Dear Reader

Dear Reader Column 04-30-18

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

Dear Reader,

I know I've said these words before, but I needed to read them again today to remind myself that...

I'm not a doctor, but I play one when I Google symptoms on the Internet. Self-diagnosis, it's as insane as reading through an 8-page list of possible prescription side effects--discovered in clinical trials--that could possibly attack my mind and body after ingesting the medicine. (If I wasn't feeling sick enough before taking the prescription, now for sure there's "No hope, no hope!")

When I'm not feeling well, instead of letting real medical tests and real doctors diagnosis the problem, first I look online. After checking boxes on the symptom checker: fatigue, headache, constantly thinking about eating Dove chocolate (the raspberry swirl flavor), excessive sweating, lower back pain and occasional disorientation (it's warm here in Sarasota and I've been outside doing a lot of gardening), I was presented with three possible diagnosis: insomnia, obesity, or an aortic dissection.

Worry-wart me, "I'll take aortic dissection for $500 Alex."

How silly is it all? But I'm not the only one. In the midst of telling a friend about my self-diagnosing, "Me too, me too," she confessed, "I did the same thing just last week." (My friend's a nurse.) Yes, if I stay plugged into the Internet long enough agonizing over ghastly possibilities, eventually, to quote Mark Twain, "The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated."

The possible medical ailments I can dream up are frightening. My legs and feet might become numb, I could be constipated for the rest of my life, or my index finger could suddenly turn purple and fall off in the middle of dinner. "No hope, no hope!" Face it, Suzanne, it's time to prepare a list for my dear husband: How to sort the laundry, passwords to all of my online accounts, be sure to give Newton (the neighbor's cat who stops by every night) a real good rub until he whimpers a "Thank you," and don't make a fuss when my time comes. Simply cremate me, throw my ashes on the garden and turn on the bubble machine!

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

** AUTHORBUZZ **

A MATTER OF CHANCE (Fiction) by Julie Maloney

When eight-year-old Vinni Stewart goes missing from a New Jersey shore town, her mother becomes the one left behind. When her NYC neighbor, a noted artist, coaxes Maddy to paint, she reconnects to her passion and earns international recognition. Intrigue follows Maddy to Brooklyn where she stumbles on something she shouldn't have as she searches for her daughter.

Go to: AUTHORBUZZ click on A MATTER OF CHANCE to read more and to email author Julie Maloney, you'll get a reply.

Dear Reader Column 04-27-18

Dear Reader,

(Suzanne is out today, but has left behind one of her favorites.)

I learned something about myself today and it was embarrassing. The good news is now that I recognize the way I've been thinking, I can change it. Lately I've been feeling negative and having trouble connecting with the joy I normally feel in my life. Whenever I'd try to figure out the reason why, I'd end up making a list of situations and people who were stealing away my joy. But today I realized the person who's been stealing my joy--is me.

The confirmation came from my dear husband. "I'm too negative lately," I turned to my husband and waited for his reaction.

"Yes you are," was his reply and then he was silent.

Okay, so he wasn't going to add anything to that statement. Nothing to lighten the punch, nor was he going to offer any excuses for my behavior. And neither could I. Suddenly I realized that instead of tending to my own life, I've secretly been running other people's lives, even people I don't know. Feeling angry and judging the choices they make. Not out-and-out telling them what I think. Instead, I've been having those conversations with myself. But when you think about negative things long enough, eventually they become a reality in your mind. I'm really quite surprised about how I've been feeling, because seeing negativity in other people--I can't stand it. I want to run away. But today there was nowhere to run, because the negativity was in me.

I learned something not so pleasant about myself today, but I also learned that when you forgive yourself, it's amazing how quickly your smile returns and negativity turns to joy.

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

P. S. This is the last day to enter my Chocolate Chip Cookie giveaway. I love to bake, but I can't eat all the cookies, so help me out. Enter to win and if your name is drawn I'll send you a gallon bag of my homemade cookies. Click here to enter.

 

Dear Reader Column 04-26-18

Dear Reader,

Companies are going to have to stop introducing new grooming products into the market, because I've got to ease up on my daily primping ritual. There just aren't enough hours in the day.

My manicurist tells me to oil my cuticles every night and to carry a bottle of lotion, so whenever I get my hands wet, I can reapply. My dental hygienist complimented me on my teeth, but then added, "Have you ever thought about whitening them?" Floss, brush, paint my fingernails and toenails, shave my legs, visit the hairdresser once a week for a wash and blow dry, and every third week I sit in the chair for two hours while my roots are processing. (Yes, I'm really a brunette.) My doctor's got me taking a "stand-up" pill every Saturday morning (Well that's what I lovingly call it, because after I swallow it, I have to stand up for at least 30 minutes. I'm hoping it will help me tell better jokes.) My eyebrows need to be shaped every few weeks, a facial every couple of months, apply makeup in the morning, take it off at night, walk over two miles a day with ankle and arm weights, spend 10 minutes a day with Denise Austin's ab tape, and write a daily column. I've gotta tell you, my schedule's getting pretty cramped. And now--I've got hair growing where there shouldn't be any.

There are three hairs that insist on growing on my right big toe. I'm unfamiliar with hair protocol, but for the last 63 years my big toe has been hairless and I'd just as soon keep it that way. I yanked them out. Ouch! But they showed up again three weeks later, which got me to thinking about hair in general. Why does some of my hair keep growing and other hair--like the hair on my arm stop? I mean, it must decide to call it quits at some point, or we'd all be walking around with arm hair dragging on the floor. Oh well, that's probably more than you and I want to find out about hair. In the meantime, if a company starts selling "Big Toe Shaving Cream" I guess I'll have to add it to my collection.

* It's cookie time. Don't miss the deadline. Enter today and if your name is drawn, I'll personally bake homemade chocolate chip cookies for you. I'm waiting to bake for you, so enter right now.

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

Dear Reader Column 04-25-18

Dear Reader,

It's your last opportunity before the summer cookie break. Every month I bake homemade chocolate chip cookies for three book club readers and have them delivered to their doors. But the summer heat isn't friendly to cookies filled with milk chocolate chips, so I take a cookie break over the summer.

So this is your last chance to win the cookie giveaway until Fall. The cookies are real good, so be sure to enter. Just click on the link below to see the smiling faces dunking and munching. And after you read about last month's winners, be sure to enter this month's drawing. I'm ready to bake. Are you ready to dunk cookies? Click here to enter. 

Thanks for writing. I love to hear from readers.

"Suzanne, I'm with you and will gladly sign up for the anti-ish demonstration. To me being late is just rude-ish. In academia, there's usually some sort of unwritten code about how long you have to wait for a tardy teacher to show up. It's a sliding scale, depending on the 'rank' of said teacher: longest wait for full-prof, then lesser amounts for associate and assistant, with 30 seconds being about the norm for an adjunct or TA. I'd rather lose a tooth than be late for a class." -- Marshall C.

"I so enjoyed your warm and caring article on Bessie [in the assisted living facility], I truly felt the joy she brought to you. I, too, get to experience that blessed feeling each time I volunteer with a local hospice group who graciously gives area elder/memory care homes 1-1 /2 to 2 hours of arts/craft experiences monthly. I am retired and well into my seventies, but I join along with small groups of middle/high school students to share an art project accompanied with many a spirited conversation with the patients in various stages of Alzheimer's or Dementia. My longtime best friend lives in another home across Silicon Valley. Whenever I visit her, I come away in tears. All of our dreams of sharing different experiences when our families were gone and we were able to retire are forever gone. However I feel so good each time I leave my volunteer position, each experience brings a smile to my face. And even though my friend hardly knows me I know that I am giving back in her name as I cut and paste my way through another art project. Thank you for drawing attention to our warm and caring elders who so appreciate our hugs or smiles." -- Carol N.

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

Dear Reader Column 04-24-18

Dear Reader,

Sarah Mackenzie lives in Washington state and often finds herself needing gifts for loved ones, as she and her husband have half a dozen kids. Finding books for her children, in fact, is one of her favorite pastimes. In Sarah's new book, The Read-Aloud Family, she helps parents make meaningful and lasting connections with their kids (toddler to teen) through books. In the book, you'll find out why reading aloud to kids of all ages matters, practical strategies for making it happen, and which books are most enjoyable to read aloud.

Need a gift? Enter to win one of 10 copies of Sarah's new book, The Read-Aloud Family. Say hello, welcome Sarah to the book club and you'll also be entered in the book giveaway. Email: jeane@wynnwynnmedia.com

Please welcome author Sarah Mackenzie...

I am not a great gift-giver by any stretch. I wish I was. What an art, to give someone just the right thing--a token that says, "I've been thinking about you," or "You matter so much to me."

I, however, can never find a gift that seems to match the amount of affection I have for the people in my life, young and old alike. I used to wrack my brain and try desperately to drum up an idea that was heartfelt.

Not anymore.

Now, I give books. We're readers, you and I--so we know this is the best kind of gift, anyhow, regardless of whether we're celebrating a happy occasion or trying to get through a difficult one.

When I can't figure out how to show someone how much they matter to me--how deeply I care, how my heart sings with happiness at their mere existence, I reach for a novel or a collection of essays.

When a friend is suffering heartache and I want them to know that I see them and hear them, even when I can't fix it, I handpick a book. "This one is for you," I'll say. It's an act of love, really. But only a reader would know it for what it is.

Books reach.

Books nourish.

Books lift us out of dailiness, out of the frank and ordinary moments we inhabit day in and day out, and they help us to see. They're not an escape from life as much as they are an escape into it. When we give them to our loved ones, we offer them an opportunity to fully live. To be loved through language. To come alive through the magical power of ink on paper.

Stories care for the tender spots, the tired spots. When we don't know how to reach our loved ones because the words seem beyond our grasp, when an embrace can't quite communicate what we long to say, a book connects. A book does the heavy lifting for us. A book reaches where we otherwise cannot.

We may or may not write a card or tie the book with ribbon, but the real gift is tucked in the pages beneath the cover, anyway.

For we know, you and I, that reading is gift enough.

-- Sarah Mackenzie

To be entered in the drawing for a copy of Sarah's new book, The Read-Aloud Family, email jeane@wynnwynnmedia.com

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

Dear Reader Column 04-23-18

Dear Reader,

I saw her sitting outside on the porch in front of the assisted living center. There was an empty chair next to her and I knew it was waiting for me.

Meet Bessie.

I don't know how the conversation got started, but soon after "Hellos," Bessie was telling me stories from her childhood.

"When I was a girl we didn't wear shoes in the summer and every evening before we got ready for bed, my sister and cousins and I would sit side-by-side, our legs dangling down off the edge of the porch. A big wooden barrel nearby was filled with water. Daddy would dip some water into a pan, and one-by-one each of us would wash our feet before we went to bed. But when the pan filled with water got to me, Daddy would wash my feet for me.

Just a little bit envious of the special attention, my cousins and sister would ask, "Daddy, why are you washing Bessie's feet?"

"Because she's too little," her Daddy would say. Bessie smiled that little girl smile as she explained, "After Daddy washed my feet he'd scoop me up into his arms, carry me into the house and rock me to sleep." Bessie smiles so...when she talks about her daddy.

There were no phones. No cars. The doctor made house calls in a horse and buggy. So when Bessie's little sister became very ill, her daddy had to run to the doctor's home on the other side of town. "The doctor came in the house and my cousins and I were very, very quiet. It's the way we were brought up, you know."

When the doctor came out of the bedroom from seeing Bessie's sister, he told her father, "Your daughter has diphtheria. I'm going to have to quarantine this house for two months. And you're all going to have to get some shots." Bessie said she started crying.

"Why he had to mention a shot, I don't know," Bessie said. "I ran underneath the table. After the doctor finished giving shots to everyone else, he looked underneath the table at me and said. 'It's your turn Bessie.'

"I looked at my daddy, 'tell him I'm too little Daddy!'"

But her daddy leaned in under the table, "Bessie, I'm sorry we can't say you're too little this time, honey. You have to get the shot."

Bessie left school in the 7th grade because she wanted to get married and have babies. Pregnant four months after getting married, Bessie had another baby two years later, and another two years after that.

When she was pregnant with her first child, Bessie went to see the doctor, the same doctor who had taken care of her sister years ago. Instead of a horse and buggy, the doctor had an office now, and when Bessie told him she'd like him to be her doctor, he replied with a smile, "Are you sure you're not 'too little' Bessie?"

Bessie loved her mom and dad. They created loving memories for her, and taught her how to pass that love on to her own children. When Bessie couldn't live by herself any longer and decided to move into assisted living, each one of her three children invited Bessie to live with them instead. Not just a polite gesture, but a genuine, loving "Come live with me, Mom."

"You have your own family," Bessie told them. "Besides, I love the place I live in now. I get involved in everything and the people are so nice. I even paint. I didn't know I could paint."

At first, Bessie went to the painting class just to watch other people. But now even though her eyesight is failing her, she's able to paint what she feels in her heart, and she shares her paintings. "My room is filled with paintings, and my son and daughter have some hanging in their homes, too."

Bessie says she loves when folks come to visit, "Whenever someone comes to my room, no matter who it is, black or white or whatever, I always give them a hug and tell them 'I love you' before they leave. Stop by and let me show you my paintings."

"Bessie, it's a date. I'm looking forward to it. I have to go now. Can I give you a hug?"

"Goodbye Suzanne, I love you."

"Goodbye, Bessie. I love you, too."

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

 

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

Dear Reader Column 04-20-18

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

Dear Reader,

Am I the last of the "On Time" breed? If time is money, then lately I've been spending way too much of my "money" on other people.

I grew up with the phrases "Don't be late" and "Be on time," grilled into me. It wasn't an "iffy" thing. "Be on time, or it's a sin" that was my mother's mantra. Well okay, my mother never actually said it was a sin to be late, but it was reflected in her tone of voice and the "evil" eye look she gave me when she said it.

People who are always late have made up their own language to cover their "sin," and it's changed over the years. Late-comers used to say, "I'll meet you around 4 o'clock." 'Around' to me meant 15 minutes. But then there was always the question, is that 15 'around' minutes before or after four? So what someone was really telling me was, "I need you to carve out 30 minutes and wait for me to show up."

"Around" used to be the word of the day for late-comers, but now "ish" seems to be the new excuse for not being on time.

"I'll meet you at 3-'ish'," but still I wonder, just what exactly does that mean? And is "ish" even a word? So of course I looked it up and to my surprise it is, but unless it's slang for a magazine, you need to toss the "ish" on the back end of another word to make it legal. So I guess it's not a sin when people say "I'll meet you at three-ish." And I can't even blame it on a younger generation, because for years whenever someone asked my aunt how old she was her reply was, "I'm fifty-ish."

Some folks don't even bother trying to fudge a time, they just admit the truth. They have no idea when something is going to happen, so you have to wait--sometimes all day long. FedEx was going to deliver a guitar to my husband and the tracking information stated the guitar would be delivered some time between 9am and 8pm and it needed to be signed for. That pretty much made it a FedEx day, but at least they were honest.

I guess I have to accept the new "ish" since it is in the dictionary, but I've created my own new wait-ish rule. I'll "ish" for 15 minutes and then I'm "ish-ing" over-and-out the door.

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

Dear Reader Column 04-19-18

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

Dear Reader,

I've lost the groove. I'm trying too hard. Everything flowed the other day. I was hot and I want "it" to happen again, right now, this very minute. I want a repeat performance.

But creativity, joy, love and understanding, these overlapping emotions and feelings have minds of their own--at least mine do. Forcing them to appear doesn't work for me; they rebel like little children. They're willing to let me take charge--but only at the right time. Because for them to really shine, I need to stand back and let them develop at their own pace.

If I make demands, prodding my emotions and feelings to "hurry up and make an appearance" they will graciously give me something, so that what I'm working on will be good enough. But if I wait patiently a day, an hour, perhaps only a minute more, then they'll give me their best.

* Congratulations to Susan L., the winner of A Well-Timed Murder by Guest Author Tracee de Hahn.

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

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

(Fiction)
THE SILENT WOMAN by Terry Lynn Thomas

(Mystery)
BLOOD AND OIL: The Devil's Tears by Minerva Taylor

(Mystery)
WORTH KILLING FOR by Jane Haseldine

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

Dear Reader Column 04-18-18

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

Dear Reader,

It was love at first sight. I knew I should walk on by, but sometimes when you see something, it calls out to you. Have you ever had that happen? I have. I very clearly heard "it" calling my name, "Suzanne, take me home, I'll look gorgeous in your hallway."

And "it" was right.

The light-yellow and lilac gingham-patterned hall runner does indeed look perfect sitting on top of my 1925 hardwood floor, but buying anything light-colored that you plan on walking on--I realize it's risky business.

Because this isn't my first time. Years ago, I bought two cream colored loveseats. Light and bright, they were the perfect addition to my living room. The loveseats did need extra attention, but I didn't mind the vacuuming and spot cleaning. It was manageable, until my mom and dad came to visit and they brought their dog.

After my parents left, I discovered a half-circle pee stain on the side of one of my love seats. (That's another column, for another day.) But the incident--and the expensive professional cleaning--did detour me from buying any more light colored furniture.

Until the light-yellow and lilac runner called out to me. It needed a home and I was the woman to rescue it. I love it, and I found the perfect place for it in the hallway in front of my bathroom. But instead of walking on the rug, like a normal person, I've noticed I've been stepping over top of it, which I realize is crazy.

I'm a bit of a strange bird anyway, so through the years I've had a lot of practice finding ways to justify "crazy" as really being normal and logical. My story this time...is telling myself that every time I wide-step (really wide-step), over top of the rug, I'm getting a real good stretch. One of those stretching exercises my doctor advised me to start doing. "Take a class," she said, "one that will make you stretch your body."

But why pay for exercise like normal people do? Now I have a pretty new rug and my own free stretch-class. I guess that little voice was really doing me a favor.

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

* Congratulations to the winners of Only by Death by Guest Author Kathy Herman: Mari R., Betty R., Jan J., George J. and Beverly D.

 

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

** AUTHORBUZZ **

WORTH KILLING FOR (Mystery) by Jane Haseldine

A crime reporter has no choice but to team up with her conman father to decipher whether a stranger, vowing he's the brother she lost in a child abduction case, is who he claims to be. Or is it a trap to ensure the many sins of her father are paid in full?

Go to AUTHORBUZZ click on WORTH KILLING FOR to read more and to email author Jane Haseldine, you'll get a reply.

Dear Reader Column 04-17-18

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

Dear Reader,

This week's guest author, Abby Fabiaschi, is a human rights advocate and co-founder of Empower Her Network, an organization that collaborates with domestic survivors of human trafficking on their path to independence. In 2012, Abby resigned from her executive post in high tech to pursue a career in writing. The Associated Press called her first novel, I Liked My Life, "impossible-to-put-down." She enjoys Skyping with book clubs around the world.

Authors love to hear from readers. At the end of Abby's guest column, be sure to send a "Hello" email and when you do, you'll also be in the drawing for a copy of I Liked My Life.

EVERYTHING IN MODERATION?

Everything in moderation is an accepted adage because it's solid advice: be interested without stalking, a foodie not a glutton, confident never arrogant, presentable without vanity. I am a moderate in every way but one: I inhale books. (Alright, fine, I also sometimes have a last glass of wine I regret the next morning.)

It was my high school English teacher who turned me into a lifetime reader. She talked about characters as if they were real, as if to read about them was to be included in their adventures. We joked about 'passing the damn ham' and how grateful we were to not be 'beautiful little fools.' We came up with Catch-22s and agreed with Bronte that 'honest people don't hide their deeds.' When she asked why I didn't care for The Catcher in the Rye, I told her I thought Holden Caulfield was a whiner and a bit of an ass; she didn't comment on my language and she didn't disagree. There seemed to be an amnesty around discussing literature that didn't hold true with the rest of my teenage experience. I could be myself, 'find' myself, through lives lived only on the page without the vulnerabilities of reality.

It was the consumption of books that turned me into a writer. I read so many stories that they began to find me when I was out in the world. The extent of any formal effort to learn the craft came from Stephen King's On Writing and William Strunk's The Elements of Style. Obsessive reading--which was often at the expense of spending time with people I love, and violated the prudent advice of moderation--manifested into an MFA-worthy amount of knowledge that led to a life that suits me better than the one I built with my business degree.

Perhaps the adage shouldn't be 'everything' in moderation. When you think about it, the saying itself is an oxymoron. As it relates to pursuing a passion, moderation versus obsession might be the difference between dreaming and becoming.

--Abby Fabiaschi

Say hello and enter the drawing for a copy of I Liked My Life, email Abby at, abby@readhungry.com.

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

**AUTHORBUZZ **

BLOOD AND OIL: The Devil's Tears (Mystery) by Minerva Taylor

Did one of the Tsar's children survive the 1918 massacre at Ekaterinburg? In 2002, Deputy Sheriff Roo Yoder hunts for a hundred-year old treasure and a killer when his high school friend, a financier, is murdered. The only clue-a fragment of a 1900's share certificate--worth a fortune if the other half can be found. In Baku, he discovers his great uncle's connection to the Romanovs during the revolution and a clue leading to the treasure.

Go to AUTHORBUZZ click on BLOOD AND OIL to read more and to email author Minerva Taylor, you'll get a reply.