Dear Reader

Dear Reader Column 11-30-16

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Dear Reader,

Today's guest author, Dianne Dixon is a double Emmy nominee and a recipient of the prestigious Humanitas prize for outstanding accomplishment in writing for television. Her third novel, The Other Sister, is newly released and is the story of twin sisters Ali and Morgan. Their strangely intertwined existence is blown apart when evidence connected to a terrifying crime is found in Ali's attic. The answer to the mystery of who put the suitcase into the attic reveals the ways in which people closest to us can destroy us and, sometimes, save us.

Please email Dianne, welcome her to the book club, and say hello!
Email: [email protected]

First, I want to say "Thank You!" to Suzanne for her enthusiastic support of books and writers, it's deeply appreciated.

The second thing I want to say is be very careful before deciding to shake things up by spending a month saying "Yes!" to whatever random doors life swings open--this can lead to almost becoming a burglar, frogs in your bathtub, and a rash bad enough to swell your eyes shut.

I'm a writer. I like being alone, writing. But after spending two years finishing back-to-back manuscripts I needed to get out, dive back into the world. That's why I agreed to my friend Debbi's suggestion to spend thirty days saying Yes! to anything new and exciting.

I'm a writer. Why did I not remember how deceiving words can be?

"New and exciting" perfectly describes a fabulous pop-up shoe store. It also describes me being invited to unwind at a friend's beach house in return for feeding her dog. And then getting lost and arriving after midnight. Setting off the alarm. Not knowing how to stop the alarm. Scaring the dog. Getting bitten by the dog because he's scared. And micro-seconds later (while trying not to bleed on the most beautiful white rug I've ever seen) frantically attempting to convince the police not to arrest me for burglary.

"New and exciting" also describes what happened when I said Yes! to my neighbors, the morning of their daughter's wedding, when they asked me to help make garlands of fresh rosemary and lavender. Apparently I'm allergic to rosemary and/or lavender and spent a lot of time rubbing my eyes while weaving garlands. All I can tell you about the wedding is, that from the happy noise coming from the neighbors' back yard, it sounded like a great party. That's just a guess, I don't know. I spent the afternoon in bed, both eyes swollen shut.

Then there was the spur-of-the-moment car trip. Back roads, no reservations, drive till we're tired and check-in at whatever motel still has a light on. That's when, road-weary, desperate for a hot shower, I stepped into a rust-ringed bathtub to discover I was toe to slimy toe with a croaking, hideously huge frog. I have no idea how long it took me I to stop screaming.

That's when I knew for sure. I'm not ready for a Month of Yes. But I still like the idea of new and exciting. So the next time I need to shake things up I plan to start with a Long Weekend of Maybe.

--Dianne Dixon
Email: [email protected]

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

* This month's Penguin Classics book is THE CHARTERHOUSE OF PARMA, by Stendhal. Start reading now and be sure to enter the drawing for your chance to win a Penguin tote bag: http://www.supportlibrary.com/bc/v.cfm?L=drclassqqxqR1AFEAEE9442&c=CLASSICS

AUTHORBUZZ: Click here to discover new books,
"meet" the authors and enter to win.

Dear Reader,

Today is the final Honorable Mention entry from this year's Write a DearReader Contest. Congratulations to Deborah Hogan.

"I entered the contest last year, and knew I would enter again this year," she said. "I chose my great-grandmother as my subject, because as I get older I see her contributions to my life in new ways, through different lenses."

Deborah is a retired high school English teacher, who says, "It's a great time for me to get involved in social work, volunteer opportunities. It also allows me to do literacy tutoring, which is where I first began teaching years ago. I am a four-time cancer survivor, with a strong interest in leading a healthier and more spiritual life."

Thanks for entering the contest, Deborah...

Within the Rainbow

The dilemma of "which topic to choose" made its first appearance on a Friday afternoon in Room 102 at 2:00 p.m. at the Our Lady of Grace elementary school. We had one hour and fifteen minutes before the final bell which would set all of us free for the weekend. Sr. Mary Martin had just announced that we would be writing an in-class essay. She was exhausted from a particularly challenging week with our sixth-grade class, and even I knew at eleven years old Sister's trick of calming us all down and maintaining silence--an in-class essay.

"I want to know who makes your family special," she said with a sigh, probably thinking of the time that would be spent reading these pages of drivel, so she added for good measure, "and penmanship counts!"

I rolled my pen (now that we were in the middle grades pencils could no longer be used for anything but arithmetic as the lead would smudge) between my fingers and pondered my options. The members of my family didn't seem particularly special, but I nevertheless gave them equal consideration--my father the bakery truck driver--my mother who stayed at home--my brother who sat three classrooms away from me in fifth grade Room 105--my little brother who drove my mom crazy and needed to be aired out at the park after I got home from school each day. None of these seemed likely contenders.

Then I thought of my great-grandmother and her rainbow bread. A true winner! Certainly worthy of Sister's coveted seal of approval--the "A."

Mary Cedar--solid as a tree--my great-grandmother who would go on to live 103 years. All I knew was that she "hopped" two busses to work and then walked the mile to the drum factory--every day no matter the weather. And she always said, "I'll see you at the feather ball." That was her way of saying goodnight or goodbye. Mary Cedar--who would eventually be told by her bosses, "Are you sure you want to continue with all of this?" which was their way of saying to her at 80, "Mary, you are no longer wanted here." Mary Cedar--who could spin yarns of 1920's Chicago with its streets filled with gangsters. Mary Cedar--whose favorite shows (it was a tie) were Lawrence Welk and The Waltons. Mary Cedar--who could also tell of times before airplanes. There were so many great reasons to pick her, but I chose her for one reason only--the rainbow bread.

My great-grandmother lived above us in the apartment building, and each Friday she would stop at the Sugar Spun Bakery on her way home to make sure that she had a loaf of rainbow bread for our special Wednesday sandwiches, the one day we were allowed to bring lunch to school. She made a mean chicken salad which she tucked between two slices of that rainbow bread which made the kids "ooh" and "aah" at school as I unwrapped a sandwich which might be yellow, pink, blue or possibly purple and always in a special shape--perhaps a heart or a star. There were also sparkling sugar spun cookies. I knew these items were a feast for the eyes, and that chicken salad was a feast for any kid's palate. It was a lunch fit for a princess and I was the envy of every kid in that classroom, if only for a minute or two.

Because truth be told, though none of us half-Irish kids had a lot, we'd often been told that a pot of gold may very well lie at a rainbow's end. I knew for sure what lay for me between the two rainbow slices--the love Mary Cedar had for her first-born great-grandchild, and she indeed made my family "special"

--Deborah Hogan
Honorable Mention, 2016 Write a DearReader Contest

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

This month's Penguin Classics book is The Charterhouse of Parma, by Stendhal. Start reading now and be sure to enter the drawing for your chance to win a Penguin tote bag.

Dear Reader Column 11-28-16

AUTHORBUZZ: Click here to discover new books,
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Dear Reader,

This year I received so many outstanding entries in the Write a DearReader Contest, it seemed a shame to only publish the winning pieces. So I've been featuring Honorable Mentions in my column.

Today I'm featuring an Honorable Mention entry from Annmarie Ragukonis. She's an emergency room registration assistant at Flagler Hospital in St. Augustine, Florida. Annmarie greets patients, gathers their demographic information, verifies insurance, and collects out-of-pocket expenses. During Hurricane Matthew, she spent 48 consecutive hours at the hospital as part of the team that served their area during the tropical storm.

I asked Annmarie if she could tell me something about herself that might surprise readers and she did--surprise me. "When my daughter played basketball in high school, I sang the National Anthem before her game on senior night. Two months later, and just as touching, I sang Amazing Grace at her grandmother's funeral."

Thanks for sharing "The Bright Side of the ER" with us Annmarie...

"The Bright Side of the ER"

In the emergency room of a small town hospital, I register persons who find themselves needing immediate clinical care. I'm not sure what images this conjures up, but daily life in my ER is not quite like the drama portrayed on NBC with continuous impelling crises. Still, I wouldn't describe a routine day as mundane either.

Perhaps it's because I find it easy to recognize and appreciate life's small blessings. Moreover, I genuinely enjoy people. So if one of the nurses shares one of her homemade caramels or a patient's wife compliments my blue reading glasses, I make a mental note to add it to my "Diario de Gratitud," the title I gave to my gratitude journal.

Now and then, I like to have fun with patients, provided it's appropriate, of course. We take photos of patients in order to decrease charting errors and to support privacy. Depending on the individual, I'll sometimes remark about the picture, complimenting a smile or teasing that it's good enough for a Facebook profile. Once, in response to "Oh! You take pictures?," I congratulated a curious patient by announcing in pretense that she had won the 1,000th patient contest. Her delight surprised me, especially since she kept her merry attitude despite her abdominal pain.

On occasion, I make myself laugh. I was thrilled when I received a badge reel from Human Resources to attach to my name tag lanyard. The retractable cord made it easier for me to swipe my ID when entering restricted areas. But silly me could not remember what it was called. Each time I tried showing it off, I ended up calling it a "wheely-stretchy thing" or an "elastic badge thingy." Luckily, most of my coworkers laughed along with me as I celebrated my newfound gadget.

Once I made a verbal blunder that turned out to be a godsend. I had to place an armband on a small boy whose anxious mother brought him to the ER because he hurt his wrist. In this particular incident, she was more distraught than her child. Logically, I knew not to attach the plastic band to his injured wrist but as I showed him the band and explained to him that it had his name printed on it, I illogically stated, "Let me put this on one of your other arms." I quickly corrected myself adding with a wink and a smile that I thought maybe he was an octopus. The boy laughed, the nurse laughed, I laughed, and then mom laughed! The doctor treated the broken bone and humor cured his frantic mother.

Typically, the majority of cases brought to the emergency room are manageable. Some are without a doubt more interesting, like snake bites and foreign objects in peculiar places. As expected, there are intermittent stroke alerts and cardiac arrests, as well as serious auto accidents, all of which are heart rendering. Yet despite the sadness and pain that I witness, the emergency room is oftentimes where I find proof of goodness.

One such memory involves a conversation I witnessed between a 64-year-old white man in a wheelchair and a nervous, frightened 12-year-old Afro American boy. The elder gentleman must have overheard that the young athlete was awaiting treatment for a football collision because he managed to engage the youth in lively dialogue about the sport that reached beyond age and color.

So while I can't define my work in the emergency room as solely routine nor as remarkable, there's rarely a dull moment as long as there is humor and serendipity. And when I think of the delicious homemade turtle brownies one of our nurses brings every Sunday or recall the female patient who wore the same flag earrings on the Fourth of July that I was wearing, I can't help but think of the bright side of working in the ER!

--Annmarie Ragukonis
Honorable Mention, 2016 Write a DearReader Contest

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

* This month's Penguin Classics book is THE CHARTERHOUSE OF PARMA, by Stendhal. Start reading now and be sure to enter the drawing for your chance to win a Penguin tote bag: http://www.supportlibrary.com/bc/v.cfm?L=drclassqqxqR1AFEAEE9442&c=CLASSICS

AUTHORBUZZ: THE GAIL FORCE (Thriller) by Robert Lane

Jake Travis, while trying to expose a corrupt Miami art gallery, goes undercover for the FBI. The gallery's owner, Phillip Agatha, is more enchanted with murder than he is with art. Kirkus Reviews says, "The pace is breakneck, the plot crackles with energy and suspense, the writing is crisp and clever. A consistently entertaining crime thriller."

Go to: http://authorbuzz.com/dearreader click on THE GAIL FORCE to read more and to email author Robert Lane, you'll get a reply.

Dear Reader Column 11-25-16

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Dear Reader,

Today I'm featuring another Honorable Mention entry from this year's Write a DearReader Contest.

Harikleia Sirmans is a Technical Services Librarian. Her job is to catalog materials and enter their publishing information in the library's catalog. She's one busy woman. "I used to work full time at the library for 13 years," Harikleia said, "now I work only three days a week. The rest of the week, I work from home with sewing for customers. I have my own business. My other business is writing. I've translated a Greek novel into English, and created the index to three film books. Currently I'm writing the biography of a Greek-American Professor Emeritus of Forestry. Fabrics and written words are my passion. So I do both."

Congratulations to Harikleia Sirmans, one of this year's Honorable Mentions in the Write a DearReader Contest.

I grew up in a small coastal village on a Greek island where tradition and practical living were important. Every young woman had to learn cooking, housekeeping, mending, and needlework so that she will be prepared to set up her own household when she married. All handmade items were her dowry, an absolute must-have.

So my sister and I spend most of our days cooking, washing and drying dishes, swiping and mopping tile floors, piling wood for the fireplace, washing and ironing clothes, mending holes on socks, sewing missing buttons on my father's shirts, feeding the chickens, milking the goat, knitting sweaters, crochet doilies, embroider tablecloths, and lots of other practical tasks around the house.

In the afternoons, we would relax by drinking Greek coffee, chatting, and doing our needlework. We would embroider tablecloths and doilies, knit, or crochet. Soon my mother noticed that I was very talented with needle and thread in my hands: I was very patient and detailed; I loved embroidering; the wrong side of the cloth looked as good as the right side; my stitches were meticulous; I was creative and sewed a plethora of stitches such as cross stitch, stem stitch, and crewel stitch. Counted cross stitch was my favorite. My aunt taught me how to knit. My first knitting project was a pink sweater with long sleeves. My mother taught me embroidering and crochet. My first crochet project was a red pillow case on fillet stitch.

When my cousin gave me a Barbie doll, I was in heaven! I used scrap fabric from old clothes to dress my doll. My embroidering skills came handy when I had to sew fabric pieces together. I used stem stitch to sew seams, whip stitch to keep seam allowances from fraying, and blanket stitch to make loops. I remember a brown coat I made for my doll. For buttons, I cut a match stick in tiny pieces and I sewed each piece in the middle of it on the coat. I was so proud of my invention.

I wanted to know more about sewing. My mother talked to a professional seamstress in our village who was willing to teach me the craft for 15,000 drachmas. I spent three summers with her. She taught me how to measure a client, cut the fabric, use a sewing machine, sew various stitches by hand, manipulate fabric, and much more. My teacher had a sewing machine with a foot petal which sewed only straight stitches. That's why she taught me to sew by hand a variety of stitches, most of which I knew from embroidering tablecloths. We made our own patterns just by measuring the client, cutting straight on the fabric, and fitting the garment three or more times on the client. I was a fast learner and I loved every moment I spent with her. When I "graduated," she told me that I was the best student she ever had.

At 17 years of age, I was finally confident enough to venture on my own sewing. My parents bought me a sewing machine and prepared a sewing space for me. I started with clothing alterations, then clothes from scratch. I also taught myself by taking apart old clothes and by observing the construction of ready-made clothes. I would buy the monthly Burda magazine, and study how to read and copy sewing patterns. I kept on sewing...

Now that I am an adult, I have my own home-based sewing business, lots of wonderful clients, and I even won an award for Best Seamstress. I continue to learn and grow my sewing skills. Sewing is my passion, my life. I sew like a maniac.

--Harikleia Sirmans
Honorable Mention, 2016 Write a DearReader Contest

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

* This month's Penguin Classics book is THE CHARTERHOUSE OF PARMA, by Stendhal. Start reading now and be sure to enter the drawing for your chance to win a Penguin tote bag: http://www.supportlibrary.com/bc/v.cfm?L=drclassqqxqR1AFEAEE9442&c=CLASSICS

 

Dear Reader Column 11-24-16

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Dear Reader,

Today's column is one of my favoite Thanksgiving stories. I hope you enjoy it.

Every year when I set the table for my Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners I think of him.

It was obvious he didn't want to be in my kitchen. He had been kicked out of every public and private school and home schooling was a last resort for his parents. I'm sure his folks were jumping for joy, and would have gladly paid double the price when they saw my announcement: 6-Week Cooking Class for Home Schoolers, because it would give them a three hour break during the day.

Ryan was tough looking, the kind of kid that would make you cross over to the other side of the street if you were out for a leisurely stroll. Ragged hair that always looked like it needed to be washed, baggy clothes and big oversized, steel-toed, curb-stomping boots. In his mind, I'm sure he was lookin' cool.

Eight, fifth grade students enrolled in my class, including Ryan. On our first day, when we did introductions, I asked each kid to tell me what they hoped to learn. Tough kid's response, "My parents made me come here, sounds stupid to me."

Okay, I could work with that. Maybe?

But Ryan would never give me an inch--it would have been giving in to the establishment to actually enjoy himself, even when he was eating a cream puff. "Well, what do you think? Do you like them?" I was hoping the fluffy white filling might force one crummy smile from him, but no...he was one tough cookie. Nevertheless, I genuinely liked the kid. I respected his pigheadedness. It reminded me of myself when I was his age.

Each student had kitchen assignments, but I didn't press Ryan to do much of anything, except I did enforce a "No Smoking" rule during the three hour class period. But I'd still catch him smoking outside when we'd take a break. I spoke to his parents about it, but they just shrugged their shoulders: "What can you do?"

Ryan wasn't disrupting the class and the other kids accepted his behavior for what it was--so I figured no real harm done. Tough boy would try to follow a recipe every now and then, but he moved so slowly--to emphasize his disgust in being there--that by the time he'd get some cookie batter mixed up we were out of time.

The finale of the six week cooking class was to prepare a holiday buffet for the kids' parents. Thanksgiving was only a couple of weeks away, so we decided to do a half-Thanksgiving, half-Christmas theme with the table decorations. All of the kids showed up for class early on the big day, even Ryan, which surprised me, because I wasn't sure he was going to show up at all, so I hadn't given him an assignment.

"Here, these are for the table," Ryan said, his eyes looking away from me, "I made them last night." And he handed me two wooden snowmen, two Christmas trees and a Pilgrim and Indian.

I was stunned, they were adorable. He'd hand carved and painted them, on all sides, so no matter where they sat on the buffet table you'd be able to see the detail of his work. You never know about people. I thought I was going to cry, but I could tell he didn't want me to make too big of a deal about it. His parents were as shocked as I'd been, when I pointed out what their son had made.

Two wooden Christmas trees, two snowmen, and an Indian and Pilgrim, sit on the shelf of my china closet, but every year on Thanksgiving and Christmas, I take them down, and put them in the center of my table and of course, I re-tell the story of the boy who made them for me.

*If you'd like to see a photo of my "treasures" go to: http://www.emailbookclub.com/photo/tabletop.html

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

AUTHORBUZZ: With so many new books out every week, we promise this title deserves your attention:

(Thriller)
FOR DUTY AND HONOR by Leo J. Maloney

Go to: http://authorbuzz.com/dearreader

* This month's Penguin Classics book is THE CHARTERHOUSE OF PARMA, by Stendhal. Start reading now and be sure to enter the drawing for your chance to win a Penguin tote bag: http://www.supportlibrary.com/bc/v.cfm?L=drclassqqxqR1AFEAEE9442&c=CLASSICS

Dear Reader Column 11-23-16

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Dear Reader,

Too many writing entries to chose from this year, so I'm featuring some Honorable Mention stories in my column.

Today I'd like to introduce you to Judy Simmons, who's been a reader at the book club and a fan for eight years. Judy says, "I've never been much of a writer, although I've authored two books, "how-to" books that didn't require an ability to write (just the ability to write instructions). I'm very sentimental and have been using family memorabilia in my fiber art for years. I also had the dearest, happiest mother in the world and the two ideas just worked itself into such a simple story, but one that touched my heart.

This contest was the greatest fun; I just loved the chance to share this story with someone--the icing on the cake--that so many will read it, and I hope reflect back on some wonderful, simple memories of their family."

Well done, Judy. Thanks for entering this year's Write a DearReader Contest.

I Remember

Years ago, my daughter went to graduate school for multi-cultural education. One of her assignments was to write a paper revolving around different cultures and customs. After much thought, she wrote about--of all things--my mother's Thanksgiving stuffing! I was surprised to think that something this insignificant could be a worthy topic, but as I read her thoughts, my eyes got teary. It really wasn't about the stuffing--it was so much more.

When I think of my mother making stuffing and the hours she put into chopping, mixing, tasting, it was truly a labor of love. I can also state without partiality that my mother's stuffing was the best. I'm not sure everyone reading this would agree, but I remember it well, how delicious it tasted and the biggest deal to have enough for leftovers.

While the stuffing was amazing, what really tickles my mind is the memory of watching my mother in the kitchen--dancing around with her forks and basters, singing silly songs and being in the happiest of moods. She was excited, our small but entire family was gathering on this day, celebrating our life together and the many blessings we shared. It wasn't the stuffing; it was so much more.

In our family, it was the custom for my mother and only her to make the stuffing. My mom died 25 years ago from breast cancer; it was the week before Thanksgiving. According to my daughter, the task fell upon me. I was crowned the official maker of Thanksgiving stuffing--a crown I didn't want and probably the worst Thanksgiving I can remember. But it was the holidays and even though there were only the four of us, I needed to hang in there for my kids. So I made a turkey and the stuffing--my mother's job. I remember crying so hard....saying "I can't do this, I don't have a clue how to make stuffing," but it really wasn't about the stuffing; I was missing my mom. I was missing the way she laughed and danced her way through the kitchen, her smiles and spontaneous hugs; I wanted her with me.

As I look back I realize how family recipes are not just words on a page, creating something yummy to eat, but a way of showing love, passing down treasured memories and connecting to generations from the past. At some point in time, I somehow inherited my grandmother's cookbook--her version and the best kind of cookbook I know--recipes from friends and family, church suppers and Sunday newspaper clippings. They were kept in a little green binder, every one tried and true, and best of all written in her own hand.

I think I cherish this little cookbook more than any fancy cookbook I own; I love to see her writing, her doodles and scribbles.

I love her comments and changes to accommodate the family.

To this end, I have loved using them in my quilts. Being a fiber artist, I have been able to make so many recipes including my mother's stuffing into silk screens. It thrills my heart to think of my mom and grandmother and their much loved recipes. I wonder if they ever thought their writing would be in a quilt someday--a quilt made some 80 years later.

As I look at their writing on these quilts, I run my fingers over the words and think of them. I love using their words and having a way to use their recipes in my art; I love every one, I use every one--the words add so much. But more than that, I love the memories they conjure up, the laughs, the singing, the wonderful hugs. It's a way of connecting with my past--to pull a little piece of it into present day--to say--I Remember.

--Judy Simmons
Honorable Mention, 2016 Write a DearReader Contest

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

* This month's Penguin Classics book is THE CHARTERHOUSE OF PARMA, by Stendhal. Start reading now and be sure to enter the drawing for your chance to win a Penguin tote bag: http://www.supportlibrary.com/bc/v.cfm?L=drclassqqxqR1AFEAEE9442&c=CLASSICS

Dear Reader Column 11-22-16

AUTHORBUZZ: Click here to discover new books,
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Dear Reader,

A writer, hospice chaplain, and mother in South Carolina, a graduate of Harvard Divinity School, and the author of a new book, On Living, Kerry Egan is today's guest author.

Kerry's hospice work has been featured on PBS and CNN, and her essays have appeared in various publications. Kerry was recently interviewed by Terry Gross about her new book, On Living for the NPR program, Fresh Air.

Email: [email protected] say hello, and welcome her back to the book club.

Thanks for visiting with us today Kerry...

As a hospice chaplain, I've met with hundreds of people who are nearing death. Sometimes we say prayers together. Sometimes we sing hymns. But most of the time, patients talk about their lives.

As a chaplain, my job is to help people find or make meaning in their lives. No one comes completely unprepared for the task. Every person comes to the end life, and to this final spiritual work, with a rich assortment of experiences, relationships, beliefs and strengths to help them. A spiritual toolbox, if you will. But some people's toolbox is fuller, with a greater assortment of tools for the job.

Religion and personal faith are an important piece, of course. But they are not the only tools people have.

For many of my patients, the most important tool they had as they worked to make meaning of their lives were the books they had read over a lifetime. Yes, sometimes, these books were explicitly religious--scripture, devotionals, theology, spiritual autobiographies. But just as often, their minds wandered back to the novels and poems they read when they were young adults, or the histories and memoirs they read in middle aged. On occasion, it was something even more unexpected. One man found, of all things, the business book Who Moved My Cheese? to be the book that helped him make sense of what he had experienced in his life. It was the single best tool in his spiritual toolbox to help him find meaning in a way that nothing else did.

Sometimes, patients remember the comic books and pulp thrillers they loved as teenagers. And sometimes, it's the books of their childhood they go back to, finally understanding the wisdom of those old, beloved books in completely new ways. One patient found the greatest solace and wisdom in the book The Runaway Bunny, by Margaret Wise Brown, a book her mother read to her almost seventy years ago. A book I read to my children over and over again when they were toddlers.

I'm a mother of two school-aged children now. I sometimes hear other moms and even teachers worry about the quality of the books their kids read. They wish their kids read more serious books, more difficult books, or books that would make them learn more.

I'm not a teacher, and I can't comment on the educational value of Diary of a Wimpy Kid or the teenage romances.

But I can promise you that someday there will be another hospice chaplain, eighty years from now, who will sit and listen to her patients talk about the one book that gave them hope, the one book that gave them peace, the one book that helped them discern what love is and what it is not.

So keep reading. You never know which will be the book you'll need a lifetime from now.

--Kerry Egan

Email: [email protected] say hello, and welcome her back to the book club.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

* This month's Penguin Classics book is THE CHARTERHOUSE OF PARMA, by Stendhal. Start reading now and be sure to enter the drawing for your chance to win a Penguin tote bag: http://www.supportlibrary.com/bc/v.cfm?L=drclassqqxqR1AFEAEE9442&c=CLASSICS

 

Dear Reader Column 11-21-16

AUTHORBUZZ: Click here to discover new books,
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Dear Reader,

Congratulations to Amanda Hecht, who submitted one of this year's writing contest Honorable Mentions. I emailed and asked Amanda to tell me a little bit about herself and I have to say reading her response was a pleasure to read, too. I love it when people mosey on down the road, while they're telling a story. Amanda has the gift to share a simple walk and talk, about life.

Amanda's reply when I asked, "What can you tell me about yourself?"

"I have been reading at the book club since 2008. I have entered the contest a number of years, and this is the first time my entry has been selected. I enjoy Suzanne's column so much, that sometimes I just want to talk back to her, to further the conversation, and so writing my own entry is one way that I could add to the conversation.

As for hobbies, when I can find the time, there is almost nothing better than curling up with a novel. I also 'love' to act, and so have enjoyed participating in community theatre in a variety of ways in my home town. Last spring we took our play to a drama festival, and the experience was wonderful.

I have three beloved cats. I like dogs, but I 'adore' cats. I would definitely have more cats, but my husband claims that would shade me into 'crazy cat lady' territory--so I have capped the number at three. They are all special in their own ways, of course.

For work, I wear different hats. I am a pastor of small community church, and I also drive a school bus. I am in school, working on my Doctorate of Ministry. And I have three kids, the youngest of whom is just in school full-time this year, so they take up a lot of my time as well."

Thanks for entering again this year Amanda. (And you don't have too many cats. I have five!)

Take it away Amanda...

I chose to do it for some extra income. A part time job that I could fit around my other work. "I'd rather be a prison guard than a school-bus driver!" commented one family member when I announced that I was learning to drive a school bus. And she is a 6th grade teacher (so it can't be just that she doesn't like kids!).

One crisp fall morning, from my perch in the bus-driver's seat of my big old school-bus, I watched a young girl walk up her long driveway. Often my mind is focused on getting to the next stop, so that I can get everyone where they need to go on time. But on this day, as this girl walked up her driveway, I saw her pause, and then go break the newly-formed layer of ice on top of a small puddle with her boots.

And I smiled. This is one of the best reasons I can give anyone as to why I drive a school-bus. Because it reminds me of the joy of the little things in life. Things that kids often notice, but we busy, schedule-driven adults often miss.

Yes, there are days when the job is hard. Bad weather and construction can make a day's work even harder; students don't always show up on time, nor do they always behave as they should on a bus; and sometimes the weight of being responsible for so many precious lives at one time presses heavily.

But despite the hard times, there is something rewarding about driving a school bus. The hand-drawn picture saying "you are the best bus draver" (original spelling) slipped to you by a young student. The generosity of families who give gifts to their bus driver at Christmas time. The exuberant 'thank you!' when you hand out a little token to the students on special occasions. And, there is, finally, the hope that you can give back to the lives of the students that you are responsible for day in and day out. Maybe my greeting will start their day on a better path after rushing to get out the door on time. Or maybe mine will be the smile that lifts a student's spirit after a difficult day at school. It is the least I can give in return for the small joys that accompany being a school-bus driver.

--Blessings!
Mandi (Amanda) Hecht
Honorable Mention, 2016 Write a DearReader Contest

* Congratulations to the winners of A Most Novel Revenge by Guest Author Ashley Weaver: Jan J., Jo F., Mari-Ella K., Pat H. and Nancy B.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

* This month's Penguin Classics book is THE CHARTERHOUSE OF PARMA, by Stendhal. Start reading now and be sure to enter the drawing for your chance to win a Penguin tote bag: http://www.supportlibrary.com/bc/v.cfm?L=drclassqqxqR1AFEAEE9442&c=CLASSICS

AUTHORBUZZ: FOR DUTY AND HONOR (Thriller) by Leo J. Maloney

Captured by the Russians. Imprisoned in the Gulag. Tortured by his cruelest, most sadistic enemy. To save what's important, he must risk everything. And that's when the stakes go sky-high. Dan Morgan's got to keep fighting. For duty. And honor. And even certain death.

Go to: http://authorbuzz.com/dearreader click on FOR DUTY AND HONOR to read more and to email author Leo J. Maloney, you'll get a reply.

Dear Reader Column 11-18-16

AUTHORBUZZ: Click here to discover new books,
"meet" the authors and enter to win.

KIDSBUZZ: Click here to discover new books,
"meet" the authors and enter to win.

Dear Reader,

Today I'm featuring another Honorable Mention entry from this year's Write a DearReader Contest.

Gerri says she entered the contest because she likes to challenge herself. This must be true because she has also taken on the challenge of hiking several segments of the Appalachian Trail with a college friend. In addition to hiking, Gerri enjoys traveling, knitting, playing piano, painting and reading. She's glad she discovered the book club this past year.

Reading the second sentence of Gerri's entry brought tears to my eyes. Who wouldn't wish for such a gift! Thank you Gerri for sharing.

Aunt Cille was forty years old when I was born in 1958. She treated me like I was the best present that she ever received. She spent her whole life in a small Alabama town. She was the oldest of four and the only girl. Aunt Cille had a fourth grade education and had gone to work in the cotton mill at sixteen, when her daddy died. When her mama died six years later, it left her in charge of her younger brothers. The youngest was my daddy, who was a month old when his daddy died and six when his mama followed.

You might have thought this would have made a hard and bitter woman of my aunt, but that wasn't the case. I always associated her with fun. There was no one who loved telling stories and laughing more than she did. She was a peroxide blonde with blue cat eye glasses. When I was four or five, I ran next door and used the neighbors phone to call her to come pick me up. Then I hid in the field across the road. In the meantime, my mama and all the neighbors were out looking for me. When I saw Aunt Cille pulled up in her big green car with the fins, I came out of my hiding place. My mama was so relieved to see me, that after a scolding, she let me go.

Whatever we did, we had fun. She might take me to the dime store and sometimes bought me some small toy. Then we might go to the corner drugstore and sit at the big marble counter on the high top stools. We would order grilled cheese sandwiches or an ice cream sundae in a cold, stainless steel parfait cup.

Sometimes we would sweep off the graves of my grandparents and put fresh flowers. She taught me to be respectful and not walk on the graves. "One day, you and I will have a spot here", she said. She loved telling the story of me, as a four year old, responding "You can have a spot, but I won't be needing one myself." It is thanks to her that I feel so at peace in a cemetery and aside from being there to tell someone goodbye, have never found it an unpleasant place.

Wherever we went, she found something on the ground that she insisted on picking up and taking home, whether a rubber band or a penny. We went fishing one time and she found a bar of soap on the river bank. I was in college by then and visiting with my fiance. I pleaded with her to leave it there, only to discover it in the soap dish that evening, much to my embarrassment. My fiance thankfully, had a wonderful sense of humor and loved it!

Aunt Cille has been gone for a long time now, and I sure miss her. She taught me to appreciate the simple things in life and to be kind. I remember her saying, "Mmm, mmm. There aint' nothin' I love better'n a tomater sandwich". She never had a bad word to say about anyone. If she heard anyone else, say something mean about someone, she would remind them, "Be nice now, they might have a hard life, and you just don't know it." I was certainly a lucky child to have her in my life.

--Gerri Dauer
Honorable Mention, 2016 Write a DearReader Contest

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

KIDS BUZZ: This week, loads of book fun and buzz for middle-grade and teen readers. Meet new authors--send an email, ask a question and they will reply. Plus enter to win a free copy of INTO THE LION'S DEN (A Devlin Quick Mystery) by best-selling author Linda Fairstein; and PUCK by Kim Askew and Amy Helmes. For a chance to win, say hello to the authors and more, see http://www.authorbuzz.com/kidsbuzz.

* This month's Penguin Classics book is THE CHARTERHOUSE OF PARMA, by Stendhal. Start reading now and be sure to enter the drawing for your chance to win a Penguin tote bag: http://www.supportlibrary.com/bc/v.cfm?L=drclassqqxqR1AFEAEE9442&c=CLASSICS

Dear Reader Column 11-17-16

AUTHORBUZZ: Click here to discover new books,
"meet" the authors and enter to win.

Dear Reader,

Today I'm featuring another Honorable Mention entry from this year's Write a DearReader Contest.

Beth Dearing says, "I had no intention of entering this year's Write a DearReader Contest, but week after week I would read Suzanne's encouragements sent out to all those writers in the rough that read her column. And one day as I was reading her suggestions of topic ideas such as something that has happened to you, I simply wrote out the story of how my mother acquired her most recent cat. The latest one was only three ounces when she rescued him, and certainly wouldn't have lasted much longer without her."

Congratulations to Beth Dearing, an Honorable Mention winner in this year's writing contest.

It was late in the evening when she started the car and headed home. She adjusted her spectacles and hunched forward over the steering wheel, imaging the picture she made for any onlookers, typical little granny driver. She smiled at the thought; she was indeed a grandmother of six. She adjusted her hips in the seat to relieve the pressure on her sciatica and winced a little at the pain, she had realized recently that her body was starting to feel older.

Something in the road caught her eye and she hit the brakes harder than she meant to. The car screeched to a stop and it took a moment for her to collect herself. Looking up, she saw there was something in the road. She opened her car door and the chill October air touched her. Sitting in the center of the road, illuminated by the headlights, was a tiny orange kitten. She looked around but saw only corn stalks moving in the wind. No mother cat, no other kittens and no nearby buildings.

"Move along kitty," she called, but the kitten didn't move.

"Oh goodness," she said to herself as she maneuvered around the door and towards the little fur ball. Suddenly it darted sideways into the cornfield on her left.

"That's home? Ok then," she called after it. As she got back in and pulled her door shut, she glanced up and the kitten was back in the middle of the road. She tapped the horn but the kitten only stared at her.

She got out of the car again, hands on her hips, considering. As she got closer, she could see one of the kitten's eyes was sealed shut with ooze and its body was terribly thin.

"Well, come on then," she said and this time the kitten held still. She put it on the passenger seat and placed a hand on it to try to keep it still as she drove but as soon as the car started, the tiny body was all activity. It leapt up the seat and perched on the headrest. Then it climbed up onto the dashboard to explore and by the time she arrived home, it was seated behind the steering wheel blocking her view of the road. It began to talk in pitiful squeaks and mews.

"If only I understood kitty because you certainly have a lot to say," she noted as she carried it inside her house.

Leo and Francis, the resident cats were not pleased to see this little bundle come in with their food lady. They hissed and ran out of the room.

"Well, that wasn't very friendly," she told the kitten, but she laughed it off. They were not mean cats and they had been rescues themselves four years earlier. Her youngest daughter had found them not far from where this kitty had been and had gifted them to her because she couldn't keep them.

She put out a dish of milk but the little thing had no idea how to lap up the milk and only stepped in it crying louder. She found an eyedropper and was able to get the milk into its mouth until finally, full and exhausted, it curled up on her lap and fell asleep.

Looking down at the little body she asked, "What are we going to call you? I found you on Salem Ridge so how about Salem? It's kind of a Halloweenie name and its almost Halloween. And I keep hearing that orange is the new black." She smiled down as the little furry sides heaved in and out. She would have to keep it, there was no question about it.

"Three cats?" she wondered aloud. "How did this happen? I've become the crazy old cat lady of this street!" She shook her head laughing and then took the little kitten and went upstairs to sleep.

--Beth Dearing
Honorable Mention, 2016 Write a DearReader Contest

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

AUTHORBUZZ: With so many new books out every week, we promise these titles deserves your attention:

(Fiction) KAYDEN/SIMON by Alexandra Ivy & Laura Wright

(Fiction) THE WEIGHT OF HIM by Ethel Rohan

(Science Fiction) SHELTER OF LEAVES by Lenore H. Gay

Go to: http://authorbuzz.com/dearreader

This month's Penguin Classics book is The Charterhouse of Parma, by Stendhal. Start reading now and be sure to enter the drawing for your chance to win a Penguin tote bag.