Category Archives: Nonfiction

Organizing Your Work

inspiration

“Ideas are like rabbits. You get a couple and learn how to handle them, and pretty soon you have a dozen.” – John Steinbeck

What should you do with the dozens of writing ideas you have acquired from reading blogs and books on writing? If you’re a typical writer, you keep notebooks, 3 X 5 cards, envelopes, napkins, and even sticky notes handy to jot down any ideas as they come to you.

Learning to handle those ideas isn’t easy. There may be apps that will help you stay organized, but I’m a pen-and-paper person. So an app suggestion would fall on my deaf ears – for now anyway. I’ve learned to handle my numerous notebooks and random pieces of paper in a more organized fashion using folders. For example I maintain separate folders for:

  1. Each of my short stories
  2. Character, business, and place names
  3. Descriptions of interesting locales, occupations, and hobbies
  4. How to write mysteries articles
  5. How to write romance articles
  6. How to develop characters information
  7. Plot ideas, titles, and dialogues
  8. And each of the novels I’m working on

In the past I simply dumped any writing not relevant to what I was working on at that time. Never again. I no longer dump ideas, which may not work in one story but could be used in a future manuscript. One phrase from my “Titles” folder with an idea from my “Romance” folder combined to create the beginning of the romance manuscript that I started some time ago. It’s still a work-in-progress. Of course, this story has its own folder.

What suggestions do you have for organizing your writing?

Cruise’n for a good read

Whatzit

by John McCarthy: Twitter – Pinterest

I recently retuned from a cruise along the Caribbean on the Disney Fantasy. Eight days off the grid—no internet or cellular connection—is a vacation in and of itself. One of the best activities during this time was lounging in a wicker chair with an unobstructed view of the ocean. I read 2.5 books of the 3 paperbacks I brought for the trip. It was reassuring to know that if I’d run out of books to read or the ship got delayed at sea, there were more books to be had on Deck 11, Midship at Whozit’s & Whatzit’s.

Normally this particular “bookstore” would not make my destinations to visit, and write about. But everything is relative to where you are. A ship at sea has only so many places you can go. One person’s swim store is another’s bookshop. On first view, the store provides all things for the beach and pool experience—towels, swimsuits, sunscreen, goggles, and more. Everything is efficiently crammed into a space that is approximately 20 feet by 6 feet.

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The single carousel with books and magazines blends into one corner of the store, almost unseen by passersby. The bottom shelves hold popular magazines, while the top shelves showcase novels. Most are romance novels, followed by a small selection of mystery/thrillers. Unfortunately, no fantasy or science fiction was available. One carousel of reading material may seem limited, but when you’re on vacation, off the grid, the choices simply contain treasures to explore that you might otherwise not make the time for. On a cruise, time to do nothing is a wonderful opportunity to try out a new novel that you might otherwise ignore.

If you’ve gone on a cruise, what was your reading experience like? Which ship did you take, and where did you go? Did you bring books or ebooks? For those of you, my wonderful readers, who have not gone on a cruise, it’s time to experience the amazing time of doing nothing—and read.

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Patti’s Mother’s Car Keys

Whenever I had lunch with friends, I used to tell the following story in order to keep the conversation going:

The story is about my secretary, Patti, her mom, Eleanor, and her car accident. Patti’s mom was over ninety years old but she looked as if she was only seventy, with a slim and attractive figure. People passing by stopped walking to take a second look at her and many of them exclaimed, “wow”.

Her hair was colored to a very light brown and in the summer she wore one-piece dresses with flower patterns reaching almost to her ankles and tightened her waist with a wide black leather belt. In the winter, she usually wore black pants with different colored sweaters over a white blouse. Her clothes were not designer, but she was always fashionable.

Her smile was especially unique without making any sounds but spread on her face. She walked on her tiptoes, almost falling down to the ground, but in a sense it looked like she was dancing all the time. Her daily activities had slowed down over five years ago but she never missed 9:30 a.m. mass.

Patti’s mom reminded me of Rose Kennedy, who was a devout Catholic. She had a healthy life and never missed daily swimming in the pool and mass, despite several heartbreaking tragedies.

Her daily activities started after a light breakfast of coffee, orange juice, oatmeal and one piece of toast. Following mass and errands she carefully reviewed her afternoon schedule for grandchildren’s birthdays or their graduation parties. She did not miss even one of the great grandchildren’s events, even though she could not remember all their names. Religiously she returned phone calls from friends out of state and her youngest sister, Peggy, and her youngest brother, Bob. Peggy had a home in Michigan and Florida. Her husband had knee replacement surgery a couple of years ago and was still not completely recovered. She learned that Bob, her youngest brother, and his wife, Emily, planned to take a cruise on the Mediterranean for his 80th birthday.

If Patti’s mother was still alive she would not have been able to sleep after learning that her oldest son, Bill, has just been diagnosed with Leukemia. She would be visiting him every day instead of attending any birthday or graduation parties.

Her activities were not limited to family and relatives. She was very active in her senior circle, played with the bell ringers in the church choir, met monthly with the Pax Christi group from church, played the organ, sometimes went on calls weekly with a partner for St. Vincent de Paul. Until the last two years of her life she was a communion minister at church, taking communion to shut-ins at a local nursing home every week.

The most enjoyable thing for her was to play cards with her surviving brothers and sisters. After playing cards they all shared a potluck dinner with a glass of wine. Another rewarding experience for her was when she served as clerical help during her eldest daughter Jeanne’s campaign for mayor of Troy. She did not wipe away her tears over the late night news of her daughter’s election as mayor. Just let them run down her cheeks.

In the late afternoon her daughters stopped by her condo, checking her medicine, food and necessities. All of her seven living daughters took turns with this. What a fortunate woman she was! Patti made Impossible Pie, Chicken a la King, Shrimp Scampi, Beef Stew, Lasagna, and one of her mother’s favorites, Chicken stir-fry.

Before going to bed she would watch the 6:00 p.m. NBC news and work the crossword puzzle from that day’s newspaper. Sometimes she would write short notes about church and local news to out of state friends and her sons and daughters.

She loved to go to visit her daughter, Rita, in Indianapolis, Indiana. She enjoyed the changes of scenery on Highway 94 West and 69 South, passing by Coldwater, Fort Wayne and the G.M. Truck Plant. In the spring the corn was knee high and in the autumn it grew tall with brown color along with soybeans and Maple trees changing colors. Another thing that she enjoyed very much was having lunch with her daughter Jeanne at one of the local Chuck Muer restaurants.

As soon as they entered the restaurant’s heavy swinging doors with a carved crab on each door, Tom, their waiter, greeted them in his usual friendly fashion, “Hello, Grandma and Mayor Jeanne, and how are you ladies this afternoon?” They were almost regular customers on Sundays.

“Fine and you?” Jeanne answered politely.

“Fine, fine, fine”, Tom said in a rush in order to wait on his other tables. Tom anticipated their regular orders, “Two cups of tea with sugar, no milk and no lemon”. Then he left before getting a “yes” or “no” response from either of them. He was back rather quickly with their drinks and took out his order pad ready to take their orders.

“Just a minute, let me look at the menu today. Instead of ordering the same thing, grilled tuna steaks, I will look at the menu.” Grandma was in a demanding mood and expressed the following without saying a word, “Tom, do not rush us.”

Now Tom sensed that today Grandma and Jeanne had lots of time to enjoy their Sunday afternoon lunch and so he quickly said, “Take your time. I will be back.” He pretended he was not rushed, then he disappeared.

“Jeanne, what are you going to have?”

“Mom, I am thinking grilled white fish and soup instead of a chef salad.”

“And I will have grilled swordfish with Caesar salad,” her mother responded.

“Sounds good, Mom.” Jeanne just easily approved her mother’s choice. They enjoyed Chuck Muer’s bread, fish patties, crispy Jewish crackers, their main dishes, tea and spending a pleasant afternoon together.

Patti’s mother drove her 1986 Olds Cutlas Ciera just to church for morning mass and running small errands within a five-mile radius.

One weekend when Patti came into the office her face was almost as red as a fire engine and she was almost out of breath. I thought she was sick or something terrible had happened. For a minute I just stared at her.

Finally her first words came out, “My mom had a car accident” with stress and almost shivering with concern.

“So, what happened?” I almost screamed my question, but in a split second I knew that if Patti came in to work, rolling her eyes, then it wasn’t that serious.

“She is fine, but all shook up,” Patti continued.

“Of course, understandable,” I responded. “Is she in the hospital?”

“No, she did not get hurt at all.” Patti’s excitement did not decrease as she continued. “My mom hit a city tractor pulling into the grocery store parking lot. I guess that she did not see them as they were pulling out.”

“A city tractor?” I repeated. “What happened to your mom?” I was trying to calm myself. “Your mom was responsible?” I tried to lower my voice but almost burst out laughing and repeated, “a city tractor?” Then, one more time I repeated, “a city tractor?”

“Her car has a little damage in the back but everything is ok.” Patti was quiet for a minute.

“Then what’s the problem?” I filled the gap.

“My mother’s main concern is losing her driver’s license. That’s why she is all shook up.”

Ah, Ah, now I understood. I spoke again to myself.

“Patti, did the police come and give her a ticket?”

“No.” Patti’s answer was short.

“Was there a lot of damage to the city tractor?” I asked.

“No, and my mother’s car only has a scratch and a small dent on the back bumper,” she explained.

“Then there is no problem.” I tried to comfort and calm her.

“But she thinks that she might lose her license. She called my sister, Jeanne the mayor, and asked for her advice and help. Jeanne helped to have the car repaired because a good friend owned a collision shop.” Patti finished by saying that soon “everything would return to normal”.

Since her mother had eleven children and many grandchildren and great grandchildren, Patti has many nieces and nephews. It seems that almost every day Patti has more news about her family, going into the army, getting married, having babies, divorcing, starting a new business or getting a new job. The list is endless. It puts me in mind of one of our Korean proverbs, “The wind never died away at the tree that has many branches”. This is a perfect description for many relatives.

Patti’s mom was driving to church and attending mass every morning again. A couple of months later Patti was excited again and came into my office barely able to control herself. She was lucky that she did not fall in front of my desk. I waited until she started to talk.

“Patti, let’s have a cup of coffee,” I offered. “I’ll just get it.”

Patti started to talk. “Kook-Wha, my mother got her license renewed.” With an extremely unhappy expression she continued, “They shouldn’t give it to her.”

“Patti, she looks so young for her age. Everybody thinks she is only around 70 years old.” While I commented I pictured her face and figure from a few months earlier when she was in our office. At that time I praised her mother’s smile and beautiful summer dress that had a floral pattern.

“But they are wrong to renew her license again for a 90 year old lady. She got her license in 1946 just before her 40th birthday. My mother and my sister, Rita, both got their licenses that summer.” Patti was so agitated in her opinion that I could not interrupt her and she continued. “Our family might have a meeting and take her car keys away from her. Maybe the Secretary of State’s office missed looking at her date of birth and only looked at her personally and, luckily, her eyesight was good enough for driving. She was perfectly qualified to drive (renew her license) in the State of Michigan. She goes to mass every morning. That’s a problem. Somebody else will have to take her everywhere she goes.”

“Of course”, I interrupted her thinking that when my mother asked for a ride, her expression was almost ashamed because she thought that she should not have to ask for help.

“My mother does not know that we are having a family meeting about her car keys. If she knew she would think that her life will be ending soon.” Patti finished her talk about her family taking the keys away.

A couple of months later Patti told me her mother was grumpy and did not talk with her for a few days. Her mother stayed in bed doing crossword puzzles because the family took her car keys away from her.

Patti assured me that the family did the right thing for her mother and for other people. “The family does not want to see other people get hurt because of my mom.”

Sure, that is true, “but, but” my “but” could not make a conclusion. In my mind I saw Patti’s mother’s beautiful face covered by gray clouds and tears running down her cheeks.

Patti’s mother passed away at the age of 97, two years after she surrendered the privilege of holding her car keys, with many, varied, colorful and bittersweet memories left to her children.

* Much of this story is true, but not all of it.

Swimming

I love to swim. It lifts my mood and relaxes me like nothing else. I feel good all over. Nothing hurts. It’s the best form of exercise!

The best time for me to swim is when it’s cold outside, the colder the better. I throw on some clothes over my swimsuit, put on my parka and sandals and drive to the health club down the street. Eight minutes door to door, if I get all green lights. If not, then it’s ten.

I swipe my card, put my clothes in a locker, grab a towel and head to the pool. Well, not any pool, but the warm water pool. I can’t believe how good it feels when it’s 32 or 22 or maybe only 2 degrees outside and I walk down the stairs into the warm water pool. It’s like I’ve died and gone to heaven! Not that I’m ready to die yet, but I like the metaphor.

There are two lap lanes in the warm water pool. They’re on the far side by the windows. While the warm water makes the pool so wonderful, it’s the windows that make the experience. They’re floor to ceiling, at least 20 feet high and go across the length of the room. They let in so much light, I can’t help feeling like I’m outdoors in the summer sun even though I’m really indoors protected from the winter freeze.

When it’s really cold like this, the sun always shines, bright and sparkly and sometimes even feels warm when it comes through the glass. If it’s only 35 or 40 degrees outside, the sky is overcast, foggy or just plain yucky. But when the world is frigid outside, the sun ensures that it’s bright and cheerful inside.

Once I get to the lap lanes, I start swimming: up and down, up and down, on my back for forty minutes. I keep looking out the windows. I can’t help smiling.

 

I am so lucky! Lucky to be here swimming laps in this warm bath tub at the exact time I used to be pulling into the garage at work, parking my car and getting ready for my first conference of the day. I am lucky to have a health club that’s so close and convenient and has such an uplifting setting. This whole experience makes me feel grateful for all that I have: family, friends and good times!

Everything is good. Life can’t be better than this!

No Greater Gift

Stained glass depiction of Joseph's encounter with God's angel. The Church of St. Joseph, Nazareth, Israel. 2014.

Stained glass depiction of Joseph’s encounter with God’s angel. The Church of St. Joseph, Nazareth, Israel. 2014.

“I’ve got pageant on the brain.” It’s a temporary affliction that I most recently revealed to my friends one evening while we were playing Euchre. The conversation had been swimming around careers and responsibilities, and at some point I squeezed in my earth-shattering news: I’m directing the Christmas pageant at my church and am preoccupied with the planning.

Two years ago, I took on the endeavor for my first time. When I told one of my best friends, she surprised me by laughing. So much for the vote of confidence, I thought. Then, I realized that she grew up with me and she remembered what I was like as an adolescent. Back then, I hated speaking in public, was never in a play, and quit going to church sometime during high school. Upon reflection, her reaction seemed somewhat appropriate, except a lot had happened since our childhood. Little by little, God had prodded me until my faith had grown strong enough that I could be trusted with telling His story.

I knew organizing the pageant would be a huge responsibility. Parents wanted to see their children participate in an appropriate demonstration that would honor Jesus. Children expected to have fun while being part of an important presentation. And God seemed to be nudging me to deliver the pageant in a way that would help others appreciate the unique circumstances surrounding His Son’s birth.

Did I understand the historical event well enough to accurately portray Jesus’s entry into the world? Not entirely. But I have heard it said that if you really want to learn something, then you should teach it to someone else. Since I would be doing both, I felt obligated to look for reliable information. I consulted several different sources, sifted through books and articles, garnered what I needed, and wrote the script for The Story of Jesus’s Birth. The pageant was introduced to my congregation as the “Authentic Christmas” story because I hoped to do away with many common misconceptions and show people a more realistic rendition of the miraculous event that took place over 2000 years ago.

I didn’t want to rewrite history, but I found many tidbits that warranted my tweaking of the traditional Christmas pageant. Here are some of the things I found interesting and the ideas that took shape.

Jesus fulfilled more than three hundred prophecies, an astounding number considering they were written over four hundred years before He was born. His birth, life, and sacrificial death were foretold well before he walked the earth. His role as savior was long expected.

Stone feeding trough. Photograph taken by Kelly Bixby in Megiddo, Israel. 2014.

Stone feeding trough. Photograph taken by Kelly Bixby in Megiddo, Israel. 2014.

Joseph’s arrival back in his hometown of Bethlehem for the census may have been similar to our modern day experiences of going home for a holiday. Sometimes we have to sleep on the couch because Auntie Em is in the spare bedroom. It doesn’t mean we can’t stay; we just get whatever space is still left. The familiar misconception of a callous innkeeper may have evolved from nothing more than a tired and grumpy cousin who didn’t get to sleep in his own bed one special night. The place offered to Mary and Joseph could have been the only room of his house that wasn’t already overflowing with relatives and other guests. It would have been the lower portion of the resident’s home (a multi-level cave) where valued animals were routinely brought inside at night. There they were safely protected from loss and theft while the owners slept in an upper room. No one really knows if any animals were present and lying near the baby Jesus on the night of His arrival, but there is evidence that Jesus’s bed was a stone feeding trough, not a wooden manger, built into the lower room.

Under normal circumstances in ancient Israel, Joseph wouldn’t have been in the room when Mary gave birth. He would have remained close by and quick to enter after Jesus was cleaned and swaddled.

Below the ornamentation and decorative tapestries is the ground of a cave presumed to be the birthplace of Jesus. The Church of the Nativity, Bethlehem, Israel. 2014.

Below the ornamentation and decorative tapestries is the ground of a cave presumed to be the birthplace of Jesus. The Church of the Nativity, Bethlehem, Israel. 2014.

There isn’t any biblical mention of angels being present in the stable when Jesus was born (despite artistic renderings and popular crèches), but they are part of the story. First, the angel Gabriel appeared to Mary to tell her she would conceive the Son of God and that her old and barren relative, Elizabeth, was also pregnant (with John the Baptist). Then, an angel, presumed to be Gabriel, appeared in a dream to Joseph to explain that Mary’s conception was miraculous. God’s messenger instructed Joseph to name the expected baby Jesus. On the night Jesus was born, a single angel–once again presumed to be Gabriel– appeared to shepherds to announce Jesus’s birth and encourage them to go to Bethlehem and see the baby. A host of angels joined Gabriel and the shepherds, praised God, and proclaimed peace to those who please God. Joseph was visited at least two more times by angels giving warning or instructions that led to Jesus’s safety.(NIV)

Jesus was officially given His name during the time of circumcision, when He was eight days old.(NIV)

When Jesus was no younger than forty days old, He was taken to the temple to be presented to the Lord and dedicated into serving Him. During the ceremony, Jesus created quite a stir when two faithful servants recognized the infant as the Messiah (Christ). Simeon prophesied Jesus’s suffering and death, and old Anna, a prophetess, spread the news of the infant Messiah’s arrival to those looking forward to redemption.(NIV)

Wise men, commonly referred to as Magi, came to worship Jesus, but not on the night of His birth. Their visit may have taken place as long as two years afterwards. So in our pageant, the unnamed Magi from the east humbly bowed before a toddler Jesus as He stood beside his mother in their home, not a stable. The visitors were most likely not kings, but they may have been astrologers or advisors to kings. There was more than one Magi, but the Bible doesn’t specify the exact number. Tradition, whether right or wrong, sets the number at three.

Jesus was taken to safety in Egypt, thus spared from paranoid King Herod’s orders to massacre all the boys in Bethlehem who were two years old and younger. This tragedy is pretty well known, but it is often left out of Christmas pageants. One reason is that this tale is gruesome and unsettling. Even I glossed over sharing this part of history because the pageant was ending and I wanted a softer transition into a joyous closing hymn. I would have liked to have explained that more than baby boys would have been killed. In their fury, it’s presumed that Herod’s army didn’t take time to figure out which babies were boys and which were girls; and if parents tried to protect their children, they may have been killed too.

Scene from “The Story of Jesus’s Birth.” Photograph taken by Lynn Rife. 16 Dec. 2012

Scene from “The Story of Jesus’s Birth.” Photograph taken by Lynn Rife. 16 Dec. 2012

Overall, our pageant looked fairly traditional. Youth portrayed every part. They became fluffy sheep, brilliant angels, and humble shepherds. As wise men, they looked like kings, complete with two-legged camels trailing behind. The highlight was still the scene with a costumed donkey that came to rest next to Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus. Did anyone notice the non-traditional yet more realistic stone manger? Was anyone surprised to learn about Simeon and Anna? Or that Jesus was at least two years old when the Magi bowed before Him? I had achieved my goal of introducing lesser known details into our rendition of the Christmas story. I hoped that many were inspired to wonder what that night was really like.

The pageant required long hours of planning and the support of a small army of family and friends. Together, we survived the crazy, energetic practices and embraced impromptus by our young actors. There were tears (mine) during group prayer and joy as I watched God’s precious children welcome and worship baby Jesus. The parents smiled. The children beamed. I was amazed by it all and felt like the one who had the most fun.

“Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.” –Jesus


SOURCES:

Bart D. Ehrman, “The Myths of Jesus,” Newsweek 17 Dec. 2012: 26-28.

Bert Gary, “Are Kids’ Christmas Plays Biblical?” downloaded Nov. 2012 <http://bertgary.blogspot.com/2009/01/are-kids-christmas-plays-biblical.html>.

Daniel B. Wallace, “The Birth of Jesus Christ,” Bible.org downloaded 7 Nov. 2012 <https://bible.org/article/birth-jesus-christ>.

The NIV Study Bible, ed. Kenneth Barker (Michigan: Zondervan Publishing House, 1995) 1436-1439, 1533-1538.