REPUBLISHING ACHES AND PAINS

This week, my dear friend, Marilyn Meredith, writes about the republishing process. In the past several years, she has now republished almost all of her books as self-published.

It all began when my good friend, Lorna, urged me to self-publish the Rocky Bluff P.D. mystery series. She and her husband had already done the same for my Deputy Tempe Crabtree series when the publisher closed its doors. Lorna and I both re-edited every book in the series, and her husband, Larry, redid the new covers for publication. And of course, Lorna did the actual job of putting the books on Amazon as trade paperback and for Kindle.

When the publisher of the RBPD series passed away, another publisher picked up the authors’ books, including mine. However, I had so many, the republishing process was slow. I’d already experienced the advantage of the Crabtree series being self-published because of my ability to actually see what books were being purchased, and if the promotion of a particular book worked.

As with the other series, the process began with Lorna editing each book and then my going over it, too. This was an eye-opener. These books had first been heard and critiqued by my writers’ group, re-edited by me, edited by the first publisher, then the second publisher, but Lorna discovered many mistakes, and then, I went through them, too. Not only did I find more mistakes like simple typos, but also character’s name changes, and a few discrepancies. Despite all that work, I’m sure we still missed some errors.

Larry redid all the covers, each one in a different color, with a wonderful RBPD badge on each one. An entire set of the books creates a wonderful rainbow.

The whole series is now available on Amazon.

This may sound easy, but it was a lot of work. At times, I wondered if it would be worth it—and I’ll bet there were moments when Lorna wished she hadn’t urged me to switch to self-publishing.

I must say, I wasn’t up to doing this myself. I’m at a stage in life where I have trouble learning how to do new things. None of this would have happened without Lorna’s and Larry’s expertise, and I’m forever grateful.

If you’d like to start at the beginning of the series, here’s the link to Final Respects:

https://tinyurl.com/y8ggfa4r

However, each book is written as a stand-alone. There are continuing characters, but the crime or crimes are solved by the end of the book.

One of my favorites is Murder in the Worst Degree.

https://tinyurl.com/yagpv3hq  The Kindle version of this book will be FREE from today, July 24, through the 28th. If you downloaded the old version, you may want to try this one. See if you can find any differences.

Marilyn writes the RBPD series as F. M. Meredith. She is the author of over forty published books. She lived for over twenty years in a beach town with many similarities to Rocky Bluff. She’s a member of two chapters of Sisters in Crime, Public Safety Writers Association and other writers’ groups.

Webpage: http://fictionforyou.com

Blog: https://marilynmeredith.blogspot.com/

50th Anniversary 9/5/2015 Casey’s Thoughts

I recently went through the photos of our 50th anniversary and created a video of the celebration and party. (September 5, 2015. Most photos by Heather Taylor) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qeuEBcKPNXg 

I also found the audio recording of the ceremony. I have now transcribed each of our speeches. This last one is from my brother-in-love, Casey Collins.

I’m Casey, Larry Collins’s brother. To you, it’s an introduction, but to me it’s a title, and it’s a title I’ve always been really proud of. Larry mentioned we grew up in an awesome family. Our parents were terrific. There is quite a span in age between Larry and me. Because of the war, WWII, and a few other issues, I was seven years younger.

Casey 2 & Larry 9

Larry 12 & Casey 5

Larry was always there to take care of me. I was the tag-along. He would let me go with him and was incredibly kind and amazingly nice to me because I wasn’t always someone to be nice to. We had a really, really close relationship. He introduced me at an early age to surfing and skateboarding and motorcycle riding, all kinds of great activities.

Surfers circa 1969

Larry didn’t have a lot of girlfriends. Most of them weren’t interested in having his little brother hang out with them. So, I kind of got pushed to the side.

Lorna was different, and that’s why she’s my favorite. She was the one who let me tag along with them when Larry went surfing and when they went to the movies and activities. She was awesome. She didn’t separate me from my brother.

Larry saved my life in the ocean one time. I think he probably saved a lot of lives.

I wanted to mention how Lorna gained my respect. Larry was a surfer, and surfing isn’t the glamorous, beach party thing. When they were married, Lorna would go with us early in the morning to the beach. We lived in Alhambra, so we were always going to Santa Barbara or San Diego to surf. She earned my respect by the way she handled it.

For example, we would leave the house at oh-dark-thirty in the morning because we had a one-hour or two-hour drive to get to the specific surfing spot where we wanted to go before it got light. We surfed both in the winter and the summer, so the conditions could be a bit rough. The beaches we went to were either covered in rocks or the sand was full of seaweed and flies. Lorna would record us surfing on 8mm film. Then she would sit in the car and read.

About ten o’clock, the sun would start to break through to make a pretty day at the beach. This was about the time we’d load up the car and head back home because we were done for the day. It seemed so difficult for her to do, but she never complained.

When I was fifteen-and-a-half, I got my learner’s permit. I was allowed to drive with my brother because he had a license. So, I was allowed to drive on our surf trips. Lorna had a Ford T-bird, and she would let me drive it to the beach.

[Here is a video--from old home movies―of all of us going to the beach together with Casey driving: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XPyrJaJ4zF8 ~Lorna]

Somewhere in there, I gained a sister, because she was really great.

As a couple, they faced some challenges. Our family was so close, but no matter where it was—Chicago or Denver or later on Japan—they had to leave their friends and family, pack up Kimberly, and off they would go. I think it was actually great for them. They had no one else to rely on but each other. They really built a strong relationship at that point.

Then, they were apart a lot. Larry was in Turkey and Alaska and other places where he spent weeks on business. It kept him away from Lorna, but it made them stronger.

They were always kind to each other. They were always encouraging. They enjoyed each other’s company wherever they went. It’s still obvious they like each other a lot.

Fifty years ago, at Marengo Avenue Methodist Church, they made a vow that they would love, honor, and cherish each other. I know God smiled at that time. Not because of that moment, but because of this moment.

September 4, 1965 - Family

It’s fifty years later, they kept that vow. And they are ready to renew it again. It’s something to be proud of. Congratulations on fifty years, and we love you both.

September 5, 2015

50th Anniversary - Kathleen’s Thoughts 9/5/2015

I recently went through the photos of our 50th anniversary and created a video of the celebration and party. (September 5, 2015. Most photos by Heather Taylor) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qeuEBcKPNXg 

I also found the audio recording of the ceremony. I have now transcribed each of our speeches. I'll share the last one with you next week.

My dearest friend, Kathleen Murphy Stewart, was my maid-of-honor when we were married in September of 1965. She loathed speaking in public, but she made an exception for the occasion of the celebration of our 50^th anniversary. Her husband said she practiced for two days ahead of the ceremony. She did a good job. It was wonderful hearing her voice again when we listened to the recording. We lost her a few weeks ago, and I miss her.

Chapter 1

There is a thief among us. This thief has stolen from each of us, all of us, has stolen the same thing, the same exact amount from each of us. But this thief is known to all of us, and all too frequently, never missing a visit and never missing an opportunity to steal.

No, this is not one of Lorna and Larry’s novels. As true yesterday, today, and tomorrow, the name of that thief is time. Time steals from all of us. Time steals many things, but it can never steal the most important things. Time cannot steal our friendships. Time cannot steal our memories, locked in our hearts.

Try as it might, time leaves friendship and memories untouched because these alone rest in our hearts and stay with us, despite the ravages of time.

Lorna and I have been friends for three-score-and-seven years. We share our friendship and many memories, and the thief cannot break in and steal them from us. Our shared memories stand as the foundation of our relationship.

Chapter 2

There was blood. The blood will flow. The blood was shed. The blood will incriminate. The blood will not be washed away. Perry Mason can’t make blood disappear. Columbo will find it. Sherlock Holmes will deduce it. Sam Spade will slip on it. But the blood will not be stolen from the thief of time.

This is not another novel in progress, believe me. But Lorna and I were the best of the best of friends, living two houses apart growing up from before kindergarten and into college.

One time, we really did draw blood. We obtained a sewing needle and stuck ourselves. We mixed our blood. At once we were thrilled because we became blood sisters. True sisters at last. We’d always been sisters in our hearts, but now, we were truly sisters.

Back: Eileen, Karen, Dennis, Kathy, Lorna, Suzanne, David, Diane, Kathleen

Front: Ron, Jan, John

Chapter 3

Lorna and I were together through all seasons. We did what best friends do: we rode bikes, roller-skated, played Monopoly, and had a good time all year ‘round. Especially here in California where the weather is so nice.

Chapter 4

The eternal triangle was based on many stories, was written about in many books, and was the basis of many movies. Lorna, Larry, and I were sort of a triangle. But not the one you think.

Larry and I went from kindergarten through high school together. At our high school graduation, Larry comforted me by holding my hand as I tearfully wished those days would not end.

More recently, he kept my chair from sliding down the slope at my mother’s graveside service.

Chapter 5

You’ve already heard how I got them got together at the football game.

A half century ago, I was their maid of honor. After the wedding, I used all my athletic skills and jumped as high as I could for the bridal bouquet. I was pretty athletic, but I still missed it. But perhaps I caught Lorna and Larry’s wishes for me because just two weeks later, I was engaged. And the next year, I was married with Lorna serving as my matron-of honor.

Sherry Ellen Van Clief (Cowell), Patty Hair, Claudia Sue McGee (Gates), Kathleen, Lorna

My husband is here, and we just celebrated our forty-ninth. Our fiftieth is coming up. Thank the Lord.

To bring these remarks to a close and bring you up to date, I must relate that during most of my life, I have been only an occasional reader. I read their first effort, 31 Months in Japan. But then I read The Memory Keeper, and now I have read all of their published books. This activity has made me a voracious reader. I have read more in this last year than I did in previous years. My Kindle, which is packed with books, is never far from me.

So, now I give thanks, not only for the friendship and memories of my true sis, Lorna, and longtime and all-around buddy, Larry, but their gift of adding the value of dimension to my life.

September 5, 2015 Bill, Larry, Kathleen, Lorna

50th Anniversary Celebration - Lorna’s Thoughts 9/5/2015

I recently went through the photos of our 50th anniversary and created a video of the celebration and party. (September 5, 2015. Most photos by Heather Taylor)  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qeuEBcKPNXg 

I also found the audio recording of the ceremony. I have now transcribed each of our speeches, and I'll share them with you for the next three weeks. Here is mine. Larry's was last week.

It was a gift to marry into Larry’s family. It truly was. They knew how to do love, and they demonstrated it freely. Like he said, there was never an outsider—ever.

He’s not the only one with a history of long marriage. Today with us, are my aunt and uncle, Evelyn and Frank George. My aunt is my mother’s youngest sister. Two weeks ago, they celebrated their seventy-second wedding anniversary. So, I had some really good modeling, too.

Frank & Evelyn – 75^th Anniversary

About the time I was thirteen, Aunt Evie and I went from niece and aunt to good friends, and she is one of my favorite playmates. We have always had the best time with them.

When I was going through our wedding book a week or so ago, I found this really terrible poem. And I have to apologize. It I got it in a contest today, I’d throw it out. But it was there, and it’s what I wrote when I was eighteen. So please forgive me, but I thought it was fun to find it, so here it is.

Two young people at Alhambra High,

He was a junior. A freshman was I.

We dated awhile, and then no more.

I thought we were parted forever, for sure.

But two years later, by accident,

It seemed as though we were heaven-sent,

We met one day at the Miracle Mart,

And on February thirteenth, our romance had its start.

A ring on the phone

For a Valentine’s dance

At Cal Poly School,

And my answer was, “Yes.”

Now just two years later,

His ring I am wearing,

And after September,

His life I’ll be sharing.

This was from July of 1965.

About a week ago I heard from my—I won’t say “oldest” but “longest”―friend. (I’ve known Kathleen since I was two. She was my maid of honor.) She asked, “How did that sequence of stuff go when you met? She was there for all of it, but it was hard to keep it in order. So, I wrote it down for her, and I thought maybe some of you would be interested. So, here it is.

Larry and I saw one another and knew who the other was at Marguerita Elementary School. He used to deliver Avon on his bicycle for his mother, Letha, so my mother knew him, too. She was in love with him from the time he was a little boy and stayed in love with him until the day she died.

The summer before I started Alhambra High School, we were at Crestline at Club St. Moritz at the same time. My mother formally introduced us there, but at that time, Larry had a girlfriend.

In the fall of 1960, my freshman year in high school, I went to a football game with my best friend, Kathleen. She really wanted to sit with Tom Dixon, who was a guy she was kind of going with at the time. So, we met him there since he didn’t drive. At the game, Kathleen sat next to Tom, and I sat next to her.

At halftime, Larry joined us in the stands, and he sat down next to me. My hands were really icy, so he put them in his jacket pocket and kept them warm.

I’d had a crush on him since I was about twelve, but he had no idea who I was. His mother knew I had a crush on him, but he was clueless. Now that I was fourteen, he kind of caught on. (He has admitted the Collins men are kind of clueless.) it took him a while.

We all decided we’d go out for cokes after the game. Of course, both Kathleen and I had to call our parents. This was in the days when there were pay phones, and there was one at Moor Field where the game was held. My mother only agreed to let me go (keep in mind, I was only fourteen) because she adored Larry, and Kathleen was going to be along.

So, we went to a burger place called Yankee Doodle’s and we had cokes.

A couple of weeks later, the guys asked us to go to the drive-in to see Swiss Family Robinson. Since Tom and Kathleen sat in the backseat, I’m not sure whether they actually watched the movie or not. I can tell you those of us in the front seat did. Part of it is because Larry, by his own admission, is kind of cheap, and he didn’t want to pay for a movie he didn’t see. So, there we were.

A couple of weeks later, we all went to the San Gabriel Theater to see Cinderfella. After we dropped off Tom and Kathleen, Larry walked me to the door, and he asked if he could kiss me goodnight. Of course, I said yes.

He attended my family’s New Year’s Eve party, and when we came home, he started to kiss me, but I stopped him. That was because my grandmother was sleeping in the living room, and my grandmother was kind of an enforcer. I figured she was probably looking out the window, and I knew there would be heck to pay if she saw me kissing a boy. But he didn’t know why. I thought I’d really hurt his feelings.

I didn’t hear from him for a while, but I heard from friends he’d actually gone back to his old girlfriend. It turns out, she’d gotten sick, and he felt she needed him. It’s a pretty good recommendation for him as a person, but I wasn’t happy. In fact, it took me months to get over losing him.

Fast forward to February of 1963. Kathleen and I walked over to Crawford’s Miracle Mart, directly behind my house. It was a great store. They carried almost everything. We ran into Larry. I’d heard his girlfriend had broken up with him a few months earlier because he wasn’t exciting enough. That was good for me. I was going with someone else at the time, but we were fighting a lot, and I could see the handwriting on the wall.

Larry bought us ice cream and then drove us home. He dropped Kathleen at her house and then accepted my invitation to come in for some fresh chocolate chip cookies I’d baked earlier. See, even then I knew the way to get his interest was through food. Hasn’t changed at all.

Over tea and cookies, we talked until after dark. (My mother joined us.) When he left, I knew something important had changed.

At about nine, he called, and we talked for another hour. He finally asked me to the Valentine’s Day dance at Cal Poly, Pomona, where he was a student. I said yes, of course. Later on, he told me he’d picked up the phone several times before he actually made the call because he sensed it would be important to his future.

Valentine’s Dance 1963

During the evening, I marveled at how at ease I felt with him and how much fun I was having. The dance definitely confirmed my relationship with the other guy was over.

Two and a half years later, we were married.

Larry’s 50th Anniversary Thoughts – 9/5/2015

I recently went through the photos of our 50th anniversary and created a video of the celebration and party. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qeuEBcKPNXg

I also found the audio recording of the ceremony. I have now transcribed each of them, and I'll share them with you for the next four weeks, starting with Larry's.

When I was growing up, I didn’t realize what a fabulous family I had. Lorna clued me in on this when she joined it. Not just my parents, who were wonderful, but the grandparents, the aunts, the uncles, the cousins. It was a family where everybody liked each other, and everyone wanted to be together. Kind of amazing, and family meant everything.

My grandparents, Tom and Olive Collins, set the tone. They were North Dakota farmers. They had six children, four boys and two girls. When my dad was eight (he was the youngest), he’d had pneumonia twice, and the doctor said he would not survive another North Dakota winter. So, in the winter of 1925, they literally sold the farm (they were farmers), loaded everyone, including grandfather Halliday, into a Model A Ford and Chevrolet touring car, and they drove from North Dakota to California because it was warmer. Why? Because that’s what family did.

Crossing Texas

Family dinners were the glue that held us together for a long time. It doesn’t mean communication always worked. Collins men tend to be somewhat clueless. Lorna can attest to that. Kim can, too.

For example, in 1926, the family was enjoying dinner. The oldest son, Clark, said, “Mama, tomorrow you’re going to lose your baby boy.” Granny said, “Why? Are you going somewhere?” He said, “No. I’m getting married.” In twelve hours, Granny had organized the garden wedding, enlisted the local pastor because a justice of the peace just wouldn’t do, and cooked the dinner for all the guests who attended. And Lura joined the family.

With Granny, there was no such thing as in-laws. If you were there, you were family. In fact, it was really hard for a stranger to tell who was family and who were in-laws. You really couldn’t tell when you came to visit.

Until my grandfather died, every Sunday after church, the whole family met at my grandparents’ house for dinner. Now, you have to remember, this was six kids, their spouses, their children, and any friends who showed up, plus anyone else who happened to wander by. There were forty-to-forty-five people there every Sunday for dinner.

Granny was a fabulous cook and she loved doing it. In later years, we had to convince her to go potluck. From then on, we did, but always at their house.

They were married for sixty-three years. I was ten years old at their fiftieth wedding anniversary celebration. It was so big it made the newspaper―a half-page spread with pictures. Of the six kids, five were married, four were married longer than sixty years, and Clark and Lura were married for more than seventy years. There were a lot of anniversary celebrations and other events.

Tom & Olive’s 50^th Anniversary – Clark, Francis, Wanda, Olive, Tom, June, Wayne, Murl

At those Sunday dinners, I remember singing. If the guys weren’t playing poker for matchsticks in the other room, the boys sang. A friend of Granny’s said, “All of Ollie’s boys can sing.” They sang four-part harmony around the pump organ.

My folks carried on the tradition of putting family first. On weekends at the mobile home in Dana Point, we all got together and ate dinner. My folks, Murl and Letha, celebrated their sixtieth anniversary right downstairs where we’ll all be in a few minutes. We had a wonderful party for them. They were married sixty-seven years, and they loved each other every single day.

60^th Anniversary – Letha and Murl

So, for Lorna and me, at fifty years, we’re kind of loping along. We have a way to go to catch up, which we plan to do. We had a family who showed us the way to do it, for which I am eternally grateful.

Next week: Lorna's thoughts

Saying Goodbye

Early this morning, I received the following message from my oldest and dearest friend’s husband: “After a month-long illness, Kathleen entered eternity early this morning at Huntington Hospital. 75 years 9 months.”

I was two-years old when we moved into our brand-new house in Alhambra, California. This was post-WWII housing, and nearly all the new owners were families with young children. Throughout our growing-up years, we never lacked for playmates!

Several of the kids on the block became my close friends, but over time, Kathleen Murphy became my very best friend. (She was always called Kathleen. She would not answer if you called her Kathy.) She was two years older, but it never made any difference. When I was ten, we became blood sisters. (We both had younger brothers and wanted to have a sister.)

My 16^th birthday

Her dad worked nights. We rarely played at her house for fear of waking him. So, she spent a lot of time at my house. My mother treated her like another daughter.

School was always difficult for Kathleen. She was dyslexic, and reading was a challenge. We went to college together and took a couple of the same classes. I took notes, and we would discuss the class material driving to and from school because we carpooled. She passed those classes and gave credit to our discussions (and my notes she borrowed the night before tests).

One of the greatest joys in my life was when she called me one day. Her husband had purchased our book, The Memory Keeper, and it had arrived in the mail. She decided to take a look at it. She called to tell me—in great detail—how much she enjoyed it. This was the very first book she had ever read for pleasure. She went on to read all of our books, and she enjoyed them. She asked for other recommendations, and I suggested she try my friend Marilyn Meredith’s mystery series. (She has written two.) Kathleen loved them and read every one. She went on to discover other writers she enjoyed, and recommended them to me. That first conversation with her made all the effort of writing worthwhile for me.

In high school, we ate lunch together every day and made many of the same friends.

My husband, Larry, started kindergarten with her. On their graduation day (two years before my own), she sat next to him, and he held her hand because she was so nervous.

When we were both in high school, we sat at the table in my house drinking tea with my mom. She often used her china tea set. We were talking about our dreams for our future. Mine was simple: marry Larry Collins, whom I was dating at the time. Kathleen described a family of several children, the large, elegant house she would live in, and all the expensive things she’d have. When she left, Mom said, “I hope she marries someone rich.”

She met Bill Stewart when they were both in the wedding party for mutual friends. The next day, she waxed poetic about this guy. I’d never seen her so excited about any previous boyfriend. She married Bill in June of 1966, nine months after Larry and I. She was my maid-of-honor, and I was her matron-of-honor.

Our wedding, September 4, 1965

We were both stay-at-home moms for a number of years. We got together for lunch every month or so at one or the other of our homes. We lived away from California for a couple of years, but we stayed in touch. She and Bill even came to visit us in Illinois—and stayed at the motel next door. We later discovered it belonged to Al Capone’s brother and was being used for gambling and prostitution. They never visited us away from California again!

One day, she invited my mom and me to visit at her new home in San Gabriel. When we arrived, she showed us around the house. As we sat in her lovely and elegant living room, Mom reminded her about our long-ago conversation. “Well, it looks like all your dreams have come true.” Mom was happy for her.

She adored the house in San Gabriel. She loved her neighbors and the boys’ school. She also loved her job at the school. She lived for her kids and their friends.

Bill wanted to move to San Marino, a more prestigious neighborhood. Each time he raised the issue, she came up with some reason they couldn’t sell—yet. I remember some of them.

Early on, she insisted they had to remodel their kitchen. “Remember, dear, kitchens sell houses.” They were torn up for months during the remodel. Then, when it was finished, she had another reason they couldn’t move. “We’ve spent so much time and money on this remodel, we deserve to enjoy it awhile.” So, they stayed.

Over the years, she remodeled the playroom, billiard room, other areas, and, finally the pool house to add a second story. She also insisted they couldn’t move until the boys had graduated from high school. “Dear, we don’t want to make them change schools and take them away from their friends. Don’t you agree?” And Bill agreed.

Finally, he wanted to move to a huge new house in Altadena, and she gave up the battle. She loved the new house—especially her garden. She won several awards for her gorgeous property.

In later years, she developed COPD and diabetes. They took a toll on her health. She became unable to walk and got around on a motorized scooter. One of the highlights of our fiftieth wedding anniversary celebration was when she arrived. Bill had made the effort to get her—and her scooter—all the way from Altadena to Dana Point for the party.

Our 50^th anniversary party with Bill & Kathleen

Not long afterward, she had surgery to put artificial blood vessels in her legs from her groin to her feet to try to improve her circulation and prevent their amputation. (Who knew this was even possible?) It was a grueling surgery, and the recovery was arduous.

Larry and I went to see her in the hospital once she could have visitors. I had a small flower arrangement made using one of my mother’s precious teacups—the same ones we had dunk from growing up.

Mom’s Teacup

When we arrived, she was at her lowest point. She insisted she wanted to stop all treatment and give up. I didn’t argue with her. It was her life, after all. But I asked if we could pray with her. Larry and she and I held hands as I told God I wasn’t happy about her choice, but asked for wisdom on the part of her doctors and peace for her.

As we left—both of us in tears—Larry commented on how strong her grip had been.

I told Bill about our conversation, and the next day he let me know her attitude had turned around.

Two weeks ago, when I spoke with her in the hospital, I reminded her of our conversation and about how much she would have missed. In the interim, her younger son, Paul, and his wife became the parents of Maxine, named after Kathleen’s mother. This little girl looks like her grandma, and has a similar personality. Stubbornness is a common trait.

Kathleen and Maxine about a year ago

In addition to her other two grandchildren, Dylan and Meghan, Maxine was the center of her life. (She wanted Mom’s teacup to go to Maxine. I have promised her that when we can get together, we will have a tea party at my house, and I’ll tell her all about her grandmother.)

Family always came first. She lived for her boys and their friends and their families.

She remained a faithful friend throughout the years, and I shall miss her greatly. But mostly, I am grateful to have had her in my life.

Surviving a Pandemic

To use the word “surviving” regarding the current pandemic while living in a large, beautiful home near the beach with a waterfall in the backyard is a gross  misrepresentation of my current situation. Actually, our lives have changed very little in the last few months. We write and I edit. We do this at home, even during “normal” times. Instead of eating in restaurants, we have been ordering meals delivered from our favorite local places. We want them to be here when we can feel comfortable about going out again. (We’re not there yet.)

I do miss seeing my friends in person. I miss being able to hug people. I miss attending church. I miss taking long walks at the marina. However, for my safety and that of people I care about, I will be doing none of these things for quite a while.

I will continue to connect with friends on Zoom, Skype, and by phone. Not the same thing as being together in person, but it works for now.

I was not alive for the 1918-1919 Spanish Flu pandemic, but my husband’s great-uncle died in the second wave in the late fall of 1919. His family was greatly affected. Larry’s dad’s cousin came to live with his family when their grandfather died as well.

In 1957, Larry attended he Boy Scout Jamboree at Valley Forge. Nearly every attendee contracted the Asian Flu—boys and adults. They left the jamboree and spread this disease throughout the country. This was the second pandemic of the twentieth century.

Polio was the third. A classmate, Al Ferguson, is currently writing his memoir. He gave me permission to share his experience with the polio pandemic with you.

My sister, Betty, was learning classical piano. She couldn’t play without sheet music. She got angry with me when I ran by and snatched her sheet music from the piano, which I thoroughly enjoyed. Often, she evened the score, though. It was all in fun as we really cared about each other.

When she was six years old, Betty came into the front room one summer afternoon using her favorite baton as a cane. I had seen her play that way a few days earlier. Mom told her to put the baton away and get ready for dinner.

Betty didn’t do it, and I remember Mom being stern. “Betty Jill, go put that baton away, and come to dinner right now.” Becoming frustrated with her, Mom took the baton away, and Betty fell on the floor crying. I don’t remember much from when I was ten years old, but I remember this day. The ensuing days are foggy.

I remember going to White Memorial Hospital in L.A. with Betty and my parents. The doctors informed them that Betty had polio. If I close my eyes and think about it, I can see the tears on Mom and Dad’s faces, which I had never seen before. We sat in the waiting room while the doctors took more tests. We heard Betty scream as they performed a spinal tap on her. Mom was crying and Dad consoling.

After all these years, it is something I will never forget. I can almost hear her screams now.

Our family now stood on the threshold of an unknown, lifelong struggle. Sleepless nights and uncontrollable crying became our norm. Polio, an entity whose only purpose seemed to be the destruction of a young life, became our constant companion.

Betty’s polio was confined to her left leg. She began a strict regimen of exercises day after day, year after year. We had several hospital-style hot packs. We took turns applying them to her leg. In those days, there were no microwave ovens, so we had to boil the hot packs in a pot of water on the stove. When they were hot enough, we removed them from the pot with tongs, placed them in a towel, and then rolled them up to keep them hot. Then we covered her left leg with them. Once her muscles were loose, we took turns exercising her leg and foot by pushing on her foot to stretch her Achilles tendon while she lay flat on her back. Afterward, we applied lots of lotion to keep her skin from drying out.

Then, there were the leg casts. Lots of them through the years. They stifled her leg growth by about twenty percent.

Betty became used to the rough regimen and went along with the program. No doubt about it, this was rough on everyone, but mostly Mom. She’d had a tough childhood, which had made her really strong.

Betty missed a lot of school, and, being home all the time, developed a love of books and playing her piano. She caught up with her grades, eventually graduating from high school.

She married her love and moved to Phoenix, becoming head of the medical library at Good Samaritan Hospital. Betty and Tim never had children, but they each had their own airplanes, and Betty became president of the Arizona Pilots Association for one term.

Years went by where Betty became more sedentary, and the lack of exercise finally got to her. She passed away at sixty-five after Mom had died. Thank God, as Mom would have died from guilt and depression. Miss them both.

I have known several people who also recovered from polio, but they continue to experience problems directly related to the disease.

So, comparing the current situation is far cry from earlier pandemics as long as we all take the necessary precautions. Staying home, wearing a mask when out in public, and staying six feet apart are hardly the same as watching family members suffer and die or caring for family members as Al did.

I am very grateful to be living today when everything we need can be delivered safely to our doorstep, I am thankful we have work to keep us occupied. I appreciate being able to call and talk with friends and family. I appreciate social media where I can remain in contact with my broader circle of friends.

You won’t hear me whining!