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Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 13, 2018

What am I?

My Rook grandparents, probably mid-1920s
Given my lifelong interest in all things historical, I've been gobbling up information from one of my cousins who did a geneology DNA test. We share my maternal and her paternal grandparents, and the main name, Rook, dead stops in early 1800s Kentucky. Did someone reinvent themselves under a new name? Anything is possible. It certainly happened. Or are there records out there waiting to be found? Time may tell.

Anyway, like everyone, we like to think of being related to someone important, don't we? I mean, my maiden name is Spencer. I figured if there were any big names to be found, it would be on that side of the tree, but so far, no one that I know of has gotten that far with any research. My Rook cousin, however is going at it like mad, and I'm so glad she's sharing it with me, just because I find it, well, interesting. Not to mention the zillion plot bunnies it's got running around through my head.

While the Rook line disappears, one of the maternal lines off of that takes us way, way back. There's a connection to the Adams family of Boston (Presidents would be my many-many-times cousins.) from there we go back to England and tie in with the rather famous Cromwell clan. Oliver (mostly remembered as a bad guy) would have been a cousin, but going back to the time of Henry VIII, his advisor Thomas Cromwell, (who like so many people close to Henry wound up headless) is a fascinating character. He's my 18th generation direct ancestor. What does that mean statisically? Basically 1 in (2 to the 18th power), or 1/262144 of  my genes could come from him. Hardly significant. Just--interesting.

Going even further back, I'm apparently a descendent of Emperor Charlemagne of France, meaning, even more amusing to my sense of humor, his father Pepin the Short. I'm 5'0". Seems appropriate.

me and my mom, 1990s
Also, we'd always been told there was some Native American in the family. Well, it seems not. Romany and Jewish, yes. No idea where the Romany ties in, but the Jewish names pop up in the 17 and 1800s. So that's cool, though I'm kind of disappointed about the (assumed) Cherokee. No Irish, which I always thought was a big component, but a bunch of German and Dutch and Scottish I had no idea about, and way more French. Parlez-vous francais? Oui, mais un peu, seulement. (I speak French but only a little.) Frankly I can't wait to get a test run myself. I'm sure about English, Irish and French on the Spencer side, but we'll have to wait and see. Oh, the plot bunnies! Better than the one who brings chocolate eggs!

***

From now through the end of March, one of my most popular books ever, Steam & Sorcery, the bestselling and EPIC award winning starter of my Gaslight Chronicles series, is on sale, only at Kindle, for $1.99. This book got 4.5 stars from Romantic Times, and Library Journal called the series "Probably the ultimate in steampunk romance." Get it here.




Thursday, January 14, 2016

When "Life" Collides With Writing...What's the Outcome? by Marianne Stephens



I'm at a point in my life where family obligations seem to increase. Funny...I always thought that as my kids grew older and left home my life would be easier. I'd have more time to do "me" things. As I get older, I seem to have more to do than ever before!

Yes, kids grow, but they still need MOM now and then. And, then there are the adorable grandkids. I want to be with them. I want to watch them grow. Raising my kids was a work in progress; kids don't come with manuals. You do "on the job" learning with your own kids. Grandkids...been there, done that so you can sit back and enjoy them.

As we get older, so do our parents. People live longer. The mother who once raised me now needs my attention and help as she slips further into dementia. I'm blessed to still have her but she's no longer "here" for my questions and needs. The roles have reversed.

I tried scheduling my life, but that no longer works. My husband just retired and my schedule no longer works. I even forget what day it is at times. We're "bonding" more and have plans to travel; enjoy things we haven't done before.

So...where does writing fit into my life now?

It's been tough trying to balance time for everything. Writing and time on the computer has become less frequent than before. Good thing? Yes. Bad thing? Yes.

See...I can't make up my mind and figure it all out. Some depression has crept into my life, and for the first time, I'm not sure how this will all settle in "Marianne's daily life".

I stopped writing novels and have only been writing short stories. That makes it easier for me to continue writing and have more free time for family. I love being part of Romance Books '4' Us: the yahoo group, blog, and website. I have so many friends who are like family in RB4U...and I'm grateful for their support.

Since I just went to my 50th high school reunion, this isn't a midlife crisis...I'm older than 65! Baby Boomer crisis? Hum. Maybe that's it!

Anyway, I'll be here and there, on loops, FB, twitter, etc. And, I'll write when life gives me a sanity break.

Anyone else in the Baby Boomer category...or any age...feel torn like I do?

Marianne
http://www.mariannestephens.com
http://www.romancebooks4us.com
http://naughtyliterati.com

photos:Flickr:Leland Francisco and Bill Harrison's photostreams

Monday, June 9, 2014

You Are Your Mother's Daughter.... A Reflection on Father's Day.

Hello everyone! Melissa Keir here to share with you some musings on family and life growing up in a small Ohio town. My mother passed away quite unexpectedly about fifteen years ago. She'd been a fighter all her life...battling cancer and other health scares. Of course I identified with her, but I felt that distanced me from my dad. I reflected on my relationship with him and wrote this essay to him which I shared on his big birthday among his closest friends. With Father's Day this month, it seemed appropriate that I share it again with all of you! Also- please share some of your own favorite memories with your fathers. <3




You Are Your Mother’s Daughter

“You’re your mother’s daughter” were words my dad wrote to me in response to an essay I wrote about food and the generational quality of it.  His words were meant as a compliment pointing out how much I am like my mother.  It made me happy to think of being so much like her but it also hurt.  “The pen is mightier than the sword” was never truer.  What we say in writing can wound and at two am I was worried that in some way, my essay had hurt my father with those words.  However these four words sent me on a journey down memory lane during the wee darkness of the morning…because if I am my mother’s daughter, I am also my father’s daughter.

Hard working is my strongest memory of my father.  Not only was his job incredibly physical, as a foreman at the local steel plant, but it was a mentally demanding job.  He worked the swing shift which meant that he would often work strange hours and sleep strange hours.  “Don’t wake your father” were words to live by! His schedule could and often did change daily.  To drive your body to that point takes not only physical but mental acuity.  But more than the hard work he did on the job, my father worked around the house and at many of my other family members’ homes too, fixing roofs, building decks, or helping to paint the house!  At no time did I hear my father complain about the work or refuse to help.  Maybe that is a part of the code he was raised by but he set a powerful standard that I have always attempted to reach. 

Personal responsibility was also an important part of my dad.  I remember when I was a teenager with a new car.  He told me that in order to be able to drive that car, I needed to know how to take care of it.  Two days I labored trying to figure out how to open the hood and check the oil.  At any time, I could have asked for help but I wanted to prove that I was able to do this.  I wanted to earn his respect.  His modeling of personal responsibility taught me to take my knocks for the things that I did wrong.  How absolutely frightening were the words “Wait till your father gets home!”  My mom could utter those in a whisper and we would sit with fear because we knew we had done something bad…something that we may face a consequence for but face it we would, you could count on that!  Today, so many parents let their children off easy for fear of harming their child’s self esteem but I am glad that my father taught me to take the good with the bad and own up for what I did.  No point in running from consequences, God or Karma has a way of catching you and making you face the music and no excuse will change that fact.

While hard work and personal responsibility were vital to my father, emotions were a tough one.  He grew up in a time when men didn’t show their emotions. Yet God felt the need to saddle this man with five daughters (yes, I did say five).  The emotional roller coasters he dealt with were staggering.  Honestly, that man must have earned sainthood as we went through teenage hormones!  There are photos of him holding each new baby with a look of awe on his face.  And the laughter that could be heard as he chased us around the house as a snarling monster was music for angel’s ears!   One story that he likes to share of my childhood is the burning desire I had for a puppy.  We had other pets, gerbils, hamsters and many cats growing up.   One day one of these kittens had climbed into my dad’s wheel well of his car (only a kitten knows why they do this).  On this day, my father had to work and the car quickly became a killing machine.  Horrified about how to break this information to his young daughter, my father must have agonized over telling me.  (Having children of my own- I know how heartbreaking it is to share bad news with them.)  Knowing my dad, the worry about the emotional toll it would have on me, fearing that I was scarred for life, he shared it in the kindest most sympathetic way.  Only to get a response from me, “Okay, now we can get a puppy?”  I have seen this man marry off his daughters, hold his grandchildren in his arms, and bury his loved ones with out shedding a tear but his emotions were there on his face for all to witness.  A few quiet words or a small gesture from my father conveys a whole conversation of emotion.  Clint Eastwood in Gran Torino has nothing on my father!   

So back to those four simple words- “You’re your mother’s daughter.”  I am proud to say that I am also my father’s daughter.  We are all a product of the millions of people and connections that we make during our lifetimes.  But our parents become the heroes of childhood, the dreams of what success means, and the sculptors of our personality.  During a time of crisis at the steel plant, one of my father’s employees told me that “my father was the best manager and he wouldn’t do anything to harm him if he had to cross the picket line.”  What respect!  So I hope to be my father’s daughter, with a strong work ethic, personal responsibility and the compassion to do what is right.  Thank you Dad!

Happy Father's Day to Dad's, Grandpa's, Uncle's, 
and Father figures everywhere! 
Be sure to leave your favorite Father's Day memory! 

Melissa Keir- Sexy Between the Covers @http://www.melissakeir.com 

Friday, May 9, 2014

A Mom's Guilt

I want to share with you a piece I wrote a few years ago about a mom's guilt. We all deal with it. Some of us struggle more than others. Luckily I have some wonderful children, yet the guilt is still present each day. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

It is fitting that I had this conversation with my son just recently since Mother’s Day is coming up.  Often I hear other people tell me that being a parent means dealing with daily guilt and I suppose that is true.  Since children don’t come with instruction manuals, we are on our own to know what we need to do to make them successful, happy, well-adjusted, and loved. “Did you give them enough attention?  Did you listen to classical music while you were pregnant so that they will become the next Mozart?”  “Were you too brisk with them when they brought you that snake as a gift?”   Some of these things are easier than others and of course, there are times when all those things are very difficult.  If you don’t believe me, just wait until your teenager tells you that they had a “small accident” in your new car! 



As a divorced parent, you face even more guilt.  No matter how wonderful the divorce is, or how necessary, your children’s lives are changed for good.  You begin to question every decision that you made and wonder if you have somehow “damaged” your babies! “Is this house good enough?”  “Should I get mad if they act out or is it because of the divorce?”  If you are lucky enough to find someone who you love and want to spend time with... and are even more lucky to find someone who wants to be with you (kids and all), you face guilt over juggling this fresh romance with the needs of your children.  You might as well build a new garage to house your guilt! “Am I spending too much time with my new boyfriend?”  “Do my children feel that they have been replaced?”



Add to this mix, being a teacher and you have a treacherous situation!  Teachers look at children all day long and question what the parents did or didn’t do to produce these little wonders or little terrors!  We also worry about our progenies acting like some of our little challenges when our own children get to school!  “Will my daughter act up in class?”  “Will my son turn in his homework?”  And with the worry comes the conviction that if the child is a tribulation, it must be because of the parents!  Just shovel the guilt on our shoulders! 

Finally, I decided to call my almost 17 year old son to ask him this one question that had been on my mind all day - “With all that you had gone through in life, how did you turn out so trustworthy?”  I think he was a little shocked that I thought he was such a dependable and honorable young man because it isn’t something that we have talked about before.  He was probably also a little stunned that I wanted to hear his thoughts.  But I thought for sure he had the answer that would help me be a better teacher and give me some perfect insight into what I must have done right!



Let me tell you a little about my son.  He has a wonderful sarcastic sense of humor which hides a very caring nature.  He used to cry if he thought that you were upset or sad as a child.  He faced his share of childhood illnesses and accidents, yet came away not too scared to keep trying.  He looks up to his older sister and admits a little competitiveness to be better than her!  Nonetheless, she was his closest confidant and staunchest supporter when he faced bullies in middle school.  Finally my son has the nature of a miser and will not spend money on things if he feels that they are too expensive.  He would rather give up certain items (or now that he is older-get his own job) because he doesn’t want to hurt us (his parents) financially.

So this was the guy that I went to for some help.  One of the biggest things that he felt was important was the nagging that we did as parents.  He said that he did hear it.  So don’t give up on the million reminders to do your homework or to just walk away when you are being picked on!!  They do hear you!!  Another factor was his personal determination to be a success.  He doesn’t have an exact day or event that caused this but around 8th or 9th grade; he realized that good grades were important to him and his future goals, career, and successes.  And while the time and effort that he sometimes has to put into his school work is vast and the work that he has to do is tedious, the final outcome is worthwhile. My son’s final piece of advice was to have a good sense of humor, using this to be true to yourself and not let the world get you down.  With humor, he has found that it is easier to stand up for yourself, avoid conflicts, and surround yourself with people who accept you as you are. 



So after about an enjoyable hour on the phone, I thought, “Seems simple!  Seems like something that we all can do!!”  And I also was very glad that I had done something right throughout those almost 17 years! I have some pretty magnificent children!   Even with all the things that we worry about and feel guilty over; our children really do appreciate what we have given them, the foundation that they need to become breathtaking adults. 


Happy Mother’s Day!  Laugh a lot, live well, and love unconditionally!  

Melissa Keir is an award winning author of small town contemporary romances with sizzle. She loves to connect with readers and can be found on facebook and her website.

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

All about Love


Valentine's Day is coming up soon, and although I'm not an authority on love I'm a romantic suspense author who writes about love.  The old saying: Love thy neighbor as you do yourself comes to mind.  Who do you love?

There are many different kinds of love. For instance, love between spouses, love between parents and their children, love between siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles and a whole slew of people.  I love everyone even those I don't really like because I care what happens to them.

In many cases there are varying degrees of affection for the people you care about.  Of course, you're going to love those who are the closest to you like your husband, children and other family members, but there's always room for others. 

Friends come to mind for me and I have several lifelong friends.  I have great affection for them, or I wouldn't have stayed in touch with them.  You can love neighbors who become friends when you have lived next to them for years. 

Is it possible to love someone who hurts you?  I draw the line at loving people who abuse others physically or mentally, but I write about them in my stories.  I even humanize them with some background about them, but I can't care for them in their present lives because they chose the wrong path.  Or in my stories, the path I chose for my character.  This is when you have to care and love the victim.

I love my hubby more than anyone.  When my mother was alive it was a tossup between hubby and mom because I loved them both equally, although, in totally different ways.  My siblings and children are next in line, and then the rest of the family, friends, etc. 

Who matters most to you?

Sandra K. Marshall
http://www.eirelander-publishing.com
http://www.sandramarshallblog.blogspot.com  

Thursday, September 2, 2010

This is Jaque

I know most authors don't invite you into their private lives but, I'm not like most authors out there, in case you haven't noticed. So, I've decided that over the several months, I'll introduce you to our kids, and yes, they are our kids.

I'd like to start with Jaque, our Yellow Lab. Jaque is the only animal that came to us...really.

One Saturday morning, a few years back, Jen and I were leaving the house to go run errands, like we typically do on a Saturday. I openned the garage door to find a big, very smelly and very dirty dog sitting on our front porch. We canvassed the neighborhood, trying to find his owner and came up blank. No one had ever seen or heard about him, and if they had, they weren't saying.

As it so happens, one of our neighbors offered to take this loveable, dirty, smelly walking dirt bag home with him. He said and I quote, "I'll take good care of him (I had no doubt about that) and I have a six foot fence, he can't get out."

Never having owned dogs before, I agreed and the two of them happily trotted down the street to Jaques new home. Situation resolved, we went on our way to run our errands.

A few hours later, we returned to find the Jaque comfortably sleeping on our front porch. We had heard that Labs are diggers and assumed that he got out of our neighbors yard. So, we gathered up Jaque and back he went to our neighbors house and his "new home".

Again, situation resolved, we ran out.
We were half way down our street, returning home, when our neighbor stopped us with bad news. Apparently, Jaque had run away again. Our neighbor had spent hours looking for the dog, with no luck. Maybe, the neighbor said, he knows where he belongs and went home.

I'll buy that. We pulled into the garage, unloaded the shopping bags, and Jen went out to water the plants. She wasn't out there more than a minute when she stuck her head back inside and told me to come out front and be quite. She pointed under the large Sage bush we have and there was Jaque, happily snoring away, waiting for us to return home.

We have tortured this poor dog in every way possible. We gave him a bath, took him to the vets, got his shots and had him chipped. We even had him neutered and to this day, he hasn't gotten out of our little three foot fence of which, he knows how to open the gate. As for the digging, yeah, he made trench diggers look like amateurs. No joke. Thankfully, he has grown out of his puppy stage. The digging, the chewing and the mischievious stuff has stopped. We don't lose shoes anymore and our cats love him.

Very recently, Jaque had 3 grand mal seizures. It scared the hell out of us and I'm still a little afraid to leave him alone. We've been working with our vet trying to figure out why he suddenly started having seizures. He'll start anti-seizure medication soon, just in case and I'll finally be able to get a good nights sleep again.

Truth is, we'll do whatever it takes to make sure he is happy and healthy.

I guess he knew where he belonged.

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