Who Cares What I Think?

Vance Miles House - My Haunted Domain

noreply@blogger.com (Mindie) — Thu, 26 Apr 2012 11:06:00 +0000

Ten years ago today, Dan and I moved into this Victorian home in Marion Station, Maryland. Marion Station is one ten ghost towns in Maryland designated by Ghosttowns.com. Oddly, my hometown of Riverdale Maryland is also one of the ten. This house is named for the man who built it - Vance Miles, a seafood wholesaler and farmer who died in the 1950s of a self-inflicted gunshot wound.

the Vance Miles House - Marion Station, Maryland

The house is largely unchanged since the Miles family built it in 1892, save for some aluminum siding, storm windows, and renovations in the bathrooms and kitchen. The wood trim, the mantles with beveled glass, the slate roof and Corinthian columns on the wrap around porch are all the same. I look out the same glass windows that Vance and his family looked out. And a walk in our yard weaves through the now-hundred-year-old pecan trees that Vance planted.

Front Garden - St. Brigid's cross in boxwoods behind birdbath

The yard, however has changed. When we got here ten years ago the yard was a flat piece of crabgrass with ugly yew trees hugging the foundation of the house. Now, there are over 100 species of plants and shrubs along with a pond, rock garden (and lots of religious statues). Dan and I met in a garden center, and fell in love over plant talk. We were married in an oak grove in that same garden center. The slide show at the end of this post show has our garden has grown... but let's get on to what haunts the Vance Miles House.

Vance Miles (on right) and his family on our porch - c. 1918

Finding the Vance Miles House

I knew the second I crossed the threshold of the Vance Miles House, that it was going to be our home. I'd seen every historic home for sale in Somerset County that Spring of 2002, but my time was running out. Our home in Laurel had sold and Dan had already started his new job on the Eastern Shore. We needed a house. In March I did one last drive around the county, surveying each of the four houses we were considering.

The first three houses were a bust. None of them were right for us. The fourth house we were considering was in Marion Station. It was a Victorian Queen Anne style, but it was too big and was priced at the very top of our price range. I sat in my car in front of that house for a long time - studying it, trying to imagine it being our home. It didn't fit us. There was no magic. And I was out of houses to consider.

As I pulled away I noticed a For Sale sign in front of a Victorian house across the street. The sign had just gone up. I pulled in the drive and could see the house was vacant, so I called my realtor and insisted he show me the house that day. I waited an hour and half for him to pull a showing together with the listing realtor, and in that time I walked the grounds and took pictures. It was an amazing property.

When my realtor opened the front door and motioned for me to walk in, I remember feeling good as I entered the Vance Miles House. It was warm - welcoming. The turned, Queen Anne style staircase had an oak newel post and balusters that had never been painted. All the floors were the original hard wood. The richness of the oak woodwork throughout the house was stunning and included two 8-ft. mantles with beveled glass mirrors and chandeliers that had been converted from gas lights to electric. The house had 32 windows and was full of light that day. It was perfect. We made an offer that day, and signed a contract by the end of the week.

Pots on the Porch

Who Haunts the Vance Miles House?

I woke up for the first time in the Vance Miles House on April 26, 2002 - my 43rd birthday. It was a beautiful spring day and Dan cut some lilacs from an old bush in the backyard as a birthday gift. It felt strange to live in such a different landscape (I was a suburban girl) - but this house was like a refuge. It offered great comfort.

Not long after we moved in we noticed strange noises, banging and clanging. My college-aged daughter was coming home on the weekends and felt uneasy most of the time she was in the house. She heard the noises, and experienced unexplained events. I discounted the noises and the strangeness, and played down her fears. I loved the house.

One evening I was watching television in the living room with my daughter, while my husband slept upstairs. We heard a crash above that sounded like a bookcase or shelf falling over. It woke my husband and he rushed downstairs. We investigated all the upstairs rooms and the attic. The only thing we found was an open window in my daughter's room and an 8X10 picture frame that toppled over due to the wind. The open window was one of the few in the house that had no screen. Because we have wicked mosquitoes here day - and night, that window would have never been opened - not by one of us, anyway. We never figured out what the crash was…. even though three of us heard it and felt the house shake.

Storm over the Vance Miles House

A Visit from a Stranger

About three months after we moved in, a man in a van with North Carolina tags pulled into our driveway. I walked out to meet him, and as he was climbing out of the van he said, "Hi. I'm doing genealogy research an my aunt Lillian was married to the man who built this house." The stranger moved closer to shake my hand and continued … "His name was Vance Miles and he shot himself to death right in your front parlor."

I remember thinking, "Nice to meet you."

After several visits and conversations with this stranger, we became friends. He produced much information on the Miles family and the history of our house. He even provided us with the photo of Vance and his family on our front porch (pictured above). We later discovered that while Vance did commit suicide, he did not kill himself inside the house. As Vance grew older, he'd become ill and was having financial difficulties. My neighbor,Virgie knew him well and said that Vance went fishing every day down the road at Colburn Creek. One day, he chose to end his life while doing what he loved best - fishing.

Footsteps, Apparitions, Shadows and Mirrors

Throughout that first year of living in the Vance Miles House more strange things happened. We bought a new clothes dryer had to carry it into the basement from an outside entrance. We had difficulty getting it through a narrow passage. While struggling with the dryer, we heard the side door of the house open and and then close. Then we heard footsteps walking across the living and dining room floors above us. We felt the house vibrate with the pressure of those footsteps. We thought this strange because we heard no car in the driveway (which was just outside the basement entrance). I looked out the basement door. No car. The dog didn’t bark. We knew whoever entered our house would have had to walk up to the door and somehow missed distracting our dog.

Dan took the dog and checked the house…. he checked all the rooms - even the attic. He found nobody there - nor a trace that anyone had been there.

The dog would often bark at nothing in the front parlor - but only at night. The front parlor was the room where my daughter heard the rustle of clothing as if someone entered the room from the foyer. She thought it was me. When she looked up to speak to me, there was no one there, in fact, Dan and I were both asleep upstairs.

Dan kept sensing someone watching him when he was in his workshop. He'd occasionally see a figure – head and shoulders – of a man with his peripheral vision, but when he’d turn to look directly at the apparition, it would vanish. I was also having difficulty sleeping. I’d be in that twilight stage half between wake and sleep, and would see a dark figure hovering above my bed. Sometimes it would choke me. It was awful, terrifying. I feared going to sleep.

One day Dan noticed the chandelier in the dining room begin to sway. It built momentum and went faster. Just as he was reaching to stop it, one of the antique globes from the chandelier shot down and crashed into two dozen Valentine’s Day roses he had bought for me. The globe hit the roses with such force, that it toppled the large vase, and broke.

We also had difficulty keeping a mirror in the upstairs bathroom. I had a large sideboard mirror hanging in that bathroom, and it fell one day. The nail was pulled out of the wall. Dan secured it better and made sure the hook was in a stud. We rehung that mirror, but It fell again a few weeks later. The wire on the back of it had broke - it almost looked like it was cut. The frame of the mirror had broken and it was unusable. A few months later - in that same bathroom - the mirror that fit in the door to the medicine cabinet slipped out and shattered all over the sink and floor. Both of us cut ourselves cleaning that up. We hung an old mirror over the the empty door of the medicine cabinet. A few weeks later, that mirror fell into the sink. It didn't brake, but I gave up and put that mirror in a closet. We went without a mirror in that bathroom for over 3 years.

None of our children - not one (we have six - all grown) will sleep in our back bedroom next to that bathroom, nor will they allow their children to sleep there. Even today, our family members would rather sleep on the hard floor anywhere else, but not in that back bedroom. No one will give a reason why. We all know the reason why.

The Event that Pushed Us Too Far

The event that pushed me over the edge had to do with an antique plate that my friend Helen gave me. It was a 1918 Homer Laughlin calendar plate in the bluebird pattern. It was one of two special plates I displayed in plate stands on my sideboard. The other plate had belonged to my great grandmother. As I was walking into the dining room from the kitchen, I saw the bluebird calendar plate flip off the sideboard and break in two. There was no cause, no bump, and no vibration. I stood there for a few minutes asking myself if I really saw that. Worried about the other, I placed my great grandmother's plate inside my china closet and locked the door with a key. Then I tested the door to make sure it was locked. I went to bed.

As I tried to fall asleep, I recounted all the incidents of madness in that house. All the sounds, the crashes, the footsteps, the swinging chandeliers, plates and lamp globes flying, mirrors shattering and a bedroom no one would sleep in. I considered what it would take to move out. As I drifted off to sleep, I was again disturbed by the shadows that hovered over, choked me and threatened me. I'd gotten good at reciting the prayer of St. Michael - over and over in my head - even in my dreams I recited ….

St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle.
Be our safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the devil.
May God rebuke him we humbly pray.
And do thou oh Prince of the heavenly host,
by the power of God, cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits
who prowl the world seeking the ruin of souls.

The next morning I began telling Dan about the plate incident. He said, “You should lock that china closet. When I came down this morning, the glass door was wide open.”

I decided to to try and sell the house.

I bought a For Sale by Owner kit at the hardware store and made a made listed it online (the listing is still live) http://houseforsaleeasternshore.com/miles/index.htm. I called all my realtor friends and offered them 3% if they brought a buyer. We had immediate interest from a couple in Pennsylvania. They spent about an hour walking through the house with us. Just before they left, the woman asked if she could take one more look at the attic. She was gone for about 15 minutes. When she met us back in the foyer she mentioned that she's had a nice conversation with the man upstairs about the house. She asked if he was my father. There was no man upstairs. My father had been dead for years.

Though the incident with the potential buyers was disturbing, I realized after about a month that nothing strange had happened to me or my husband since I put the house for sale. All the strange noises, and strange happenings stopped. I explained the whole series of events to a psychic and a mystic. They both said the same thing. "Whatever is haunting that house - it doesn't want you to go."

Gardens around the Fish Pond

So we ended our efforts to sell the house, and we've never been bothered again. Other people - our children and a few guests have been bothered. But Dan and I are at peace and happy in our little Marion Station home.

About a year ago, I decided it was time to put up a mirror in the bathroom. Dan took the medicine cabinet frame to a glass shop and had a nice piece of beveled glass installed in it. As I carried it upstairs to the bathroom I said out loud, "Vance, so help me … if you mess with this mirror, I'll have an exorcist in this house within 24 hours and kick your sorry ass straight to hell."

The mirror is still in place - undisturbed.

Photos of the Vance Miles House on Flickr

Ascent from Hell on Day 24 - Book Proposal DONE!

noreply@blogger.com (Mindie) — Tue, 13 Mar 2012 12:51:00 +0000

Procrastination gave way to mad pressure and psycho-focus to kick the crap out of a book proposal I've been working on since 2008. I've imagined the book Thin Places: Irish Gateways to the Otherworld for fifteen years. But in 2008, I got serious. I decided I'd write a killer book proposal. I took a week off work. I got about 8000 words done - hated it and shelved it. And went back to my day job.

I revisited the book proposal in 2009 and in 2010 and wasn't motivated to work on it. I knew I was procrastinating. .. actually, make that avoiding. I wrote three books between 2008 and 2012, all in the time I should have been writing - THE book. But for those other books, I had deadlines from publishers that pushed me forward.

For you non-writers out there (is anyone out there?), a non-fiction writer who hopes to land a commercial publisher does not write the book first. She writes a proposal, and sends that to an agent or publisher. The publisher reviews it and determines many things. Like ... is there really enough there for a book? Is there a market for a this content? Can this chick write? If she can write, can she promote it? Does she have passion? Does she credibility? Can she go the long haul? If the answers to these questions are mostly YES, the publisher may make an offer.

Educating Myself About Writing a Book Proposal

When I started this proposal in 2007 I did all the right things. I bought Jeff Herman's book, Write the Perfect Book Proposal. I read it cover to cover and highlighted all the good parts. This book is not for the faint of heart and does not make writing the proposal look easy. But I practiced and practiced and in the process learned some good points. In fact, after my crash-course with Jeff I submitted my book proposal to The History Press for Haunted Eastern Shore: Ghostly Tales from East of the Chesapeake and I got a call within ten minutes of hitting the SEND button on my email. They accepted the proposal and I had a contract within a week.

But that was a little book of ghost stories. The Thin Places proposal was a serious book. So I studied some more. I ordered Mary DeMuth's e-book on book proposals for $25. It was well worth the investment. She offers some great ideas. Funny how she came out with a book two years after I ordered it called Thin Places. Though her book wasn't about mystical sites, I always wondered if my email signature sunk into her subconscious and resurrected when she was thinking of book titles.

Then I download every article I could find on writing book proposals. The end result? I still procrastinated. I still avoided doing the dirty deed --- writing the proposal.

As my last three posts on this blog indicate, I finally pushed myself, this month to finish the proposal. I set my own deadline, took off work for a week. I publicly announced I'd imposed a deadline on my blogs, twitter and facebook. I gave myself ten days to finish the proposal.

But in that ten days I found so many things to do ... besides the proposal. I looked at it... played with it... wrote a few words... made a few revisions. But I couldn't finish it.

In fact ... I didn't even like it. I liked myself even less.

What Saved Me from a Writer's Death by Procrastination

I tried a new tactic. Outside pressure. I queried three agents. My friend Melanie Rigney (you should subscribe to her blog about Faith, Writing and Life in the 50s), an author and former editor of Writers Digest Magazine recommended two agents. I found another one in the Acknowledgement section of True Balance: A Common Sense Guide for Renewing Your Spirit.

I sent them all three agents an email late Friday night, with my best hook, my most passionate account of what Thin Places: Irish Gateways to the Otherworld would deliver, and why now is the right time for it to hit the shelves, and why it would sell like energy-saving electric space heaters to homeowners with oil fired furnaces. I asked them to allow me to forward the proposal (which of course, wasn't finished).

By Saturday morning one of the agents emailed me back asking for the proposal. She even gave me a date - "I'd like to review your proposal Monday of next week. Please send as an attachment."

Wow! I didn't have a proposal. I only had 29 pages of unfinished, disjointed, unexciting schlock. I spent a mad 48 hours rewriting, editing and - yes - finishing the proposal. I hit the last return on my keyboard at 5:36 am Monday morning, March 12th. Just 24 days after my 10 day self-imposed deadline. I'd had a total of six hours sleep since Saturday morning.

Monday morning, agent #2 sent me an email asking to see the proposal.

Why didn't I think of querying agents 3 years ago?

Dan Burgoyne Reviews the Proposal ... and is sorry.

My completed proposal was 10,492 words with ten images and 28 pages. Now for a second set of eyes. I handed the printed proposal to Dan Burgoyne with a red pen and said, "Please read this carefully, you know I'm dyslexic."

He came into my office 30 minutes later pen in hand. I could tell he didn't love it. Dread set in. I was just about to start work at my day job with a fried brain from no sleep. I foolishly inquired, "How did you like it?"

His face said it all. He hated it. "You're trying too hard.. repeating yourself ... it's disjointed."

I said, "What the (insert expletive here) do you know?"

He said, "I knew you wouldn't take this well."

I said, "Did I ask you to critique content? Didn't I hand you a red pen? Just copy edit."

He said, "You only want me to find typos - really. That's all you want?"

I said, "Yes."

He left my office with his red pen. I remember thinking, "You stupid, stupid man."

Then I cried. Then went to my day job.

At lunch, I pulled out the laptop and reviewed the proposal again. Dan Burgoyne was right. It was crap. Actually, just the hook and first two pages were crap... which is like .... the entire thrust of the proposal.

I highlighted the first two pages of text and hit DELETE. Then gathering all possible mojo from the Communion of Saints and everybody dead who ever loved me ... I started a rewrite.

When it was done, I liked it. I sent it off to Agent #1 and Agent #2.

Now ..... praying for the next step. Please, God ... a publisher.

This chapter is closed.

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Research Says - I Should Write a Book - Day 6

noreply@blogger.com (Mindie) — Wed, 22 Feb 2012 15:12:00 +0000

Anita - She never wrote a book.

I'll never forget what my mother said when I handed her a copy of my first published book. She was in a nursing home, in her bed. I said, "Ma, look I finally got published." She took my book in her feeble hands. She turned it over. She flipped through the pages ... said nothing. Then she handed it back to me and said, "I should write a book."

You had to know Anita. She was trying to keep me from getting a big head. Her response amused me. By then I was 47 years old and had long stopped looking for her approval, because I was NEVER going to get it .... EVER.

This is why I credit my mother with being one of the most influential people in my success. If she'd been all gushy, constantly telling me how good I was, I'd never become such an overachiever. She probably knew that, but I digress.

This Book Proposal Business
A key piece to any book proposal is identifying the markets for your book and convincing a potential publisher that it's worth the cash (now minimally $100K with most publishing houses) to invest in your project. They want you to prove there's a market.

My Market Research for Thin Places: Irish Gateways to the Otherworld

Primary Markets: The figures I uncovered in my marketing research show that the primary markets - Tourists to Ireland, earth-based religious groups, the Mind, Body Spirit genre, readers of Celtic Christianity titles - rank in the millions.

Secondary Markets: The secondary markets - genealogy trackers, tour groups / guides, hospitality industry and organizations with an Irish, Celtic, or earth-based spiritual mission have millions in this country alone.

Subsidiary Rights: Then there's the subsidiary rights - book clubs, foreign translations, audio (podscasts) and video (I secretly want to model Rick Steves and have a Thin Places PBS show where instead of saying "Keep on travelin'" at the end, I say "May all your places be thin.")

Spin off Possibilities: The spin-off possibilities are huge - Thin Places in Wales, Thin Places in Britain, Thin Places in America ....Fat Ladies in Thin Places.

Merchandising: I can see note cards, calendars, screen savers, T-shirts, book marks, grocery bags ... the possibilities are endless. Who wouldn't love some photo of a mystical Irish landscape plastered on chachkies < -- yes, I looked it up in the Urban dictionary. Yiddish word for trinkets.

The markets combined with my platform indicate this book would be a profitable venture. I feel better now and am a tad more motivated to finish the proposal by my self-imposed deadline of Sunday, February 26th.

But today ..... I'm taking off, heading south and traveling across the largest estuary in North America - and the most studied estuary in the world - the Chesapeake Bay. And I'll be crossing it by way of one of the Seven Engineering Wonders of the Modern World - The Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel.

So day 6 is a day off (again). Going to visit my girlfriend, Del in Norfolk.

Related Posts:

Day 4 - I Hate Myself - Television is a Seductive Mistress

This Introduction Sucks - Book Proposal - Day 2

10 Days of Hell - I WILL Finish Thin Places Book Proposal

Day 4 - I Hate Myself - Television is a Seductive Mistress

noreply@blogger.com (Mindie) — Mon, 20 Feb 2012 16:46:00 +0000

Margarita, good friends, good times.

As day four ticks on in my Ten days of Hell - I WILL finish the Thin Places Book Proposal, I must perform double duty. Day 3 was a waste. I didn't even look at the proposal. I went out drinking with my friends in the scenic town of Berlin Maryland (aka Hale Maryland - Runaway Bride was filmed there).

I had a fabulous crab cake, made with lump crab meat from Philips Seafood in Baltimore. Our appetizer was mussels from Prince Edward Island served with hot bread <--this was pure food magic. I washed it down with a very large frozen Margarita. Service was excellent at the Atlantic Hotel. Atmosphere was superb. The company of our old friends Gary and Maureen Grant, couldn't have been better. A heartwarming reunion in one of my favorite Eastern Shore small towns.

Of course this Sunday outing distracted me from my commitment of working daily on my book proposal for Thin Places: Irish Gateways to the Otherworld. I've allotted myself 10 days to meet my self-imposed deadline of February 27th. I've been working (or not working) on this proposal for about 4 years.

You might say, "Well, no big deal.. you need a day off ... it's good to get out... don't work on Sunday ...what's more important that maintaining good friendships? ... you deserve it (I don't deserve it)" All these excuses are like gateway drugs to that awful addiction of procrastination. It's ruined my writing life.

And if all I took was a few hours in the day for this enjoyable meal and reunion, I'd not feel guilty. But now I'm resorting to self flagellation rivaling the early Christian monks, because I got home at 2:30 p.m. with a good 8 hours worth of uninterrupted time to devote to writing and I chose to .... I actually made a decision to .... put off writing and watch The First 48 on A&E | HD.

That was only the beginning.

Then it was another episode of The First 48 - actually three in a row. That stuff is addictive. I watched them all, then I fell asleep on the couch.

I woke up at 6:30 p.m. hating myself for having wasted 4 hours. I went upstairs, sat down at my desk opened up my proposal and realized I needed my notebook (which was downstairs in the same room as the tv). While I was in the living room I thought to myself "Hmmm... Sunday night. This is the season finale for Downton Abbey and also the night for a new episode Once Upon a Time." I needed to set the DVR to record these.

I turned the television back on. Hit the Guide, went to the PBS channels and noticed that Philadelphia PBS (which we're fortunate to get) was running the ENTIRE SEASON 2 of Downton Abbey leading up to the season finale at 9:00 pm.

Yes, I did.

I turned on Downton Abbey (having already seen all the episodes including the season finale), and I watched Maggie Smith and that fabulous cast for four and half hours .... until 11:00 pm. And if I wasn't committed to enough acts that would invoke self-hatred in the morning, I also downed a box of potato chips, two glasses of wine and an Edy's Real Fruit ice pop (lemonade flavor), repressing the memories of the 2000+ calories I'd ingested at the Atlantic Hotel earlier in the day.

Now, it's 11:11 a.m. on Monday and I'm still procrastinating. So I'll sign off now and dive back into the proposal, hopefully accomplishing two days worth of work.

Related Posts
Day 2 - This Introduction Sucks
Day 1 - Ten Days of Hell - I WILL Finish Thin Places

This Introduction Sucks - Book Proposal - Day 2

noreply@blogger.com (Mindie) — Sun, 19 Feb 2012 01:52:00 +0000

Second day of hell - working on the Thin Places book proposal. I nearly finished the Introduction. I worked several hours and only managed to plunk out a 500 words and the work out how the book will be framed - the contents and chapters. My efforts are below.

Introduction

“Within us and around us there is an invisible world;

this is where each of us comes from…

It envelopes our every movement.

It is the region out of which we emerged

and the state we destined for,

yet we never see it.”

-John O’Donohue

There is something mystical about Ireland. Everyone knows this. An invisible charm haunts that tiny spec in the north Atlantic and draws over six million visitors to her shores each year. The landscape with its mountains, rocky fields, misty hills and ruined castles and abbeys draw the visitor inside its ancient story. There is a magic. A sense of another world.

The ancient people of Ireland and Western Europe believed that there were special places in the landscape where the veil between the physical world and the eternal world was thin. They called these sites, thin places, and they believed there was a special power or energy about them. They settled near them, conducted sacred rituals around them, and buried their loved ones in these thin places. Remnants of their markings exist today, making it easy to visit some of these sites and feel as they did – taking in the earth energy, feeling close to the unseen world the eternal world, which will claim all of us someday.

This is a time of spiritual awakening, when there is a great focus on mind, body and spirit. Humans worldwide are seeking inner peace, and a sense of spiritual power. Thin places are the wells where we can extract some of that power and closeness to the great spirit, creator most of us call God.

Thin Places; Irish Gateways to the Otherworld is a spiritual travel memoir about such places in Ireland, with insights on how the reader can capture a bit of the spiritual energy in mystical places such as the thirty-seven thin places cited in the book. There will be seven chapters, an introductory chapter introducing the concept of thin places, followed by a chapter on each of Ireland’s five provinces, Ulster, Leinster, Connaght, Muenster and Meath. Each province chapter will include entries on five to eight thin places in that particular province. The seventh and final chapter will feature suggestions on how to get the most out of a thin places experience, including journaling practices, photography hints, sensing earth energies, and exercises for awaking spiritual sensitivities.

Though the book will include some of the well-known mystical sites in Ireland such as the Rock of Cashel, the passage tombs in the Boyne Valley, it will also include lesser known, yet particularly powerful sites such as Caldragh Cemetery in County Fermanagh, and Glen Columbkille in County Donegal, the Well of the Wethers in County Kerry, and Athassel Priory in County Tipperary. The entry on each site will tell about the history of the site, why people believe it is a thin place, and my personal experience in traveling to that site.

The book will also include thirty-nine images, one on each of the thirty-seven sites, a map of Ireland marking the sites, and a cover photo.

Thin Places are ports in the storm of life, where the pilgrims can move closer to the God they seek, where one leaves that which is familiar and journeys into the Divine Presence. They are stopping places where men and women are given pause to wonder about what lies beyond the mundane rituals, the grief, trials and boredom of our day-to-day life. They probe to the core of the human heart and open the pathway that leads to satisfying the familiar hungers and yearnings common to all people on earth, the hunger to be connected, to be a part of something greater, to be loved, to find peace. ~ Walking Through Thin Places, by Mindie Burgoyne

This introduction was difficult. I kept editing and changing and rearranging. I still hate it. But I figure once the whole proposal is done, this introduction will look nothing like it looks now. I'll kill most of it in the final edit.

So after being disgusted by today's progress, I joined my husband for a dinner at the Circle Inn in Crisfield. We dined on rock fish, crabcakes, corn pudding and peas & dumpling. Dinner convesation focused mostly on the attributes of chowder, or as he says, "chow-dah." Then we came home and instead of returning to the woeful task, I am going to watch the British sitcoms on PBS.

related posts:
10 Days of Hell - I Will Finish Thin Places Book Proposal (Day 1)

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10 Days of Hell - I WILL Finish Thin Places Book Proposal

noreply@blogger.com (Mindie) — Fri, 17 Feb 2012 17:51:00 +0000

About 12 years ago, I decided to write a book about mystical places in Ireland. Back then, I was ill-prepared, uncommitted, and not a very good writer. Since then, I've written three books, all published by national publishers, and have sharpened my writing skills. I'd say I'm an adequate writer.

After covering thousands of miles in Ireland, conducting scores of interviews, shooting 900 gigabytes of photographs, and reading tens of thousands of pages of research material ... I've still have not completed the proposal.

The truth is, I hate to write.

Go ahead. Laugh. But it's true.

The thought of sitting down alone at the computer and focusing for hours on rearranging letters of the alphabet until something looks right, disgusts me.

However, the satisfaction of having written is powerful. The sensation of having written well is intoxicating. It's like hitting the jackpot after losing a ton of money playing the slots, or giving birth a baby after hours of hard labor. The thrill of accomplishment forces out the pain of accomplishing.

So I write.

10 Days to Finish the Proposal or I Give it Up FOREVER!

As many of you know, a non-fiction writer doesn't write the book first. He or she writes a proposal and presents it to an agent or publishing house. This allows the publisher to have some influence on the final product. This proposal for Thin Places: Irish Gateways to the Otherworld will be about 30 to 40 pages long, complete with sample chapters and photo images. It's basically a sales tool to convince the publisher that the content of the book is worth reading, the subject matter has an audience, the author has writing skills, credibility (and a platform), and it's worth the publisher cash outlay to publish the book.

Actually, the content of this book is great stuff and once I get started, I'm motivated by my memories of Ireland, and the magnetic draw that keeps pulling me back there. I know there's a reading market. I certainly have a platform. And because I'm sick of being sick of not having written this book, I'm finally making the commitment to get the proposal done, seek out an agent and get a damn contract. Once I have a contract and a deadline, there's no turning back. I seem to only be able to work with a deadline. So I'll impose one on myself.

I'm giving it 10 days. I've taken leave from my full time job starting today and will not return to work until February 27th - at which time I plan on having the proposal completed or trashing the idea of writing this book FOREVER!

---> You heard it here, my friends. Between my Facebook friends / fans, Twitter followers and blog subscribers there are about 17,000 of you out there. If I don't achieve this, I must face the public shame.

Feb 17th - DAY ONE - AVOIDANCE BEHAVIOR SO FAR

I'm on leave from my government job today, but about ten things came up that must be handled so I'm actually committing to about 4 hours of "real job" work today and not taking full leave.

I've done about 14 Facebook postings between my profile and pages, a bunch of tweets, a LinkedIn post and called an old friend. (and it's only noon). I also arranged to spend one of my free 10 days visiting another old friend in Norfolk (shoots that day's proposal work to hell).

I'm fighting the urge to check email and Facebook like an alcoholic fights the bottle of vodka on the table.

Of course, I decided to write this blog post, made that cute little graphic cover, and waste time telling all of you how I'm not going to waste time.

Back to Work - Now, my friends ... I must go ... face this commitment ... start writing the proposal.

I'd rather pour boiling water in my eyes.

Oh, look ... Dan Burgoyne just came in with my lunch. Must go and chat with him for awhile.

Perry Hall and the Frenchman's Oak - Haunted!

noreply@blogger.com (Mindie) — Wed, 08 Feb 2012 19:32:00 +0000

Perry Hall today - Talbot County - Miles River

This is a haunted tale about an old estate in Talbot County, Maryland. The site is not open to the public, but it is visible from the Miles River, and is a legendary place of paranormal activity ... even the current owners say they can't get guests to stay at Perry Hall for more than one night.

The History of Perry Hall
Senator William Perry II married Elizabeth Hindman, whose family owned property on the Miles River. William moved into the property in 1790 and began to enlarge it and expand the plantation making it into one of the most prominent properties on the Eastern Shore in the late eighteenth century. Eventually, William Perry became the President of the Maryland Senate and he named his manor house Perry Hall. It still stands today on the Miles River in a part of Talbot County known as Kirkham.

Old Ghost Story
In the early 1700s when the Hindmans (Mrs. Perry's family) still owned the property, a strange event occurred. So strange that its story has survived nearly 150 years of oral tradition. Polly and Sally Hindman (sisters) occupied the house. In a violent storm, Polly raised a window to call out to a servant on the lawn. Lightning struck hitting her and coming through the window to the grandfather clock against the wall. The electric shock caused the door of the clock to swing open and gold pieces came pouring out onto the floor. There is no account as to whether or not Polly survived.

The Frenchman's Oak

Oak tree on the property by the riverfront

Perry Hall was also the setting for the Tale of the Frenchman's Oak. There was a huge, hollow oak tree on the Perry Hall property near the river. It served as a hiding place for a young French officer in LaFayette's army. He deserted his post in order to court a young lady who lived at Perry Hall.

The young lady, however, was betrothed to another man who had observed the couple's clandestine trysts on the lawn. He watched as the officer slipped out of the hollow oak and met the young lady.

The jilted man hid near the tree one night and confronted the lovers as they met on the lawn. He slew the French officer with his sword as the young lady watched in horror. She died from grief shortly thereafter.

For years waterman, sea captains and passengers who sailed up the Miles River at twilight would witness the faint figures of the Frenchman and his lady walking hand-in-hand across the lawn of Perry Hall. Sometimes, the lovers would pause for a kiss beneath the giant oak. The old hollow oak is long gone, but some folks still glimpse the figures of those two lovers when the mist is thick, or the night is lit by a full moon.

William Perry's Treasure
William Perry II loved his wealth, and was a shrewd businessman. Local lore states that he kept his money in metal boxes in a closet on the second floor of Perry Hall, but when Senate was in session, he would bury the boxes on his property to keep it safe. In 1799 after burying his treasure on the Perry Hall grounds, he headed for Annapolis. Unfortunately, he died suddenly while in Annapolis and no one knew where all his assets were buried. They were never found. Eventually the estate fell into disrepair and burned.

Over the years various people have looked for it. Treasure hunters have dug over 100 holes on the property, but never located the missing treasure. Perry's descendents developed the plantation into one of the wealthiest and most celebrated properties on the Miles River. Garden parties, dances and other celebrations were not uncommon on the grounds. Music for some of these dances was provided by a slave named Old Ned. He'd been won by Mr. Perry in a card game played with Col. Edward Lloyd of the neighboring Wye Plantation. Ned was a fiddler who entertained at all the parties, and he lived at Perry Hall until he died at very old age. Since his death, people still see Old Ned. Most associated with Perry Hall believe Old Ned never left.

What People Say Today - an my experience there
The house and property are now owned by MEBA School in Easton. The house was renovated to be used as a guest house and conference facility. However, no one wants to spend any time there, including the staff. Since MEBA has done renovations people have reported walking into cold spots, feeling cold rushes of air, having the lights dim, hearing voices, footsteps and loud noises - all unexplained.

One bedroom upstairs repeatedly has sightings. The cleaning staff reported that after they make up the beds, the bedding will become rumpled - as if someone had laid down or sat on the bed. In one instance, the cleaning staff noted a hand print in the bed coverings. No guests want to stay more than one night. Even the contractor who came to install the WiFi heard someone come in, call out to him, and ascend the stairs ... yet no one ever appeared and the outside staff said no one had come down the lane either by car or by foot.

So, the MEBA School doesn't use Perry Hall much. The house just sits, ... silently ... waiting ...

I was given a tour of the building by MEBA staff and it is a beautiful building in a stunning setting. As I was standing in the second floor bedroom, I looked out the window toward the Miles River. I got an overwhelming sense of being with someone - someone who was trying to tell me something. Strange .. just a sense of not being alone. I shot a photo through the window of the river and a large tree on the banks.

Perry Hall is a magical place.

Note: Perry Hall is on private property and not accessible to the public. If you desire a tour or want to lease it for a conference, contact the MEBA School.

Best Travel Books - My Favorite Place on Earth

noreply@blogger.com (Mindie) — Sat, 04 Feb 2012 18:50:00 +0000

I ordered My Favorite Place on Earth, Celebrated People Share Their Travel Discoveries by Jerry Camarillo Dunn because it was cheap, and I curious to know what James Taylor, Josh Groban and Loretta Lynn had to say about their favorite places. The book has turned out to be one of my favorite travel books (and I have a slew).

National Geographic has published it, so I knew the photographs would be spectacular. What I didn't know is that some of these celebrities have serious writing talent, which you'd expect from acclaimed writers - but Robin Williams? Buzz Aldrin? Morgan Freeman?

75 well-known personalities - movie stars, politicians, song writers, comedians, scientists, journalists - each share about 1500 - 2000 words on his or her most favorite place on earth. Each entry is followed with "Compass Points" describing the location, its history and tourism information. Then Dunn adds an author bio detailing interesting facts about the person who wrote that particular entry.

I didn't read this book in order. I skipped around. The last entry I read was the author's favorite place - a film studio in India - only I didn't know I had read all the others. I kept flipping through the book to find one I hadn't read yet .... but there were no more. I was so disappointed. I'd love to see a Volume II.

I know a book is good when I reach for highlighter. I was compelled to underline lines like Ray Bradbury's reference to spending an evening in Paris:

I took a taxicab with some friends to Les Deux Magots, the cafe where Hemingway used to go. Paris and the twilight seized and held me immediately. It was the blue hour, the hour of enchantment. As we motored past the Louvre, it was painted ancient gold by the sun. Every leaf on every bush and tree was bronzed with twilight illumination.

Who knew James Taylor could be so descriptive? He really should write his own travel book. His favorite place on earth was the center of the Atlantic Ocean. He describes a passage he made with friends up the center of the Atlantic from the Caribbean to Martha's Vineyard on an old wooden sailboat made of teak . His prose sings.

I feel the skin of life on the planet as a sort of coevolved life form. It has a type of consciousness that we humans - with individuated consciousness and an ego-based worldview - see as alien.

My Favorite Entries

Guidebook king, Arthur Frommer describes Ubud on the island of Bali as being one of the most hospitable places on earth. He describes the Balinese as being "among the most generous and outgoing of all the people I've met in a long life of travel."

Painter, Jamie Wyeth describes his island home in a Maine lighthouse, and his endeavor to attract Ravens to his landscape by planting a dead cow in his yard. Clive Cussler describes his Paradise Valley home in Arizona as his favorite place, mentioning that he has mannequin replica of himself sitting at the front window, and that all of his awards are hung in the bathroom. Deepak Chopra loves Jeruselem, Tom Brokaw loves Tibet, and I've never heard the Sequoias describes so beautifully as in the entry by novelist, T. Coraghessan Boyle. Jane Goodall could have expanded her entry on Gombe in the Tanzania, and I'd have read on forever. Her prose captivates, engages, enchants.

My favorite entry was by Sandra Day O'Connor. She describes her home state, Arizona as her favorite place on earth, retelling stories of her childhood and dramatically painting word pictures of a desert landscape where any kind of water is magic. She recounts her struggle with breast cancer and how her doctors told her to envision a place that meant a lot to her and see herself in that place as part of her healing. She visualized walking around the mountain at Iron Springs mentally recalling each vista along the way.

Author Bios

The author bios at the end of each entry are a hoot. The reader discovers such interesting things about these celebrated people. Who knew Sandra Day O'Connor was inducted into the National Cowgirl Hall of Fame? Or that Suze Orman was a waitress at Buttercup Bakery in Berkley, CA? Or that film maker, George Lucas won the National Medal of Technology - the nation's highest award for technological achievement?

For the Impatient and Those With A.D.D.

This is the kind of book you can put by the bed and read one entry a night, unless your me and found the entries so intriguing that you kept on reading. Because the entries are so short, it's a perfect book for those with short attention spans or very little time to read. It may be hard to snag a copy, as it was published in 2009. Ask your local bookstore to order you one, or get it on Amazon. I found the Kindle edition is especially nice for having something to read during short waits at the doctor's office, at red lights (yes I do) and at very boring meeting when you're pretending to be taking notes into your iPad. <-- of course, I never do this.

Title: My Favorite Place on Earth
Author: Jerry Camarillo Dunn, Jr.
ISBN: 978-1-4262-0230-8
Pubisher: National Geographic Society, 2009

*

Merry Christmas from Dan & Mindie Burgoyne - 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Mindie) — Fri, 23 Dec 2011 14:25:00 +0000

Merry Christmas from Marion Station where this time last year there was snow on the ground. Today it is overcast and a mild 53 degrees … typical for this temperate part of the Eastern Shore. 2011 completes our tenth year here in the Vance Miles House. It’s the longest I’ve ever lived in one place - since I left Riverdale when I was fifteen. It’s home.

Dan and I hope this letter finds each of you mostly done with the stress of holiday preparations. We hope you’re relaxed, soaking in the season dedicated to new birth, new life, peace and the remembrance of everything we’ve ever loved.

Our children are and their families are all well, though this has been a year of illness for us. Dan continues to deal with the complications of tearing two discs in his back in a work accident. Becky has been struggling this year too, but thankfully her illness is not as serious as we’d initially thought. Little Daniel just finished up his eighth month of chemotherapy, and can hopefully get back to dreaming about things common to eight-year-old boys. I broke my foot in February on a trip in Savannah. It wasn’t until September that I could walk without assistance. And just last Tuesday, I was admitted to the hospital after suffering from a mild heart attack. I write this on my first day home. There’s nothing like a life-threatening situation to get a person all “deep and meaningful.” I’m hoping I can write this Christmas letter without becoming morose.

On the cheerful side of 2011, travel colored the year for Dan and me. I started a new blog called “The Travel Hag” and set out on travel adventures I could write about. We went to Savannah, the Outer Banks, and Ireland. We completed a cross-country rail trip on the California Zephyr. I also started a local women’s travel group called the “travel hags” – women with goddess attributes who love to travel. We went kayaking down the Transquaking, Pocomoke, and Annemessex Rivers, camped at Janes Island and Elk Neck, had dinner at Old Salty’s, went to the Chestertown Book Fair, and shared several exotic meals in torrential downpours whilst listening to a live, full rendition of Robert Burns’ Address to a Haggis. We hope to do more this year. Please join us. Hagmen are welcome

For those of you who have been receiving my Christmas letters since 2006 (and have read them), I’ll now type the line that has appeared in every letter for the last six years. “I continue to work on the book about Irish mystical places entitled Thin Places: Celtic Doorways to the Otherworld. “Who knows when – or if – I’ll ever write that book? The mystical sites, the people I’ve met, the stones, the trees, the landscape of Ireland – all these things have a magnetic draw that keep pulling us back there. Being able to encapsulate that draw and its meaning into the pages of a book would fulfill a real purpose for me. I figure I’ll do it when a publisher gives me a deadline.

Dan, Vonda and Kathleen (tour guests) on the Beara Peninsula - Ireland

Dan and I led a small group on a tour of Ireland’s southern region last May. Our guests were from Canada, California, Washington State, New York and Virginia. We started in the Boyne Valley and then went to Kildare, then Cashel, then Ardmore, Cork City, Kinsale, Gougane Barra, the Beara Peninsula and Dingle. Her Majesty, the Queen cramped our style a bit when she arrived on our heels for her Ireland tour. She was a day behind us, with a similar itinerary. I can understand her going to Trinity College in Dublin, but Cashel? Really? Then Cork City? Sheesh! Was her staff looking my website when they scheduled her stops? Then we had President Obama following Her Majesty. There’s nothing like being an American in Ireland when the Prez visits. It’s kind of like having a rock star in the family. The Irish absolutely LOVE him, and you have to bite your tongue to keep from saying, “You know, he’s not all that.” Jesus himself could have walked down Grafton Street and not seen the excitement the Irish showed for President Obama – who took the adulation humbly, with class.

The recent crash of the Irish economy didn’t harm our tour. Hospitality was as warm as ever – if not better. Ireland’s landscape was no less magical. I never tire of seeing these holy places. But watching others experience them magnifies the personal thrill. Being able to lead travelers to the very spot where the Children of Lir are said to have perished after nine hundred years in exile, or introduce friends to the Hag Beara, or watch a group try to make sense of a stone circle that predates the pyramids, or help a pilgrim collect water from an ancient holy well… these things create spiritual bonds with new friends – soul friends. We have another tour coming up this May. We’ll be traveling to the West of Ireland – the Aran Islands, Sligo, Mayo, Galway, Connemara and Clare. Consider joining us.

Every year Dan and I try to get away for our anniversary in September. It’s hard to come up with affordable places that we haven’t been to already. This year I discovered a deal on a US rail pass for $389 that allowed 8 stops in 14 days. I crafted an Amtrak trip for Dan and me that began at Penn Station in Baltimore, hit Chicago, went across the prairies of Nebraska into the Colorado Rockies, then across Utah and Nevada into California. Our first stop was Granby Colorado. We got off the train, rented a car and explored the Grand Lake area and Rocky Mountain National Park. We had a cabin on Lake Granby and three days to explore some of the most stunning scenery in America.

The photograph at the top of this Christmas letter was taken on the Trail Ridge Road in Rocky Mountain National Park, a 48 mile winding road that is the highest continuous highway in the US reaching elevations above 12, 000 feet. If you look closely in the lower left of the photo, you can see the road snaking across the mountains.

Traveling along this road was like riding into a painting. All the surroundings were woven together into a spellbinding landscape. At every bend in the road there was something new to see, or hear, or smell. The Never Summer Mountains, still capped in September with last year’s snow – or a herd of elk in the valley whistling to one another – or the scent of pine that descends on every wooded trail. Even the quiet consumes the senses. This part of the Rockies has such a sense of place. It overwhelms you when you stop and notice the details. The John Denver songs played constantly in my head. …. Come dance with the west wind and touch all the mountaintops, sail o’er the canyons and up to the stars. And reach for the heavens and hope for the future, and all that we can be and not what we are.

Rocky Mountain National Park near Grand Lake, CO

They say the California Zephyr is the most scenic train ride in all of North America. I believe it. There’s something about passing through a vista of connected canyons and mountains and rivers, while being able to relax to the rhythm of a moving train. For Dan and me, that trip was a comforting end to a great travel year, and a memorable celebration of our love for each other.

At Christmas, our focus is always on home. I can’t imagine being anywhere else. Mark Twain made a reference in one of his letters to his mansion in Hartford, CT. He wrote … To us, our house was not insentient matter -- it had a heart, and a soul, and eyes to see us with; and approvals, and solicitudes, and deep sympathies; it was of us, and we were in the peace of its benediction. We never came home from an absence that its face did not light up and speak out its eloquent welcome -- and we could not enter it unmoved.”

I’ve read that quote so many times. I’ve been to the Mark Twain mansion in Hartford, and the home does have an aura – a spirit about it. But it’s not connected to me. It’s not for me. The spirit of that home is something outsiders can only observe.

Vance Miles House - our home in Marion Station, MD

I believe most houses ARE insentient matter. The house becomes a home when a family consecrates it. It’s the people that live in the house who share meals, tell stories, make music, grieve for loved ones lost, put up a Christmas tree every year, and rejoice when little faces find the magic in the season – it’s these people – the families - that fuse with that insentient matter to create the heart and soul and eyes to see with and approvals and solicitudes and deep sympathies that Twain refers to. And sometimes the fusion is so deep that it lives on in a home long after the family members fade away. The home retains the spirit. And if we’re lucky enough in our lifetime to experience “home” like that, we’ll return to it every Christmas. We’ll try to recreate wherever we are.

Dan and I laid the foundation for our home, and each family member from Becky to Tristan has added his or her unique piece to the charism. I remember when Grace and Mia used to applaud when their car turned into our driveway. They feel that heart and soul of our home. I hope in time they - and all the grandchildren, and their parents - know that they not only are a part of it, they helped to create it. All of them are of this home – and it is of them.

If at Christmas all roads lead home - you are part of our sense of home, and this Christmas has led us to you. We want you to know that you matter to us, that we remember you at this special time. We’re praying for you. We’re grieving for you if you’re experiencing sorrow, and rejoicing with you if you’re celebrating. And though this letter is but a simple gesture that we extend to those we love at the end of the year, the love we have for you exists every day. Here is a blessing from Celtic Daily Prayer by the Northumberland Community.

May the peace of the Lord go with you,
wherever he may send you,
May He guide you through the wilderness,
protect you from the storm.
May He bring you home rejoicing
at the wonders He has shown you,
May He bring you home rejoicing
once again into our doors.

May God bless you and all those whom you love this Christmas. Have a happy, healthy, prosperous new year.


Dan & Mindie Burgoyne - Cashel - Co. Tipperary

Winter on the Eastern Shore - Darkness is Ebbing

noreply@blogger.com (Mindie) — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 17:59:00 +0000

I love the Eastern Shore winters. In the summer, the pace here is fast with the activities of the waterman, the seafood processors, the fisherman, the tourists, the boaters, and the festivals. But in the winter, the landscape sleeps, much of the activity quieted down, resting, waiting.

The photos in this post are of scenes after a winter storm here in Somerset County, Maryland. It's generally a temperate winter climate, but that rare snow in the Chesapeake landscape is memorable if not enchanting.

It is in the winter landscape that details emerge and appear more prominent. The lone blue heron surveying the marsh, the hum of a workboat's motor in the distance, the stray feral cat, the elderly man spinning yarns in a local store, even the sound of the tide lapping up onto the shore – all of these are more pronounced in the uncluttered winter landscape, as if all the colors were brighter.

As the winter solstice passes, we're reminded that the darkness is ebbing as more light inches into each new day. There is more being revealed. Details are magnified.

And at Christmas everything seems magnified – both good and bad. Love, loneliness, wealth, poverty, health, sickness, togetherness, separation ... everything weighs twice as much at Christmastime.

Here’s hoping your burdens are light and your blessings abundant … but if you are feeling down, know that we pray for you … and that we trust … no - we know, that strain of hardship will lessen for you soon.

Love lies close at Christmas, nestled in invisible tabernacles filled by those gone before us, those that know us now, and those we’ve yet to meet. And from those tabernacles, we can draw strength. Even the love of a stranger can be found if we but look around us.

And love heals the hurt, eases the suffering, fills the loneliness and can make any burden lighter.

Christmas is Tough for Those Suffering Losses

noreply@blogger.com (Mindie) — Sun, 18 Dec 2011 14:21:00 +0000

Robert and Elizabeth Waters - Riverdale, MD - 1912

My mother died in April 2008. She followed her brother Bob who had died just four months earlier. My mother (Elizabeth) and Uncle Bob were named for my grandmother’s sister and brother - Robert and Elizabeth Waters- who died in 1914 just weeks apart. They were 16 and 18 years old.

Robert hit his head while getting off a street car when he was making a trip to DC. He developed meningitis, but the doctors couldn't identify the sickness initially. His older sister Libby took care of him at home. By the time they figured out that Robert was contagious, Libby was already showing symptoms. She was whisked away from Robert's bedside and put in quarantine. She missed Robert's funeral. She died two weeks later.

So many times I heard about how my great-grandmother's hair turned completely white the year after Robert and Elizabeth died - how the deaths of her two eldest children defined her life. She never got over it.

How could she?

It’s strange to ponder that coincidental repetition of another Elizabeth following her brother Robert in death as time circles around us. Death has such a darkness about it. We don't know where they're going... only that they are not with us and we can't see them safely to the other side.

Robert and Elizabeth Granados - Riverdale - 1941

My mother and Uncle Bob died in their seventies after raising large families and living full lives. But losing a loved one - any loved one - will mark Christmas with that absence forever.

Several people close to us have suffered losses this year, and this will be their “first” Christmas without that loved one. As time goes on, the sting will lessen, and the vacancy left will be filled by remembrances. And those recollections will become the bandages that cover the scars of loss - until the scars disappear - if they ever disappear.

If you are loved, you are never forgotten.

As we navigate through the revolutions of the passing years, Christmas is a time when we pause. We reflect on birth, beginning, light coming into the darkness – a light that the darkness cannot overcome. We look forward to another year and hope for blessings.

It’s a time we remember everything we ever loved, when joys and sorrows are magnified and felt stronger than other times of the year.

Love is what knits the Christmases of our past into a warm garment of memory that cloaks future Christmases. It’s that love that pushes us year after year to make this season special.

Tristan - 5 minutes old

In doing research for my book, Thin Places – Celtic Doorways to the Otherworld – I read this quote by the late Celtic mystic, John O’Donohue.

If you could interview a baby in the womb, and it asks you, “what’s going to happen to me?” You’d say “you’re going to go through a dark channel. You’re going to be pushed out. You’ll arrive into a vacant world of open air and light. The cord that connects you to your mother is going to be cut. You going to be on your own forevermore and regardless of how close you come to anyone, you’ll never be able to belong in the way that you’ve belonged here.” The baby would have no choice by to conclude that it was going to die. … when in actual fact .. it’s being born.

It can be scary to go on without those we've lost, but every new beginning starts with an end. Christmas is a time we can all beginning anew - together.

Commercial at Christmas Doesn't Bother Me

noreply@blogger.com (Mindie) — Fri, 16 Dec 2011 18:54:00 +0000

Mia & Grace at the Atlantic Hotel in Berlin, MD

St. Anthony of Padua said, “Love is eternal; so that without love, all efforts are vain, no matter how much good we accomplish.” Love is what lies beneath the surface at Christmas, and best flourishes in the spirit of humility.

Every year someone will invariably proclaim disgust regarding the commercialization of Christmas, but I generally ignore these proclamations. Commercialism doesn’t diminish Christmas. It’s rarely the presents or shopping or decorations that we recall in our Christmas memories. It’s always the people we remember, and the experiences shared with people; experiences that occur when possessions and the trappings of this world are stripped away, and humility – the true understanding of who we are – arises and creates magic moments where time stands still.

These become our Christmas memories… the affirmation of a child’s imagination, school pageants, singing Christmas carols, little hands gripping the banister during the rush downstairs on Christmas morning, family dinners and gatherings, the first Christmas away from home, the first Christmas in a new home… these are the things we remember, and it’s the warmth of these experiences that generate meaning and cause us to continue to look forward to Christmas year after year.

~Burgoyne Christmas Letter 2007

5 Tips for Writing the Perfect Christmas Letter

noreply@blogger.com (Mindie) — Wed, 07 Dec 2011 16:37:00 +0000

Every year we get between 10 and 20 Christmas letters. I read every single one, and keep them in a basket in the dining room so visitors and family members can easily scoop them up. I confess, a few of theses letters are terrible and the brunt of jokes and snickers. These are usually the letters that are braggadocios with self aggrandizing references to brilliant children, extravagant purchases, deserving job promotions, and luxurious vacations.

For the last few years I have sent out a Christmas letter tucked inside a custom designed card. My letters have become so popular that friends and relatives have actually written back! Each year I get three or four letters answering my Christmas letter. I also get thank-you emails and thank you notes from grateful recipients. I write the letter with this thought in mind .... "What would I say to my friends and family, if this were the last Christmas for me - or them?" Thus my message is quite sincere and meaningful. I waste little time and paper space on useless drivel.

Dan and I have large families and scores of friends we've made over the years. To some of our contacts, the Christmas card and letter is our only communication. We send out over 250 Christmas cards. I tuck my Christmas letter inside the cards of close friends and family. People have actually figured this out ... that not everybody gets a letter. We've had friends say, "Please, keep us on the A list" and others ask how they get on the "Letter List." These comments mean the world to me. To know that my message is welcomed makes every minute spent on this - my most important of Christmas projects - worthwhile.

Many have asked how I do it ... "How do you think of what to write?" ... "How do you make it interesting?"

At the risk of appearing braggadocios myself, I am daring in this post to offer 5 tips for writing a Christmas letter that will opened with great anticipation, eagerly read, appreciated and shared.

Tip 1: Keep News on Family Members to One Page
This may sound odd, since the contents of most Christmas letters is 90% news of the family ... son John got into Yale this year, Cindy won the regional skating championship, Sarah is still a soccer star, grandson Bob won a scholarship, our son Billy still doesnt' talk to us and we don't know where he is - do you?, husband Jack got a new job.....Friends and family want to know what your kids are up to, where they're living, how they're doing.. but one paragraph on the whole family news is enough. ADDED NOTE: My grown children don't like when I go on and on about them in a letter. It makes them uneasy. Simple news, to the point, is enough.

Tip 2: Resist All Temptation to Brag or Appear Like You're Bragging
It's just not okay to brag on paper. Remember braggarts are bores, and you do not have the benefit of "tone of voice" or "facial expression" when writing. So don't say "We just can't believe how smart she is ... straight A's for the fifth year in a row!" Talk more about how much you love her, support her, and are glad she's eager to learn. Avoid casually mentioning how expensive your new car is or how luxurious that vacation you took was. Bragging sours the letter and taints the intention of sending love and good will.

Tip 3: Pick a Few Highlight of the Year - Then Elaborate on How You Feel or Felt About Those Events.
If your spouse got a new job, talk about it ... how does it make him or her feel? What was the most outstanding moment in your family vacation? What was the most riveting memory of your child's wedding? What was going on in your heart when Jimmy went to the first day of kindergarten? Who have you lost this year? What comforting words can you say about the loss - or what were the most comforting words someone said to you? Did you move this year? Did you feel lonely? Make new friends?

Tip 4: Be "You" Focused Instead of "Me" Focused
Think about who you are writing to. Think about the faces of the loved ones who will read your Christmas letter. What can you say that will bring smiles to those faces? What will be interesting the those reading your letter? When will you welcome visits? Mention things in your letter that you'd want to hear from your closest friends.

Tip 5: Mention Your Sincerest Christmas Wish at the End
Christmas is a time when we remember everyone we ever loved. One recent Christmas, I was decorating my tree and becoming sentimental about the ornaments as I placed them. My ornaments could tell the story of my life. As I mentally went through my life marked by shiny baubles, I thought to myself, "What if this was my last Christmas? What would I want to tell everyone I love?" I jotted down a few thoughts and incorporated them into the sappy ending of my Christmas letter that year. I've repeated the process each subsequent year, and I believe this is the ultimate gift of the Christmas letter... my personal and sincere message of love to each loved one... the kind of thing you never think to say face to face. Christmas is the perfect time to put these thoughts into words before it's too late, and the message of love is left unsaid.

Copies of my most recent Christmas letters are on line at my website.

Christmas Letter 2010
Christmas Letter 2009
Christmas Letter 2008
Christmas Letter 2007
Christmas Letter 2006

This year my cards are set to go out on December 8th.

Merry Christmas everybody.

Mindie

Happy First Birthday, Tristan

noreply@blogger.com (Mindie) — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 15:57:00 +0000

Happy Birthday, my sweet little footballer.

Bite Me, Boscov's ... and Merry Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (Mindie) — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 02:52:00 +0000

Tonight I did the unthinkable. After working a 13 hour day and driving over 250 miles, I decided to go shopping. In Salisbury. The Crossroads of Delmarva. The home of all the big box stores, chain restaurants, movie theaters... Chuck E. Cheese - and the Mall.

Salisbury is a Mecca of retail chaos. Granted I love this place, but not after work, with a headache, no dinner ... feeling like I want to hurt somebody. It was a recipe for disaster.

But, my little grandson's first birthday is tomorrow, and this was my only chance to buy his present - a toy box. Toys R Us had it.... Toys R Us .... in December... I'd rather pour boiling water in my eyes.

Well, I figured as long as I had to endure the pain of the toy store, I might as well hit Macy's and pick up Lara's gift - and pop into Boscov's and buy my Christmas floor mats. (These were not impulse buys, but needed stuff ... the last things on my Christmas shopping list).

Came out of Macy's with 5 things for me and Lara's gift. So I over spent a little - actually four times what I expected to spend. But the decorations, and music and Martha Stewarts sweet face behind that red and green Christmassy kitchenware got me in the mood ... to buy. So I did.

I went to Toys R Us and came out with Tristan's toy box and two things for me - okay, they were a pack of pretzel M&Ms and batteries - but still more than I planned.

Then, feeling pretty good, I went into Boscov's department store. It was all decked out in Christmas stuff. The floor mats were 50% off. So I picked up four - two for the kitchen, one for each bathroom. Then I got a Christmas garden flag and a box of lights. The girl at the check out was nice. She rang up the sale - $42.61. I gave her my credit card and she examined it. She said, "Do you have your ID because your signature is rubbed off."

I don't carry a purse into stores. I have pockets. I carry my government issued blackberry and my personal iPhone, my car key and my credit card - in pockets. I abhor schlepping a bag around.

I said, "No, I don't carry a purse. But look... here's my state issued blackberry" - I clicked to the settings where my name comes up. "See? There's my name." She wasn't impressed. So I pulled out my iPhone. A manager approached the register. "Look, here's my Facebook profile - see my picture and my name?" Then I flipped to the Internet and pulled up two (of my four) bookmarked blog sites that have both my name and my photo... then over to my CBS news blog.

The manager looked at me with disdain. How dare I ask for an exception. Who did I think I was?

One more time I tried ... "For God's sake, I'm all over the freeking Internet."

To this the manager replied, "Our policy is to require ID if the credit card doesn't have a signature."

Shame on you, Boscov's. You've reduced your staff to being robotic non-thinkers who aren't authorized to assess a customer's credibility or weigh the cost of sending a frustrated customer away angry, against the cost of possibly defrauding Boscov's of $42.

Why didn't I have trouble with a non-signed credit card at Macy's or Toys R Us? Because they never handle the cards. Like Target and Bed Bath and Beyond, Barnes and Noble - and even WalMart, these stores have the customers handle their own cards right with an ATM type device right at the checkout counter.

So when the Boscov's cashier suggest I walk to my car, get my ID and return to the register where they would be happy to take care of the transaction - I replied .... wait for it ...... "Bite Me!"

I didn't scream it or say it even disrespectfully. I said it in a nice kind of way - sort of smiling. Like .. "Bite me .. and Merry Christmas to ya' ... I won't be shopping here."

Boscov's, I wish it was as easy to shop at your store as it is to shop at the other chain stores. I wish you'd empower your managers to make exceptions for people who can reasonably prove identity through sources other than the photo ID. I wish you were more customer service oriented. And, I wish I had my damn bath mats.

Oh....yeah, Boscov's.... you might also consider hiring a marketing editor.

My Best Thanksgiving - Homless, Broke and in Hospital - 1980

noreply@blogger.com (Mindie) — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 16:22:00 +0000

Thirty one Thanksgivings ago I was twenty-one years old and in the hospital. I was homeless, having been evicted from our apartment and was relying on the kindness of my sister who provided a place for me and my 22-month old son to live in her finished basement. My unreliable husband had fled to live with his family, and left me to find the eviction notice on my door.

Sounds like a bad time?

It was one of those dark times in my past - followed by more dark times. But one bright beam of goodness came to me on that Thanksgiving - and it changed every Thanksgiving to come.

On Tuesday morning, November 24, 1980, I woke up in the early hours feeling contractions. My baby was due the next day. I called my ex-husband to come take me to the hospital. When he arrived at my sister's house I couldn't find the car keys to my station wagon. My toddler, Dominic had been playing with them (we found them later tucked in an empty tupperware sugar bowl). So I rode to the hospital in my ex's 1974 Ford Pinto. It had no front seat.... just springs with several blankets thrown on top.

What an awful ride - in so many ways.

But within a few hours, my little miracle was born. I named him after the Elton John song "Daniel" (all my children were named for songs). It's funny how a little newborn face injects hope into the world around, and all those dark places seem to melt away.

In those intimate early moments between mother and newborn child - there's a non-verbal language, which communicates feelings so deep. Like every mother, I blessed him, I prayed for him, I vowed to protect him, to cherish him. I wondered what he'd become, what kind of family he'd have, whether or not he'd love me forever the way I knew I'd love him.

I didn't get to hold Daniel right away. He'd gone into fetal distress, so for the first days I had to look at him through the nursery window in his little isolette. Finally, in the early hours of Thanksgiving day, the nurse wheeled Daniel into my room and lifted him out of his plexiglass infant bed on wheels and handed him to me. He had enormous blue eyes... almost too big for his little face. I was in love.

Still am.

How could any subsequent Thanksgiving top that?

Daniel and I spent his first Thanksgiving in my hospital bed. He'd cry every time I'd put him down, so I just held him. My family, who was caring for my other little boy, was celebrating Thanksgiving at somebody's house ... I don't remember where. So it was just Daniel and me for the holiday.

My neighbor, Ruth brought me some of her Thanksgiving dinner that evening. But secretly I hoped she wouldn't stay too long, because I wanted to go back to holding Daniel. My doctor said I held him to much and shouldn't fall asleep with him in the bed.

I ignored the doctor.

That was a great beginning, and though Daniel gave me some worrisome times, he turned out to be such a nice young man - a wonderful son, husband and father.

Daniel with his daughter, Mia - photo by Amber Santi

Danny is a lot of fun. He can laugh at himself .. and at all of us. He never took himself (or anyone else) too seriously. He has always been able to make me laugh.

I'm still thankful for Danny and his brother and sister. Each one has brought something special and ever changing into my world.

Danny is my Thanksgiving baby. All our Thanksgivings are combined with a celebrating his birthday, which always falls within a day or two.

This year - his birthday is on Thanksgiving, and we're going to his house for dinner.

Happy birthday, Danny Boy. I love you, so.

Savannah Georgia - What to See, Do and Eat

noreply@blogger.com (Mindie) — Thu, 10 Nov 2011 19:13:00 +0000

Savannah, Georgia is one of the most travel friendly, historically interesting, haunted, walkable, picturesque cities in America. The city in close to the the Atlantic beaches at Tybee Island - which is another fun destination in itself, but Savannah also has beautiful waterways and marshes that provide that "low country" setting which forces a body to relax. Here are some tips for making the most of a short visit:

Go to the Visitor Center first and get one of their maps
There are many brochures and guidebooks that have a street map of Savannah, but none like the one provided for free at the Savannah Visitor Center on Martin Luther King Blvd. My experience was that the help behind the counter wasn't particularly helpful .. I don't mean attitude, just not extremely knowledgeable about Savannah. Perhaps they were volunteers just helping out. The visitor center is inside the rail museum which is also worth a visit.

Buy the 48 hour parking pass at the Visitor Center
Parking in Savannah is free on the weekends, but if you're there during the week, the best deal is the pass purchased at the visitor center which allows you to park free for 48 hours in any of the metered or public spaces.

Hop a Trolley Tour
We took Old Town Trolley Tours which we picked right at the Visitor Center. It's an excellent way to get an overview of the city, its famous residents (past and present), it's history, architecture and scenic setting. Tours leave every 20 minutes and cover most of the major sites in the city. Total tour runs 90 minutes but guests can hop on and off at 15 different stops. Price for us was $20 and the ticket was good all day - 9:00 am to 4:30.

Do a Ghost Tour
Savannah is the most haunted city in America. There are scores of houses, parks, cemeteries and squares that have reported paranormal activity of some kind. There are many different ghost tours. Because the city is large, the walking tours cover only a small portion and hearing can be difficult. However, a walking tour does allow close proximity to the site and a more personal link. With a driving tour, you see more haunted sites and get an idea for the enormity of places reported to be haunted. The Hearse Tour is fun and the drivers offer the "spooky ghost story" feel. This is good for those who like to be scared. The Historic Haunts tour by trolley includes more historic background and known legendary tales with the focus more on the story and less on the theatrics.

Visit the Cemeteries
Savannah's cemeteries recount its history with particular artistic flair.
Colonial Park is inside the city and is alleged to be haunted with numerous ghost sitings and apparitions. Laurel Grove Cemetery is on the East side of the city and includes the grave of Juliet Gordon Lowe (founder of the Girl Scouts) and James Pierpont, composer of Jingle Bells. This cemetery also has Baby Land which is a wide area, marked by wooden signs where babies were buried in unmarked graves during the early part of the 20th century when infant mortality was high and parents could not afford burial plots.

Do a Walking Tour
There's an excellent Savannah walking tour app for the iPhone. This is what we used. It takes you square by square. You can choose to do whichever ones you want, and take a day or several days. The Visitor center also has information on Walking Tours. You take in so much more on foot than by car or Trolley. We listened to the app dialog in the car while driving to Savannah. It gave a great background. Then we took the Trolley Ride. The next day we did a few squares on foot. This gives you time to notice the details.

The Vacation of Many Cars with Teens from Hell.

noreply@blogger.com (Mindie) — Wed, 31 Aug 2011 20:00:00 +0000

Single mother takes two teenagers and an eleven year old on a cross-country vacation. During the vacation she loses one car and buys three more. Surprisingly, her now-grown children remember this three weeks of hell as a fun summer when they got see Mount Rushmore, the Mall of America, Ed Debevick's (Chicago), Colorado Springs and Rocky Mountain National Park. No one would believe the real story. But it's true. I was the mother and there are three people who can confirm the details. Dominic, Daniel and Lara.

In 1995 I was a young widow, 36 years old. Dominic was sixteen, Daniel fourteen, and Lara had just turned eleven. I knew vacations were important. They created memories that lasted a lifetime. Even growing up in my crazy family that loved little and shared less, the best memories were of the vacations. I wanted my kids to have these memories.

So we piled in our Ford Econoline conversion van, equipped with a television (a big deal in 1995), comfy seats and a bed in the back, and room enough that no one had to be "touching" during the ride. We took to the road in August.

Keep in mind I'm traveling with teenagers. They have two main interests - constant personal fun and avoiding parents. They considered my ideas boring, my enthusiasm for the sites and venues silly. They questioned why I couldn't buy them more stuff. I embarrassed them. To them, I was a money machine who could drive.

Sound callous? You bet. You try schlepping adolescents across country in a car.

But I loved them. In fact, I was crazy about them ... each little negative, insecure, self-centered bit of them. I wanted them to have vacation memories, and was willing to suffer in order to provide them. The Vacation of Many Cars was mega-memory.

I had just made the final payment on the van before we left, and it was in great condition still with low mileage. It was a comfortable ride. First stop, Chicago. I booked us a room in the Omni downtown and took the kids to Ed Debevick's for dinner. Ed's is always a hit with kids. At Ed's, the help is rude and they insult the customers. Their motto is "Eat and get out!" The staff occasionally bursts into joint theatrics such as jumping on the diner counter (while customer's are eating) and breaking into a song-and-dance version of YMCA. As I suspected, my teenagers loved it.

Because I had a conversion van that was too tall for Chicago's parking garages, I chose valet parking and let the Omni figure out where to park our car. I planned to spend a full day in Chicago - Navy Pier, shopping on Michigan Avenue, Michael Jordans, Ed Debevick's - and then leave at dark to let these tired kids sleep their way across upper Illinois and WisCOWsin. The next stop was Mall of America in St. Paul. I planned to put the kids on shuttle to the Mall, sleep awhile in the hotel, and then join them later.

We had a glitch.

When valet parking went to retrieve our van, it was gone. Stolen. The attendant said, "Ma'am, I looked all over that lot for your car, and where it was... only glass now."

What to do, what to do? Omni put us up another night - this time in a complimentary suite. The kids loved this part because they got to stay in a three-room hotel suite with all-day movies and unlimited room service, while I solved our "no vehicle" problems.

My options were:

Fly home - This was very expensive and we had way too much stuff to be able to load it on a plane. Secondly, insurance wouldn't cover cost of flying home. Thirdly, kids would be gravely disappointed.
Rent a car - My insurance wouldn't cover the cost of a rental to replace a stolen truck - just a stolen car. The van was considered a truck. Secondly, mileage put on a rental would be over 5000. This was in the days before free unlimited mileage.
Buy another car - Seemed like the only alternative. Chicago PD almost guaranteed me that a stolen conversion van would never be found - not in one place anyway.

I bought a pre-owned conversion van from a Ford dealer, Chicago. It was older and not as nice, but it would do for finishing the vacation. It was a two-toned white Econoline with burgundy trim and matching crushed velvet interior. Yuk! I picked up the kids in our new (old) van and we drove through the Midwest dark to St. Paul.

Awful Ford Van Purchased at Chicago Dealership

I soon realized the air conditioning didn't work. There were also all kinds of wires running under the dash - obviously, some homemade electronics. The television stopped working shortly after we left Chicago. The blinds torn off and stereo tape player chewed up three tapes. My heart was sinking, the kids were complaining. I kept talking about the mall. They finally fell asleep.

We got into our hotel in St. Paul at 10 am the next morning. When we got out of the van, my son Dominic said, "Mom, this van is pink. Did you know that?"

Oh, my God! I had bought a pink vehicle. I felt so cheap. All I needed now was a pimp and blinds for the windows. Mental images of this van's prior life made me sick. It was dark outside when I bought it. I didn't detect the faint pastel pink color. The kids were mortified (except Lara who liked that we had a pink van). Me? Mental breakdown approaching.

But ... I managed to pull myself together. I sent my teenagers to the Mall with Lara and decided to ditch the van. With no sleep in 36 hours, I drove to Apple Ford in Minneapolis and explained the whole catastrophe to a nice salesman who assured me that they could trade in the van for another pre-owned vehicle. I opted for a Ford Bronco. It was a little smaller, no TV, $5000 more, but everything worked.

I left my sleazy pink van at Apple Ford and drove back to the hotel in a slick, forest green Ford Bronco that I imagined was previously owned by an L.L. Bean sort of guy who loved the outdoors and wore a lot of khaki colored clothes.

I was asleep for two hours before my hotel room phone rang. It was the young finance guy from Apple Ford asking me to bring the Bronco back. It seemed Ford Motor Credit couldn't complete the deal because it would take 3 days to get a clear title for the pink van. The deal was a non-deal. I told the finance guy to "Bite me." I said I had a temporary registration, the keys and the van, and paperwork glitches weren't my problem. I hung up.

An hour later the phone rang again. It was the same finance guy saying he was going to lose his job if I didn't return the car. He begged me. I caved. I drove my beautiful, forest green Ford Bronco that I had secretly named "Hunter" back to the dealership. With disgust I took back my pimp ride.

I went to pick up the kids at the Mall. After we ate dinner, I lost my 14 year old. You would not believe what you have to go through to retrieve a lost child from that monster of a complex. Working with Mall of America security, I watched a line of live-video monitors broadcasting various spots in the mall, and responded to officers on the monitors saying - "is this him? ... is that him?..." I was thinking, I could say yes to any number of kids, how would they know? How secure is this? Then I thought, who'd say yes to collect the wrong teenager? It's bad enough to have to say yes to get back the right one.

After about an hour they found him in a music store, not at all worried about his frantic mother.

This wrecked what was left of a barely bearable day. Signs of a nervous breakdown moved closer.

The next morning we left to drive across the Minnesota country side and the flat lands of South Dakota in an un-air-conditioned vehicle. Bored teenagers are a serious problem. Hot bored teenagers stuck in a car for 12 twelve hours - pending disaster. Hot, frustrated mother tasked with driving hot bored teenagers for said 12 hours, occasionally being flagged down by hookers who thought pink van was a rolling brothel - homicide risk. It was hell, but we eventually got to Mount Rushmore.

Lara in the Badlands

Seeing Mount Rushmore and the Crazy Horse Monument made us feel like we were back on vacation. We talked with Lakota Sioux Indians and visited the Rosebud Reservation where I recounted the story of Wounded Knee for them as we took in a panoramic view of the massacre site and cemetery. Then we saw the Badlands. This was a good few days. Crazy Horse is a wonderful site for teenagers. They can get into the stories of Indian persecution and the hero that rose from the ashes. And Crazy Horse's figure being chiseled into that mountainside is a powerful site. We wrapped up the South Dakota spur of our trip with a ride through the Bear Country Safari. Another hit with teens. They loved all the "DON"T GET OUT OF YOUR CAR" drama depicted on signs throughout the park.

Daniel - feeding prairie dog in South Dakota

Next stop - Denver. As long as we took the long parts of the drive at night, I figured the floozy mobile would serve adequate until I could get it back home and ditch it - or paint it. But disaster struck in Lusk, Wyoming, also known as "The Little Town with Big Possibilities."

It was 1 am in downtown Lusk. The only thing open was a gas station. It was so hot. We stopped for gas. While filling up, I attempted to open the locked door of the passenger side of the van. A car alarm went off. I didn't know the van had an alarm. We couldn't shut it off. Lights were going on in houses and buildings all around us - people being woken up from the sound. The attendant tried to help. No one could figure it out how to shut it off. My son Dominic (very shy) was mortified. I thought he would dissolve right there in the lot. Daniel and Lara hid in the van away from the prying eyes of the locals who were shocked at being disturbed at such an hour.

We had no choice but to wake up the town mechanic who lived outside the town limits. After 25 minutes of constant blaring, the mechanic arrived, looked under the hood, cut one wire with some snips, and the alarm stopped. I paid him $75. We slithered out of Lusk at 2 am.

On the night drive through Wyoming, I decided to buy a new car in Cheyenne and ditch this van regardless of the cost.

Our fist day in Cheyenne, I visited local Chevy dealer. I told my story to the top salesman there and said, "Can you take this van as a trade in, and finance a new vehicle I can drive away with today?" He said, "We'll make it happen." We surrendered the sleazy pink van and left in a brand new, metallic blue - 2 door - Chevy Blazer. We were off to Denver. And that little car transaction, only cost me $20,000.

Dominic at Rocky Mountain National Park

We visited Colorado Springs and Rocky Mountain National Park. The mountains didn't seem to impress the kids. Mountains were boring. They were at each other all the time, fighting. The boys were teasing the eleven year old. The Blazer was too small. They were cramped. Oh, the injustice of it all! They had to "touch" each other while riding.

I remember saying, "That's it! We're going home. Vacation's over." We left Denver and made it home in two days with the kids complaining the whole way. When we pulled into our driveway, the sense of relief felt by all four of us was palpable.

I considered the Vacation of Many Cars a disaster.

Dominic is 32 now and Daniel is 30. Lara is 27. I recently asked them about this vacation. They remembered it as being wonderful. Really!?!

Dominic said he loved Colorado Springs and giggled when he remembered the embarrassment of Lusk Wyoming. He recalled it perfectly. Daniel remembered Crazy Horse, Rushmore and prairie dogs. Of course, my little princess Lara remembered the shopping spree at Mall of America where she got some fantastic purple boots. All the memories were wonderful. Go figure.

For me ... the Vacation of Many Cars taught me some lessons. How to buy a car and .... how not to buy a car. How to survive (barely) a cross-country road trip with teenagers. More importantly, it taught me that vacations with teens are worth the trauma. It's an investment that pays off when they're older. All the memories magically turn good when they like you again.

I'm still crazy about each one of these remarkable people who happen to be my children. I can't wait until they begin their own family vacations and suffer through the same drama with their kids. And I'll be there to assure them that it will all work out for the best.

When they, "Mom, should I really drag these nasty teenagers along for vacation - a vacation they don't even want to go on? Nothing we do ever makes them happy. They try our patience at every turn."

I'll remind them that making vacation memories is worth it in the end. I'll encourage them to endure the trauma, because I want my grandchildren to have the same fond memories of travel ... but also I get a wicked sense of satisfaction in knowing my children will go through the same hell.

Consequenses of Defriending or Unfriending on Facebook.

noreply@blogger.com (Mindie) — Mon, 29 Aug 2011 22:54:00 +0000

Unfriending or defriending (same thing) a person on Facebook can be costly if you're using Facebook to advance your business or cause. Most of us have done it - and most of us have had it done to us. Unfriending seems to stick in our minds ... if we are the "unfriended."

Unlike "hiding" friends on Facebook - where you exclude their posts from your newsfeed (and they never know), unfriending cuts the connection completely. It's forever.

When you unfriend people you're telling them that there's no place in your Facebook world for them. They are so offensive or obnoxious or boring that hiding isn't enough. You've got to cut the cord, slam the door, exclude them from your circle.

Defriending hurts.

Men have a harder time with this concept than women - thinking that being defriended hurts, but men typically have a harder time with reconciling feelings ... oh, never mind.

Trust me, on this one. If you're using Facebook to advance your business, unfriending can cost you.

People Know When You Defriend

While Facebook doesn't officially notify the defriended, they usually figure it out. To unfriend a person, you must go to that person's page, scroll down to the bottom left and click on a link that says Remove from Friends - then respond to a pop-up menu that says Are you sure you want to remove [your friend's name here] as your friend?

Unfriending is never accidentally done.

You hear it all the time in friendly conversation. "She defriended me" or "I used to be that guy's friend on Facebook. I wonder if he unfriended me." Then there's the awkwardness of meeting the person you unfriended face-to-face. There's that quiet tension. Thoughts race - "Does he know I unfriended him? Is he still using Facebook? Geez, I hope I never need him for anything."

Yeah .. that's the rub - meeting the unfriended and needing something from her like a referral, or a recommendation or an invitation to participate in an networking event, or just to sit casually with her circle of friends. In the social world this is no big deal. But in the networking business world, it can be a killer. You'll find yourself praying the unfriended will forget your stupidly and not trash your name all over town.

If you don't like seeing someone's posts in your newsfeed, hide them. They'll never know. If you want to know what they're posting, visit their walls or unhide them. There's no cost.

There's a cost to defriending. If you're going to do it, be sure the value you get is worth it.

Some People Deserve to be Defriended

There are certain behaviors on Facebook that are unacceptable. Set your standards and have a formula you use for who gets defriended. It's easier to follow standards than to make an arbitrary decision in the midst of conflict or tension.

Here are some good reasons to defriend:

Socially inappropriate behavior - judged the same virtually as person. Includes using profanity, suggestive language, inappropriate photos
Flaming friends in the comments section of your post - flaming = heated / disrespectful confrontation
Direct selling (only pushes a product or agenda on Facebook)
Flinging moral judgements against you or your friends - preaching, prejudice, bigotry.
Marginalizing your access to his or her wall. Through the Facebook privacy settings the friend allows a select group post to her wall, and see her postings, but you're not in that group. You're on the "B" list.

These behaviors would be unacceptable in any social situation. Set your own standards and stick to them.

When in Doubt - Hide

If a Facebook friend has offended you, bored you and you're not sure if it will cost you to defriend, just hide the person. Unhide later... or never. You still won't be subjected to the undesirable behavior.

PREVENTATIVE MEASURES: Consider who you allow to be your friend. If a request comes from someone you don't know, you've never met, or looks a little strange in her profile pic, qualify the potential friend first by sending a message. Your social media network is an asset. Manage it well and you'll become a magnet for opportunity. Mismanage it and its value and its power decreases.

Gay People Are Everywhere

noreply@blogger.com (Mindie) — Sun, 21 Aug 2011 19:35:00 +0000

In April of this year, a bill came before the Maryland General Assembly that if passed would allow same sex persons to be married. Just before the vote I was at a reception which included some Maryland legislators (State Senators and State Delegates- for those not up on government lingo).

A friend of mine who is a former journalist and spunky enough to ask anybody anything asked an ultra conservative legislator if he planned on voting YES to the same sex marriage bill.

He rolled his eyes and said, "No."

She asked him "Why? Is it moral reasons or religious ... or..?"

He cut her off and said, "It's strictly for financial reasons. I'm basing my vote on money!"

I had to ask.

"What do you mean, financial reasons?" I quietly asked him in an inquisitive tone.

He replied with great conviction and gi-nor-mouse hand motions and complementary facial expressions, "Look, I don't care what you do. I don't care what they do. That's between them. But I don't want to pay for THEIR benefits. Why should THEY have the same rights as married couples and get the same tax breaks?"

Because I work for the state of Maryland and was at this function as part of my job, I said nothing, which was the proper thing to do. I don't get paid to have political opinions or express them.

But I'm home now at my personal computer on Sunday and I have something to say to the Senator.

Dear Senator,

Gay people aren't like African Americans or Asians or Latinos. You can't tell what constituency they represent just by looking at them. Gay people are everywhere. And they have mothers, and fathers, and siblings and close friends who love them deeply. And who would be repulsed by your comments.

Anyone who knows a gay person intimately - sibling, close friend, child, parent - knows that he or she is a human being who happens to be gay. Gayness is not a trait or a choice.

I figure you must think being gay is a choice and not an inherent part of a person's human composition. I'm basing this assumption on your comment, "I don't care what you do." That seems to define the gay person by sexual behavior alone. Is that how your marriage is defined? Is it possible you are wrong, Senator? What are the repercussions of your behavior - if you are wrong?

This is civil rights issue. My gay loved ones should not be denied their civil rights because you think it's an unfair burden on the tax payers - any more than we should deny children the right to an education, or citizens the right to public safety... both burdens to the tax payer.

And lastly... I will NEVER forget what you said. If I live to be 114, I won't forget your words and how they stung. Those comments will be forever associated with my memory of you and what you stand for. And someday, when those yet unborn look back on history, you, Senator, will be one of those remembered for marginalizing these people and denying them their civil rights.

photo from Huffington Post

Amy Winehouse is Dead - and I Care

noreply@blogger.com (Mindie) — Sun, 24 Jul 2011 14:53:00 +0000

I never knew her. I'd never even heard of her. In my music collection of over 5000 CDs and nearly 5 GB of music on my iPod, there was none of Amy's music.

I never listen to the radio or watch network television, so I'm uninformed about the latest music trends. All these years I've focused on music I like - folk, or Irish or instrumental, and I missed out on new genres, so I never knew Amy's music, or anything about her behavior.

After Amy Winehouse died yesterday of a drug overdose, my Facebook newsfeed was filled with comments about her. Most agreed that a great talent had been lost. But many withheld compassion or sympathy stating Amy Winehouse was spoiled, weak, too rich for her own good and pathetic.

She's Got Talent

Several Facebook friends sent me links to Amy's music. I after listening I can see that this lady was mega-talented. She had amazing voice control, with an ability to add a style that transports the listener emotionally. That's art. And talent like that lives long after death.

I wonder if the same Facebook friends who condemned Amy in their comments would do the same to - say- Vincent Van Gough. He was a certifiable fruit loop. Cut off his ear and all, and eventually .. after rejecting lots of help from loved ones, shot himself. Do we walk into MOMA and scowl at Starry Night while muttering that Vincent wasted his talent, he was selfish and spoiled and just another pathetic artist / loser who refused to get help?

Do we throw all our Mark Twain books in the trash because he selfishly squandered his family's wealth, made bad investments, lost the big house, forced his family to have to live abroad, and emotionally abused his daughter (who was also his final caretaker) - before he finally died a cantankerous, lonely death?

Do we turn off the Wizard of Oz because the star selfishly embraced life in the fast lane and eventually OD'd leaving behind her devoted fans - and her children?

Many artistic legends …. Oscar Wilde, Virginia Wolf, Hemingway, Mozart, Freddie Mercury … All had great talent. All drove their loved ones crazy and came to sad, lonely ends. But we continue to be transformed by what they left behind. As time goes on people stop judging them … because art lives, it transcends our worldly existence, it transports us into the Divine presence … and it's bigger than the humans who create it.

That is enough said about the talent part of Amy Winehouse. Whether she's dead or alive, whether she was selfish or stupid, her art lives and has moved enough listeners to fill up concert halls and win her five Grammys.

Art is a soul to soul communication. And apparently, Amy Winehouse was a master.

She Was an Addict

Each person sees addicts through a particular set of lenses. To some, addicts are selfish because they won't get well or weak because they won't get better... when the cost of not recovering is so great. And to others, addicts need our help, understanding and / or compassion, because they are suffering from an illness. Personal experience prescribes the lenses.

All humans have flaws, and addiction magnifies them. In truth, all addicts are not created equal, and every addict's story has a different plot line. Many things in a life impact recovery. Self motivation and choice are two of those things.

I'm thinking, if you didn't know Amy personally, you should probably withhold judgement.

How Callous Have We Become?

I was surprised by the Facebook comments from what I call the "Amy shouldn't have said 'no, no, no' to rehab" group. While I respect each friend's right to express his or her opinion - and I love a healthy debate - I'm shocked that people can casually remove the human element from this tragedy, and fling out comments like candy in a parade.

She was selfish. She was weak. She wasted her life. She was spoiled. She threw it all away. We're better off without one more selfish rock star ... or the worst ...Who cares?

A young woman is dead. There are people who knew her and loved her who mourn the loss. Only they know her story. Others only know what the media writes. Not a reliable source, that.

A light has gone out. Have we become so hardened by this pop culture that surrounds us, that we forget this was a human being…. and that "...there but for the grace of God goes you - or I?"

Try watching someone you unconditionally love - like your child, or your parent or your sibling - struggle with addiction. It's so easy to judge those at an emotional distance. People feel a sense of power when they pass judgement. It makes them feel all smart and authoritative. I draw this conclusion by being a judgmental, opinionated sort myself. But there are boundaries… I don't know enough about Amy to judge her. And if I did, I'd keep quiet for awhile - just out of respect for life and death.

To my Christian friends …

I'm thinking Jesus wouldn't have passed judgement on Amy, and he wouldn't have wanted us to either. That New Testament story about the prostitute and casting the first stone was pretty powerful. Maybe your sin isn't addiction, but you've got sin - I've got sin.

If I had to be remembered as being on one side of that parable, I'd opt for being on Jesus' side and not the side of the angry mob. Think about it. Who is the angry mob in this scenario?

Some of the same devout Christians I've heard say, "God never gives up on you" spewed venom on the Internet about Amy Winehouse's demise.

Can you say hypocrite?

Separate the Talent from the Addiction

Like most great artists, Amy Winehouse had her madness. She gave us what she gave us, and that will likely live beyond her death.

Her personal life is not for me to judge. I believe that a soul loved by a compassionate Creator deserves to pass into the that Creator's benevolent arms, without a diatribe of condemning comments from people who never knew her.

It seems as time goes by, society forgets the flaws of great artists. Destructive behaviors, craziness and selfishness become a minor part of the biography, and fruits of the artist's creativity dominate the memory.

Perahps time will be kind to Amy Winehouse.

5 Do's and Don'ts for Facebook Pages

noreply@blogger.com (Mindie) — Thu, 07 Apr 2011 01:27:00 +0000

Yesterday, I noticed two thirds of the posts on my Facebook Newsfeed were from PAGES not profiles. Some pages had posted 3 to 7 times that day alone. The posts ranged from direct marketing (new promotion, special offer, we're great) to arbitrary posts with links and videos attached.

Today I noticed a PAGE had a third party application called FeedBlitz attached to its PAGE where entire blog posts were fed into the Facebook PAGE status. I got three today - combined word count - 1234 from those three posts.

I fear there's some trainer out there saying, "Shove content at people any way you can - Facebook, Twitter, Blogging, LinkedIn. In fact, hook them all together with one application to really maximize the power." They're maximizing power, all right. But it won't reflect well on those shoving the content.

It's so annoying. As a Facebook user and as a writer, I get that PAGES can assist an overall marketing plan and help businesses and organizations, but if you annoy potential customers / members, and force them to hide you or unlike your PAGE, what's the point?

5 FACEBOOK PAGE DOs and DON"Ts

Don't ...

clog up my Newsfeed - Remember, when you invite a person to LIKE your PAGE, you ask that person to allow your posts to show up in his or her newsfeed. Everytime you or admins post in the status bar on the page, you send that post to each fan's newsfeed. Facebook is a "social" platform that spins on the axis of the personal profile. Remember folks are there to engage socially with Facebook friends. Pages are an added bonus not the basis of the platform. One post is day or five posts a week is plenty. More than that is SPAM in my opinion. If you want to post several times a day, do it from your profile.
direct sell - Naturally, you have a Facebook Page so you can eventually market your products, services or organization. But if you consistently do that, it annoys people. No one wants to sign up for commercials. The Page should serve the fans. Mention your services or products in the context of serving the fans.
think Facebook is Twitter, LinkedIn or your blog - Each of these platforms has a certain accepted protocol. Each is very different. Avoid using all-in-one programs that send every posts to all of your social media platforms at once.
use more than three or four lines in your posts - Text intensive posts from the status bar are often passed by. People like short. Make use of NOTES in Facebook. They are a fabulous tool that allows you to put more text in a separate, linked page. NOTES also allows you to use photo images, and can easily be shared by your fans on their profile pages which attracts more fans to your page.
double post between your Page and you Profile - I learned this the hard way. I'd post something to a page and then re-post the same thing from my profile thinking all my friends weren't necessarily fans and I wanted the widest exposure. One of my friends told me he saw no use in being a fan of my page. He figured he got all the same stuff being my friend. Duplicate posts clog up the newsfeed. If you've already posted to your Page, change the post for your profile, and post it at a different time.

Do ...

make your Page one that "serves" your fans - The Facebook PAGE should be one that gives the fans what they want - not what the administrator wants to shove at them. Post something you'd like to read yourself.
encourage comments and engage the fans in conversation - The statistics for Facebook Pages overwhelmingly show that the most successful, influential Pages are those with a lot of interaction with the fans. If you're getting lots of comments, you're doing well. As the administrator, you should recognize each post and as many comments as possible. People want to know someone is listening.
allow fans to post and welcome controversy- I've seen many pages where administrators don't allow fans to post to the page. Spammers are out there and I, too have been a victim of having someone spam my page. I remedy that by checking my pages everyday, sometimes two or three times. If I find spam, I report it to Facebook and delete the post. When gauging spam comments over the hundreds of non-spam, it's less than 5% spam. The interaction with the fans is the lifeblood of the page. Also sometimes I get people who challenge my posts or publicly disagree with me. As long as it's respectful, this is a good thing. It encourages interaction which is the lifeblood of your page.
allow the fans to know who you are - With every good fan page there's a curiosity of who is behind the page. Let your fans know that though the page is called "XYZ Services" there is a face behind the page that belongs to a person.
protect your fans from third party sellers on your page - I frequently have fans post about their own competitive pages or venues on the fan page. This isn't necessarily a bad thing ... it's all in how it's done. If your fans think they're going to get commercials from other people when they visit your page, they'll leave. They'll Unlike your page. And you may never know why. A good rule of thumb is ... if it sounds like "selling" delete the comment. If it happens a second time, delete and warn the poster through a private message. Third time - block!

One more pet peeve .... Don't force me to a landing page. Lots of people disagree with me on this, but I hate when I go to a Page and I land on something other than the wall. If I see a special landing page, I'll find it myself. I don't need to be escorted to what you want me to see first. It feels like selling.

Facebook pages have made me considerable money, but only as an indirect support that gains exposure for my work. I may not be an expert, but I've had great success. I'd also love to hear how some of you have made PAGES work. Please pass on your idea.

Next post I'll discuss 5 of my favorite facebook pages and what makes them great. Stay tuned.

By the way, if you're interested in looking at my Pages ...

Haunted Eastern Shore

Thin Places Mystical Tour of Ireland

Viral Networking With Social Media

How to Target Posts and Read Exclusive Newsfeeds on Facebook

noreply@blogger.com (Mindie) — Fri, 11 Mar 2011 14:09:00 +0000

Have you ever wished you could post a status that would only get read by a certain group of friends - perhaps work colleagues, or people in a certain geographic area?

Have you ever wished you could post a status that would only get read by a certain group of friends - perhaps work colleagues, or people in a certain geographic area?

Have you ever wanted to post a photo that you didn't want all your Facebook friends to find in their Newsfeeds?

MAXIMIZING THE USE OF FRIENDS LISTS
For those of us in business there are times when we fear we'll boring our friends and family with the posts that pertain to business, or want to make a inside joke that only old high school friends would understand. Posts that fit everyone become more challenging to create as our number of Facebook friends grows.

Facebook has created a built in capacity for managing friends from diverse social associations. The tool for organizing groups of friends is the Friends List. Currently I have over 1000 Facebook friends. All are organized into a series of Facebook lists. Some by geographic area, some by niche associations (old friends, family, writers, travel, business development). This makes it easy for me to post to certain groups and read Newsfeeds exclusive to certain groups (comes in handy when you have limited time to scan your Newsfeed and want to be sure to see posts from certain groups).

CREATING A LIST

Click on ACCOUNT (upper right of Facebook screen near PROFILE), then Edit Friends, Create List. Enter the name for the list in the box provided. Click on the icons of all your friends to go on this list. Save.

HINT: I find that typing in the names that come to mind in the search box provided above the friend icons is helpful. I do that first, then scroll the icons and click on friends to complete the list.

HINT 2: Friends can be added to multiple lists. For example, someone in my FAMILY list might also be on my DC AREA.

POST TO .... and READING FROM ... Specific Lists

To Read a Newsfeed containing posts ONLY of friends on an Exclusive list.

Activate the MOST RECENT feed at the top right of your Newsfeed.
Click on the down arrow next to Most Recent to activate the drop drown menu. Your first few lists with "choose another" will appear. If the list you want is not visible, click Choose Another to reveal all of your Friends Lists.
Select a List to aggregate a Newsfeed of those friends exclusively.
A Newsfeed will appear that contains only posts from friends on that selected list.

To Post only to a specific list

Activate the MOST RECENT feed at the top right of your Newsfeed.
Click on the down arrow next to Most Recent to activate the drop drown menu. Your first few lists with "choose another" will appear. If the list you want is not visible, click Choose Another to reveal all of your Friends Lists.
Select a List. What you post here, will ONLY appear in the Newsfeeds of the Friends on that list.

NOTE: This technique does not make your posts inaccessible to friends not on that list. Those friends can still find the post on your wall. This is simply a way to target certain Newsfeeds and highlight certain posts.

More Social Media Tips on the Viral Networking Facebook Fan Page.

Uncle Tony on President Roosevelt and Cowboys

noreply@blogger.com (Mindie) — Sat, 05 Mar 2011 14:43:00 +0000

Guest blogger today is Antonio Granados, a retired Marine Major, father of six, native Marylander and patriarch of my Granados family. Uncle Tony is one of the best story tellers I know, and every morning there is a story or two in my inbox from him. This one of the many I thought was worth sharing with all of you.

78 years ago today, March 4, 1933, I went from my home in Riverdale, MD, into Washington, D.C. to see the parade celebrating the Inauguration of Franklin Delano Roosevelt.

As a ten year old kid, I worked my way into the front of the line of parade viewers at Pennsylvania Avenue and "E" Street, NW. I saw President Hoover and President Elect Roosevelt ride up to the Capitol in an open Limo. and then I saw them come back as Ex-President Hoover and President Roosevelt.

The parade started and, to me, it was very exciting. Talk about the
expectations from a new President! I don't think that there has ever been more expectation than what the country expected of President Roosevelt.

As an historic event it was unique, however in all honesty, I wasn't there to see the history, I was there to see the most famous cowboy of all time, Tom Mix and his horse Tony. My patience paid off. Finally, there came Tom Mix on his horse prancing down Pennsylvania Avenue with Tom waving his huge, white, cowboy hat to me and all the other parade spectators. Opened mouth, I felt I had seen god.

There were many other displays in the parade, like famous, female movie stars sitting in chairs on a slowly revolving platform. I couldn't tell one from another because they were all beautiful and with their makeup on, they all looked the same to me. I watched the parade until I got bored and then left. I saw what I came to see, so for me, the parade was over.

I went home to the reality of the Great Depression, older men selling apples on the street corners for 5¢ each and jobs, if you could get one, in grocery stores paying $14.00 a week to a married man with a family. Things were tough.....just like today.....maybe a little worse.

Antonia Granados writes from his home in Levittown, PA

Bonaventure Cemetery - Ghosts, Gardens and Art on the Wilmington River

noreply@blogger.com (Mindie) — Wed, 02 Mar 2011 09:31:00 +0000

Savannah, Georgia is a city of superlatives ... America's most haunted city, home to the First African Baptist Church, the oldest city in Georgia with oldest building still standing in the state (Pirates House), the oldest continually operational theater in United States (Savannah Theater), and ... the most scenic cemetery in America.

That would be Bonaventure.

This particular cemetery lies outside the historic city limits. It was once a plantation graced with a beautiful mansion owned by a man who planted a live oak every 15 feet along the roadway winding through the plantation. Some of those oaks still stand. These holy trees nurture the landscape, holding the memories of all that has happened at Bonaventure, every sorrow, every joy.

Locals say one Christmas around 1800, there was a great party at the plantation house. A fire broke out. The host didn't panic, rather he simply moved the party outside, apparently unruffled by the drama. The house burned and burned, but the host and guests remained calm and celebratory refusing to allow the tragedy to dampen the festivities. They dined outside while the house burned to the ground. The host cast his wine glass against an oak tree as a sign of celebration. His guests copied his action in some sort of high-spirited demonstration of happiness despite the uncontrollable destruction in the background. They laughed, they sang, they danced. On cool autumn nights when the moon and wind are just right, lurkers near Bonaventure hear the crashing of goblets against the oak and the laughter of the guests.

A great Live Oak dominates the entrance of Bonaventure Cemetery. Perhaps it's the same one that took the brunt of the hurled wine glasses that Christmas long ago. Stories from of Savannah's past like the one of the plantation owner hang thick over Bonaventure. Every plot, has a story. Many are decorated with stone memorials that open the door to that eternal world for the visitor that has a spirit sensitive to art.

Conrad Aiken's stone with the quote, "Cosmos Mariner - Destination Unknown"rests just opposite of his parents who died as a result of a murder / suicide when Conrad was just a child. Composer, Johnny Mercer lies in a family plot where all his family members have epitaphs extracted from the text of his songs. Scores of Civil War soldiers are memorialized, some with their swords, bronzed and melded to the burial vaults. Then there's little Gracie Watson. The silent tomb of a six year only child of parents who ran a large hotel in town. Just before Easter they bought Gracie a new outfit and had her photograph made. She died six weeks later. The grief stricken parents had her buried at Bonaventure and marked her grave with a life size statue sculpted by John Walz.

Savannahians wanted Bonaventure to be like a park where visitors could come and walk in a peaceful setting, surrounded by the lush, southern landscape dappled with remarkable art memorializing the sons and daughters of Savannah. The art at Bonaventure speaks in a way art in a house or museum cannot. In this place, the setting is married to the art object and together they create a tapestry that includes every image in the setting... including the visitor.

Bonaventure has a magnetic draw, pulling the visitor into someplace not of this world. Into the stories of the people under the markers, into the landscape itself where the visitor becomes an image in a working story that hasn't ended yet.

We visited Bonaventure with our son and daughter-in-law and our little granddaughter. Our Bonaventure story is captured in the slide show below. It shows contrast between life and death, sadness and joy, hope and despair in that quintessential southern setting. This stop was my favorite of the entire Savannah visit.