Dear Reader

Dear Reader Column 12-12-18

Dear Reader,

A big welcome today to my guest author Carol Potenza author of Hearts of the Missing.

Carol is an Assistant Professor of Chemistry and Biochemistry at New Mexico State University and worked for many years as a plant genetic engineer studying gene expression in alfalfa. She and her husband, Leos, live in Las Cruces, New Mexico.

Hearts of the Missing is Carol's newly released debut novel and the winner of the 2017 Tony Hillerman Prize.

Please welcome Carol to the book club. She'd love to hear from you. Email: carolpotenzaauthor@gmail.com

Two-by-Two: Tinkering with Genetic Diversity

My niece had a baby this year and asked me for the genealogy information I've accumulated for our family. Between that and adorable Noah's Ark nursery decorations, my mind put one and one together and came up with two-by-two. That's how animals all over the world went into the ark before the great flood--except unicorns. They couldn't be bothered to get on board. (Ask Shel Silverstein. He knows.)

Two-by two is how most animals procreate offspring that carry their genes into the future. But when an organism's population drops to only a few individuals, genetic diversity becomes a real problem. Genetic diversity is the number of alleles a population carries for different traits--think skin color in humans or coat color in rabbits (a staple of high school biology tests). Genetic diversity is important because having a large variability in alleles can help populations adapt to environmental changes.

Humans tinker with genetic diversity all the time. Think about the crops we grow for food. The sweet pink flesh of a watermelon did not develop without advanced genetic gymnastics by breeders. Same with the sweet corn we roast in the fall at county fairs. Selective breeding for specific traits, backcrossing progeny with parental lines, and doubling, tripling, even quadrupling genomes gave us these foods.

And what about our furry little darlings? Would nature create the face of a Persian cat or maintain dwarfism in dachshunds? Probably not. We did that and we love them no matter how much they leave dead mice on the doormat or jump off the sofa and hurt their backs. But unscrupulous breeders don't care about genetic diversity. They cross brother with sister, mother with son, purposefully creating 'genetic bottlenecks' in their breeding stock for profit. Their results can be genetically lethal.

Sometimes genetic bottlenecks occur naturally. Sometimes the population of an organism falls so low, it hovers on the brink of extinction. Cheetahs are ninety-nine percent similar in their genetic make-up. Almost as close as identical twins. And I mean all of them. Their genetics are so similar, they don't reject skin-grafts from any other cheetah. The cheetah genetic bottleneck occurred about 10,000 years ago resulting in a significant loss of genetic diversity. This means in captive breeding programs, humans try to select the most genetically diverse members in their two-by-two matches. Will it save this beautiful animal? I certainly hope so.

-- Carol Potenza

Email Carol and say hello, carolpotenzaauthor@gmail.com

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

Dear Reader Column 12-07-18

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,

Joyce Steenbergen, one of this year's Honorable Mention writers in my annual Write a DearReader contest, reminds us with a soft yet forthright voice that life really is--all about love

Congratulations Joyce Steenbergen...

I stood at the bottom of the stairs--wanting to flee but knowing that this was something I needed. A friend literally delivered me to the building where I took the first step toward entering a grief support group. After several losses in my family, I thought that I could bear the grief on my own. No one seemed to understand, so I hid my pain behind a forced smile and tried to act "normal" while inside I was crushed. I wondered how listening to stories of others' loss could be uplifting instead of depressing. Then the miracle of sharing with others took place. . .

There were widows and widowers who poured out their hearts while speaking of the loss of each spouse. They spoke of the sacred moments of being with loved ones as they passed away and of the loneliness now in their lives. They expressed deep concern as other family members grieved. not sure of knowing how to help. They asked, "What is next for me?" Yet they also spoke of new friends in their lives and of closer family relationships. hey spoke of hope and even new love.

Some members had lost a close friend. They missed the friend like they would a sibling and longed for one last moment together. hey were able to move on--making new friendships while honoring the old.

There were adults who had lost grandparents. They described their close relationships with "Grandpa" or "Grandma" that many of us never experience. They expressed how very much the loss hurt and how much their loved ones were missed. Yet they spoke of fond memories that they will cherish--blessings that they can pass on to their own grandchildren.

There were parents who had lost adult children. They spoke of such emptiness in their lives and of times of asking "why"? They described the lives of their grandchildren left with only one parent. But they also spoke of precious memories, 'heavenly" connections and love--love that will last forever.

Finally, there was one young woman who lost her beautiful three-year-old daughter as the result of cancer. The depth of her pain could literally be felt in the room. We all shared her loss, her grief and her love. Tears flowed as though our tears could wash away some of her grief. Such a short time has passed since her daughter died, but she has made it her mission in life to help further pediatric cancer research. Already others are benefiting from her work. She does this all with love--love for her little girl. She lives with a powerful amount of strength.

Not only have I found a wealth of new friends in this grief support group, I have learned so much about life. I realize now that we grieve because we love and were loved. I now understand the strength and support of human compassion. I understand that there is a path to take in grieving, but never a time limit. My smile now appears only when I am truly happy. The crumbling feeling is gone and I now stand stronger--stronger with the support of my dear friends.

Joyce Steenbergen
Honorable Mention
Write a DearReader Contest 2018

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

** AUTHORBUZZ **

DEAD SEA RISING (Fiction) by Jerry B. Jenkins

It's not every day that a criminal investigation in Manhattan connects to a tale of intrigue in ancient Mesopotamia. What could one have to do with the other? How are two families connected across 4,000 years of history? To find out what happens, you'll have to read the book!

Go to: AUTHORBUZZ click on DEAD SEA RISING to read more and to email author Jerry B. Jenkins, you'll get a reply.

KIDS BUZZ: Think space and the ocean don't go together? Think again. Jennifer Swanson's ASTRONAUT-AQUANAUT, a National Science Teachers Association Best Book of the Year, shows how, and will inspire any future explorer. For a chance to win a free copy, see http://www.authorbuzz.com/kidsbuzz.

Dear Reader Column 12-06-18

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,

Congratulations to Jane Heppner, one of this year's Honorable Mention writers in my annual Write a DearReader Contest. Jane writes a touching story reminding us that when we give we receive and our heart overflows.

It had been a fun year. I had shared about an hour every week mentoring Jenny*, a second grade student at an inner city elementary school. We had gotten past that first awkward phase and developed a closeness that surprised me, considering our many differences. I was old, she was young. I was white, she was black. I had a family that had loved and supported me my entire life, and she...well, Jenny's family life was sketchy at best. She had a scar on her arm that she didn't want to talk about. She told me that sometimes she didn't eat breakfast before coming to school because she couldn't wake up her dad. And Jenny never mentioned her mother.

We spent our time talking, playing games, and mostly reading. Jenny's teacher had asked me to concentrate on reading because Jenny was uncomfortable reading aloud. Not being a teacher myself, I wasn't sure how to go about the task. We took it slow; we started our visits with me reading to her. I read many short books and we looked at and talked about a lot of the pictures on the colorful pages. When the length of the book was a little longer, I would try to stop each week at a point that would leave her wondering about what would happen next in the story. I would take books that I thought she would find entertaining, based on what I knew my niece and nephew had liked at that age. Gradually, as the weeks went on, Jenny ended up doing more of the reading than I did. I don't think she even realized it at first. But her teacher let me know that she had noticed a difference in Jenny's class participation. With a sense of happiness and relief, I believed that our time together was making a difference.

Around Halloween that year, I surprised Jenny when I was leaving for the day by leaving the book we had been reading with her. She reminded me to take it when I left that day but I told her it was hers to keep. Sure enough, inside the front cover, Jenny found a bookplate with her name done in a not-so-perfect attempt at calligraphy, along with the date and a note I printed expressing my pride in her and my joy at getting to spend time with her. Tears came to both of our eyes as she hugged me tightly. I was warned that Jenny would come to expect gifts if I did that too often. That was never the case.

As the first semester came close to ending for the Christmas holiday, I brought a gift for Jenny to give to her teacher, to thank her for letting us spend time together outside of class. Jenny stared at it for a bit and seemed confused, but then carefully signed the card when I explained what we were going to do. I later learned that while giving the teacher a gift at Christmas is common in many schools, it was almost unheard of at Grand Avenue Elementary. We called the teacher out into the hallway when we went back to class that day and Jenny, with a big smile on her face, enthusiastically handed her the gift bag and card. As a bonus to the gift, without even being asked, Jenny read the card aloud to her teacher! What a memorable moment that was for all of us!

I lost track of Jenny after the school year ended. She transferred to another school that didn't participate in the mentoring program. I've thought of her often and prayed for her future. I know that the lessons she learned that year (and the lessons relearned by me), were a love of both reading and giving. After all, both of those really are so good to do with friends.

*Name has been changed

Jane Heppner
Honorable Mention
Write a DearReader Contest 2018

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:

(Mystery)
EGGS ON ICE by Laura Childs

(Fiction)
SOMETHING WORTH SAVING by Sandi Ward

(Fiction)
THE PRINCE by Jennifer Armentrout

(Fiction)
DEAD SEA RISING by Jerry B. Jenkins

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

Dear Reader Column 12-04-18

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,

Please welcome Michelle Ule, today's guest author at the book club. Michelle is a bestselling author of a variety of projects including her recent WWI coming-of-age novel, A Poppy in Remembrance and the biographer of Mrs. Oswald Chambers, The Woman Behind the World's Bestselling Devotional.

Michelle loves to travel the world when she's not in Northern California with her family. She loves to answer email, so drop her a line, michelle@michelleule.com. When you do, you'll be entered in her drawing for a copy of her new book.

And a special bonus, click on the link and you can read the first chapter of Michelle's new book, A Poppy in Remembrance. Click here to read.

Christmas Down Under

My husband and I had a child in college every year between 1999 and 2015. Since the kids worked during the summer, Christmas break provided the only time for a family vacation.

We usually stayed close to home, but one year an inheritance prompted a 20-day camping trip to New Zealand.

My husband and all four children (plus a girlfriend) yearned to visit the Lord of the Rings movie sites.

But it was Christmas time. Our youngest child, ten years old, asked about presents.

With luggage tight and space limited, I decreed all presents had to be purchased in New Zealand. They also needed to fit into the Christmas stockings I brought from home.

"That's all?"

I sighed. We were taking her halfway around the world!

At the last minute, I slipped into my suitcase tiny Christmas lights and two bags of mint M&Ms. We couldn't decorate a tree or make Christmas cookies, but at least we'd have familiar ingredients!

Hunting for the gifts

We arrived in country a week before Christmas. Haunting gift shops at tourist stops became a shopping ritual for all seven of us.

Size and stealth reigned. How do you fit six great gifts into such a limited space?

Would one son take the opportunity to present a ring?

Yikes!

I always bought socks as Christmas gifts and New Zealand creativity did not disappoint.

The girlfriend liked playing cards from foreign locations--easy.

Anything remotely linked to Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit was too obvious. I avoided those gifts.

After swimming with the dolphins off Kaikoura and getting lost in Puzzle World, everyone looked happier.

Christmas soon dawned.

We sang New Zealand Christmas carols in an Anglican church and dined at the only open restaurant in Queenstown.

After dinner, I decorated inside our recreational vehicle. Christmas lights twinkled, seven stockings hung from various latches and the M&Ms waited in a paper bowl.

One at a time, we filled the stockings with our souvenir gifts. Once finished, we crowded around the small table and opened our stockings in turn.

We laughed at every present: opossum-fur socks; a bungee-jumping Kiwi doll, earrings of native stones, playing cards, and Lord of the Rings-related gifts.

Best of all was the memory of a Christmas celebrated Down Under with the people we loved best.

Everything fit into our luggage--except maybe our hearts overflowing with happiness.

And the girlfriend got a wedding ring the following Christmas.

As the Maori say: Meri Kirihimete!

--Michelle Ule
email: michelle@michelleule.com

Michelle is giving away three copies A Poppy in Remembrance to book club readers. Be sure to enter the drawing. email:
michelle@michelleule.com

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

AUTHORBUZZ

SOMETHING WORTH SAVING (Fiction) by Sandi Ward

Lily and 14-year old Charlie are best friends: a boy and his cat. But Lily is puzzled when she sees bruises on Charlie. Who would dare hurt her favorite boy? In her quest to investigate, Lily comes to realize that her family is fractured in more ways than one. But no matter how flawed they may be, Lily never stops fighting to protect those she loves.

Go to: AUTHORBUZZ click on SOMETHING WORTH SAVING to read more and to email author Sandi Ward, you'll get a  reply.

Dear Reader Column 12-03-18

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,

Congratulations to Dave Brown, one of the Honorable Mention recipients in this year's Write a DearReader Contest. Dave's entry is bright, so true, and will make you smile. Enjoy the read.

Part-Time Father...Part-Time Mover

Almost 25 years ago, I became a father for the first time. I remember my mother talking to me (these talks were really lectures disguised as talks) about the importance of being a responsible father to my precious angel. Friends gave me fatherly advice about sports and boyfriends. Some of the advice was good, some not, especially the boy stuff.

But there's piece of advice everyone left out. No one said that the minute the doctor looked at me and said, "It's a girl!"...I not only became a father, I became a furniture mover. Yep, that's right, when they hand you that birth certificate, they might as well include a Union Card. You've just became a member of the Local Chapter of Furniture Movers.

My daughter moved today (again), and while it's on my mind, I want to share my advice with fathers who are joining the Union. It's never too early to start preparing. Thank me later.

Rules For Moving Your Kids

1. When moving, you are NOT the boss. You're the mover. You are to take directions, not give them. You have no opinions, you move the furniture, set up, and that's it. Do not forget this rule...ever.

2. Turn on a Classic Rock radio station. It'll make you feel younger. When in the eighth hour of moving, in pain and drenched in sweat, songs from the 80's will immediately give you a second wind.

3. Wear good "moving clothes." A t-shirt (from your college days...see #2) and shorts with pockets. Pockets are important because you'll be carrying multiple sets of keys, picture frame wire, screws, and bolts. Everyone will hear you coming.

4. Bring good tools. Not a little box from Wal-Mart, Contractor Grade tools--cordless screw gun, hammer, tape measure, level, and one of those tape dispenser thingies.

5. Learn how to hang a mirror and hook up a T.V. Remember to ask if things are hung straight, because you do not know (See rule #1).

6. If there's a boyfriend helping, make sure when carrying furniture HE walks backwards, not you. HE takes the heavy end, not you. In this case, you are kind of the boss, but don't get used to it (see rule #1).

7. Keep Kleenex readily available. This will be explained later.

I believe there are four types of moves that dads will be asked to do:

The Dorm Move--It's utter chaos and confusion. Definitely understand Rule #1, because not only are you not the boss, you also have no input on anything. A girl's dorm room has a "theme" and any idea you have is not welcomed. You're to move everything in and then go sit in the lobby with the other dads/movers, while everyone decorates. When you leave, remember the Kleenex rule.

The College Apartment Move--This move is the most work. You have to be in peak condition. Not only do you have to deal with getting out of the dorm, you also have even more "stuff" to move. Rely heavily on ALL of the rules.

The On Their Own Move--This is what I did today. It's a lot like the College Apartment Move, but way more emotional. Seeing your baby walk into the apartment office with her file folder full of documents (just like dad), you'll remember all the other moves. You'll think about how much they've grown up. You'll really need the Kleenex for this one.

The Married Move--I haven't done this one yet. I'll be just a mover, and this will be the hardest of all for so many reasons. More Kleenex.

In conclusion, being a dad AND a mover are still the two greatest jobs in the world. I wouldn't turn in my Local Chapter of Furniture Movers Union Card for anything.

Pass the Rule #7.

Dave Brown
Honorable Mention
Write a DearReader Contest 2018

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

** AUTHORBUZZ **

EGGS ON ICE (Mystery) by Laura Childs

As the Kindred Players hold their dress rehearsal for A Christmas Carol, a ghost wafts onstage and murders the star of the show. Suzanne Dietz, co-owner of the Cackleberry Club, rushes after this spooky specter but loses him when he escapes into a snowstorm. Suzanne vows to solve this murder and ends up juggling multiple suspects, holiday tea parties, a second murder, and a devastating fire. True to character, she also maintains her good humor (yes, this book is funny!) and keeps her romance sizzling with the town doctor.

Go to: AUTHORBUZZ click on EGGS ON ICE to read more and to email author Laura Childs, you'll get a reply.

Dear Reader Column 11-30-18

Dear Reader,

Congratulations to Stacey Somppi, one of the Honorable Mention recipients in the 2018 Write a DearReader Contest. Stacey reminds us there are angels everywhere, if we are looking, especially on the trail.

In 2017, our son thru-hiked the Appalachian Trail, Georgia to Maine, 1850 miles. This year he is tackling the Pacific Crest Trail, Mexico to Canada, 2650 miles. While I love the pictures he sends of impressive vistas, and we appreciate learning about the gear he uses, I am a sucker for the stories about Trail Angels.

Trail Angels are everyday folks along the way who are kind to hikers, doing small good deeds to make their hikes easier. Last year I could not get enough of these stories.

He told us about the grocery store manager who saw our son restocking hiking supplies at his store about two miles from the trail. He came out of his office to tell our son that he'd give him a lift back to the trailhead. The store runs a daily bus, but that wouldn't be until the afternoon so the manager volunteered.

Imagine our son's surprise at coming upon a cold stream stocked with beer and a sign indicating that the hikers should help themselves. He also encountered impromptu cookouts set up for hikers, often hosted by previous years' hikers or youth groups.

One retired woman spends her days giving rides to hikers from various trailheads into nearby towns and back to the trail. She follows the flow of hikers along the trail so some lucky folks encounter her more than once. She is the star of many selfies.

The manager of one hiker hostel has a box of scrubs for hikers to wear as they do their laundry, allowing them to wash everything at once. Our son said he and the patrons at the local diner looked like a bunch of interns.

This year on the other side of the country, angels also exist. The first was the couple and their many friends who graciously pick up hikers at the San Diego airport, allow them to camp in their yard, feed them dinner and breakfast, then provide rides to the trailhead one-and-a-half hours to the south where the PCT starts. And they won't accept any payment.

Our son's landlord in New Mexico is a Trail Angel in absentia, forwarding General Delivery packages of replacement shoes and supplies to him along the way.

Once we get the chance to visit with our son at the end of this summer's hike, I know I will have new stories to add to this collection.

For the most part, these Trail Angels are usually anonymous benefactors who fill very specific needs for hikers in their area. These are not random acts of kindness, but targeted acts of generosity.

We don't have to travel to iconic national trails to become Trail Angels. We can each provide specific help to those we meet daily on our own thru-hikes of life.

Stacey Somppi
Honorable Mention
Write a DearReader Contest 2018

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

* This month's Penguin Classics book is THE BOOK OF EMMA REYES: A MEMOIR, by Emma Reyes. I have a copy of the book to share with a lucky reader, so start reading and enter for your chance to win.

Dear Reader Column 11-29-18

Dear Reader,

Sometimes life gets in the way of writing, but not this year for Debbie Kosinski, one of the Honorable Mention writers in this year's Write a DearReader Contest.

I wrote my first novel around the time I graduated from high school. A novella, really. I followed that with another novel in college, and a third written during graduate school. I specify that I wrote the novels, pen-to-paper, free-flowing ideas. I didn't edit, I didn't rewrite. I most certainly never attempted to even think about trying to get anything published. I was way too busy, what with school, extra-curricular activities, friends and summer jobs. I would have plenty of time for my novel once I was finished with school. Right? There was never a question in my mind. I just assumed. Of course I would write and publish a novel once all my schooling was done.

But it didn't work out that way. Once I got my degree, I immediately started a super-intense internship. Then it was my first "real" job. I was working all the time, and when I wasn't working, I was dating or out with friends. The little time I was home and not sleeping, I was too exhausted to write. But that was okay, once I was settled, once my career took off, once I was married with kids, I could work part-time and then I would have plenty of time to write. Right?

Okay, so now all you working moms out there can stop laughing at me. Because that's where I am now. I am a working mom, vice president of the PTA, chauffeur, house-cleaner and cook extraordinaire. Oh yes, I do it all. You know what I don't do? Write.

I cringe when I hear the phrase "Writers write." Everyone's busy, just make the time. If you really want to write, you will find the time. But I can't and I don't. I am too tired. I should write at six am, after my shower and before I have to wake the kids for school. But I have to make and pack school lunches, feed the cats and walk the dog. I should write after the kids go to sleep, but after I check homework and clean up after dinner, I fall asleep on the couch in front of the television.

I don't even know what happened to all the great ideas I used to have. It's like my tired, overworked brain has shut down on me, my ideas have dried up, and I worry that I will never be inspired to write again.

That can't be true, can it? It has been over ten years since I last scribbled my novel in a college-lined notebook. But I still hold on to my dream of someday being a published author. Once the kids go off to college, once I can retire from the work-a-day world, then I'll have plenty of time to write. Right? And then, albeit thirty or so years later then I once imagined, I hope, I really, really hope my ideas and my energy will come flooding back, and I will finally complete my novel.

Debbie Kosinski
Honorable Mention
Write a DearReader Contest 2018

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

* Congratulations to the winners of Odd(ly) Enough by Guest Author Carolanne Miljavac: Margie R., Pat H., Marlys F., Susan G. and Shari B.

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

* This month's Penguin Classics book is THE BOOK OF EMMA REYES: A MEMOIR, by Emma Reyes. I have a copy of the book to share with a lucky reader, so start reading and enter for your chance to win.

Dear Reader Column 11-28-18

Dear Reader,

Today I'm sharing another Honorable Mention story from this year's Write a DearReader Contest. Congratulations to Susan Johnson. Her story will touch your heart.

Shadows

I saw you again today, a quick flash, out of the corner of my eye. When I turned, you were gone, as I knew you would be. With a sigh, I allowed the sadness to creep in until I could fling it away, the wispy web clinging to the darker corners of my mind. How long must I endure these ephemeral flashes of shadow? After all, you have been gone six months now. These sightings are becoming less frequent at least. That makes me feel guilty somehow. As if my moving on diminishes the important place you once filled in my life.

I didn't understand just what you meant to me until the day of your passing. You had become almost a fixture in the household, a sofa or a lamp, but of flesh and blood. We grow so used to our loved ones being there that we don't pay as much attention to them as we should. Until one day you find yourself missing a piece of your heart.

That March day was surreal. As the family gathered on that final day, you were so quiet. I sensed fear but also a deep tiredness in you. It was time to cross that bridge. I hope you were ready. I certainly wasn't. After you were given the initial sedative, we were given time alone to say our goodbyes. There were no dry eyes in that room. When it came time for that last injection I wanted to be sure to get a last look at you. Stroking your side, I felt a shudder and then nothing more. I looked into your eyes until I felt you were gone.

Returning home without you was hard. We stopped for lunch first. Not just because we were hungry but also to distract from what we were all feeling. I'm certain other patrons could sense something was amiss. Surely they could see the pain in our eyes.

That first day was tough. Dad took care of your things, as I could not bear to look at them. They sit, still, in the garage. We had removed them from our everyday view but could not take that next step of either donating or tossing away.

The passing of the days has lessened the heartache. At first, I would see you in your usual places, always out of the corner of my eye. I wasn't the only one. The rest of the family sensed you too: the sound of your footsteps moving across the hardwood floors, the quick glimpses of your small form. Remember how I used to turn on the light to the bedroom as I made my way though it to the bathroom so I wouldn't accidentally step on you? In your old age, your hearing wasn't as good as it used to be so I couldn't count on you to move out of my way. For many weeks, I still had the urge to turn on that light and call out your name.

I thought I was doing pretty well until a week or so later I was cleaning out the bedroom wastebasket and found your hair clippings. A bit of madness took me as I caressed that softness to my cheek. Maybe I should keep some of it, I thought. No, that's a bit too weird. Besides, it wasn't the beautiful hair you once had. These were the clippings of the matted clumps your silky hair had become. You were not much for grooming those last few years. So, out they went.

Today, as I look at the photos we took of you over the years I recall those first few weeks when you earned your name by leaving behind the legs of the poor crickets that dared enter our home.

You took a piece of my heart with you, Cricket, but left a piece of yours with me.

Susan Johnson
Honorable Mention
Write a DearReader Contest 2018

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

* This month's Penguin Classics book is THE BOOK OF EMMA REYES: A MEMOIR, by Emma Reyes. I have a copy of the book to share with a lucky reader, so start reading and enter for your chance to win.

Dear Reader Column 11/27/18

Dear Reader,

Today's guest author is Rachel Marie Martin. Let me tell you a little bit about her...

Having pulled herself up from poverty to being named one of Inc. magazine's top 40 entrepreneurs, Rachel has been writing Finding Joy full time for several years and writing online for over a decade. She's always had a passion for a daring, adventure-filled life and is often requested to speak and motivate others with her vivacious energy, and deep belief that life is a gift. Rachel is also a partner in Blogging Concentrated, the world's largest training and development company for bloggers, vloggers, and podcasters. She travels worldwide teaching marketing, voice, messaging, social media strategy and more. Rachel is a single mom of seven and lives in Tennessee.

In Rachel's newest book The Brave Art of Motherhood, she challenges her readers to change their today, so that their tomorrow is different. In its first month BookAuthority.org listed it as the best Motherhood Book of 2018, Amazon ranked it a #1 Best Seller and the Today Show featured Rachel and her story.

Rachel's guest column may be a personal note to mothers, but really it's a powerful reminder for all of us. Please welcome Rachel Marie Martin...

The Tomorrow Today Dare

I lived a life for many years waiting for tomorrow.

Tomorrow I'll start running.

Tomorrow I'll call that friend.

Tomorrow I'll read that book.

Tomorrow I'll tackle that room.

Tomorrow I'll speak up.

Tomorrow I'll try out for that part.

Tomorrow I'll plan that trip.

Tomorrow I'll take time for me.

Tomorrow, when the kids are grown, is really what I was telling myself.

Tomorrow, when the kids are grown, I'll really take time for myself because only then do I think I'm worth taking the time. Tomorrow when all the things that need to get fixed will I do all the things that need me to be brave. That's also what I was really telling myself. It's not easy to admit those lost myself kind of thoughts. We tuck them behind guilt and yet, when asked, those are the moments where the tears well up in one's eyes.

Living for tomorrow means that you think you will have many tomorrows.

Here's the real truth:

It means, at some level, you believe your life is invincible.

Humbling, isn't it? I so quickly forget that truth until those moments where it's smack in my face. Maybe it's easier to live without that urgency. Maybe we get caught up in the frenzy of life.

What, just what happens, if you stop with the excuse of the perpetual tomorrow and you start living today? What will you teach your kids then? You won't teach them that a mom gives up on her dreams and her passions and gets burnt out. You will teach them that it is just as noble and just as wise to not forget you.

Remember when you were young? The dreams, the possibilities, the excitement of when you were grown?

Don't lose that. This is your now.

Sometimes we just get so busy and so bogged down by life that all of that seems foolish, unwise and if there isn't the time. Trust me.

You are worth the time.

I know you have dreams. I also know you have dishes. I know you have hopes. I also know you have kids who either rebel or throw up or don't want the shirt with the lion on front and you are late and don't want to deal with changing it or well, you get the picture. You are a mom.

But, dear sister, just because you are a mom does not mean that you get a pass on yourself.

You don't get to quit taking care of you.

You don't get to wait until tomorrow to find your spark again.

You get now.

Sometimes it will mean tough stuff. It means looking at all the excuses that you have built and deciding to go the other way. It might mean giving up something to gain something better.

But you are worth your tomorrow today.

You are worth living with vibrancy and excitement.

Don't worry. It's not going mean that you deny being a mom, buy a plane ticket and fly to Europe. It simply means that you will remember you with the same tenacity that you remember your kids. I bet your kids doctor's appointments are up to date and you make sure they eat well and have a good education. That goes for you too.

Not tomorrow.

Today.

So I challenge you, wait, I dare you--to do one thing today that is about you finding you, finding joy or just makes you happy. I dare you to start living today like it was your tomorrow. No excuses, no putting you last, no more waiting.

You see, if you burn out, what good are you to everyone around you who needs you?

Ponder that.

Live today doing everything you put off for tomorrow.

I dare you.

-- Rachel Martin
rachel@findingjoy.net

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

* Congratulations to the winners of Strangers In Budapest by Guest Author Jessica Keener: Carol P., Dorie F., Nancy R., Janet T., and Pat H.

* This month's Penguin Classics book is THE BOOK OF EMMA REYES: A MEMOIR, by Emma Reyes. I have a copy of the book to share with a lucky reader, so start reading and enter for your chance to win.

Dear Reader Column 11-26-18

Dear Reader,

Debbie Williams is a fun-loving, brave, adventurous woman and I'm so glad she entered this year's Write a DearReader Contest. Get ready to have some fun. You'll enjoy the read.

My husband retired on Friday; a week later we launched ourselves into retirement when we bought a 40' motor coach. We already live in Florida (where most retirees dream of moving to) but we are both ready for a change of scenery--but we can't agree on where our ideal retirement home might be. After 36 years together, we are not totally on the same page about where we want to be in the future! Who knew we'd look at each other and say "You want to live where?" Buying a house on wheels seems like a good compromise for now.

This is the biggest leap of faith I've done in years, so far out of my comfort zone I'm about to break out in hives. After the initial exhilaration wore off, I am fretting. I don't know if I will gain or lose a sense of community as we travel around the country? Will our kids miss us? Would anyone care if I do--or don't do--a travel blog? How will extended time together in a RV be for us? It's a lot of money and it won't appreciate like buying real estate. Our kids think we've lost our minds and our friends say it's something they only dream of doing. I never aspired to be a bus driver or drive a big rig, and to be honest I was always annoyed if I got stuck behind one of the big RV's plodding along the highway towing their little car along, like a bug stuck to the back of it! And now that's going to be ME?!

I have to learn how to drive this behemoth because the only thing crazier than buying it is buying it and not being able to drive it. My sweetie says he will need a co-pilot and he didn't mean just in life, but behind the wheel, too. All the times we've flown, I've just glanced to the left for a quick peek into the cockpit and taken a seat, confident the pilot will get me to my destination safely. Now, I have my own "cockpit" to master, an all-day class to learn the various systems when we pick it up next week, plus a safe driver class. (I think we are both secretly scared of driving it!) I am looking forward to making lunch, doing laundry and watching TV...all while we motor along down the highway. My husband with no 9-5 job now has spent hours researching campgrounds and planning future trips. Me, I just want to close the door on our house, jump in the RV and take a left at the panhandle and see where we end up!

If you see a 40' bus plodding along on the interstate, with a spry retiree with faded auburn hair driving (maybe eating a grilled cheese), and a little dachshund in the window, give it plenty of room!

Debbie Williams
Honorable Mention
Write a DearReader Contest 2018

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

* This month's Penguin Classics book is THE BOOK OF EMMA REYES: A MEMOIR, by Emma Reyes. I have a copy of the book to share with a lucky reader, so start reading and enter for your chance to win.