Wednesday, April 20, 2016


I've always loved to read. I remember, as a child, riding in the cart while at the grocery and Mom telling me if  I was good I could have a book. Yeah, you'd better believe I was good. I wanted a Little Golden Book. And yes they sold those at the grocery when I was a kid. 

I know I had tons of books, but there are ones that stand out for me. The first one I remember reading on my own was LGB Bedknobs and Broomsticks.

I loved the story of a woman learning to be a witch and flying a magic bed to a magical kingdom. I remember having to go into Mom to have her help me pronounce Naboobu. Other than that, I could read the book all on my own. 

Another book I loved was another LGB called The Monster at the End of the Book

It was so daggone cute and I read it over and over. I loved Grover. When I was old enough to jump to "chapter books" Mom started getting me Nancy Drew.

I thought Nancy's life was so exciting as she drove around in her fabulous convertible and solved crimes. I loved the books so much, Mom signed me up for a Nancy Drew club and they would mail us a two book set each month. I couldn't wait for the book to come in the mail. 

I know I've mentioned it before in past blog posts, but The Secret Garden was my very favorite book.

My grandma bought it for me and I devoured it. I still have that original copy she gave me as well as many others. I can't even tell you how many times I've read it, but when she first got it for me I bet I read it four or five times. As soon as I finished it, I would restart it. She also got me Little Women and I liked it, but nothing close to The Secret Garden.

Another girl detective I loved was Trixie Belden

I discovered these on my own on one of our many trips to the bookstore. I was hooked from the first book and Mom was so thankful she had a new idea for gifts. 

In the middle of reading girl detectives, I also discovered romance novels. I was probably 12 when I read my first one. Unfortunately, this was back in the 70s when the books weren't good at all.

Yep, I read the above book. And when I finished, I was sorely disappointed. Not only did they kill off the "indian maiden"-- Yuck--but the author did it in a graphic horrible rape scene. When I finished the book, I thought, I can do so much better. There was one book I really loved though. It was called The Windflower by Laura London

I liked the book because there were parts of it that made me laugh. That was the first time I realized that romance novels didn't have to be all serious. Yes, he was a total jackass (as all men were in novels of this period), and I would have so kicked him to the curb. But the book was fun and that's what made it different. 

Now run out and see what books the other bloggers wax nostalgic about. I'll see you next week! -- Gwen


Wednesday, April 13, 2016


Hello! If you haven't seen a Promptly Penned post before it's really simple. We are all given the same prompt and we have to craft a small piece. Easy? Sometimes and other times not so much. This month the prompt says:

You stumble upon old home videos of you and your siblings as toddlers. Nostalgia fades when you realize something isn’t quite right. 

*que ominous music* Bwahahahahaha! Okay so here goes:

Images flickered across the screen as Tara slowly sat forward in concentration. She’d recently had her family’s old, fragile 8mm films transferred to DVD, but hadn’t watched them. Until now.
Making a night of it, she’d popped popcorn and settled in to indulge her need for family long gone. Aunts, uncles, grandparents and parents, long passed, danced and laughed silently across her television screen. Her older siblings and cousins, just small children, ran and chased one another as they engaged in silent screams of happiness.
At the start of the evening, she’d laughed and kept a mental file of things to tease her brothers and sisters about. Hairstyles and clothing choices, so fashionable in the seventies, were ones they wouldn’t want to be reminded of now. As the late in life baby, she’d thankfully missed feathered bangs and bell-bottom jeans. She’s also missed time with her parents who had died when she was only eight.
Nostalgia though had taken a backseat when she’d seen a man moving through the flickering frames. He’d appeared in the first film her grandfather had taken in the early sixties. She’d noticed him because he was so handsome, with dark curling hair and high cheekbone, and she didn’t recognize him. He wasn’t family, she was sure of it.
As she’d continued to view the films, she become more focused, because every time the camera panned around, the man was there, watching, staring. At her? Tara shivered. Stupid thought. What was she twelve? So what an unknown man popped up over and over through the films. So what that he always looked the same no matter what year it was. And that was stupid too. People aged, it was inevitable. The films were taken with an old technology that made things grainy and slightly off.
Yawning, Tara knew she should turn the DVD off. She had to work the next day, but still she watched. The search for the man was like a macabre game of Where’s Waldo. Every single time, just when she thought he wouldn’t be there, he’d show up. Family friend? And, if he were in all the films, why wasn’t he in the family pictures? He wasn’t. She knew he wasn’t. She’d looked through the pictures all the time growing up and this man hadn’t been there. So why did he appear now?
And that was a crazy question. He didn’t appear. He’d just happened to be at all her family’s gatherings. Or at least all the ones they’d filmed.
She moved to sit closer to the screen, unable to stop herself. Because she’d noticed something else. No one spoke to him. Not one person turned to him and smiled. They acted as if he weren’t there. As if he was …
“Enough,” she said aloud.
Grabbing up the remote she forced herself to stop the DVD and eject the disc. She was tired, that’s all. Tomorrow she’d call her sister, Hannah, and they’d laugh at her overactive imagination.
She put the disc on top of the player and headed to her bedroom. Tara decided she’d read for a while then head to bed. No more videos. No more strangely handsome strangers. And the guy wasn’t a stranger. And there’d been nothing weird. Overactive imagination fueled by too much popcorn and too much work.
After brushing her teeth, Tara climbed into bed and plumped her pillows up. The ceiling fan whirled softly as she leaned over to set her alarm. As she settled back against the pillows she noticed an odd glow emanating from her living room. It was the television. She obviously hadn’t turned it off.
Rolling out of bed, she moved through the dark house. The light flickered and she walked into the room to find images playing across the screen. Her grandmother laughing as she moved her lips, obviously talking to someone off camera. What? No, that wasn’t right. She’d ejected the DVD. She knew she had.
A movement to her right caused her to stumble back as the man from the film. The man who looked no older than he had in the sixties, stepped towards her.

“Tara, I’m so glad we can finally meet.”

Now go over and check out what the other ladies have done with this.