very mixed feelings about Christmas. For a start I don't like cold weather. I'm not that keen on crowded shops either, or the ever increasing razzmatazz that is the modern celebration. On the other hand I love seeing family and friends, and I especially love seeing how much children enjoy it.

This year, all my immediate family are going to spend Christmas together for first time in 9 years so the house is going to be very full, as are the cupboards and the fridge, with the overflow stored in a cold outhouse. Consequently I have had to start thinking about it much earlier than usual this year, and this has prompted me to recall the Christmases I enjoyed when I was small.

The first one I remember was the one when my parents gave me a dolls house. I was probably about 5 years old and it wasn't any old dolls house, it was one they made themselves. Money was tight so buying a fancy one was out of the question, so my father divided a wooden box into 4 'rooms' and papered each one with scraps of wallpaper. Offcuts of carpet were stuck to the floor and curtains were hung at the windows on tiny lengths of wire so I could open and close them. Although the windows themselves were merely holes in the wall I thought the whole thing was magical. My Mother, meanwhile, was busy with the furniture. I can still clearly remember the flower-patterned sofa and two armchairs. They were comfortably padded and had frills around the base and it was a very long time before I discovered that they were made out of matchboxes. The bed in the upstairs room had pillows and sheets and a bedspread (no duvets or throws in those days) and there was also an upholstered cot (another matchbox) for the baby.  I don't remember the rest of the furniture so clearly but I know there was a bathroom and a kitchen with a few pieces of bought furniture. No stairs of course but my family of dolls were all very adept at clambering up the walls to the upper floor, and I certainly don't recall considering that a defect. Far from it. I thought it was the most perfect house I had ever seen, especially as my Father had somehow found some stick-on paper that looked like tiles for the sloping roof. What a gift, and knowing how I feel when I see my grandchildren open a special present, I imagine they had as much joy as I did.

When I was older books and drawing materials were my preferred option, and there are two other Christmases I particularly remember. The first is when I received an artist's palette, paintbrushes, some tiny tubes of oil paint and a few canvases. My parents and grandmother all had to sit for their portraits and for years those pictures hung on the walls of my childhood home. Sadly they disappeared a long time ago, probably around the time I got married and my mother cleared out my bedroom. As I fondly remember them as true likeness it is probably just as well I can no longer see them and  be disillusioned as to my artistic skills.

The final Christmas that was special was the one where every present was a book! I can still remember my parents' faces as the pile grew taller and taller (I had a lot of aunts and uncles!). I think they were worried I would be disappointed, but I wasn't. I loved being given what was essentially a mini library and I still have some of those books today, ones that I have shared with my granddaughters. What Katy Did is a favourite.

So when I see my grandchildren open their presents this Christmas I will be remembering the excitement and hopefully at least one of them will receive a present that they will never forget.

Merry Christmas!

You can see all Sheila's books at: http://bookswelove.net/authors/claydon-sheila/ They are available at:

Amazon

iTunes

Kobo

Barnes and Noble

Smashwords

And if you have time, then stop in and visit her at:

Sheila Claydon on facebook

Would I Redo by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

 

http://bookswelove.net/authors/donaldson-yarmey-joan/
 

When I was in school, I wanted to travel and my dream job was to be a stewardess as they were called back then. I studied French, German, and Russian so that I would know some other languages for when I landed and maybe stayed over in another country. In my last year a job show was held at my high school and I went to talk with the representatives from an airline. She was dressed in her uniform and was very nice.

     I explained that I wanted to be a stewardess and asked for information. She told me that I had to be a certain height and weight, which I was. She said that all stewardesses had to wear a girdle even though their figures might be perfect. I was okay with that. Then she told me that anyone who wore glasses could not be a stewardess. I was devastated, since I needed prescription glasses but seldom wore them. I went to an optometrist to get contact lenses. This was when they were still made of hard material and my eyes could not adjust to them.

     So I gave up my dream of being a stewardess. However, I married, had wonderful children who have given me wonderful grandchildren and went on to become a writer. I travelled extensively through British Columbia, Alberta, the Yukon and Alaska, when writing my non-fiction backroads series.

     I belong to a dragon boat team and I have taken part in international festivals in Caloundra Queensland Australia (spent four week visiting the sites of Queensland and New South Wales then a week in Fiji) Sarasota Florida USA, (my husband and I travelled through two provinces and nineteen states on our way there and back home) and will be going to Florence Italy in 2018. While there I hope to visit many other European countries. I’ve also been to Japan and China. So not being a stewardess has not stopped me from doing the travelling that I wanted to do when I was younger.

     Just a note: my sister owned the Canadian Tourism College in Vancouver for many years. One of my granddaughters took her course and is now a flight attendant. She doesn’t need to wear a girdle and, while she doesn’t wear glasses, today it wouldn’t matter if she did.

Pardon My Ignorance, Por Favor

For more information about Susan Calder's books, or to purchase visit her Books We Love Author Page. 

In Montevideo our walking tour guide stopped in front of Café Brasilero. He told us the café is important historically--it's been operating since 1877--and because Uruguay's most famous author wrote there.  

"Do you know who is Uruguay's most famous writer?" the guide asked our group of English-speaking travellers.

None of us could answer. I couldn't think of any writers from Uruguay, a small country sandwiched between Argentina and Brazil. Even worse, before I planned my trip to South America this fall I'd have struggled to name any writers from that continent.

Our guide showed us this drawing Inverted Map of South America by Uruguay artist, Joaquin Torres Garcia. I interpret it as a comment on the Northern hemisphere-centric view of the world

My husband Will and I began our South American holiday in Brazil. One of our first stops was Rio de Janeiro, where we stayed not far from Ipanema beach. I couldn't stop humming the 1960s song The Girl From Ipanema. I knew it was performed by Stan Getz and Joao & Astrud Gilberto, but had no idea who composed the haunting lyrics. Will and I visited the Garota de Ipanema bar in Rio that inspired the song. It's now an upscale bar/restaurant/tourist spot featuring Girl from Ipanema mementoes.

In Rio we boarded our cruise ship, which would take us around Cape Horn and through the Strait of Magellan to Chile. The first day I browsed the ship's library and found a book by Isabel Allende, an author I've wanted to read for a long time. I had thought she was associated with Central America or Mexico. It turns out she's from Chile and the library novel, Maya's Notebook, was largely set near Puerto Montt, Chile, our last cruise stop. I devoured the book on the cruise and can't wait to read more of her work.

In Maya's Notebook, Allende refers to German settlements like Frutillar, near Puerto Montt, Chile

We left the ship in San Antonio, Chile, and took a transfer tour to our hotel in Santiago. A stop along the way was the last home of Chilean poet Pablo Neruda, a Nobel Laureate and political activist. Before the trip I'd heard Neruda's name, but couldn't have placed him. His home in Isla Negra is popular with South American tourists. The setting is splendid.

Pablo Neruda's home looking up from the beach

 
               

View from the house

Neruda's grave at Isla Negra

My sister-in-law, who joined us on the trip, tests the waters at Isla Negra

My apologies, South America, I still know few of your famous writers and have read even less.

But I'm learning. 

Answers to the above questions: Uruguay's most famous writer is Eduardo Galeano.
Vinicius de Moraes wrote the Portuguese lyrics to Garota de Ipanema (The Girl From Ipanema).  

POT holders - - who knew? by Karla Stover

              

It's 1945. 

The War is winding down.

On the home front, things have gotten a little shabby thanks to rationing.

What to do?

Why not crochet some cute and colorful potholders?



Thanks to archeologists, knitting, embroidery, and weaving have been dated to far back in history. When and where crocheting originated isn't known. The "American crochet expert and world traveler Annie Potter says, "The modem art of true crochet as we know it today was developed during the 16th century. It became known as 'crochet lace' in France and 'chain lace' in England."

 

The Danish writer/researcher, Lis Paludan has offered three theories. "One: Crochet originated in Arabia, spread eastward to Tibet and westward to Spain, from where it followed the Arab trade routes to other Mediterranean countries. Two: It came from South America, where a primitive tribe was said to have used crochet adornments in rites of puberty. Three: In ancient China, women crocheted three-dimensional dolls.

 

Others date it to the 1500s when nuns in Italy crocheted church textiles.

 

                   

 

What we do know is:

One:  whole families crocheted items to sell and support themselves during the Irish Potato Famine.

Two:  Queen Victoria crocheted. In fact during the Victorian era women were crocheting "flowerpot holders, bird cage covers, baskets for visiting cards, lamp mats and shades, wastepaper baskets, tablecloths, antimacassars (or "antis," covers to protect chair backs from the hair oil worn by the men in the mid- 1800s), tobacco pouches, purses, men's caps and waistcoats, even a rug with foot warmers to be placed under the card table for card players."

Three: During World War I, crocheted items for the war effort were limited to blankets, mufflers, scarves, hospital stockings, wristlets, Baklavas, mine sweeper gloves, knitting bags, and making knitting needle point protectors by crocheting over rifle shells. Crocheting was not being discriminated against; It's simply that knitting uses less yarn--helpful during times of rationing.

 

Once yarn became available, women started crocheting afghans, slumber rugs, traveling rugs, chaise lounge rugs, sleigh rugs, car rugs, cushions, coffee- and teapot cozies and hot-water bottle covers. According to www.crocheters.org, "It was during this time that potholders made their first appearance and became a staple of the crocheter's repertoire."

 

During World War II, things hadn't changed much. The American Red Cross provided a pattern for a circular shawl for female refugees.An Australian Red Cross Society Knitting Book included a pattern for crocheted Bed Socks, and one in Canada promoted crocheted baby clothes. Instructions for crocheting a helmet that resembled a ski mask were included in he booklet, Pointers for Crocheting and Knitting.

 

However, after World War II, from the late 1940s until the early 1960s, "there was a resurgence in interest in home crafts, particularly in the United States, with many new and imaginative crochet designs published for colorful doilies and potholders." I'm thinking of seeking out the little dresses and stringing them to make a curtain in my mud room.

 

FURTHER COMMENTS

 

To me, the above website quote is questionable. Here's why:

 

 

Made to express sentiments during the Civil War. Wikipedia says the first homemade pot holders were appeared at Antislavery bazaars.



Interned Japanese men crocheted to pass the time during World War II

 

And apropos to nothing, Pot-holders have been banned from commercial kitchens in New Zealand.

 

 

The Bong, another kind of pot holder, was used by tribal chiefs in parts of Russia 2,400 years ago.