God bless the USA

Remember when WalMart first started opening stores? They vowed that there would be nothing on their shelves that was not "Made in America." Someplace along the way, that promise got lost.

As we look around, trying to find American products, we hear Diane Sawyer on the ABC Evening News lamenting the fact that she could only find one place in the entire country, a small company in Georgia, that made American flags. The majority of them were made in China.

Recently, L. Losone Parmeter (Author of War Stories and Little White Lies, Lumberton and The Last Tear Drop) sent me the following essay on the subject of "Made in China." Please feel free to copy it from here and circulate it as widely as you would like to, but be sure to credit him for the fine job of writing he did on the topic. His email address is at the bottom of the essay, and he welcomes emails from people on the subject.
Also, I am dealing with this subject today on my weekly radio program, "Marketing for Fun and Profit." You can listen to it at http://www.pwrtalklive.com. Just click on my name on the list of hosts and tune in if you missed it live. I have several other things to say on the topic.

Thank you, and please, if at all possible BUY AMERICAN! We can, if we band together, make a difference.

CHINA, WHAT IF?

By L. Lee Parmeter

As you read this article, it may seem like an old black and white science fiction B movie and any minute a sea monster will try to eat New York. No, there isn’t any sea monster but there is a monster that lives in the silent world of global merchandising. The facts are in evidence that Chinese products come into contact with our daily lives 24/7. I only touch on a few facts that are part of our everyday presence. The influence of Chinese products extends far beyond this short writing.
Sit back for a few minutes in your favorite chair and think what would happen to the United States in our day if everything made in China would suddenly disappear.
Every electronic communication device would disappear. No cell phone, I-pads, smart phones or cell towers would exist. No tweets, texting or voice mail. All Internet services would cease to exist. Of interest that is closer to the hearts of all electronic equipment users, there are no computers or peripheral devices that provide America with integrated intelligence and access to the international electronic world.
If you are lucky enough to live in an area where your telephone company uses old American technology and have some old phones in the house, you will get a dial tone on your land line when you pick up the phone. The modern telephone systems all are computer driven with Chinese technology and there will be no dial tone. If your phone service is via a cable modem, then there will be no dial tone as most of the products made for cable systems are made in China.
The cable splitters, line amplifiers and modems are all gone. It really doesn’t matter because there are no televisions to watch as 100% of televisions in America have Chinese technology.
What about cars? Most vehicles made since 2001 would stop running because of the integration of Chinese technology into automotive computers. The parts for the Buick automobile are made exclusively in China and assembled here. Buick is the most popular car in China and accounts for the recent sale of its three millionth Buick in China.
Ah, you say your old 65 Mustang was made in the good old U.S. of A. and it will still run. Didn’t you just install a new set of points and condenser when you did a tune up? Oh, well, it won’t run because the points and condenser are made in China.
This brings up the after-market automotive parts industry. They are wholly dependent on parts supplied by China from gaskets to new brake pads and beyond for your trustworthy made in America car or a new vehicle. You can’t buy American because very few automotive parts are made in America any more. Even if they were, the vehicles that distribute the products aren’t running any more.
You say you found your old points and condenser, cleaned them up a bit and the old 65 Mustang is running. You head to the local gas station and find it closed. The owner tells you that the credit card reader doesn’t work and the inside computer doesn’t work to control the gas pumps. He will take cash to hand pump 5 gallons and no more because some older cars are still running, and are lined up waiting for motor fuel.
You have only a few dollars on your hip but your main method of payment is either debit or credit card, so you walk to your local bank just down the street. The line is long but finally you are inside the bank when an announcement is made by the manager.
“We can’t access any of your account because the bank’s computer system and encrypted data base has all your personal and business account information. It is not retrievable and is lost somewhere in the ether-world of a malfunctioning Chinese computer system. We have no idea, if ever it will be corrected and we are truly sorry that we don’t have an American backup.”
Almost overnight, our entire economy is converted to a cash basis as no plastic can be used. Just what do you do when the bank has your money and won’t give it to you? There is no answer to that one. Perhaps it would be a nightmare repeat of black Friday in 1929 when the stock market crashed and the banks closed. Many people couldn’t get their money out of the banks. There is an empty and sick feeling in the pit of your stomach because you can’t get any money out of your account and your thoughts are “what am I going to do?” This scene is played out all across America for the victims of the Chinese intrusion into our lives.
You look in your back yard and see that your travel trailer and boat trailer don’t have any tires. It is too late to learn that all tires for trailers and boats are made in China.
Don’t go to Wal-Mart. The store is almost totally empty of all products from electronics, clothing, toys and daily use items. The largest retailer in America has closed its doors with all the products made in China gone from the well-stocked shelves. Every major store in America is suffering the same conundrum; all the Chinese products have disappeared from their shelves.
You can’t go outside because you won’t have any clothes to wear. You dig into you old duffle bag and come up with some old military garb to keep you warm. You know they were made in America. Most all clothing sold in the United States is made in China. Not all clothing is made in China but it certainly isn’t made in America. Look at the labels and you will find Vietnam, Sri Lanka, Korea, Indonesia, India, Russia and Bangladesh and many others.
What about shoes? In the past few years, China has been buying up shoe leather across the world to make shoes. What about those few companies that make shoes in America? Yes, there is one company but think about this. The thread used to sew the shoes is more than likely made in China as well as shoelaces.
This brings up another important issue about products made in America. Many tools and equipment used to manufacture American products are made in China. The light switch that turns on the light and the electrical outlets are made in China. In newer facilities much of the wiring that powers our industrial and commercial strength are made in China.
You are thirsty and go to your refrigerator that was made in Korea. It’s there in the kitchen, but not working because the electronics that control the operation are missing as they were made in China. There is water spilled everywhere. The bottles that hold the water were made from Chinese plastic and there is no water to drink out of the refrigerator.
Don’t think about going to a local casino to play a few slots. The gaming industry, nationwide, will no longer exist. If it is around Christmas time, you won’t have to worry about taking the tree down or putting up ornaments and decorations, they will all be gone.
I haven’t touched on the aspect of food, military, medical, commercial aviation, utilities, toy industry and law enforcement. You can visualize what would happen. The only area that isn’t affected that much are guns, as most are made in America or another country without a plethora of Chinese parts. Where will that lead our nation?
In a few short days we would be in the new “American Stone Age” with no way to sustain our national and global economy. What would happen to America without government or military control? Those stable elements are deeply affected by the role China has in our economy. At first, the influx of Chinese products was benign with a few items showing up on the shelves. The intrusion of these products is like an addiction or slow developing disease; we can’t help it or stop the influx as it has spread like wildfire all across America with no antidote available.
At least I can reach for my trusty box of “Made in America” tissues and wipe the tears of sadness from my face. The box is also gone, as I didn’t read the package “Made from domestic and imported material.” You guessed it; the imported material was from China. I tried to turn on my old “Made in America” lamp and there is no bulb. I had forgotten about the new-fangled light bulbs that were mandated by the infinite wisdom of our government, are made in China. The Federal Trade commission (FTC) has convoluted the usage of “Made in America” so badly that finding an article that is truly "Made in America" is like finding a needle in a haystack.
Every facet of our life is controlled by the consumer products that surround us and the services we receive for our well-being. Every minute of every day products that are made in China touches our lives in countless ways. If these products disappear, our way of life, as we know it, is gone forever, the America we know, and love will no longer exist.

There are many answers to the Chinese infusion of products and none of the answers are good or what we want to hear. Without exception, we have been placed in this inexcusable situation by the Sooth Sayers in Washington. They are all pointing their fingers at each other. Neither political side has opted to address the issue or even acknowledge it exists. Now it’s too late, but we all know that it is all about money and greed on both sides of the political arena and the oceans of the world.

L Lee Parmeter Author

losone@cableone.net

When life imitates fiction--or vice versa

Of all of my characters, Patrick O'Malley and Grace Johnson have to be my favorites. Many readers relate to them. I get a lot of people who ask me "Why did you pattern Grace after me?" These are people I have never met and I have no idea who they are or where they live. I usually just reply, "Grace is not really anybody, but she is a little bit of all of us."

Grace (a recent elderly widow) met her dilemma when her kids decided she shouldn't be alone in New York City, so they set the plans in motion to move her to a nursing home. In desperation, and not ready to hang it up for a long time, she went to her friend Patrick (a retired cop) to ask for his help. He took her to the Haven of Rest Homeless Shelter, where they not only accepted her, but loved her and hired her on staff.

We all know there are people who need to be in a nursing home, but it seems like sometimes it is just a cop-out of the kids taking care of their parents. Like they say, everything in life comes full circle. Parents who cared for children have now become parents who must be cared for by those same children. It is a humbling experience for "the old folks." All too often, it is easier to "stick them someplace" and thus salve their conscience. It used to be that families looked out for each other. It was quite customary for a grandma or a grandpa to live with one of their children and their families. My good friend, Martha Garvin (from Musical Memories) had a visit from her son, my opera buddy Brad, on their Thanksgiving program. I always enjoy Martha's program as she takes us down Memory Lane through a lot of the old hymns we grew up hearing and loving. That particular program, however, I think is my favorite. Martha and Brad reminisced about Grandma Reed living with them for somewhere around 15 years. Oh, the fun of listening to them talk about the special bond between Grandma and the entire family (including her son-in-law, George Garvin, Martha's husband). There is one difference in today's world which does explain some of it, I suppose. Back then most mothers were home being homemakers. Today's economy makes it necessary for many women to be out working, as it takes a 2-income life to survive just to pay the monthly bills. That would leave Grandma or Grandpa home alone, and many times that is an impossible situation.

What does really irk me is when it is obviously a way of escape. When I lived in Grand Forks ND, there was a woman in the nursing home whose son was a doctor at the adjoining clinic. He would go several times a week to see his patients, but he almost never went to see his mother. Sounds to me like he took the "Hypocritic Oath" instead of the "Hypocratic Oath."

As I read the Grand Forks Herald this morning, which I do almost every day to let me know what is happening "back home," I was met with this article: Mother is Evicted.  Yes, that figures into a big part of the plot of my Patrick and Grace Mysteries. Since St. Patrick's Day is coming up before too long, I'd like to invite you to read the first book in the series, In St. Patrick's Custody, which centers around St. Patrick's Day. As Patrick says, "Everybody is at least a little bit Irish on St. Patrick's Day."

I will soon post a teaser about the upcoming (4th) Patrick and Grace Mystery, so stay tuned.

Meanwhile, I miss not having my kids close enough that they can visit once in a while, but when you think about the fact that they might think my lifestyle is a bit off-the-wall (I am "retired," which basically means that I keep so busy that I got tired, then I got re-tired, then got re-tired yet again to the point that I've lost track of how many times I've re-tired) they might be tempted to put me away, and like Grace, I'm nowhere near being ready to slow down.

It's the simple things in life

The question I am asked most often, about my books, is "Where do you get your ideas?" The answer is simple: from watching life and people. For example, A Christmas Dream started with an episode at a McDonald's. Who hasn't been to a McDonald's? It began with a marriage proposal, then went on (in my imagination and onto the pages of the book) to the people who gave their lives through "friendly fire" in Desert Storm. (I have a difficult time defining "friendly fire" in my mind, just like I can't reconcile there being such a thing as a "Civil War.")

Anyway, yesterday I went with a friend, Wendy Werner, to do a little grocery shopping in Iron Mountain, Michigan, about 30 miles from where I live. Wendy and I both belong to the "Rain Dancers" group that meets once a month in Pembine. It is a group of widows. I really didn't want to join the group when they invited me, as it took me more than 2 years after Ivan died before I could even say that word: "widows." The same was true with the word "died." I have reconciled myself with them now. However, the group is very lively, and while we all share one common loss, that of our spouses, we dwell on the positive. It is anything but a "pity party," which was what I feared it would be.

So, after the meeting, we headed for WalMart. Another one of those oh-so-ordinary places to spend a bit of time. I only had a few things to pick up, while she had a pretty long list, so I told her to take her time and I would wait for her on a bench at the front of the store.

As I sat there, a man, I would guess somewhere between 45-50 years old, came in. He was having a difficult time walking, so I was not surprised when he went over to one of the electric shopping carts. He sat on it, then greeted me. I made some comment about how nice it was to have the electric carts when you needed them, and he agreed. Then he drove off, but in about 5 minutes he was back. He backed the cart in beside me and we began to talk. I learned that he was a disabled Vet from Desert Storm. That led to my telling him about my good friend whom I have "met" through the Internet. He is also a disabled Vet, and about the same age, but from the Persian Gulf War, who lives in Oklahoma.

What a blessing it is to accumulate the wonderful friends we can find through a machine! Imagine what our ancestors would have thought of what we can do online. It would be as far-fetched to them as it was for kids in my era to read comic books about men on the moon. But we have lived to see it.

My friend in Oklahoma is Dr. Aubrey Love. Yes, that is his real name. (That's him pictured above.) When I told the man in Iron Mountain about him, he laughed. "Nobody has ever accused me of being a doctor of love," he joked. Then he reached into the basket on the cart and took out the two Snickers candy bars he had purchased. They were not in a bag, but he had the receipt for them in his hand in case anybody questioned him about them. He held one of them out to me and said, "You look like a person who would like to snicker sometimes," he said. I thanked him but declined, telling him that if I hadn't just eaten lunch I might have had a different answer for him. I didn't pay any attention to what he did with them, but when I got home, there was the Snickers bar in one of my bags of groceries.

I have e-mailed with Aubrey a few times today, as we usually do. When we were discussing which war he was in, he responded with not just the name of the war, but he said this: "It's like serving in 'black flag ops'; you were never there and it never happened, but the memories haunt you so and the scars are just as ugly."

I don't know for sure, but I would not be surprised at all if at least some of his injuries didn't come from that "friendly fire." At any rate, when you see a person of interest, take a few minutes to share a happy thought or two with them. You never know, it might just be the day-brightener they needed, or it might turn out to be a sweet experience for you too, with or without the Snickers bar.

Guess next time I send you a care package, Aubrey, I should include a Snickers bar in it!

Fun at the Bay

We (Kevin--my son) and I went to the farmers' market in Menominee Michigan on Saturday, me armed with books to sell and him with fresh produce from his garden. Hot temperatures were predicted. We were at least semi-prepared. After getting badly sunburned on two separate farmers' markets in other spots in the area, I broke down and bought one of those canvas canopies. It was a good investment. (You can tell we live in Small Town USA when somebody says during a phone conversation, "I hear you bought a canopy" and you ask them where they heard it, and they reply, "At the hardware store"!) Actually, with the wind blowing in off Lake Michigan, it was quite comfortable.

The good news is that I sold pretty well, and so did Kevin. We are going to do it again this coming Saturday. The following week we will be at a fund-raising event for the American Legion in Porterfield WI. Hopefully, we will hit some different folks.

One of the highlights of the trip to Menominee was meeting new people. One fellow rolled up to us in his wheelchair and we began chatting. His t-shirt was emblazened with "Schloegel's." I asked him if he was connected with the restaurant, which I had visited on one occasion when I was in Menominee with our pastor and his wife, and I loved the place. It is set right on the Bay, and the view was beautiful. The food was good too. He sort of grinned and said, "I own the place."

I had tried to get there with Kevin on one of our earlier trips there. My lack of knowledge of how to find anyplace around here is getting monumental. I can get lost easier than anybody I've ever met. (No, that's not bragging--just stating facts.) The weekend we went to a craft fair at nearby Four Seasons Resort (it's only about 15 miles from Amberg), Kevin followed my directions on how to get back home. He said he knew when I said to turn right, he should have turned left. Anyway, it was a beautiful day for a drive--which is how we ended up in Michigan!

Mr. Schloegel gave Kevin directions on how to find the restaurant. "Turn right and just stay on the road until you see it. No turns, nothing. It's just past Perkins." Well, could I help it that we had followed the road around the Bay before by going left instead of right?

That evening there was a concert right next door to the spot where the farmers' market had been (see photo above). The group that was performing was the "Dang-Its." It was a trio that played a fun mixture of blue grass, country western, and sort of old pop tunes. We got there in plenty of time to park right in front of the venue, so it was perfect. We watched as four police officers came up and pulled into the side street and parked their cars. There were a number of cars already parked there, and Kevin and I joked about how they would get out, since the cops pulled two long sawhorse dividers up so no one else could get in. The cops stood there, hands crossed on their chests, legs slightly spread apart, looking very serious. One of the cops was referred to by both the other officers and passersby as "chief." Well, it didn't take very long to see how they would handle one of the cars that wanted to exit. Two of the officers walked over to the sawhorse and went to pick it up and move it over out of the way. The dividing plank was obviously just resting loosely in the slots on the bases, as one of the officers went to pick it up--by the plank--and move it out of the way. Of course, the base dropped to the street, causing a loud "bang," and the action from there on was reminiscent of viewing an old Keystone Kops movie. Ah, but it was a great bit of entertainment for the end of a very good day!

Another highlight of the day at the market was a group of performers who stopped by to give a flash mob from the upcoming performance of Chicago at the Theatre on the Bay (at the U of WI in Marinette). Kevin and I had already decided that we wanted to see it, so as soon as we left the market we headed to Schloegel's and then off to get our tickets. It will be another fun day on this Sat., first at the market, then someplace for a nice relaxing meal, then to the theater for the evening. Does it get any better than this? I'm betting at least the restaurant and the theater will both be air conditioned. And the farmers' market? Well, there is almost always a nice breeze off the Lake and I do have my canopy!

Just to prove that life never gets boring around the Smith household, it was terribly hot yesterday, so after supper I decided to jump in and take a shower. Actually, my bathroom is so small that I can't really "jump" anyplace. It's more like I slither in. I've gotten my impersonation of Charo and her hoochie-koochie act down pat! I am, admittedly, a creature of habit. (As Patrick says, in my Patrick and Grace Mysteries, "Old habits die hard," which I hear is a wonderfully fun book--lol.) Anyway, I have a metal basket hanging in the shower which holds my shampoo and a bottle of wonderfully scented coconut/vanilla shower gel that was a Christmas gift. Well, not thinking about the fact that Kevin might have exchanged the order of the bottles, I uncapped the one that I thought was the shampoo and poured a bit of it onto my hair. Yup, you guessed it. It was the coconut/vanilla one. I probably have the sexiest smelling hair in all of Wisconsin this morning!

I hope you are all staying cool, wherever you are. Make it a great day.

Whydah--or not?

I am working on Port Call to the Future, the sequel to House Call to the Past. Both books are time-travels. House Call to the Past goes back in time to introduce Maria Hallett and Black Sam Bellamy, real "living" characters from the early 1700s in Cape Cod, Massachusetts. Maria holds a special place in my heart, as she is my 13th great aunt. (To read an excerpt for House Call to the Past, go here.)


A funny thing happened on the way to getting published. I wrote the book long before it was published, but before it came out a group of men conducted what they called "Expedition Whydah." After all those years, they were successful in actually locating the pirate ship, which sank off the coast of Cape Cod in 1716. It is the largest pirate treasure that has ever been recovered. It brought a great deal of attention to the story of Maria and Black Sam, resulting in several articles in National Geographic, a documentary by Discovery TV, and a movie produced by Arts & Entertainment.


Eventually, the treasure was put on display at the Whydah Museum in Provincetown, Massachusetts. (See more on the museum at http://www.whydah.com/.) I have spoken to Ken Kinkor, one of the members of the crew that found the ship, several times. He has been wonderfully supportive of my books about the couple, as well as sharing information with me on what is held at the museum, as well as swapping tales about Maria and Black Sam.


Since the first book went back in time, there was no need to ask them for permission to include anything in the book. However, since the second book brings Black Sam to today's world, I wanted to find out what their reaction would be if I were to have Black Sam make a few visits to the museum. That resulted in my calling Ken today. He was, as always, gracious. He said that the museum is a public place, so I can pretty much do anything I wanted to as far as including it in the book. He gave sort of a half-groan and half-laugh when he added, "But I hope you won't do anything too sinister to those of us who work here." I promised him that I would be kind to the crew. He then explained that some fellow wrote a book (fictional) about them and he killed Ken off in a very gruesome way. I asked him for the name of the book, and he couldn't remember it. (I think that's what they call "selective memory"!) He then related that the author had since died, so apparently they got the last laugh after all.


This whole exchange with Ken made me wonder, is it really worthwhile to contact somebody to get their permission to include them in a book, even if it is a work of fiction, if it is not necessary? My answer came in the co-operation I got from Ken (and by extension, the museum). I have a new enthusiasm for completing the book after talking to him. It is not only good publicity (for both the museum and for my book), but I'd a whole lot rather have the backing of the people involved than to have them upset because somebody bumped them off.


I hope to put the 1st chapter of the new book up in the next few days. I'll be back to let you know where to find it as soon as I do. In the meantime, don't be afraid to make that phone call or send that e-mail. Happiness is contagious. I'm happy I made that call, and I hope the Whydah Museum is too.

Boyfriend 9.0 upgrade to Husband 1.0

Sometimes one thing sparks another idea. I have a lot of wonderful online friends, some of them fellow writers, some readers, and some "just plain folks." One of those people is a fellow by the name of Aubrey Love. He lives "down south"--in Oklahoma. He is a disabled retired Vet. (That's a Veteran, not a veterinarian, although he has a bona fide "Doctor" attached to his name.) Now I ask you, how could anybody not be intrigued and more than a little bit curious about somebody who calls himself "Dr. Love." I thought at first that it was a pen name, but nope, it's as real as he is.

Anyway, recently somebody forwarded me a sort of cute take-off on a piece of software. Since Dr. Love is a computer engineer by both education and practice, he picked up on it immediately and we set out to have a little bit of fun. Here is the end result of our "playing" with the correspondence between a software user of our version of the program, with me being the customer and Dr. Love being the Tech Support guy. I hope you have as much fun reading it as we had writing it.

Letter to Tech Support




Dear Tech Support;

I recently upgraded from boyfriend 9.0 to husband 1.0 and found it to be absolutely perfect. Thank you and your team for such a wonderful product.



I am glad you found the upgrade satisfactory. If you encounter any problems, feel free to contact us again.

Tech Support



Dear Tech Support:

Is there any way to incorporate some of the elements of Boyfriend 9.0 into Husband 1.0? The earlier version allowed wining and dining, and the new version seems to utilize whining and leaving dirty dishes in the sink.



Dear Customer;

This is a common problem during first use of husband 1.0. There is nothing wrong with husband 1.0 you just need to re-read the “wife 1.0 users manual”. It explains how to utilize the additional feature - cooking at home 3.1.

Playing with husband 1.0 on a daily basis improves performance and initiates diamonds 5.0.



Dear Tech Support:

Three weeks have passed and I have still not been able to read the Wife 1.0 Users’ Manual. It looks completely foreign to me. I finally called the 800 number given in the manual, and I think the fellow I reached was in India. I could not understand him either. Would you please send me a translator? Oh, and it would help if he had a happy disposition and knew how to wash dishes. Thank you in advance.



Dear Customer;

It's never a good idea to install a translator, you would be better off upgrading to husband 2.0. Warning- you will need to install lawyer 87.5 to upgrade from husband 1.0 to 2.0. Please do not install boyfriend 9.0 while using husband 1.0 or 2.0. This will cause husband 1.0 to lock up.

Of course you should try again to read the “wife 1.0 users manual” for best results. If you still have trouble understanding any part of the manual refer to husband 1.0 who is all knowing and wise.



Dear Tech Support:

I do not want to INSTALL a translator. I want you to SEND ME a translator. Apparently you do not speak English any better than the man I spoke to on the phone. If I send you my husband, will you please try to program him so he matches what the manual says he is supposed to do????

Frustrated in Timbuktu



Dear Customer;

I am going to assume you are a blonde. I am going to do a remote upgrade to wife 2.0. Please stay online while I re-route husband 1.0 to wife 2.0. The other option would be to install secretary with short skirt 3.1to make husband 1.0 perform better. This option usually initiates guilt 4.5 which also initiates flowers 2.3 and diamonds 5.0.



Dear Tech Support:

I am no longer blonde. I no longer have ANY hair left. I have pulled it all out, thanks to frustration over all of your stupid products. I am enclosing the receipts for all versions of the Boyfriend, Husband, Wife and especially the Secretary with Short Skirt programs. Husband 1 ran off with Secretary with Short Skirt and I am left alone, with no boyfriend, no husband, and I am no longer a wife since Husband 1 filed for divorce. Please send me a complete refund, as you have ruined my entire life. I am also enclosing a receipt for the hairdresser’s services to convert me from a blonde to a redhead. It obviously didn’t make me any smarter or I would have dumped Husband 1 before he dumped me!



Dear Customer;

We regret any problems you may have had with husband 1.0 and will begin processing your refund. Please allow 6 to 8 months for processing minus 60% restocking fee. If you prefer we can substitute husband 1.0 with “significant other 4.3”. Please log-on to our website http://www.spousesoftware.com/ to start processing your refund or download significant other 4.3.

Thank you from the tech support team.

For more about Dr. Love, please go to his website

"Boston Med" Proves that timing is everything

Information on my next book, The Green Year (El Año Verde): Dr. Rebecca Stanford was a highly acclaimed doctor in the ER in a Boston hospital. Everything was going fine, until she got a letter from a Foundation, asking her to give one year of her life to four clinics in Venezuela. The book is due out this month, July.

Enter "Boston Med." The highly acclaimed hospital is--you guessed it--in Boston. One of the doctors, played by Maria Troulis, is a female doctor in--yes, again, you guessed it--the ER.

I just love it when the Universe (or whatever you choose to call it--I prefer to think it is God interfering in my life) plops a wonderful surprise in my lap, and all without my help. Oh, of course I wrote the book. In fact, it was one of the earliest books I wrote. I had forgotten all about it until I moved from North Dakota to Wisconsin and I found it tucked away in a folder in my filing cabinet.

After a lot of people asking me to write my memoirs, especially of our (Ivan's and my) time in Venezuela, which came out last month (Rebel With a Cause: Tales of a Misplaced Lutheran and Memories of a Minor Missionary), I can now honestly say that my life is an open book. Yes, pun intended.

Since the memoirs focus on Venezuela, I figured it was the perfect time to bring out The Green Year, since it is also set in the four places in Venezuela where we worked. The two books are very different; Rebel With a Cause is completely non-fiction, while The Green Year is an inspirational medical romance. However, they are also close enough that you might well think that the people from the novel might have found their place in the memoirs.

I'm sure the lady doctor in "Boston Med" will do just fine. Still, if she finds things too tough, she just might opt for heading to the clinics in The Green Year. Oh, wait a minute! The clinics in there exist only in my head--and hopefully soon in your hearts as you follow Dr. Rebecca Stanford and the head doctor of the Foundation, the arrogant, bull-headed Dr. John Wesley Blackstone III.

This is not the first time such a coincidence has happened. When Par for the Course came out, it was the same week that the TV program "60 Minutes" came out with the TV ad that ran countless times, stating "Are women pro golfers soon to become Par for the Course"? It was a piece on their weekly program about a woman pro who was trying to play in the Augusta (GA) competition. But for me, it was not just about that golf pro, but it was perfect for some promo ops for Mechi Jeanotte, a golf pro at a fictional St. Andrew's Golf Course just outside Aberdeen, Maryland. Like I said, timing is everything. If you don't believe that, ask any comedian. The punch line, depending on not only how it is delivered, but when, makes the difference of a standing ovation or having tomatoes thrown at them.

Then there was Bank Roll: A Max Stryker Mystery. I had written it quite a while before it was actually published. Max Stryker, a crime reporter for the St. Paul Pioneer Press, got a pink slip, along with a whole lot of other reporters at the paper. Cut backs in today's economy, you know. Not at all a far-fetched scenario. She had to decide if she should try to get on the neighboring Minneapolis newspaper or if she should go back to the little (fictional) town of Willow Creek, MN, to try to help out the fellow who had taught her everything she knew about the newspaper business when she worked for him in high school. What was amazing was that the day I got the final proof to go through was the very day that the news nationwide reported that the Knight Ridder newspaper chain had sold all of its newspapers, including the St. Paul Pioneer Press. Yes, real life was duplicating Bank Roll, or was it the other way around? At any rate, hundreds--perhaps even thousands--of newspaper employees all across the country got their "pink slips" that day.

Yet another coincidence was that the day Bank Roll went up in the listing for Ingram, the major distributor in the US, there was an article in the Minneapolis Tribune that they were also having 5o positions cut. They were not owned by Knight Ridder, so this was truly due to the economy.

I called the reporter who had the by-line on that article, telling him about my newly released book and the strange events that surrounded its release. He gave a sort of half-hearted chuckle when he said, "I don't even know if I will be around to answer the phone tomorros. None of us know who is on their hit list." He paused a few seconds, then said, "I'll bet you Max Stryker was really glad she decided to go back home instead of coming here to work." It was then that I reminded him that Max Stryker was purely a fictional character. That time he lauhed loudly as he said, "Oh, I forgot that."

My next Patrick and Grace Mystery takes our wacky senior sleuths to Las Vegas. This time I am orchestrating it so it will feature the opening of a brand new major venue there. I just hope it will work as well when I try to plan it as the books seem to do "by accident."

Miracles on 34th Street--or yours

Have you ever done something that sort of felt like it had been touched by a magic wand?
Every author feels that each book they pen has something special about it. What makes the magic come to life is when someone reads the book and they let the author know that something wonderful has happened because of it. Such was the case this week about my favorite book, A Christmas Dream.

One of the things I don't like about e-mails is that you don't get a postmark, so you have no idea where the letter came from. I guess it really doesn't matter. It is just due to an overactive curiosity. I have no idea where this woman lives, but here is the essence of what she said.

The woman had a son who was killed in Iraq last year, shortly before Christmas. She said she wasn't sure she would ever be able to celebrate Christmas again. She also had a daughter-in-law and three grandchildren who apparently lived quite a distance from her.

I don't know who it was, but somebody told her about A Christmas Dream on http://internetvoicesradio.com. Last year I read the entire story, and it is available at the previous url. Just click on "Archives" in the main menu and scroll down until you come to it, then listen to it. It is divided up in segments, so you don't have to listen to the whole thing at one sitting.

The woman said that as soon as she listened to the first segment, she called her daughter-in-law and told her about it. They agreed to all listen to it at the same time every evening, the kids included. After it was over, they would call each other and discuss the story--and her son. When they got to the end of the book they all agreed that what they wanted most for Christmas was to be together. So, they decided to forgo the gifts they were going to send each other and buy a plane ticket for Grandma.

The end of the e-mail said, "How can we ever thank you? You have brought the joy of Christmas back to us. We have come to realize that we have a Christmas miracle--the memories of my son, her husband, and their father. We don't need things. We have each other. Thank you, and Merry Christmas!"

I have a funny feeling that somehow there will be some things under their Christmas tree. Miracles do still happen, especially at Christmas time.

Oh, and she added a "P.S." She wrote, "We will all be watching out the window from time to time, just in case a purple Volkswagon goes past."

If you want your very own copy of the printed book A Christmas Dream, order it on Amazon.com or most any other online bookstore, or ask your local bookseller if they have it. If they don't, they can order it. Even if it's after Christmas when you get it, miracles are good any day of the year. To make it easy, just click on the title of this blog at the top, "Miracle on 34th Street--or Yours" and it will take you directly to A Christmas Dream on Amazon.com.

The Universe in Surround Sound

You just have to love it when things happen in unison. You know, when you could hear a message as a solo, but instead you get it in three-part harmony. Such was the case this week. Let me start at the beginning.

I got a newsletter that talked about making yourself your best friend. The writer said that it is OK to acccept those personal flaws that bug somebody to the nth degree, but no matter what you do, you can't seem to make the necessary changes to please everybody in the world. It is, alas, so true that you can please all of the people some of the time, and some of the people all of the time, but not all of the people all of the time.

OK, let's take a little time for introspection here. I admit that I have ONE fault. (Yes, just one! LOL!) It is my lack of doing housework. My husband, Ivan, blames it on the fact that when we were in Venezuela we had a young girl, Maria, who did all of the mundane chores for me--at a very modest price of about $5/week. No, I wasn't cheating her; that was the fair fare at the time. Yes, it was a long time ago. I don't think that's it, because I really used to do fairly well at it. I think it is basically Ivan's fault. It is not my fault that I am tied to this machine like a newborn to its mommy by the umbilical cord. I argued with him for several years. I balked, I argued, I complained, and finally I gave in. He was happy--until it became more time consuming than Law and Order reruns are to him. So, I admit it. There are quite a few things in the housekeeping area that I don't do, but I DO windows--MS Windows, that is!

So it was nice to hear from the newsletter that I could love myself, in spite of my shorcomings. Besides, I figured it was OK. After all, the primary commandment of the New Testament is to "Love your neighbor as yourself..." Not only does that encourage you to love your neighbor; it gives you permission to love yourself.

But just like I needed re-enforcement of the fact, Ivan got a newsletter in HIS email from Eat Healthy. Guess what they figured out? People who live in dirt are actually healthier than people who live in immaculate surroundings. I'm sure they weren't talking about the filth of people like the Collyer brothers, who were found dead in their Harlem mansion in 1947. It took 17 days to remove enough trash and objects from their mansion before they could find the second brother! Moderation, you know! Everything--even dirt--must be done in moderation! Anyway, I was delighted to know that not only should I not condemn my lack of housekeeping interests, but I was actually helping us live a healthier life!

But wait, that's not all. They say that things often come in threes. Three deaths, three surprises, three unsolveable puzzles... Well, this morning in our Grand Forks Herald, in the book section, the third confirmation that I was on the right track showed up. The main book review was entitled "Bless This Mess." It was written by Vick Mickunas, and the release was from the Cox News Service. The bi-line read, "Author says if clutter works for you, there's no need to tidy up." The title of the book is "A Perfect Mess: The Hidden Benefits of Disorder." The authors are Eric Abrahamson and David H. Freedman.

The article starts out by quoting from the book: "Children exposed to fumes from home-cleaning products, among other chemicals, were up to four times more likely to develop asthma."

It goes on to explain that "Messes can incubate ideas. For example, in 1928, the British bacteriologist Alexander Fleming returned from a vacation. He had left his office in disarray. He noticed a moldy petri dish. It piqued his curiosity. Penicillin would not have been discovered that day in a tidy office."

Mickunas goes on to say, "The authors cite numerous other historical examples of messiness that inspired strokes of genius. Your average slob should feel thoroughly validated."

It also says that "the mind is built around disorder on several levels, ranging from the processing of raw sensory data to the juggling of complex ideas. Our brains are evolved to function in a messy world..."

It reminds me of a very wealthy woman here in Grand Forks. It was said that she had to go open the doors of the First National Bank every morning before the bank president could go to work. She was, by all reports, "a bit strange," but money talks, and she obviously had plenty of it. She was a non-practicing MD, although at one time she had apparently had a private medical practice. When she died, they had to tear down her house. There were dozens and dozens of cats' skeletons in closets, cupboards, etc. She was obviously onto the secret of non-cleanliness, but she carried it to an extreme.

And just in case you are wondering, yes, you can walk from one end of our house to the other without tripping over anything. But don't look in the closets, or the two "storage rooms" that used to be our kids' bedrooms. And don't stop too long to study the stack of "stuff" on my desk. I did clean the piano bench and the piano off the other day. I should have known better. Today when we went to go out for a bit I couldn't find my glasses. I knew exactly where they were before I cleaned the piano off!

I think I'll join the Universe and make it a quartet!

See you next time. Don't forget to check back often.